Anna opened her mouth to object and MacKenzie laughed.
“Four months of CBT and all I really needed was a one-woman whirlwind to come and lay down some home truths,” she continued. “It’s done me the world of good.”
She raised her glass to toast her friend and, in doing so, the sunlight caught the square-cut emerald glinting on the ring finger of her left hand.
Anna did a double take.
“What is that?”
MacKenzie looked down at her hand and realised she’d become so comfortable wearing the ring, she’d forgotten it was there.
“Oh, this old thing?”
She wriggled her fingers and gave a sly smile.
“You dark horse!” Anna squealed—it was the only word for it—and leapt from her chair to wrap her arms around MacKenzie, who couldn’t help but laugh.
“We got engaged last night.”
“Where? How? Tell me everything,” Anna demanded, taking a long slurp of her drink.
“Well, I was dressed in my ancient dressing gown and the evening news was on,” MacKenzie said, dead-pan. “It wasn’t moonlight and roses but, you know what? I didn’t need them. I realised something last night, something I don’t think I’d really known until then.”
Her hand came to rest on her heart.
“I’ve been in love with Frank Phillips for years and I was so clueless, I didn’t even know it. Maybe even when his wife was still alive because I saw how he looked after her, how he nursed her. It’s hard not to appreciate that kind of devotion. He’s a good, kind man and I love him.”
“He’ll want corned beef pasties and Newcastle Brown Ale at the wedding,” Anna warned, her eyes shining. “And he’s bound to sing a rendition of Fog on the Tyne.”
MacKenzie laughed delightedly.
“He’ll have to do it in front of my Irish family, then, since we’re planning to have the ceremony on the Emerald Isle,” she said, and then waved her hands in the air as if to clear the thought. “I don’t want to start planning anything until after your big day. I’m excited enough about seeing you and Ryan finally tie the knot.”
Anna’s smile slipped, just a fraction, but MacKenzie caught it.
“What’s the matter?” She was instantly serious. “You’re not getting cold feet?”
“No,” Anna replied, “but I’m a bit worried that he might be. These last few days, Ryan hasn’t been himself. It feels like he’s keeping something from me.”
“He’s been tied up with the Cragside investigation,” MacKenzie offered but Anna shook her head.
“It’s not just that. It’s probably paranoia but I’m worried he’s having second thoughts.”
MacKenzie was having none of it.
“That man adores you,” she said firmly. “There might be something on his mind but I’ll eat my hat if it has anything to do with you.”
“You’re probably right,” Anna said brightly, polishing off her drink.
MacKenzie saw the hurt and confusion in the younger woman’s eyes and wished she could tell her that there would always be a fairy tale ending to every story.
Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way.
CHAPTER 17
“As far as I can see, there are eight potential suspects.”
With a blithe disregard for his tenancy agreement, Ryan began tacking photographs in an even row along one of the kitchen walls. Phillips scratched his chin and wondered if it had been painted recently.
“Ah, not to piss on your bonfire, lad, but how can there be suspects without a confirmed crime?”
“Because if Alice Chapman threw herself over that bridge, then my name is Rita Hayworth,” Ryan snapped, without bothering to turn around.
“Fair point, well made,” Phillips said cheerfully, settling back to listen.
Ryan tacked up the last photograph and moved to the side, so they could see the full line-up.
“Dave Quibble was Alice Chapman’s line manager during the painting restoration work at Cragside. In his statement, he says that he last saw her at approximately four-thirty, when she came down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. This is corroborated by Cassandra Gilbert, who was in the hallway next to the kitchen with Quibble looking at the fuse box and discussing how the power might have failed on Saturday night. We’ll come to that,” Ryan added. “The important thing is, those two were the last to see Alice alive yesterday.”
Other than the person who killed her.
He pointed to the eight faces he’d tacked up on the wall.
“These are the people who were on site until at least five o’clock, when most of the staff were due to go home. Given the lack of CCTV surveillance, we have no way of knowing who actually did go home but these are the people who were due to come to Cragside and were seen to be on site yesterday.”
Ryan watched his team look from one face to the next.
“First and most obviously, we have Cassandra and Lionel Gilbert, both of whom were in the house all day.” He tapped a finger against the faces of the old couple. “Lionel spent most of yesterday in his rooms, whereas Cassandra was more active helping the police teams in their investigation following Swann’s death. After the teams packed up, she states that she went upstairs because she felt unwell, having come down with the same flu virus as her husband.”
“Can anybody confirm that?” Lowerson asked.
“The housekeeper, Maggie,” Ryan moved to a picture of an approachable woman of around seventy. “She lives in a small apartment inside the main house, so was on site the whole evening. She says that she made the Gilberts a light supper which she took up on a tray at five-thirty. Lionel Gilbert was awake and listening to the radio, whereas Cassandra Gilbert was fast asleep and seemed under the weather. She asked if they needed anything further, then headed to her own room for the night. Her movements have been confirmed by Lionel Gilbert and Dave Quibble.”
“None of them saw Alice after then?” Yates asked.
Ryan shook his head.
“Anna and I went up to the house during the storm last night, after seven o’clock. The conditions were bad,” he recalled, thinking of the near darkness wrought by the storm clouds. “I was sure I heard a scream and we went out to look. It was a fruitless journey but we asked up at the house to see if anything had happened. They hadn’t seen or heard anything and only the Gilberts were present.”
“How do you know?” Yates asked, and Ryan had to admire her eye for detail.
“Because I walked through every room in the main part of the house while Anna stayed with the Gilberts,” he replied silkily.
“Anybody ever tell you, you’re the suspicious sort?” Phillips let out a rumble of laughter.