Martin Edwards - The Arsenic Labyrinth

Hannah remembered the paramedics by the banks of Coniston Water, loading the inert body of Francis Goddard on to a stretcher. His face had been frozen in an expression of unimaginable terror, as though he’d looked into the heart of the Devil himself. And she remembered catching sight of Vanessa, sobbing uncontrollably in a hospital corridor after the doctors had told her the news.

‘I suppose you’re right.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’d better hit the road, I promised Marc I wouldn’t be too late. Thanks for sparing your time.’

‘A pleasure.’

‘I never even asked you … how are things?’

‘Looking up. An American company has offered me a gig on a cruise line, talking history to a party of wealthy tourists as we sail the Caribbean for a month in spring. It’s a late opportunity. They booked Hattie Costello ages ago, but last week she fractured her ankle in a celebrity ski-ing show and had to cry off. Shame, huh?’

‘And the writing?’

‘It’ll keep until I return to the UK. But I have the germ of an idea for a new book. Ruskin wasn’t the only Lake District literary figure worth writing about.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re falling back on dear old Willie Wordsworth?’

He grinned and reached for the pocket of the coat he’d hung on the chair. With a magician’s flourish, pulled out a paperback. When Hannah saw the author and title, she couldn’t help laughing.

Thomas de Quincey, On Murder.

‘Hannah!’

As she walked back along Stricklandgate, Hannah was stopped in her tracks by a familiar cry. Glancing across the road, she spotted Terri, in long leather coat and high heels, waving with gusto. She hurried over to join her.

‘You’re looking very gorgeous.’

It wasn’t idle flattery. Terri might be a make-up artist, skilled at dressing mutton as lamb, but in her own case she had the advantage of fantastic bone structure plus thick red hair and a figure to die for.

Terri beamed, showing lots of sharp white teeth. ‘Another date.’

‘And how is Denzil?’

Terri thrust out her lower lip, a gesture Hannah remembered from the playground, twenty years ago. ‘That old fart? He called last night to say he really didn’t think we were suited for a long term relationship, but he hoped we could remain good friends. As if! Apparently I didn’t show enough excitement about his azaleas, it’s how he quality-controls prospective girlfriends. Oh well, easy come, easy go.’

‘So who is it tonight?’

‘He describes himself as a senior professional. It’s all rather mysterious, he doesn’t give much away. I’m thinking a barrister, tall, dark and handsome. Possibly a doctor? Or knowing my luck, a serial killer. But I can’t come to much harm in the middle of a swish new Russian restaurant, can I? I’ve taken a peek at the menu. The caviar costs a fortune, but …’

‘You’re worth it?’

‘Dead right.’ Terri brushed Hannah’s hand with hers. ‘By the way, I wanted to apologise. When I was talking about Denzil, I was excited. I suppose what I said about your miscarriage was insensitive. I’m sorry, sweetie.’

‘No worries.’

At least not as far as Terri was concerned. Last night in bed, she’d finally got up the nerve to ask Marc how he felt about trying for a baby. He hadn’t quite managed to stifle a nervous sigh before whispering that they ought to talk one of these days, but not right now. He was focused on the business, and besides what was the hurry? They had all the time in the world.

‘Sure?’ Terri asked.

‘Promise. As a matter of fact, you pointed me in the right direction. Something you said helped me understand the case I was working on.’

‘Seriously?’ Terri clapped her hands in delight. ‘That’s a first, eh? Incidentally, I’ve forgiven you for not turning up that night. I hope your constable’s OK after trying to rescue that feller.’

‘Thanks, she’s fine.’ Hannah pressed her lips against Terri’s cheek. ‘Have a lovely evening.’

She hurried back across the road but as she passed a home furnishing shop, she saw a familiar figure reflected in the plate glass window. Les Bryant was striding along the opposite pavement, a rolled umbrella in his hand. He had an overcoat slung around his shoulders and underneath she glimpsed a blazer and tie. She’d never seen him looking so natty before, he might have been on his way to a bank managers’ reunion.

Suspicion suddenly swelled in her mind. She glanced over her shoulder, towards where she’d left Terri waiting.

As if on cue, Les halted and said something to Terri. Her friend smiled, gracious as royalty, and extended her hand.

Well, well. Hannah turned in the direction of the car park. It wouldn’t do for them to see her watching them. With any luck they’d have a great night. Though as a long-term relationship, it didn’t have a hope in hell. Did it?

It was a funny thing about relationships. The more she saw, the less she understood why some of them worked and some fell apart.

Wanting to get home, yet not sure why, she broke into a run.