A Share in Death

“I gathered that.” Kincaid nodded toward several strange cars parked haphazardly on the gravel.

“The Home Office pathologist is on his way, and the undertaker’s van. If Miss MacKenzie could see her before they load her up, it would save her having to make a formal identification at the undertakers. Don’t see why not. I’ll take statements as soon as they’re finished down below. You

A share in death 99

want to tag along? Or are you still neither fish nor fowl?”

“Fowl, I think, by this time. But I told Miss MacKenzie I’d wait for her.”

Kincaid left him and walked down the path until he could see the activity in the court. A uniformed constable stood sentinel at the gate and an area around Penny’s body had been marked off with white tape. Anne Percy knelt at Penny’s side, and Nash stood silently nearby, surveying the scene like a malevolent idol.

Dr. Percy closed her bag, rose, and went to speak to Chief Inspector Nash. She looked up, saw Kincaid on the path and flashed him a brief smile. Kincaid thought she looked more professional today and even more attractive than before dressed in a heather-colored sweater and trousers.

She came up the path toward him, swinging her black bag. “I may get used to standing in for the police surgeon,” she said by way of greeting. “I’ve certified death, that’s about all I can do here.”

“Will you wait for the pathologist?” Kincaid asked.

“Yes. I understand Miss MacKenzie has a sister. Do you think I should see her?”

“Would you?” Kincaid asked. “Although I’m not sure she’ll welcome it.”

Anne Percy smiled. “That’s all right. I’m used to these situations.”

The undertaker’s van stood with its rear doors open, waiting, and Kincaid stood waiting as well. He found it odd not to be directing the swirl of activity around him, or even performing an assigned task, as he had done often enough.

The front door opened softly behind him and he turned to see Emma MacKenzie hesitating in its sheltered arch. She seemed to have shrunk, her take-charge briskness evaporated. The lines between nose and mouth cut sharply into her face.

“Are you all right?” Kincaid asked.

“Your Dr. Percy’s been to see me. Kind, but unnecessary.”

It relieved Kincaid to find her voice as scratchy and

100 deborah grombie

acerbic as ever, although he thought she, in her gruff way, was acknowledging his concern. She looked past him at the waiting van, started to speak, then lifted her hand in a supplicating gesture. ”Not long now,” he said gently. “I believe they’re almost finished.”

Emma fixed her eyes on Kincaid’s face. “She seemed so resolute this morning. Purposeful. You know how Penny always flits … flitted from one thing to the next. Quiet, too. When I questioned her she just smiled. Silly goose, I thought, keeping secrets …” Her voice faltered.

“Miss MacKenzie, don’t. We’re both guilty of not taking her seriously.”

A shuffling sound came from the garden. The undertaker’s attendants maneuvered the stretcher over the crest of the path and started across the lawn, followed closely by Inspector Raskin. Penny lay wrapped and taped in black polythene, as neat as a Christmas package. Kincaid took Emma’s arm. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Emma’s head jerked once in assent, but she didn’t brush away Kincaid’s hand as they started down the steps. The polythene’s final closure had been left undone, and Raskin carefully turned back the fold to reveal Penny’s face. Emma stared for a long moment, then nodded once again. Raskin refolded the polythene and sealed it with a roll of tape he carried in his hand. The attendants slid the stretcher into the van and closed the doors with the swift, fluid movements of long experience, and as the driver climbed into his seat Kincaid heard him say, “C’mon mate. We’ll miss our dinner if we’re not careful.” The van’s brake lights flashed as it turned into the road, and Kincaid realized that the day had grown overcast.

“She did say something this morning,” Emma broke into his thoughts. “While she was collecting her things. It was almost… you’ll think I’m foolish.”

“No, I won’t. Go on.”

“It seemed almost like a litany she was repeating to herself. ‘One or t’other, one or t’other … ‘ It was something our father used to say to us when we were children. Whenever we had to make a difficult choice. One or the other.”

El

even <>j^

gemma stuck her head out the Escort’s window and called to the petrol station attendant. “Can you tell me how to find Grove House?”

“Next left, miss, just round the corner. It’s the old manor house. You can’t miss it.” He was young, and nice looking, and his amiable response cheered her, even though she must have missed the damned house. Three times she’d driven around the village, and she couldn’t tell by this time where she’d been and where she hadn’t.