Wolf in the Fold h&f-4

by Simon R. Green

  figuring out that Richard and Isobel MacNeil weren't all they were supposed to

  be. Hawk sighed, heavily, and fished the glass eye out of the water.

  He held it up to the mirror, and then practically had a coronary as he saw the

  door start to swing open behind him. He crammed the glass eye into his socket,

  checked quickly that he'd got it the right way round and pointing in the right

  direction, and then turned smiling falsely to face Katrina Dorimant. She had a

  hand to her mouth, and was blushing prettily.

  "I'm so sorry, Richard, but you forgot to lock the door. I'll wait outside."

  "No, it's all right," said Hawk quickly. "I'm finished. You can come in. I'm…

  just leaving."

  "There's no hurry," said Katrina, walking slowly towards him. "No need to rush

  off on my account. I only came in to freshen up. Besides, I've been looking for

  a chance to get you on your own."

  "Oh yes?" said Hawk, in a voice that wasn't as steady as it might have been. He

  started to back away, and immediately bumped into the wash stand behind him.

  "What did you want to see me about?"

  "No need to be bashful, Richard dear. We don't need to play games, surely; not

  at our age. We're of an age where we can say what we mean, and pursue those

  things we desire without hiding behind false modesty. You're a very attractive

  man, Richard."

  She stopped immediately in front of him, so close her bosom pressed lightly

  against his chest as she breathed. Her upturned face brought her mouth

  dangerously close to his, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips. Hawk

  swallowed hard.

  "You are a married woman," he said hoarsely, clutching at straws.

  "Oh, don't bother about Graham. No one else does. We'll just have to be

  discreet, that's all. I've seen you watching me, Richard, when you thought no

  one was looking. Watching me, wanting me, desiring me. I can feel the passion

  rising within you. Why try and deny it? My heart is beating faster just at the

  closeness of you. Feel it!"

  She grabbed his right hand and held it firmly to her breast. Her skin seemed

  impossibly soft and warm under his hand, and her perfume filled his head. He

  thought about calling for help, and then quickly decided against it. If Isobel

  was to find them like this, she'd kill both of them. Or laugh herself sick. Hawk

  wasn't sure which would be worse. He tried to surreptitiously pull his hand

  free, but she had a grip like a beartrap.

  "Don't fight it, Richard," murmured Katrina, practically breathing the words

  into his mouth. Her eyes were dark and dangerous. "You do find me attractive,

  don't you?"

  "Uh… yes. Sure. It's just…"

  "Just what?"

  "This is hardly the right place for a romantic assignation," said Hawk,

  improvising wildly. "Someone might come in."

  "We could lock the door."

  "They'd get suspicious! Besides, Jamie will be calling us down for the reading

  of the will soon, and we wouldn't want to be interrupted, now would we?"

  "The will. Yes, of course." She let go of his hand and stepped back, frowning

  thoughtfully. "You're right, my dear; this isn't the right time. But don't

  worry, Richard. I'll sort something out. Just leave everything to me. And the

  next time we meet, things will be very different, I promise you. See you later,

  my darling."

  She kissed the tip of her index finger, pressed it to his lips, and then turned

  and left the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her. Hawk swallowed

  hard and slumped back against the washstand. Just when he thought the case

  couldn't get any more complicated… The bathroom door burst open, and Hawk almost

  screamed. Fisher looked at him.

  "What the hell are you so jumpy about?"

  "Nothing. Nothing at all. What is it?"

  "Jamie's just called us down for the reading of the will. Are you all right? You

  look a bit flushed."

  Chapter Six

  A Dead Man, Talking

  The library had been designed for quiet contemplation, or perhaps the occasional

  late-night reminiscences of a few old friends. Cosy and comfortable, a refuge

  from the hurly-burly of the world. Now that it was crammed from wall to wall

  with several chattering MacNeils and their friends, the room seemed small and

  cluttered and not a little cramped. Hawk and Fisher were the last to arrive, and

  hung back by the door to look the place over before plunging in. Fisher was

  interested in who was talking to whom, and what that implied. Hawk wanted to

  know where Katrina was, so he could be sure to avoid her, and how many exits

  there were to the room. He always liked to know where the doors were, in case he

  had to leave in a hurry. You picked up habits like that, living in Haven. He was

  relieved to note there was only the one door. It simplified things. He turned

  his attention to the gathering.

