Anything Goes

his notebook and pencil in his pocket, thanked them for their time and departed.
    “Why didn’t Mr. Prinney tell us this?“ Lily asked Robert when Jack Summer had left. They were standing on the porch watching him set off.
    “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a silly rumor. Mr. Prune doesn’t seem the type to go in for idle gossip,“ Robert said. “Maybe that’s why he clammed up at dinner last night when you asked him about the accident.“
    “I only asked Mr. Prinney what happened in a general way. He was on board the yacht, and people don’t like talking about horrible experiences.“
    “Lily, don’t be daft. Most people love talking about horrible experiences. It constitutes the majority of after-dinner talk. Especially among men. And I’ve overheard women talk about childbirth in terms that make me want to curl up in a ball and whimper. Jack Summer didn’t seem to want to talk about it either. He’s a reporter. He should have known a lot about it.“
    “Robert, what are you getting at exactly?“
    “Just that I want to know more. And I want to know why nobody will really discuss it with us. You know, Lily, when a man of enormous wealth dies in something called an accident, warning flags should go up everywhere.“
    “What do you mean?“
    “Motives, my dear child.”
    Lily looked at him patronizingly. “Motives?“
    “Since we inherited from him, we have the greatest motive,“ Robert said. “But we didn’t even remember him. At least, I didn’t.“
    “What!”
    Robert waved his hands frantically. “No, no. I didn’t mean you had a motive and I didn’t. But, as far as anyone else knows, in theory we did have a compelling motive. We were about as far down on our luck as a snake on skates and a great-uncle dies in an accident and leaves us his house and fortune.
    At least, that’s what it must look like to people who don’t know us.“
    “But if, as it sounds, he was murdered on the boat, we’re obviously in the clear. We weren’t there. And we couldn’t have afforded to be there if we’d been invited.“
    “Lily, I’d bet the only person in Voorburg who knows we haven’t two beans to rub together is Mr. Prinney. The people of the town don’t know that and neither does Jack Sprat.“
    “Jack Summer,“ she said, preoccupied. “Do you think Mr. Prinney suspected us? Or maybe still does?“
    “Dear God, I hope not! Why would he let us move in here—unless he had in mind a little detecting of his own.“
    “Robert, lower your voice. The house and yard are full of people who might be eavesdropping on this bizarre conversation. Let’s take a walk.”
    They strolled, with rather ostentatious casualness, out in the road in front and pretended to be pointing out plants and wildlife to each other as they spoke in low voices.
    “There are other kinds of motives for causing an—accident,“ Lily said.
    “You mean murder.”
    Lily shuddered. “I don’t mean murder, precisely. A rejected lover might have wished to simply alarm someone and went too far. Or a cheated business acquaintance or partner. We don’t really know anything about. Uncle Horatio. We’ve been thinking about him as a kindly old gentleman because he gave us this house.“
    “You might think that indicates kindliness. I’m not sure I do,“ Robert said with a grin. “Uncle Horatio might have been a real horror. And keep in mind, Lily, that he didn’t ‘give’ us this house. He set it up so we have to be incarcerated here for a whole decade to ever really own it. That doesn’t precisely smell of milk and honey. Men who arrange things for other people beyond their own deaths certainly aren’t fading violets in life. Lily, the fact is, we have no idea what sort of person Uncle Horatio was. He might have given us those lemon drops, or whatever they were, in a deliberate attempt to make us sick.“
    “Do you really think anybody could seriously consider us as suspects, or are you just entertaining yourself?“ Lily asked, plucking a red flower off a vine by the side of the road and putting it in her hair.
    “A little of both,“ Robert admitted. “One does what one can to keep one’s wits sharp when one is lost in the wilderness.”
     
    Jack had been very angry when Mr. Kessler took over the reporting of the incident. Jack had done a piece on Bannerman Island only a short time earlier and secretly wondered if it had played a role in inspiring old Horatio and his pals to go explore it. And then when