like this," she said in insincere protest when he took her into his arms.
St. James laughed quietly, said, "Well, we'll get other things done, won't we?" and kissed her. A long moment later, he murmured appreciatively against her mouth, "Lord. Yes. Far more important things, I think."
They parted guiltily at the sound of Cotter's voice. He was pounding up the stairway, talking several volumes louder than he usually did.
"Just up 'ere, they both are," he boomed. "Workin' in the lab, I should guess. Deb's got 'er snaps out and Mr. St. James is doin' a report o' some sort. 'Tis just up above. Not a bit of a climb. We'll be there in a tick."
This last pronouncement was made louder than all the others. Deborah laughed when she heard it. "I never know whether to be appalled or amused by my father," she whispered. "How can he possibly be wise to what we're up to all the time?"
"He sees the way I look at you, and that's evidence enough. Believe me, your father knows exactly what I have on my mind." St. James dutifully returned to his lab and was writing away upon his report when Cotter appeared at the door with Jeremy Vinney behind him.
"'Ere you are," Cotter said expansively. "Bit of a climb that, isn't it?" He cast a look here and there as if to make certain he hadn't caught his daughter and her husband in fl agrante delicto.
Vinney betrayed no surprise at the stentorian manner in which Cotter had heralded his arrival. Rather he came forward, a manila folder in one hand. His portly face bore the signs and shadows of fatigue, and on his jaw-line ran a thin line of whiskers that he'd missed in shaving. He had not as yet bothered to take off his overcoat.
"I think I have what you need," he said to St. James as Cotter directed an affectionate scowl at his daughter's impish smile before departing. "Perhaps a bit more. The fellow who covered Geoffrey Rintoul's inquest in sixty-three is one of our senior editors now, so we rooted through his files this morning and came up with three photographs and a set of old notes. They're hardly legible since they were done in pencil, but we might be able to make something out of them." He gave St. James a look that endeavoured to read beneath the surface. "Did Stinhurst kill Joy? Is that where you're heading?"
The question was a logical conclusion to everything that had gone before, and not an unreasonable one for the journalist to ask. But St. James was not unaware of what it implied. Vinney played a triple role in the drama that had occurred at Westerbrae, as newsman, friend of deceased, and suspect. It was to his advantage to have that last entitlement removed entirely in the eyes of the police, to see that suspicion passed on to someone else. And after a show of fine, journalistic cooperation, what better person to see that it was done than St. James himself, known to be Lynley's friend? He answered Vinney cautiously.
"There's merely a small oddity about Geoffrey Rintoul's death that has us intrigued."
If the journalist was disappointed with the obliquity of the reply, he was careful not to show it. "Yes. I see." He shrugged out of his overcoat and accepted the introduction to St. James' wife. Placing the manila folder onto the lab table, he drew out its contents, a sheaf of papers and three tattered pictures. When he spoke again, it was with professional formality. "The inquest notes are quite complete. Our man was hoping for a feature on it, considering Geoffrey Rintoul's distinguished past, so he was careful about the details. I think you can rely on his accuracy."
The notes were written on yellow paper which did not make the faded pencil any easier to read. "It says something about an argument," St. James remarked, looking them over.
Vinney drew a lab stool over to the table. "The testimony of the family was fairly straightforward at the inquest. Old Lord Stinhurst-Francis Rintoul, the present earl's father-said there had been quite a row before Geoffrey took off that New Year's Eve."
"A row? About what?" St. James scanned for the details as Vinney supplied them.
"Apparently a semi-drunken spat that started delving into the family history."
That was very close to what Lynley had reported of his conversation with the current earl. But it was hard for St. James to believe that old Lord Stinhurst would have