Until It's Over by Nicci French Page A

money. As part of a robbery.’
    ‘My colleagues are still checking the scene. They haven’t managed to contact her husband…’
    ‘Her husband,’ I said. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. They both had husbands.’
    ‘There we are. There’s something else. But what I was saying is that, so far as we know, nothing was stolen. This was a murder done for other reasons.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘That’s something we’ll be considering.’
    There was a long silence. Kamsky put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands.
    ‘I don’t understand this,’ he said, ‘and that irritates me. I’ve got a horrible feeling that this might be a coincidence.’
    ‘I agree…’
    ‘But that’s not going to stop me.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Where’s the package?’ he asked.
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘The package you were supposed to be collecting.’
    ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t on my list of priorities after I’d broken in.’
    ‘The house was secure and the alarm on when you broke in?’
    ‘Yes,’ I began. ‘It went off when I broke the window…’
    But he was really talking to himself, not me. He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. ‘Right. After you’ve signed your statement I’ll have someone drive you home, Ms Bell. I must ask you not to tell anyone the details of what you saw. Do you understand? Nothing about the method of killing and nothing about the marks on her face.’ I nodded. ‘Two officers are going to interview you and I’m afraid you’re going to give a statement and you’re going to say everything that comes into your mind, if it takes all day and all night.’

Chapter Ten
    A police constable dropped me back at the house and left me on the front steps, fumbling the key into the lock with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, and dropping it twice before I managed to push open the door. It was only after the car had turned and driven away that it occurred to me my bike was still at the station, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I felt oddly sluggish, and very cold in spite of the borrowed clothes I was bundled up in. I was intending to creep in quietly and sneak up to my own room, where I could lie down and pull the duvet over my head, but as I pushed the door shut I heard excitable voices downstairs, and then Pippa shouted: ‘Astrid? Is that you? Come here, will you? We need you.’
    So I made my way downstairs, where I found the entire household gathered, plus Leah. Everyone was sitting round the table, speaking loudly and at once, and I could only pick out fragments, many of which were expletives. I sank into the armchair, away from the group, and sighed.
    ‘Astrid can say what she thinks about it,’ said Davy. ‘She’s pretty reasonable.’
    ‘You think so?’ said Owen. He looked at me as if he were sizing me up.
    ‘Reasonable?’ Leah snorted. ‘I hardly agree.’
    ‘What about all the work she’s done in the garden?’ said Dario. ‘Surely that counts for something?’
    ‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
    ‘What are you wearing?’ asked Pippa. ‘Is this the latest bike-messenger uniform?’
    ‘No –’ I began.
    ‘Can we stick to the point?’ said Miles.
    ‘We need some kind of mediator,’ said Davy. ‘It’s hard for us to be objective. We don’t want to end up enemies.’
    ‘Too late,’ said Dario.
    ‘I’m a solicitor,’ said Pippa. ‘I can be objective.’
    Leah snorted again, louder this time.
    ‘Shut her up,’ Mick said, in a low, controlled voice. A vein was pulsing in his temple.
    ‘Leah,’ said Miles. ‘Please. You’re not helping.’
    I was surprised he didn’t shrivel up under the force of her glare.
    ‘I’m simply saying all the things you think but are too cowardly to say yourself. You want me to do your dirty work for you. Then they can blame it all on Leah, the Wicked Witch of the North.’
    ‘Of the West, actually,’ said Dario.
    ‘Please, what’s going on?’ I said again.
    ‘Bad stuff,’ said Dario.
    ‘Can I explain?’ Pippa