A Share in Death

164 deborah grombie

reception room to the right of the front door, and she knew from her afternoon visit that the clinic proper occupied the ground and first floors of the house, while Miles Sterrett retained the top floor for his personal use.

Mrs. Milton tapped on a door in the upper corridor, motioned Gemma in and pulled the door closed smartly behind her. Gemma stood alone on the threshold, feeling a bit like Daniel thrown to the lions. From the receptionist’s ferocious protectiveness, she had expected an elderly man, perhaps bedridden, perhaps in a chair with a rug over his knees, confined to a hospital-like room.

She found herself in a masculine study with book-lined walls, leather chairs, a glowing oriental rug under her feet and a fire burning brightly in the grate. Miles Sterrett sat at an ornate desk, head bent over some papers. He looked up and smiled, then rose and came across the room to greet her.

“Sergeant James.”

“Mr. Sterrett. Thank you for seeing me.” Gemma had to look up as she took his outstretched hand, for Miles Sterrett was tall and slender, with a thin face and fine hair that looked more primrose-yellow than gray in the firelight. He wore a pale yellow pullover jersey, and neatly creased dark trousers. Only the dark hollows under his eyes and a slight hesitation in his movements betrayed any illness.

“Come and sit down. Mrs. Milton’s left us some coffee.” He seated her in one of two chairs near the fire, and himself in the other. On a low table between them stood a tray with cups and a thermos. When he reached for her cup, Gemma saw the faint tremble in his hand.

“Shall I pour?”

Miles sat back, casually clasping the tell-tale hands on his knee. “Thank you.” He accepted his cup, and when Gemma had hers, he spoke again. “Now tell me, Sergeant, just what this is about. Mrs. Milton assures me that Hannah is all right?”

His last statement ended on a faint interrogatory note, and Gemma thought that Miles Sterrett’s natural good manners concealed a very real worry. “Miss Alcock’s fine, sir. But

A share in death 165

there have been two suspicious deaths at Followdale House in the last week, and we’re naturally very concerned for everyone’s safety.”

“You don’t mean Hannah—”

“No, no, not specifically, but the sooner we get our inquiries cleared up, the happier we’ll all be.” Gemma took a sip of her coffee. Strong and rich, it bore little relation to instant or the marked-down tins in the corner grocer. “Do you know if Miss Alcock had any connection to either Sebastian Wade or Penny MacKenzie?”

He shook his head. “I don’t recall her mentioning either of them.”

“What about any other previous connection with the timeshare? Did she give you any indication why she chose this particular place?”

Miles reached for his cup, and Gemma noticed that he held it only long enough to drink, then returned it to the table. “She didn’t actually say much to me about it at all. It struck me as rather odd, because Hannah and I have been friends for more years than I like to count.” He smiled, erasing the sternness from his thin face. “Hannah came to me almost fifteen years ago—highly recommended, of course—from a university research facility. I’m not a scientist, you know, and the success of our work here,” he made an encircling gesture with his hand, “is entirely due to Hannah’s brilliance and perseverance. Sergeant—” he stopped and stared at Gemma, his brow creasing. “I think that you are much too lovely to be addressed as ‘Sergeant.’ Could I call you ‘Miss,’ or ‘Mrs.,’ or perhaps the unpleasant and ubiquitous ‘Ms.’?”

Gemma, who dealt with catcalls from yobs in the street without turning an eyelash, felt herself coloring at the courtly compliment. It was also rather chauvinistic, she had to admit, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel offended. “Well, ‘Ms.’ will do, if you like.”

“All right, Ms. James. If you feel you need a character reference for Hannah, I know of nothing the least bit questionable in her past or present. I consider her as both friend and family, and would vouch for her behavior under

166 deborah crombie

any circumstances. Hannah is certainly not capable of killing anyone.” His clasped hands moved convulsively as he spoke, and Gemma saw that the trembling had increased.

“Mr. Sterrett, I don’t think the investigating officers seriously consider that a possibility, but we must make these inquiries. You do understand?” Gemma searched for a change of subject to ease his obvious distress. “Is the clinic named for someone in your family, Mr. Sterrett?”