After a long and trying conversation with Arthur Moss, Scott found Randall looking very triumphant. "Oh, no. What's up?" he asked. She had something to tell him.
"I've made an important discovery."
"Oh, no. Then I'd better sit down," he said in amusement. She looked about to burst.
Randall told him her story and how she had discussed it with Margaret first. He might like that, impressed as he seemed to be with Margaret. She knew he was going to be sceptic about the idea nevertheless, because he always was. He always wanted to examine something from six angles, never mind that things never even had six angles.
"I am impressed by the deductive abilities of you ladies," he responded, but he recognised that there might be some truth in what they were thinking. And he felt pleased, not threatened by the women's partnership. It was good that they got along. He did not know why.
"What does that mean?" Randall did not automatically assume that it was disapproval. Scott's lukewarm reaction was too predictable to be disappointing. She supposed he always had to act as some sort of professional check on her enthusiasm.
"That you have no proof."
That was obvious. "But doesn't it sound good?"
"Of course. It sounds extremely good. You and Margaret have supplied all the facts that were missing, no doubt straight from your own imaginations." He knew Randall was very good at that. Quite often she was right, but sometimes she was not and it was better to believe in facts, not in suppositions. It was dangerous to be led by beliefs only. Everything would be interpreted in a certain light in order to fit into that assumption. Some people even ignored all evidence that did not fit their beliefs.
When had it become Margaret and not Miss Maxwell, Randall wondered curiously, but she did not ask. "Oh, no. She's not like that." There, he would appreciate that remark better.
"That's what she said," he agreed. "Yet she gossiped with you." And she had not wanted to tell him anything about these ideas she had. Why had she spoken to Randall instead?
"Jealous, sir? Perhaps it will make you feel better to hear she reluctantly told me she had been entertaining similar suspicions. What do we do now?" She was all for taking some action. They had to go and look for that proof he needed. It had to be there. Somewhere.
"How about we start looking for actual proof?" He had to admit that Randall's suspicions had a good chance of being true, especially if independently from her, Margaret had been thinking the same. He had some faith in Margaret. "We'll go through every single piece of paper in Nigel's study. Who knows what we might find? Oh!" he said as something else occurred to him. "We should also take a look at the first aid kit. Miss Maxwell's special orders."
After speaking to Randall, Margaret had to phone Ailsa, or else she would be in bed. She had been given a phone number on which she could contact Mrs Scott, but there was no answer when she tried. A little disconcerted she attempted to do a bit of work as she waited, but she could not concentrate. Why was there no answer?
It was different when Ailsa was at school. There she was under continuous supervision. While she was sure that Mrs Scott could be trusted, she did not know if Ailsa was happy. From school it was very easy for her to phone, but if she was staying with someone else she would not be able to, unless she made a specific request. Margaret did not know if she dared.
She told herself not to be so incredibly concerned. This was not the first time Ailsa had stayed with other people and it had always gone well, though this was the first time she had stayed with a stranger unannounced.
She managed to postpone her second attempt till some thirty minutes later. This time the phone was answered and she could speak to Ailsa. "We were walking the dogs!" The enthusiasm in the girl's voice indicated that she was very much at ease. Margaret relaxed.
Randall sat looking through Nigel's diary. Every week he had had meetings with one A. She had been looking for that specifically and she had found it quickly enough. "Sir, if someone looked into both their diaries, it wouldn't be hard to put two and two together, especially if Anna has been meeting N at the same time that Nigel met A."
Scott agreed. He peered over her shoulder. "The person with the best access to Anna's diary is Clarissa and the person with the best access to Nigel's diary is Poppy."
"She also the second best for Anna's diary, don't you think? Anna would never notice." Maybe Anna even thought writing N was mysterious enough.
"So this is where her suspicions might have originated." Despite Scott's avowed scepticism towards speculations, he appeared to be considering it a valuable one nevertheless. "She'd be on the lookout for women in Nigel's life anyway, since they might make her compete for his attention and she strikes me as the sort of girl who wouldn't like that. I can see her peeking into his diary to see whom he's been meeting," Scott said thoughtfully.
"Especially," said Randall, "because all other appointments have names and purposes and locations. Lunch. Arthur. Project. Club. That's pretty clear. There's no location listed for lunch with A, whereas it is for most other appointments. Would Poppy have been able to check who A was by spying on them?"
