Page 22 of Disturbing the Dead
“Lady Leslie,” I say. “I am not going to order you out, but I would appreciate it if you would go and speak to Isla. She’s going to need help. Maybe take the children for Lady Christie?”
I expect Annis to argue, especially about being put in charge of children, but she only nods and says she’ll see what she can do.
I move up to where Gray is unwrapping the body of a sandy-bearded, average-looking man in his late thirties, with the build and callused hands of someone accustomed to manual labor.
“This is definitely Sir Alastair?” I say.
“It is.”
“Then… I don’t understand. You substituted for him because he was indisposed. No one could have murdered him and wrapped him that fast.” I stop. “Wait. The mummy was already on the table when we got in here. Before we were told Sir Alastair couldn’t make it.”
“Yes,” Gray says, which is not helpful at all, but it’s also a fair answer. He’s the doctor and the temporary coroner and crime-scene tech. He’s not the detective. That would be me… and the guy standing behind us.
I turn to McCreadie.
“We need to discover who said Sir Alastair was indisposed,” McCreadie says. “And quickly, before they leave the building.”
“I’ll help.” I turn to Gray. “Is that okay?”
“What I am doing is hardly urgent. That is.”
I find Isla in a sitting room with Lady Christie. They’re together on a settee, and when I walk in, Lady Christie is saying, “I must go to the children. I know I must, but I need to compose myself first.”
“Take a few minutes more,” Isla says. “They will not need you until then, but yes, they will need you, and you should not concern yourself with seeming distraught. They will expect that.”
Lady Christie nods. Her eyes are red rimmed, her face streaked with tears.
I rap on the wall as I enter. Then I half curtsy, because it feels like the right thing to do.
“My sincerest condolences,” I say as I come into the room. “I am so sorry for your loss and also sorry that I need to bother you at such a time. I promise I will be as quick as I can, but Detective McCreadie needs me to ask you something before the guests disperse.”
Silent apologies to McCreadie for the blame, but he’d understand that I need his authority here.
“Yes,” Isla says quickly. “The police must move swiftly in such situations, as I know from Detective McCreadie, and they must ask uncomfortable questions at the worst possible times. If they could wait, they would.”
I send Isla a look of thanks as Lady Christie wipes her eyes and says, “I understand.”
Here’s my opening, and I must proceed with care, because the person most likely to have started the lie that Sir Alastair was indisposed… is his wife.
“Do you know who last spoke to Sir Alastair?” I ask. “I understand he was feeling poorly.”
Her cheeks darken in a flush and her gaze drops. “No, that was a lie.”
“A lie that he was indisposed?”
She nods. “I do not wish to lay blame elsewhere, but saying he was indisposed was not my idea. It was an excuse given when we could not find my husband.”
“I recall you were looking for him earlier.”
“We were, and we could not find him so Lord—someone else—suggested we say he was indisposed.”
“Lord Muir?” Isla says. “I understand you do not wish to lay blame, but the police will require a clear order of events and the people involved.”
Lady Christie swallows. “Yes, it was Lord Muir. We had been looking for my husband all evening, and it became clear he was not about, and so Lord Muir said we should say he was indisposed, as saying we could not find him would seem odd.”
“It would… yet you and Lord Muir did not find it odd that you couldn’t find Sir Alastair?”
She flushes again. “This event was Lord Muir’s idea, and as he funded the expedition, my husband did not feel he could refuse, but Alastair was not above… That is to say… He could be…” She takes a deep breath. “My husband is—was—a brilliant man, and he did not like intrusions on his studies, and this event was an intrusion.”
