mean?’
‘Well, is it an anti-virus protection? Because I
don’t see any software with it.’
‘No, no, it’s—’
‘And there doesn’t seem to be a USB connection.’
‘No, there isn’t.’
‘So how can it deal with all my “computer problems,
glitches and viruses”?’
‘Well, it may not actually be able to do that.’
‘But, Mother, it says it can.’
‘Yes, but it’s more . . . It’s just a nice thing to stick
on your computer.’
‘Why?’
‘Well . . . Because, when you wind it up, its wings
flap.’
‘Why would you want its wings to flap?’
‘And it glows in the dark.’
‘But what use would that be? You wouldn’t be
using a computer in the dark, would you?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Steve,’ said Gaby in some
exasperation, ‘it’s a joke.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s just a fun thing to have on your computer.’
‘A fun thing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it is !’ snapped Carole. And as her son
continued to look with befuddlement at his extra gift,
she went on, ‘Anyway, you can change the shirts if
you don’t like them.’
And normal Christmas service was resumed. Oh
well, you can’t get everything right with presents,
thought Carole. And Gaby was very pleased with her
boa.
They left soon after four. Lily, her mother
reckoned, would be asleep before the car reached the
end of the road. And as she tidied up the substantial
remains of the lavish lunch, Carole reflected that it
had really all worked very well. A family Christmas
Day, just like proper families had. A perfect day,
except for a couple of details.
One was the call from David, which still rankled.
And the other cause of disquiet was the news
she had received the day before, about Polly Le Bonnier having been shot. Even when she was at her
most relaxed with her enchantingly adorable granddaughter,
Carole Seddon had been unable to clear
her mind completely of thoughts about the unsolved
murder.
Chapter Fourteen
She woke the next morning still glowing with success.
The relief that she normally experienced on reaching
Boxing Day was a much more positive sensation than
she had felt in recent years, and she decided to put
into action a plan she had been toying with for the
previous twenty-four hours.
Boxing Day might be a fine time for professional
policemen to pursue murder inquiries, but amateurs
found things more difficult. Everyone battened down
their hatches over the Christmas period; it was not
the ideal opportunity for casual calling on people by
those with investigative intentions.
But certain imperatives overrode seasonal considerations
and, as Carole was never left in any
doubt by Gulliver, dog-walking was one of them. The
rhythm of a dog’s life cannot be interrupted by public
holidays or international events. When a dog needed
to be walked, it very definitely had to be walked.
Carole was banking on the fact that her quarry’s
dog had the same sense of priorities, and in this conjecture
she was proved to be correct. Though she had
woken soon after six, she resisted Gulliver’s heavy hints that he wanted to go out for his walk at the
normal time and waited till just before seven-thirty.
At that time, given the fact that it was Boxing Day,
she knew the only people on Fethering Beach would
be dog-walkers.
And, as she had hoped, one of them was the
owner of a West Highland terrier with a Black Watch
coat on. It was Anna from Gallimaufry, her blonded
hair again hidden by a thick scarf. Normally, on
seeing someone she knew – and even more someone
she didn’t know – on Fethering Beach, Carole
Seddon’s reaction would have been to take a route as
far away from them as possible. But on this occasion
she led Gulliver straight towards the woman. The two
dogs circled each other warily.
‘Hello. Anna, isn’t it?’ said Carole.
‘Yes, that’s right. I recognize you from the shop,
but I’m sorry, I don’t know your
‘Well, is it an anti-virus protection? Because I
don’t see any software with it.’
‘No, no, it’s—’
‘And there doesn’t seem to be a USB connection.’
‘No, there isn’t.’
‘So how can it deal with all my “computer problems,
glitches and viruses”?’
‘Well, it may not actually be able to do that.’
‘But, Mother, it says it can.’
‘Yes, but it’s more . . . It’s just a nice thing to stick
on your computer.’
‘Why?’
‘Well . . . Because, when you wind it up, its wings
flap.’
‘Why would you want its wings to flap?’
‘And it glows in the dark.’
‘But what use would that be? You wouldn’t be
using a computer in the dark, would you?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Steve,’ said Gaby in some
exasperation, ‘it’s a joke.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s just a fun thing to have on your computer.’
‘A fun thing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it is !’ snapped Carole. And as her son
continued to look with befuddlement at his extra gift,
she went on, ‘Anyway, you can change the shirts if
you don’t like them.’
And normal Christmas service was resumed. Oh
well, you can’t get everything right with presents,
thought Carole. And Gaby was very pleased with her
boa.
They left soon after four. Lily, her mother
reckoned, would be asleep before the car reached the
end of the road. And as she tidied up the substantial
remains of the lavish lunch, Carole reflected that it
had really all worked very well. A family Christmas
Day, just like proper families had. A perfect day,
except for a couple of details.
One was the call from David, which still rankled.
And the other cause of disquiet was the news
she had received the day before, about Polly Le Bonnier having been shot. Even when she was at her
most relaxed with her enchantingly adorable granddaughter,
Carole Seddon had been unable to clear
her mind completely of thoughts about the unsolved
murder.
Chapter Fourteen
She woke the next morning still glowing with success.
The relief that she normally experienced on reaching
Boxing Day was a much more positive sensation than
she had felt in recent years, and she decided to put
into action a plan she had been toying with for the
previous twenty-four hours.
Boxing Day might be a fine time for professional
policemen to pursue murder inquiries, but amateurs
found things more difficult. Everyone battened down
their hatches over the Christmas period; it was not
the ideal opportunity for casual calling on people by
those with investigative intentions.
But certain imperatives overrode seasonal considerations
and, as Carole was never left in any
doubt by Gulliver, dog-walking was one of them. The
rhythm of a dog’s life cannot be interrupted by public
holidays or international events. When a dog needed
to be walked, it very definitely had to be walked.
Carole was banking on the fact that her quarry’s
dog had the same sense of priorities, and in this conjecture
she was proved to be correct. Though she had
woken soon after six, she resisted Gulliver’s heavy hints that he wanted to go out for his walk at the
normal time and waited till just before seven-thirty.
At that time, given the fact that it was Boxing Day,
she knew the only people on Fethering Beach would
be dog-walkers.
And, as she had hoped, one of them was the
owner of a West Highland terrier with a Black Watch
coat on. It was Anna from Gallimaufry, her blonded
hair again hidden by a thick scarf. Normally, on
seeing someone she knew – and even more someone
she didn’t know – on Fethering Beach, Carole
Seddon’s reaction would have been to take a route as
far away from them as possible. But on this occasion
she led Gulliver straight towards the woman. The two
dogs circled each other warily.
‘Hello. Anna, isn’t it?’ said Carole.
‘Yes, that’s right. I recognize you from the shop,
but I’m sorry, I don’t know your
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