The Detection Collection. Simon Brett

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СКАЧАТЬ was on her feet. ‘Of course you killed him! Peter didn’t, why would Peter do something like that? But he saw you out running by the lake, didn’t he? You killed him. You’re a murderer, Trent!’

      She was screaming now, her face red, spittle flying from her lips. She launched into a tirade of Spanish, and lunged towards him. I stood up and took her by the arm. ‘It’s okay, Manola,’ I tried to say. ‘It’s okay.’

      ‘It’s not okay, Peter,’ she said, but she was sobbing. ‘I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stand being in the room with him.’

      ‘Here, I’ll take you back to your cabin,’ I said. I led her out of the dining room. The policeman guarding the door was about to stop her, but I glared at him. He stepped out of our way. I took her to her room and left her there, promising I would be back in a few minutes.

      As I walked back to the lodge I wondered what to do. I had no doubt that Manola was right, that Trent was jealous of her affair with Harald. But had he killed him? It just seemed so absurd, so unreal. The whole thing seemed unreal.

      I saw the policeman waiting by the door. He was tall and nervous; Manola’s hysterics had clearly shaken him. He didn’t look like a country policeman at all. He was soft, no tough guy. I stared at him. A policeman, even in rural New Hampshire, should be able to handle angry women better than he had. Suddenly I knew where I had seen Sergeant O’Leary before.

      ‘Where’s your squad car?’ I asked the policeman.

      ‘Out back,’ he said.

      ‘I’m going to see it,’ I said. ‘And I’m going to take a look at where Harald was killed.’ I turned towards the path around the side of the building.

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir,’ he said, stepping in front of me.

      ‘How can you stop me?’

      ‘I can restrain you, sir. I’m a policeman.’

      ‘Are you quite sure about that?’ I said.

      I burst into the manager’s office. Bill, ‘Sergeant O’Leary’ and Steve Goldberg were sitting watching a small video screen on which was a view of a heated discussion between Trent, Phil and Charlie.

      Bill turned around, and smiled when he saw me. ‘Well, well, well. I thought if anyone figured it out it would be you. How did you do it?’

      ‘You’re an actor, aren’t you?’ I said to the man in the bad suit. ‘You had a bit part in The West Wing a few years ago.’

      ‘You remembered that?’ said O’Leary. ‘I’m impressed. No one ever recognises me from that. I was only in one episode.’

      ‘Where’s Harald?’ I asked.

      ‘He’s fine,’ Bill said. ‘He’s at the motel in town. We whisked him away in the middle of the night. He has no idea what’s going on here. Poor fellow never was on the partnership track, but I needed a fall guy to play the favourite.’

      ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I demanded, making no attempt to hide my anger.

      ‘Calm down, Peter,’ Bill said, giving me his warmest grin. ‘This was the ultimate partnership test. We wanted you to be the chief suspect, and I must say you handled it pretty well. But that affair between Manola and Harald was quite unexpected. I wouldn’t have thought he was her type. And I’ve learned a lot about Trent as well.’

      ‘Did you see what you did to her?’ I demanded.

      ‘Manola has a tendency to lose her cool; that’s really her biggest weakness. She’ll be fine this afternoon once she knows Harald is okay. And she’ll be laughing about it next week.’

      ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘I really don’t think so.’

      ‘My God, look!’ We both turned to see Steve Goldberg pointing to the video screen. It was a good picture, in colour. Manola was walking towards Trent, her back to the camera. Behind her back she was clutching a long carving knife from the ham platter. Trent hadn’t seen it yet, his expression was a mixture of embarrassment and complacency.

      I ran for the door and sprinted across the hallway to the dining room. And then I heard Trent scream.

      ‘Whew,’ I said, when Peter had finished.

      ‘Are you still going to join Labouchere?’ he said.

      I shook my head. ‘So, that’s why you quit, then?’

      ‘Yes. As did Harald, and Manola, of course. They split up.’

      ‘Understandable, I suppose. Did she actually kill Trent?’

      ‘Yes. It was covered up. It required all Bill Labouchere’s considerable organisational skills and influence. We all felt complicit so we all helped. We thought Manola had suffered extreme provocation, but we couldn’t be sure the courts would see it that way. In my opinion it was Bill who really killed Trent.’

      ‘But Labouchere Associates is still going strong?’

      ‘Going from strength to strength. The others stayed on as if nothing had happened. Charlie Cameron was even made a partner. No one mentions Lake Lenatonka. Ever.’ Then Peter frowned. He had seen someone over my shoulder. ‘Oh Christ,’ he said. ‘I forgot we arranged to meet here. For God’s sake, don’t mention any of this, will you?’

      ‘No, of course not,’ I said. I turned to see who Peter had spotted. Coming towards us was a dark-haired woman in an expensive low-cut cream suit and high heels. She was drop-dead gorgeous and the noise level in the bar dropped as every man turned to watch her make her way across to us.

      She smiled when she saw Peter, a wide warm smile and kissed him quickly on the lips. Peter swallowed. ‘Mike, I don’t think you’ve met my wife, have you?’

      She turned her smile to me. ‘Hi,’ she said, in an American accent. ‘I’m Manola. I’ve heard so much about you.’

      ‘Likewise,’ I said. ‘Likewise.’

       A TOOTHBRUSH

      H.R.F. Keating

      Henry Tailor, assistant inspector in the Small Branches Division of mighty H.J. Manifold’s, arrived late at his house in sweetly suburban Harrow-on-the-Hill. Victim of the hospitality of the over-anxious manager of the Bedford branch, he had missed, by a minute, his train back. He had had then to sit for a whole hour in the station waiting room, thinking how much nicer it would be to be looking down at his Alice, his quiet little wife of three years, an early-to-bedder if ever there was, as she lay innocently asleep.

      Home at last, totally weary, when he did stand there beside her he found himself in a dilemma. Go to the bathroom and get rid of any trace of alcohol on his breath – Alice hated it – by quickly brushing his teeth? Or, forgetting his toothbrush, the green one, side by side in the mug with Alice’s pink one, put his clothes neatly on his chair, slip his pyjamas from СКАЧАТЬ