  David, Holly, and Arthur were standing with their backs to the fireplace,

  toasting each other with cups of steaming punch. They were smiling and laughing

  as though they didn't have a care in the world. As though they'd forgotten all

  about the dead man and the disguised freak. Hawk sniffed, and shrugged inwardly.

  The Quality were well known for ignoring things they didn't want to think about.

  Behind them, Greaves was down on his knees, encouraging the crackling fire with

  vigorous use of a poker. He had his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, and

  looked thoroughly disgusted with the whole business. Presumably in the past he'd

  had underlings he could call on to deal with such menial tasks.

  Over by the desk, Marc had backed Katrina into a corner and was apparently

  addressing her about something earnest and worthy and incredibly dull. Certainly

  Katrina's desperation was becoming clearer by the minute as she smiled

  mechanically and looked past Marc for something she could use as an excuse to

  escape him. Hawk looked quickly away before she could lock eyes with him, and

  watched thoughtfully as Alistair took a book from one of the shelves and flipped

  slowly through it. Jamie and Brennan were arguing quietly about something just

  behind him, and Alistair was going to great pains to make it clear he wasn't

  listening. Hawk nudged Fisher's elbow, and the two of them moved over to join

  Alistair. Hawk had a strong feeling Alistair was keeping something back, apart

  from the matter of the Red Marches, and this seemed as good a time as any to

  find out what. Alistair looked up as they approached, and nodded amiably.

  "Something interesting?" said Fisher, glancing at the book Alistair was holding.

  "Not really, my dear. Just old Family history." He snapped the book shut and

  replaced it on the shelf. "You're looking very fresh, Isobel. The short rest

  seems to have agreed with you. In fact, you look quite splendid. Tell me, is

  there a young man in your life yet?"

  "Oh, yes," said Fisher. "Can't seem to get rid of him. What about you, Alistair?

  Do you have any Family of your own, back in the Red Marches?"

  "No. They all died some time ago. I've been on my own ever since. But I still

  come, when the Family calls. As we all do." He looked round the crowded room,

  and scowled disapprovingly. "Though in my day we cam
e for the sake of the

  Family, not ourselves. Look at them; gathered together like so many vultures,

  waiting to see who can snatch the biggest titbits from the dear departed." He

  stopped, looked at Hawk, and cocked an eyebrow. "No offence intended, Richard."

  "Of course," said Hawk calmly. "Personally, Isobel and I will be grateful for

  whatever largesse Duncan may leave us, but that's not why we're here. We just

  wanted to meet Jamie and get reacquainted with the Family. We've been out of

  touch too long."

  "A long way to come, just for that. Lower Markham's pretty remote, after all. In

  fact, I wasn't even aware the Family tree had any branches in that area. Tell

  me, what branch of the Family are you descended from?"

  There was an awkward pause, as Hawk chose and discarded a dozen names, and hoped

  desperately Fisher would bail him out. It quickly became clear that she was as

  thrown as he was. Hawk smiled easily at Alistair, and fought to keep his voice

  calm and even. "I believe we're descended from Josiah MacNeil, on our father's

  side."

  Alistair frowned. "Josiah? I was just looking at the Family tree in that book,

  but I don't seem to recall…"

  "Wrong side of the blanket," said Fisher quickly. "That's why he left Haven in

  the first place. You know how these things are…"

  "Oh, I see. Yes, of course. Happens in the best of Families…" Alistair smiled,

  just a little coldly and nodded to them both. "If you'll excuse me…"

  He moved away to join Katrina and Marc. Katrina looked openly relieved at being

  rescued from Marc's monologue. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, and smiled

  grimly.

  "That was close," said Fisher.

  "Right," said Hawk. "If it had been any closer, it would have been behind us. We

  should have spent more time working out a background on the way here. It's

  always the niggling little questions that catch you out."