"Presumably the location was always the same. Check the first date."
"I did. May 6." She leafed back. "There's an address here."
"Write it down. You never know. But if we could find out this easily, so could someone else. Question -- could she be clever enough?"
"It's easier to act more stupid than to act more clever than you are," Randall remarked. Underestimating a suspect was one of the worst mistakes they could make, though. "But the way he kept track of his appointments, you don't need real intelligence to figure things out."
They continued searching without finding much of interest in the drawers and cabinets. It was close to half past eleven when Scott tackled his last project, the waste paper basket. Most of its contents were not interesting either, except two draft letters to Nigel's solicitor.
Scott compared them, but they were nearly the same. "Listen to this. Someone made him do a DNA test, no name given."
Randall did not have to think about that. "Clarissa."
Margaret did not know why she had woken up. She turned onto her other side and tried to fall asleep again, but she was distracted by faint sounds of scratching at the door. Scratching? She held her breath to be able to listen better. The door was locked, so nobody could come in easily, but perhaps the scratching meant that someone was trying to pick the lock. Why would someone be at her door in the middle of the night anyway? They good not have anything good in mind. Margaret decided not to wait until she was murdered.
She pulled the door to the balcony open and she almost threw herself out. She had done this once and she could do it again. The other time Scott had been there to catch her, but frankly, she would prefer a broken ankle to being murdered in her bed.
As she swung her legs over the railing, she realised she could move sideways and pass the separation between the balconies on the outside of the railing, rather than jump down. She did so quickly and climbed back onto the balcony of the room next door.
Scott was rather surprised to see Margaret come in from the balcony. He was more surprised by her frightened appearance, however. He never would have guessed that something could scare her. She was always so fearless. What had happened? "What is it?"
"Someone was at my door, trying to get in." She looked from Scott to Randall. Both were fully dressed. What had they been doing up at this hour? She had been asleep already. It was almost midnight.
Scott jumped up immediately and checked the hallway. There was nothing. He frowned in the darkness as he looked to either side. Margaret had not wasted that much time, had she? The intruder had fled already. He returned to his room. A pursuit would be useless. Which way to go? "Nothing. He probably fled when he heard you swing the balcony door open. Even we heard it bang."
"There was really someone there," Margaret defended herself in case she would not be believed. She had not imagined the scratching noise.
"I believe you," he said quietly. She was not the type to invent something like this and she had looked genuinely frightened. Someone had come to her room. That person could not have had any good intentions. She did not have friends here that would want to chat in the middle of the night and if so, they would knock. Would she still be safe in her room now?
"I won't sleep anymore now. Would you mind if I sat here with my laptop?" She did not want to stay in her room all by herself. The intruder or assailant might return when he or she thought the coast was clear.
If she was afraid the person was going to come back, Scott would not mind waiting for that person himself. It was not likely that anyone would look for Margaret in his room and he would like to know who it was. "We can switch rooms if you want."
Margaret frowned. Of course a murderer might suspect the Inspector would suggest such a thing. It would not help to switch. He would simply come to the other room instead. "I don't want to be alone. I meant I could sit here while you slept."
That was silly. They might as well both sleep. Why should she have to stay awake? "Sleep here." He did not see the problem. There were two beds.
Margaret smiled apologetically. The beds were too close together. "I'm afraid my principles forbid such a thing." She clasped her hands behind her back. She had always been quite strict about these matters and she was not yet prepared to relax her standards. She would rather stay up all night.
"Even in a murder case?" Randall asked unbelievingly. She would think an emergency allowed one to get over these things.
"I will not sleep in a room with a man I am not married to. I'd rather stay awake." She was silent for a few seconds as she tried to suppress the warmth that spread over her cheeks. She was not supposed to blush. They would think it strange. She was supposed to be a TV personality. Everyone knew they were more like Edwin than like her. "It does not have anything to do with whether I like you as a person or not." In fact, she liked him a lot and that was precisely why she should not do this. She should be the way she always was.
"So it would be all right if you stayed awake, but not if you fell asleep?" Randall asked, trying to understand.
"Randall," Scott said warningly. He thought he could detect a blush. Margaret had the right not to feel comfortable with the idea. It was not Randall's place to question her, nor was it his place to wonder why she did not want this. He was not offended or disappointed. "You have a spare bed as well."
