Free Murder on the Moor by C. S. Challinor Page B

that,” Helen said beside him on the sofa.
    And that’s when Rex remembered—he had woken up late in the night and Helen was not in bed. He dared not look at her. Oh, but surely she would not have caused Moira harm, even though his ex-girlfriend had been a threat to their happiness.
    Estelle smoothed her red tartan skirt across her ample hips and crossed her thick ankles. She was built like a tank, certainly strong enough to have pushed Moira out the window, Rex considered. She addressed her husband. “Now you, Bertie. You too must account for your movements.”
    “Dammit, old girl,” Cuthbert responded. “My mind’s in a fog about last night. I remember drinking and dancing and so on. I suppose at some point I stumbled upstairs and fell into bed.”
    He had spoken to Moira upstairs, Rex remembered.
    “You used Rex’s bathroom first,” Estelle reminded her husband. “We both did. Then we turned in. Alistair?”
    “Let’s see now. I knocked on Rex’s door because I wanted to tell him about the latest Moor Murder, which I’d just caught on the telly. We sat in the library talking for a while. I slept in there. Mostly dosed, actually. I heard the panes rattling from the rain. It was so loud that the pills Rex went to fetch to help me sleep didn’t work.”
    “Shona. Your turn, dear.” Estelle turned toward Mrs. Allerdice with a schoolmarmish expression of encouragement.
    “Well, I helped Helen and my daughter with the dishes. There was someone in the upstairs bathroom, so I used the one downstairs. I got up once in the night and found the bathroom on the upstairs landing still occupied. I do remember the radiator leaking all night with a steady drip-drip-drip, but it was sort of hypnotic. Hamish snored away like a donkey as usual.”
    Mr. Allerdice was not in the room to object to his wife’s characterization. Rex thought she might not have felt so bold had he been there. And what had she been doing outside?
    Estelle looked across at the journalist who was nursing a cup of coffee. “Rob Roy, if you please.”
    Rex watched as the man hunched forward in his armchair and frowned in concentration. “I helped Rex put the furniture back in its place after the dancing. When the women had finished taking the plates and glasses away, I made myself comfortable on the sofa and put the blanket over my head. I was awoken one time in the night by a loud thud outside. It seemed to come from ground level. I thought perhaps a tree had fallen in the storm.”
    “What time was this?” Rex asked, searching around in a drawer for a paper and pen.
    “Not sure, but I’d not been asleep long.”
    “What direction did the sound come from?”
    “Down the hall by the library.”
    “Flora, can you remember anything?” Estelle asked the girl in the window seat.
    Rex contained his irritation at not being allowed to direct the line of questioning himself, but so far Estelle was doing a decent job of asking all the basics. He concentrated instead on noting the guests’ reactions.
    “Well, actually, I did see something,” Flora stammered, looking up meekly at Mrs. Farquharson and then away through the window.
    The people in the room stared at her expectantly. The pen in Rex’s hand stood poised, waiting for the revelation that might solve Moira’s murder.
    “Go on, Flora,” Estelle prompted. “What did you see?”
    “Well, I could have dreamt it, I suppose.” Flora brought her vague gaze to rest on Mrs. Farquharson. “It was really strange—and quite frightening.”
    “Well?” her mother asked, eyes wide as saucers.
    “It was a bulky shape on the stairs, with a large, odd-shaped head or else really weird hair.” Flora’s hands fluttered around her own listless brown locks held back in an Alice in Wonderland headband. “Of course, it was a shadow I saw, so it could have been distorted.”
    “Was it going up or down the stairs?” Rex asked.
    “I’m not sure.” Flora chewed on her lip. “I just shrank back into