Free Destroying Angel by Alanna Knight

type of folks, if you understand. Lily was, well, a bit common and not really a suitable companion for Kate.’
    ‘Has Kate a good doctor to take care of her?’ I decided craftily to feign ignorance of what I already knew.
    ‘Not any more. Old Dr Holt was a good man and all his patients – that is everyone in Staines since he was the only doctor – they all loved him. He was more like a friend, a father confessor, they all said, as well as taking care of their bodies, they could tell him anything, get his help with all their problems.’
    The recipient of secrets, I thought. That could be dangerous.
    She was saying, ‘He looked after Kate, kept her spirits up. Refused to accept or let her accept that she might not get better. He was certain that her trouble might turn out to be some respiratory weakness, not that deadly consumption.’
    A sigh and she went on: ‘He took her into the hospital in Newcastle just a few months ago for tests, and when he was driving back home, his carriage went off the road at the level crossing and he was killed by an oncoming train.’
    Shaking her head, she added indignantly, ‘It ought to be got rid of, that crossing, especially with the pit closed. It isn’t needed any more.’
    I agreed but could not help thinking that it might alsoprovide a convenient means of disposing of one’s enemies.
    I made a mental note that it would be well worth investigating, as I said:
    ‘How tragic. Did he have a family?’
    ‘No bairns. His widow still lives in the village.’
    And I decided to put Mrs Holt high on my visiting list.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    So my introduction to Staines drew to a close. I was not sure what I had expected when I left Edinburgh, filled with a sense of dread and melancholy, to reunite Thane with his owners.
    Now the whole scene I had imagined had changed well beyond my expectations. Thane’s owner was an attractive man with problems that made the arrival of a Lady Investigator, Discretion Guaranteed extremely useful, and I had already accepted a very substantial fee to find out who was blackmailing him.
    Quite frankly, I did not expect this to be too difficult; from what he had told me the possible suspects were few in number and in a limited radius, compared to many similar Edinburgh cases recorded in my logbook. Blackmail was always my most frequent case. The victims were ready to part with substantial sums of money to keep some indiscretion from reaching the eyes and ears of a wife, husband or employer or the general public through the newspapers.
    The photographs in question suggested risqué French postcards of naked females in provocative poses, doubtless quite naughty, the kind most gentlemen had access to in their clubs and would dismiss with an appreciative grin.
    But in Hubert’s case his employer was none other than Her Majesty the Queen, who would be outraged, shocked andscandalised at having such a wanton creature anywhere near her precious grandchildren. His anxiety was understandable; a promising career and a prosperous future with the possibility of a knighthood were all at stake.
    I had promised to take Thane in to see Kate before bedding him down for the night. This was a matter of form only, since there was little evident rapport between them so far. Much to my relief, I might add, but I was curious. Did Kate suspect that this was not Roswal but have motives of her own for accepting him?
    She was sitting by the window and hardly lifted her eyes from the book she was reading when we entered, as always pursued by a breathless Collins, whose sudden appearances suggested that she was permanently stationed in a nearby linen cupboard.
    Glancing at Thane, she said, ‘You’re taking him to the stables. Mr Staines sends his apologies that he is unable to dine with you this evening. Perhaps you would like Mrs Robson to bring a tray up to your room.’
    I said that would be agreeable. I was tired after my broken night’s sleep in Wolf Rider’s bothy and didn’t