Murder Comes Calling by C. S. Challinor Page A

home after what’s happened,” she said. “But in spite of your size, you look quite harmless.”
    “Thank you. I think.” He smiled at the petite woman before him.
    “And you’re not quite a stranger, if you know Malcolm. I saw on your card that you’re an officer of the law.” Seemingly satisfied that he posed no danger, she said brightly, “I always treat myself to a sherry on Friday nights. Care to join me?”
    “I would, thank you.” Rex took a seat on the nearest armchair while she crossed to an antique buffet table and poured sherry from a decanter into two small, bell-shaped glasses.
    She handed him one and sat down opposite him.
    “Mrs. Ballantine—”
    “Sandra.”
    “Sandra. You must think me very nosy coming round asking questions.”
    She tugged on her cultured pearl necklace. “I thought the killer’s been apprehended. That other house agent …”
    “Chris Walker. I don’t know that he’s been arrested. Malcolm and I are just trying to get supplemental information. As you are no doubt aware, it was my friend who found the bodies.”
    Sandra visibly shivered as she held the sherry glass between her knees.
    Rex apologized for upsetting her. “Malcolm and I were at Edinburgh University together,” he elaborated. “He was studying medicine while I was getting my law degree. I occasionally get asked to investigate murder cases.”
    “So you’re helping the police,” Sandra said.
    “In a manner of speaking.” For all he knew, the police might construe his and Malcolm’s actions as outright interference.
    More at ease now, Sandra sipped her sherry and Rex did the same. It was a bit on the sweet side for his taste, but much appreciated nonetheless after his cold walk.
    “You asked about visitors, but no one’s come to see the house. Mr. Gleeson told us he’d had a couple of people call asking for information, but they were weeded out as having no more than a morbid curiosity. He told us to hang on.”
    At that moment, Rex heard the clang of the garage door, and Sandra jumped in her armchair. “That must be my husband. I wasn’t expecting him so early.” She looked at Rex as though working up the nerve to ask him to leave.
    “Grand,” he said. “I wanted to talk to him too.”
    A man with smarmy good looks stepped into the living room and stopped abruptly when he saw Rex. “I didn’t know we had company,” he said, eyeing his wife.
    “This is Rex Graves, QC, a friend of Malcolm Patterson’s, whom you worked with when trying to organize that automated gate for the entrance.”
    “I know who Malcolm is,” her husband cut in. “You might perhaps have asked Mr. Graves if he wanted to remove his wet coat.”
    Sandra glanced at Rex in apology. “Oh, I didn’t think—”
    “I’m not staying long, and I’m sorry to impose.” Rex turned to Mr. Ballantine, who was loosening his tie. “I was telling your wife I was interested in the Notting Hamlet murders.”
    “Aren’t we all.” Rick busied himself at the buffet table.
    “Mr. Graves was asking if anyone had come to see our house, and I said no.”
    “Unfortunately, that’s so.” Her husband returned with a tumbler of liquor on the rocks. The ice rattled as he took a seat beside his wife on the sofa. Rex noted there was no physical contact between them. “I commute to Bedford practically every day,” Rick Ballantine said. “It’s a long haul in bad traffic. If I work late I kip on the divan at my office.”
    Rex noticed Sandra stiffen. I see, he thought to himself with a degree of irony. It wasn’t that long of a drive.
    “And we want to be closer to the city so our son can get more involved in after-school activities. It will be the same distance for my wife to travel to work. But it looks like we’ll be stuck here for the time being, at least.” Mr. Ballantine took a slug of his drink. “Nothing like a string of murders in a remote community to give buyers cold feet.”
    “Is that why you wanted to put in a