Free A Share in Death by Deborah Crombie Page B

I’d been asleep, but it wasn’t quite true, really. Emma gets so upset when I forget things, so I waited until she’d gone to sleep …”
    “Did you forget something, then?” Kincaid leaned against the wall, patient and relaxed, his professional manner slipping over him. He took care not to hurry her.
    “My handbag. In the lounge. I had such a good time at the party. I had a sherry. I don’t usually, it must have made me forgetful …”
    Penny’s voice trailed off again, and Kincaid dared to prompt her. “Did you go out to look for it, after Emma fell asleep?”
    “I waited until she started snoring. She never wakes after that.” A faint trace of her impish grin appeared. “The house was so quiet. I felt a little … skittish. An unfamiliar place, and dark. I didn’t expect—” She broke off, the momentary ease vanishing as swiftly as it had come. “It probably didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t stand to cause anyone distress. To be fair, I think perhaps I ought to speak—”
    “Penny, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Emma MacKenzie’s head appeared at the top of the stairwell, followed by her body as she puffed her way up the last few steps. “What are you doing skulking up here?”
    “I just wanted a word with Mr. Kincaid, Emma.” Penny was apologetic and flustered, and, Kincaid thought, a tiny bit relieved. He cursed under his breath.He’d get nothing more now, whatever she’d steeled herself to say would have to wait.
    “Miss MacKenzie’s just been telling me what I should see—
    “Well, for goodness sake, let Mr. Kincaid get on with it, then, and come along or we’ll miss the best birding of the day. It’s already late.” Emma turned, and muttered “A whole morning wasted …” as she stomped back down the stairs.
    Kincaid winked at Penny behind Emma’s back as they followed obediently behind.
    *   *   *
    Cassie, as far as Kincaid could see, had not been one to suffer an uncomfortable night. He found her in her office, serene among the clutter, looking rested, sleek and so self-satisfied he almost expected her to purr. She smiled brightly at him, and gave him his rank—letting him know, thought Kincaid, that they weren’t going to get too chummy.
    “What can I do for you, Superintendent?”
    “Sleep well, Cassie?” She only smiled and waited, as if expecting greater things from him. “I thought you might be able to give me Sebastian’s address.”
    “Playing the good Samaritan?” Cassie mocked him.
    “I thought someone should. You said he lived with his mum. What about his dad?” Kincaid propped himself on the edge of her desk, riffling his fingers through the loose papers scattered on its top. He leaned toward her, encroaching on the deliberate distance she had placed between them.
    “Died years ago, or at least that’s what he always said. Mummy raised her boy alone.” Cassie crossed herarms under her breasts and tilted her head to look up at him.
    “Cassie, did you see Sebastian after the party that night? He seemed perfectly all right earlier.”
    “I went over to my cottage about ten. He was tidying up in the lounge. He said he’d lock up—he usually did. Liked to play lord of the manor, padding around the house at night arranging everything just so. Then, last thing, he’d use the Jacuzzi. If I were awake I’d hear his motorbike start up when he left—he parked it right alongside the cottages.” Cassie seemed to be talking as much to herself as to Kincaid, her voice quiet and touched with what might almost have been a trace of regret. “I don’t remember hearing it that night, though I wasn’t conscious of missing anything at the time.”
    “And did you see or hear anything else after you’d turned in that night?”
    “Don’t cross-examine me, Superintendent,” Cassie said nastily. “Your Inspector Nash has already done enough for the two of you.” She flipped through a Rolodex on her desk and scribbled something on