Kate said, “Chief Inspector Whetstone told me that he arranged for a WPC to visit her. He did that soon after he arrived here. It won’t be news to her. Do you want me to speak to her, sir?”

“No, thank you, Kate. She has a right to hear from me. But if she’s already been told, there’s no hurry. We’ll get on with the group interviews. I’ll see you and Benton in the library.”

Chapter 10

10

The household was assembled and waiting with Kate and Benton when Dalgliesh entered the library with George Chandler-Powell. Benton was interested in how the group had arranged itself. Marcus Westhall had distanced himself from his sister, who was seated in an upright chair by the window, and had taken a chair next to Sister Flavia Holland, perhaps in medical solidarity. Helena Cressett had seated herself in one of the armchairs beside the fire but, perhaps sensing that an appearance of complete relaxation would be inappropriate, sat upright, hands resting loosely on the chair arms. Mogworthy, an incongruous Cerberus, had changed into a shiny blue suit and striped tie, which gave him the look of an ancient undertaker, and stood beside her, back to the fire, the only one on his feet. He turned to glare at Dalgliesh as they entered; the glare seemed to Benton more minatory than aggressive. Dean and Kimberley Bostock, seated rigidly side by side on the only sofa, made a slight movement as if uncertain whether they should rise, then, slewing their eyes quickly round, subsided into the cushions; Kimberley surreptitiously slid her hand into her husband’s.

Sharon Bateman sat alone, bolt upright, a few feet from Candace Westhall. Her hands were folded in her lap, her thin legs placed side by side, and the eyes which stared briefly into his showed more wariness than fear. She was wearing a cotton dress with a blue floral pattern under a denim jacket. The dress, more appropriate to summer than to a bleak December afternoon, was too large for her, and Benton wondered if this hint of a Victorian charity child, obstinate and over-disciplined, had been contrived. Mrs. Frensham had taken a chair beside the window and from time to time glanced out, as if to remind herself that there was a world, fresh and comfortingly normal, outside this air made sour by fear and tension. All were pale and, despite the warmth of the central heating and the blaze and crackle of the fire, looked pinched with cold.