said, ‘Oh God,’ and dragged on his cigar, and presently the whole troop arrived.
I got to my feet and Alicia immediately sat on my chair. Vivien and Joyce both glared at Malcolm, still seated, willing him to rise, which he didn’t. Which of them could he possibly give his chair to, I thought, stifling laughter, without causing exmarital bloodshed?
With a straight face, Yale asked the policewoman to fetch two more chairs, and I couldn’t even tell if he were amused or simply practical. When Vivien and Joyce were suitably enthroned, he looked around and counted us all: thirteen.
‘Who’s missing?’ he asked.
He got various answers:‘My wife, Debs’, ‘Thomas, my husband’, ‘Ursula, of course.’
‘Very well. Now, if any of you know anything or guess anything about the explosion at Quantum House, I want to hear about it.’
‘Terrorists,’ Vivien said vaguely.
Everyone ignored her and no one else made any suggestion.
‘While you are here,’ Yale said, ‘I’ll ask you all to answer certain questions. I’ll have my personnel write down your answers, and of course after that you can leave. The questions are, what were you doing yesterday between three in the afternoon and midnight, what were you doing a week last Tuesday between the same hours, and what were you doing two weeks ago today, Friday, also between three p.m. and midnight.’
Edwin said crossly, ‘We’ve already answered most of those questions for that wretched man, West. It’s too much to go over it all again.’
Several of the others nodded.
Yale looked blank. ‘Who is West?’
‘A detective,’ Berenice said. ‘I sent him away with a flea in his ear, I can tell you.’
‘He was awfully persistent,’ Helen said, not liking the memory. ‘Itold him I couldn’t possibly remember exactly, but he went on prying.’
‘Dreadful little man,’ Serena said.
‘He said I was illegitimate,’ Gervase complained sourly. ‘It’s thanks to Joyce that he knew.’
Yale’s mouth opened and closed again and he took a deep breath. ‘Who is West?’ he asked intensely.
‘Fellow I hired,’ Malcolm said. ‘Private detective. Hired him to find out who was trying to kill me, as I reckoned the police weren’t getting anywhere.’
Yale’s composure remained more or less intact. ‘All the same,’ he said, ‘please answer the questions again. And those of you without husband and wife here, please answer for them as best you can.’ He looked around at all the faces, and I would have sworn he was puzzled. I looked to see what he had seen, and I saw the faces of ordinary people, not murderers. Ordinary people with problems and hang-ups, with quirks and grievances. People anxious and disturbed by the blasting of the house that most had lived in and all had visited. Not one of them could possibly be a murderer, I thought. It had after all to be someone from outside.
I felt a lot of relief at this conclusion until I realised I was raising any excuse not to have to find a murderer among ourselves; yet we did have to find one, if Malcolm were to live. The dilemma was permanent.
‘That’s all for now,’ Yale said, rising to his feet. ‘My staff will take your statements in the interview rooms. And Mr Pembroke senior, will you stay here a moment? And Mr Ian Pembroke also? There are the arrangements to be made about the house.’
The family left me behind with bad grace. ‘It’s my job, not Ian’s, to see to things. I am the eldest.’ That was Donald. ‘You need someone with know-how.’ That was Gervase, heavily. ‘It’s not Ian’s house.’ Petulance from Edwin.
Yale managed however to shovel them all out, and immediately the door had closed, I said, ‘While they’re all in the interview rooms, I’m taking my father out of here.’
‘The house …’ Malcolm began.
‘I’ll see to the house later. We’re leaving here now, this minute. If Superintendent Yale will lend us a police car, fine; otherwise we’ll catch buses or taxis.’
‘You can have a police car within reason,’ Yale said.
‘Great. Then… urn… just take my father to the railway station. I’ll stay here.’
‘All right.’
To Malcolm, I said, ‘Go to London. Go to where we were last night. Use the same name. Don’t telephone anyone. Don’t for God’s sake let anyone know where you are.’
‘You’re bloody arrogant.’
‘Yes. This time, listen to me.’
Malcolm gave me a blue glare, stubbed out his cigar, stood up and let the red blanket drop from his shoulders to the floor.
‘Where will you be?’ Yale asked him.
‘Don’t answer,’ I said brusquely.
Malcolm looked at me, then at the superintendent. ‘Ian will