Free Memory and Desire by Lillian Stewart Carl Page A

anyone with explanations. His expression slammed itself shut and barred its door. Cramming the letters back into his pocket, he stalked out of the room without looking again at Claire, even though she turned around in her chair to watch him leave.
    The door slammed. One of the customers said, “Didn't know the pub did cabaret, Diana."
    Pursing her lips, Diana sashayed over to the table of customers and distributed the glasses. “Our Mr. Lacey's always been something of a nutter, him and his old house."
    Alec looked more worried than puzzled. He stood up. “I'll have a quick word with him, see what he was on about. Half a tick."
    “He's not so keen on American lasses, is he?” Diana went on. “That one last year, they didn't half have a row at the cast party, did they? And now this one's got up his nose as well."
    Alec walked away. Her chair, Claire decided, was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture she'd ever been associated with. She, too, stood up. American lasses. Melinda's year-old threatening letter. Richard flipping out while he was reading a letter. If anger was all he'd been feeling. Claire could have sworn that his resentful glare had something in it of a cornered animal. Or was that wishful thinking on her part?
    He'd had a fight with Melinda at the cast party. The last place she'd been seen alive. So much for entente. So much for lulling her suspicions.
    She picked up her billfold, thanked Diana, and walked up to Rob and the cash register. Every eye in the place watched her pay the bill and leave.

Chapter Five

    Claire emerged from the pub to discover the evening had dimmed. Clouds filled the sky and the breeze smelled of rain, just as Alec had predicted.
    The bobby was standing with his hands folded behind his back, gazing down the street. Elliot leaned against the hood of his Jaguar, looking curiously past two volunteers of the young and female variety who were either admiring him or his car. Richard was nowhere to be seen.
    “Here,” Alec asked, “you didn't pay for the food, did you?"
    “Sure,” replied Claire. “No problem."
    He reached into his pocket and thrust several pound coins at her. She batted his hand away. The coins fell jangling onto the sidewalk. Alec scooped them up and stuffed them into the pocket of Claire's windbreaker. “There you are. When the new pound coins came out my cousin, a wee lad, thought they were sweeties. We caught him nibbling at them, trying to take off the gold paper and get at the chocolate inside. My mum washed his mouth out with nettle tea."
    Claire smiled. “Next time the food's on me. We can skip the nettle tea."
    “If it's Richard you're wanting,” called Elliot, “he set out toward the church at a rattling good pace. Shall I put on my boots and spurs and form a posse?"
    “Thank you, Elliot,” Alec returned equably. “No need.” His hand in the small of Claire's back urged her down the street like a sail a sailboat.
    She glanced back to see Elliot looking after them, hands braced on his hips, head tilted to the side, expression less puzzled than calculating. The polo shirt showed his chest and shoulders to be broader than they'd looked in his Italian-cut suit. Claire knew she was going to have to talk to him eventually. But one suspect at a time.
    “Did you get the impression,” she asked Alec, “that Richard was upset over one of those letters he was reading?"
    “I did do, yes. Not like him to get the wind up."
    She'd take Alec's word for Richard's usual barometric pressure. To her he was like a fall day in Texas—warm and sunny enough for a light sweater in the morning, a navy-blue sky spitting sleet by five. “How did he get along with Melinda? Before the argument at the cast party, that is."
    “They were at sixes and sevens a bit,” Alec replied. “He noticed her—who wouldn't? He'd just broken off a relationship with a woman in London, though, and I doubt he was ready to tangle himself up again."
    Claire wanted to ask, don't you