"I have no objections to that," Margaret said quickly, looking from one to the other. She was tired and would like to sleep, if that was possible. Randall's spare bed was acceptable to her. "Unless you had other plans?" They were not yet in their pyjamas. Maybe they were going out on some secret errand or they still had the case to discuss.
Randall understood Scott's warning. She would keep her mouth shut for as long as he was present. After that he had no control over her anymore. "No, we've just finished our quiet and uninterrupted tour of the house. I'm going to sleep now. You're welcome to join me." Once in the privacy of her room she could question Miss Maxwell about her principles. She told herself she was always interested in other people's beliefs. And she still had to question Margaret about her need to aggravate Scott.
After saying good night, Margaret followed Randall to a rather messy room. "Thanks." She wondered which bed would be hers. Both were covered with clothes. "Where do I sleep, Sergeant?"
"Call me Lisa now that we're roommates," Randall called from the bathroom. She appeared a second later to clear a bed, throwing all clothes over a chair. "Are you religious?"
"No, I am not." Margaret had other worries than to wonder what Randall thought of her principles. "Do you think he believed me even if there was no one in sight when he checked?" She would have had serious doubts about it herself. Maybe there had really not been anyone there and she had imagined it.
"He doesn't think you made it up," Randall said with confidence. "He would rather react to a false alarm than ignore a genuine one." Especially where Margaret was concerned, she thought. "If you're not religious, why can't you stay with Scott? What if I told you he's not married or anything?" The idiot had probably not have told her that yet.
"He's a man."
"But one you find interesting. Why couldn't you give it a try?"
Margaret shook her head. Had she ever literally admitted that she found him interesting? She did not think she had. Then why did Randall say so? "I don't do tries."
"You're both so…never mind." Randall thought it was too early for a discussion on the subject.
"Both so what?"
"Why do you torment him?"
"I do?" Margaret lied.
"Maybe you don't do it on purpose, but you are aware of it. I saw it in your face. Why couldn't you tell him who was with Clarissa?"
"Why couldn't he ask her?" she asked the obvious question.
"That's what I said. You're both so… You don't tell him and he doesn't ask her. You're both idiots. Who was it?" If Margaret had not wanted to tell Scott, she might want to tell her, Randall reasoned.
"Edwin."
"Edwin." Randall was not surprised. "Do you feel anything for him? Is that why you didn't want to tell?" She thought she had spotted a friendship between the two, but nothing more. Perhaps she had not been observant enough.
Margaret shook her head. "He's one of my better friends in that world. I like him like a brother or cousin. We had so much fun doing that children's show back in the early nineties." Her facial expression became strained. "I sometimes become a little worried if he does too many stupid things and I don't really know what he's up to at the moment. I've asked and not really received a good answer. I suspected that he was using Poppy to get that show that Arthur is thinking of. I don't know if Arthur explained why he was here?"
Randall nodded.
"So he's using Poppy and Poppy is willing, so there's no need for me to tell him he's taking advantage of a girl. I stayed out of that, even though I disapprove. Working in that world, I should be used to that sort of thing by now and I'm sure most people expect me to take part in it, but it has the opposite effect on me."
"So you stay away from it and you criticise."
"To some extent, yes. But this thing with Clarissa I can't place. I cannot believe that women have become so interchangeable to him. Maybe I just didn't want to know the truth, as lame as it sounds. I was shocked when I heard it was Edwin, even though I told myself that this is what people do. I've heard of worse. I went to the bathroom and sat there for a while until I could write again. I added some ranting parts here and there."
"What were you writing?"
"A story. The good thing is that if something happens there is always an appropriate passage where you can vent. I found one. I slowly got rid of my agitation while writing -- and I got a sore back."
Randall would too if she had to type sitting on the toilet seat. "So you went back into the room."
"I wondered if perhaps I hadn't gone too far; if I hadn't inserted passages into the story that made no sense. So I emailed it to a friend so she could check."
"What did she say?"
"It's a long story. She cannot have read it already. I should probably let it rest for a day or two and then look at it again. But…that's what happened."
"And why couldn't you tell Scott?" It was not such a difficult story at all and it had come out fairly smoothly.
"He is too bloody rational and I know this is not rational." Margaret yawned.
Too bloody rational? Randall was beginning to have her doubts. And what could a too bloody rational man have to say about Margaret's explanation? Nothing. It made some sense. "Mind if I tell him what you told me?"
"No. Please tell him all, so he won't ask me."
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