"Perhaps I should have her teach me how to prepare some dishes before we leave."
"You, in the kitchen?"
"Why not, Patricia? After all, I've been told that you occasionally visit the kitchen yourself."
Daniel raised his head from the one-pot delight. "Oh? When was this?"
Lyon squeezed Diana's thigh.
"Just something I heard, Daniel," she said, forcing lightness in her voice.
Bemis said, "My lord, surely you and I should have a discussion."
"Ah," said Lyon.
"About Mendenhall," Bemis said, a definite edge to his voice. "Torrence is most concerned."
"I think he is wise to be concerned. Perhaps we should discuss Mendenhall at that. Tomorrow, I think."
Bemis looked as though he would say something more, but at that moment there was a yell from the grounds.
"My God, what now?" Lucien tossed his napkin on his plate and shoved back his chair.
They heard running steps toward the house and another yell.
Diana thought she knew the reason for that yell. She closed her eyes a moment, not moving.
25
There's small choice in rotten apples.
—SHAKESPEARE
Charles Swanson was dead. Shot through the head. He'd been dead for some time. His body was cold. He'd been stuffed beneath some bougainvillea at the eastern edge of the front grounds.
One of the gardeners had found him and promptly vomited up his dinner.
They searched the area, but found no trace of Swanson's murderer. A gun was found some ten feet from the body. It belonged to Lucien. Its place was empty in the gun case.
There was utter silence in the great house.
"My God," Lucien said again, his eyes on his hands clasped on his lap. Diana wanted to go to him, but Lyon gently tugged at her hand and shook his head. Deborah walked softly up behind his chair and laid her hand on his shoulder.
We are all here, Diana thought, sitting here, silent and helpless. Edward Bemis looked the worst of any of them. He appeared to have aged a decade. His hands were shaking badly. When Lyon handed him a brandy, he said nothing, but grasped the goblet and downed the contents in one gulp.
Patricia began sobbing softly and Daniel, so very gently, took her in his arms and began rocking her as if she were a child. She seemed a child pressed against his huge body.
Diana watched Deborah move away finally from her father and seat herself in a wing chair in the far corner of the drawing room. Her eyes stared blankly ahead and she was still as a stone. She was mumbling something under her breath, and only garbled sounds came to Diana's ears.
Lyon said slowly to Lucien, "I believe, sir, that it is our responsibility to discover who has done this."
Lucien had never felt so weary in his life. His body felt weighted down and his brain numb. He nodded slowly. "Go ahead, my boy."
"Very well," Lyon said. His eyes went to each face. "I believe," he continued, "that each of us should account for his or her time since this morning. I think Mr. Savarol said that he saw Swanson this morning at ten o'clock. Is that right, sir?"
"Yes," said Lucien. "That is correct."
"Did anyone see him alive after that time?"