The Ten Commandments by Anthea Fraser

scheduled for some time.'
    'All the same, he could have topped friend Judd before he went. The million-dollar question is, when's he due back?'
    'Any day now. As I said, they don't monitor him too closely. As long as he achieves a steady turnover, they leave him to his own devices.'
    'Did they want to know why we're interested?'
    'No, we took the precaution of using one of the women officers; without anything specific being said, they assumed she was a girlfriend.’
    'Is he married, this Baring?'
    'Was last time we had dealings with him, but there's no one at the house. Susie didn't ask, since a girlfriend would have known.'
    'So it's back to the waiting game. Sounds promising, all the same. Thanks, Harry; keep me in touch.'
    Webb replaced his phone and sat for a moment, tapping his pen on the desk. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to the less interesting papers that awaited him.
    'Hannah?' It was Gwen. 'Are you by any chance free this afternoon?'
    Since Hannah's plans had progressed no further than a book and a cold drink in the garden, she admitted that she was.
    'I've had a chance now to go through the things you left for me, and I think it's time we had a discussion.'
    Hannah sighed. After a strenuous year standing in as headmistress, she was still revelling in the freedom of the summer holidays, and the thought of having to turn her mind back to school matters held no appeal. Still, they obviously needed to talk sometime, and perhaps the sooner the better, while it was all relatively fresh in her mind.
    'Certainly, Gwen. I'll come over, shall I?'
    'If you would. About two-thirty?'
    'See you then.' Hannah scooped up the marmalade cat which, while she'd been talking, had appropriated her chair. She held him for a moment, rubbing her face against his silky fur and listening to his deep-throated purr. Then she reseated herself, settled him on her lap, and picked up the local paper which she'd been reading when the phone rang.
    The Arts Page was devoted to the Broadshire Festival of Literature, with a list of venues and the eminent speakers who would be taking part. In one of the boxes, under the heading 'Ashmartin Central Library', she read: Tuesday 30th July. Mr Frederick Mace, the well-known writer and criminologist, will be speaking on 'Murder Under the Microscope' at 8 pm. Tickets £5 to include a glass of wine and canapés.
    That, she reflected, might be interesting. Perhaps he would expand on some of the ideas he'd mentioned on television. Also, while David could hardly go to the talk himself, she might learn something of interest on his behalf.
    The decision taken, Hannah laid aside the paper and picked up pen and pad to make notes for her discussion with Gwen.
    The house had lost its musty smell, but in the sitting-room there was the unmistakable scent of old age. Hannah, shown in there on her arrival, chatted for a minute or two with Mrs Rutherford, happily restored to her own armchair after almost a year with her elder daughter.
    'There's nothing quite like your own,' she commented contentedly. Beatrice and John couldn't have been kinder, but as the song says, there's no place like home.'
    Hannah smiled across at Gwen, and surprised an expression on her face that she couldn't interpret. Then it was gone, and Gwen said briskly, 'Well, if you'll excuse us, Mother, we'll move to the dining-room and get down to business. We'll join you for a cup of tea later.'
    The dining-room was at the front of the house, and from its open window sounds from the park reached them sporadically as they worked. To her dismay, Hannah found she was becoming increasingly irritated as, one after another, the modest innovations she'd introduced over the last year were systematically ruled out. Gwen made no particular criticism of them; it was more a case of, 'I can't see that would be much advantage,' or, 'Well, now that I'm back –'
    Once, Hannah was stung to interject, 'Actually, it worked very well. The girls –'
    But