“Of all the absolutely appalling days I have ever passed, this, Philip, I assure you, has been uniquely abominable.”

“I say, Val . . . I’m-I’m-I’m so sorry.”

Livingston wondered if they’d even noticed his car. Perhaps not. It was parked around the turn of the driveway. He cleared his throat.

They did not hear him.

“First of all, how could you have forgotten to make the reservation for the new van when the last thing I did yesterday was to remind you?”

“But-but-but,” Philip replied, “the bursar was taking his kiddies to a dental clinic in south London. He doesn’t like to have them riding in the old van ... the brakes, you know.”

“And I’m supposed to ride in the piece of junk so they can get a discount on a few bloody fillings,” Val shrieked. “We were taking students on a school outing, for God’s sake. And why were we driving without a spare tire?”

“Careless of me, ho-ho-honeybunch,” Philip whined. “Sorry-sorry . . . did cause a slight hiccup ...”

Some lovebirds, Livingston thought. This time when he cleared his throat he was sure that Penelope could hear it upstairs.

Their shock at seeing him step from the drawing room was evident. Philip paled. “Has Penelope had a setback? Is she ... ?”

Val seemed about to say something, then bit her lip as though guarding her reaction.

“No, no,” Livingston said cordially. “I had quite a nice visit with Miss Atwater.”

“Then ...” Philip stopped.

Too polite to ask me what the devil I’m doing here, Livingston thought. “I just have a few questions for Miss Twyler.”

“Certainly they’ll keep until morning,” Val snapped. “You can’t possibly understand the sort of day I’ve had.”

A cool one, Livingston thought, not for the first time. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. On the other hand, Philip looked apprehensive.

Val continued to stand in the foyer. “Please ask whatever you will and let me retire.”

“Miss Twyler, are you also known as Mary V. Cook, and were you not a governess in the home of the aunt of Athena Popolous, a Mrs. Helen Carvelous, at the time Mrs. Carvelous was murdered?”

Philip gasped. “Val, when I told you about Athena—”

“Shut up,” Val ordered.

“When you told what?” Livingston asked quietly.

“N-n-nothing,” Philip stammered.

“Will you please accompany me to headquarters?” Livingston asked quietly. “We’ll continue the questioning there.”

They both knew it was not a request.

Chapter 57

AT SEA

THE WAITER CAME around offering more tea or coffee. Everyone seems anxious to get going, Regan thought. Typical at the end of a trip, when you’ve gotten temporarily close to fellow passengers but now were looking ahead.