A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,114

Inspector. I’m afraid Kit was not capable of pleasuring another woman yesterday afternoon.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Drummond?”

“Let us be frank, Inspector. Kit’s talents in the bedroom were quite satisfactory, but he had his limitations. He had been with me twice between two and four-thirty. He would have been entirely incapable of rising to the challenge again.”

The inspector flushed a little. “I am not quite certain I am—”

“Shall I speak even more plainly? Kit could not have achieved an erection then. After our time together he would have slept heavily. He certainly didn’t stir when I left, and I made no effort to be quiet. Whoever murdered him most likely snuck in when he was still sleeping and helped himself to Kit’s gun. Kit wouldn’t have heard anything.”

The inspector hesitated. “Well, Mr. Parrymore’s posture in death would indicate he had been surprised while in repose.”

“Another hole in your crime passionnel theory,” I added brutally.

The inspector gave me a thin smile. “As you say, Miss Drummond. But if Mr. Parrymore was killed as you suggest, by an intruder who came upon him as he slept, then this murder takes on an altogether more sinister cast.”

“How so?”

“Premeditation, Miss Drummond. To kill a man when you have apprehended him making love to your wife is sometimes excusable. To kill a man with his own gun when he is sleeping is the foulest crime. Whoever did this will swing for it.”

He paused. “Of course, premeditation speaks to resentment, deeply held emotion that has festered. Do you know of anyone who held a grudge against Mr. Parrymore?”

“No. The very notion is absurd. Kit is—was—the sort of man who glided through life, Inspector. He made friends easily, of both sexes. He had the gift of ease with people. Men liked investing in his art. Women liked investing in the man. I think they believed they could domesticate him.”

“Did you?”

“I’m not looking for a husband. Kit suited me just as he was. I can’t speak for other women.”

“No, of course not. But was there anyone who might have rested their hopes upon Mr. Parrymore and found him a rather unreliable vessel?”

“Perhaps. But Kit and I never discussed such things. I assume he was sleeping with other women. In fact, I hoped he was. But who they were was of absolutely no interest to me.” I didn’t see the point in mentioning the others by name. If Gilchrist was any sort of investigator, he’d find them himself. And if he didn’t? Well, that wasn’t my problem.

The inspector paused in jotting his notes and gave me a slightly slack-jawed stare.

“How extraordinary,” he murmured. “In my experience women tend to be curious about such things.”

“You have no experience of me,” I reminded him.

To my surprise, he flushed a little. “Quite,” he said, his voice clipped. “You have no knowledge of who Mr. Parrymore’s other special friends might have been. What about his politics?”

I shrugged. “The same as most colonists. He favoured independence.”

His brows peaked. “Strongly?”

“I haven’t the faintest. Kit and I seldom discussed such things when we were together. In fact, we didn’t talk much at all.”

This time the blush crept all the way to his neck and he tugged a little at his collar. “I see.” He changed tactics then, and when he spoke, his voice was smooth as silk, suddenly warm and insinuating, as if he meant to coax a confidence. “I have heard that you are quite often seen in the company of one of the Masai. A fellow named Gideon.”

I blinked slowly. “Oh, you mean Ryder White’s tracker. Of course. He’s a helpful fellow.”

The inspector sat forward suddenly, angling his body so that his shoulders blocked me into the sofa. Why had I thought him slight? “Miss Drummond, I have reason to believe this Masai was there. I believe he was involved in Kit Parrymore’s death. I want you to tell me why.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s madness.”

“Is it? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman has been the cause of trouble in this colony,” he told me, his expression grim.

“You think Kit and Gideon quarreled? Over me? That’s too absurd for words.”

“I don’t know what to think yet, but I know where to look and I know whom to ask. But right now, I want the story from you.”

“I have no story to give you, Inspector. Gideon is in Ryder White’s employ and occasionally helps out here at Fairlight. Kit was my lover. As far as I knew, the two