Lessons in Murder by Claire McNab Page A

strikes me as the jealous sort. Are you following that up?”
    “We’re following everything up,” said Carol.
    “Good,” said Sir Richard, standing. The meeting was obviously at an end. “I do appreciate you coming here personally, Inspector, and I expect that you will be making considerable progress in this coming week.”
    “I trust so,” said Carol, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.
    This seemed to amuse Sir Richard, who left her with a smile and the words, “I have absolute confidence in you, Inspector, otherwise you wouldn’t be on the case.”
    Bastard, thought Carol as she drove away.

Chapter Seven
     
    The dawn sky was an unpleasant, curdled red. Gray clouds hung oppressively low and a stiff hot breeze blew against Sybil’s face as she sat on the beach, her arms around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. Suddenly she became conscious that someone had approached to stand behind her. Her heart caught as she realized it was Carol. “How did you know where to find me?”
    Carol had been running. Her T-shirt was wet and her breath short. “Don’t you remember? Mark Bourke took exhaustive details of everyone’s morning schedules. You said you usually went for an early swim. I run every morning, so I decided to drive down to the beach and jog along the sand, taking the chance you’d be here.” She sank down beside her. “We need to discuss what happened on Saturday night.”
    “Nothing happened.”
    “Okay. Good. That’s it.” Carol stood up. “Sorry to interrupt you.”
    “Carol, stop. Please, sit down again.” She watched Carol sit, unlace her running shoes and wriggle her toes in the sand.
    There was a long pause. Seagulls squabbled, the water ran up the beach in scallops towards their feet, a passing dog stopped to check them out before going busily on his way. Sybil, keeping her eyes resolutely turned towards the waves, was aware of how often Carol let silence drag on until someone had to break it. It’s a technique, she thought, knowing that she would be driven to speak first. For the first time for as long as she could remember, she gave herself the luxury of dropping her guard and saying exactly what she really felt. “I want you to know that Saturday, on the harbor—somehow I felt I was living more vividly than I have for years. It was as though everything, what I saw, what I felt, was more real and more significant than ever before.” She turned to meet Carol’s green eyes. “And that kiss was wrong, but it was so exciting.”
    Carol looked away.
    “Are you going to say anything?” asked Sybil.
    What can I say to you, thought Carol, when you think to kiss is wrong? She forced a casual tone as she said, “Sybil, it was no big deal. Let’s forget it—it won’t happen again.”
    Sybil’s voice was rough with resentful anger. “That’s the trouble Carol, I want it to happen again.”
    Of course you do, straight woman, Carol thought bitterly. Forbidden fruit is so exciting, isn’t it? And you’ll fuck up my life, say you’re sorry, and walk back to your safe world.
    She stood up abruptly, brushing the sand from her shorts. Sybil joined her and they began to pace along the wet sand above the water line. Carol’s silver voice was tight. “I’m a police officer. I’m investigating a murder, possibly two. You were involved with both of the victims. There is no way that we can have any relationship, and that includes being friends.”
    Sybil asked the question that had bounced in her head since Saturday night: “Have you ever made love to a woman?”
    “Yes,” said Carol flatly. They stopped to face each other. “Have you?”
    Sybil turned away and began to walk up through the soft, dry sand to her towel. She snatched it up and flicked it savagely to get rid of clinging particles. “No. It’s unnatural. It’s wrong.”
    Carol let out her breath in a long sigh. “Well, you have no problem, then. Just forget it.”
    Sybil stared at her, then turned