Dreaming of the Bones

can enhance our understanding of the artist’s work, as well as our understanding of ourselves.”
    Vic. He could hear her speaking in Nathan’s words, hear her intensity, her dedication, and he was caught unawares by the spasm of loss that seized him.
    ”Truth is not always relative,” he said slowly. ”I’ll give you an irrefutable truth, if you like.” Both Nathan and Adam stared at him, as if compelled by something in his voice. ”Vic died of heart failure, but not from an unexpectedly weak heart. She was poisoned.”
    He watched their eyes, searching for that unmistakable flicker of knowledge, but all he saw was wide and uncomprehending shock.
    ”You’re not bloody serious,” said Nathan, finally. ”That’s not poss—”
    ”I think Nathan’s been through enough already without this—whatever game this is you’re playing at,” interrupted Adam. His hand had moved to Nathan’s arm in a protective gesture.
    ”I’m sorry,” Kincaid said. ”I wish it weren’t true. But I’ve just come from the police station. The postmortem revealed a lethal amount of digitalis in her body.”
    Nathan stood up, knocking the table so that their teacups rattled precariously. He walked unsteadily to the French windows and stood looking out. Beyond him Kincaid could see the garden, designed in a palette of soft grays and greens rather than the bright color Nathan had used in the front. Near the house, a low bed had been formed into the old-fashioned shape of an intricate knot.
    When Nathan turned back to them after a moment, his face was ashen. ”Could she have taken it accidentally?” Kincaid shook his head. ”That hardly seems likely. She’d never been prescribed any sort of digitalis, nor did she live with someone who might have substituted medications by mistake.”
    ”But why? Why would anyone do such a thing?”
    ”I don’t know,” Kincaid said. ”All I can tell you is that I intend to find out. And it seemed to me that the logical place to start is with Morgan Ashby.”
    ”Morgan?” Adam frowned. ”Why Morgan?”
    ”We never got back to the question I asked earlier, did we? Why did Lydia leave her estate to a man she’d been divorced from for more than twenty years?”
    ”How should I know?” Nathan asked. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroys and started to pace. ”Maybe she felt she owed him. They bought the house together, after all. Maybe there was no one else.”
    ”Or maybe she still loved him,” said Adam quietly. ”Their divorce so devastated her that she tried to take her own life.”
    ”What does it matter?” Nathan said, almost shouting. ”And what the bloody hell has it to do with Vic?”
    Kincaid pushed his chair back so that he could watch Nathan’s agitated roaming of the room. ”Vic told me that when she tried to interview Morgan about Lydia , he was abusive.”
    ”So?” said Adam. ”Morgan was always a bit of a lout. And he hated us especially.”
    ”Why?” Kincaid asked.
    ”He was jealous, of course.”
    ”Jealous of all of you?” Kincaid asked, surprised. ”Not just you, Adam?”
    Adam glanced at Nathan before he answered. ”Well, it was mostly me, I suppose. But he didn’t like any of Lydia’s friends from before... Look, Mr. Kincaid, this has all been a bit much to take in.” He made a slight gesture towards Nathan, who had turned to stare out into the garden again. ”Would you mind...”
    ”I’m sorry.” Kincaid rose. ”Before I go, could you tell me how to find Morgan Ashby?”
    ”He and his wife have an arts studio out west of Cambridge ,” said Nathan, without turning round. ”Past Barton on the Comberton Road . You can’t miss it. There’s a farmhouse, and next to it a complex of barns painted blazing yellow.”
    ”You’re well informed for someone not on friendly terms with him.”
    ”I didn’t say I’d been in the place.” Nathan swung round to face him. ”I only know it by reputation, and I’ve passed by visiting friends out that way.”
    ”Oh, the stew,” Adam said suddenly and rose. ”I forgot all about it.”
    ”I won’t keep you any longer,” said Kincaid. ”Thank you both for seeing me.”
    ”I’ll show you out.” Adam moved towards the door.
    ”It’s all right, Adam, I’m perfectly capable,” said Nathan. ”Go see to the home fires.”
    Adam shook Kincaid’s hand again. ”If you need me for anything, Mr. Kincaid, it’s St. Michael’s Church, Cambridge .”
    As Nathan led Kincaid