  "We can worry about that later. Right now, the day's dragging on and we're no

  nearer working out which of this bunch is the freak and which is the spy. What

  are we going to do?"

  "Mingle, and keep our eyes and ears open. What else can we do? We can't just

  drag them off and interrogate them one by one. Unfortunately. We'll just have to

  keep digging away, and hope somebody lets something slip."

  "It's possible, I suppose," said Fisher, looking unobtrusively around her.

  "They're scared, all of them. Some of them are hiding it better than others, but

  you can feel it on the air. If the atmosphere were any tenser, they'd be choking

  on it. As it is, they're all smiling too much and laughing too loudly; making a

  pretense of enjoying themselves so they won't have to think about what's been

  happening."

  "I don't blame them," said Hawk. "One of them is a murderer, and they could be

  talking to him right now and not know it. Even worse; they might be him and not

  know it."

  Fisher shivered quickly. "That's spooky."

  "Damn right."

  "Let's split up, and see if we can get a few helpful answers to some carefully

  phrased questions. I'll try Alistair again, since he has such an eye for a

  pretty face. You try Holly and her two swains."

  She was already off and moving before Hawk could raise his objections. Lord

  Arthur might not have recognized him so far, but Hawk had a strong suspicion he

  shouldn't press his luck. Drunks sometimes had a way of seeing things that other

  people missed, especially things they weren't supposed to spot. Hawk shrugged,

  and moved over to join the group by the fireplace. Greaves had given up on the

  fire and had gone over to try and mediate between Jamie and Brennan, but David

  and Holly greeted Hawk warmly, and Arthur presented him with a cup of the

  steaming punch. Hawk blew on it cautiously, and took a careful sip. It tasted

  hot and spicy, and then blazed down his throat to explode in his stomach.

  "Hell's teeth," said Hawk respectfully, when he got his voice back. "No wonder

  you're all looking so cheerful. This stuff is strong enough to bring a smile to

  a dead man's lips."

  "Thank you," said Holly, blushing. "It's an old Family recipe I found in a

  cookbook. I thought it might be fun to try it out."

  "If your ancestors drank this stuff on a regular basis they must have had

  insides like old boots," said David, and Holly giggled.

  "I don't know what you're all making such a fuss about," said Arthur, draining

  his cup in easy swallows. Hawk stared at him openly, half convinced that smoke

  was going to come pouring out of his ears. Arthur just smiled his usual vague

  smile and held out his cup to Holly for a refill.

  "I think you've had enough for the moment, Arthur," said Holly firmly. "You

  mustn't be greedy."

  Arthur nodded and looked at David. "I hope you're not going to let her boss you

  around like this, Davey."

  "Damn right I'm not," said David. "I'm my own man, always have been. I go my own

  way, come what may."

  "You always were stubborn," said Holly, leaning against David as he put an arm

  around her waist. "But so am I, when I want to be. You needn't think you're

  going to have everything your own way, David Brook."

  "We'll discuss this later," said David, and whispered something in her ear that

  made her giggle again. Arthur looked resignedly at Hawk, and though he'd been

  drinking steadily ever since Hawk first saw him, he seemed just as calm and

  sober as ever. Interesting, that.

  Holly, on the other hand, looked quite perky. Hawk thought at first that she was

  flushed from the heat, but then realized it was expertly applied cheek rouge. At

  some point during her brief absence Holly had subtly remade her face with a

  liberal use of makeup. She looked ten years older, much more sophisticated, and

  altogether more fashionable. Though perhaps not as pretty or as pleasant, if

  truth be told.

  "Well?" said Holly, grinning. "What do you think?"

  "Sorry," said Hawk, "I didn't realize I was staring. You look very splendid. Do

  I perhaps detect Katrina's hand in this transformation?"

  "Got it in one," said Holly. "I couldn't believe it was me, the first time I

  looked in the mirror."

  "You look marvelous," said David.

  "Very striking," said Arthur.

  "Jamie hates it," said Holly, the corners of her mouth turning down. "He still

  thinks I'm ten years old. He wanted to send me back to my room to wash it all

  off, but as Robbie is busily pointing out, the will is to be read soon, and they

  can't have that without me. Jamie's in a frightful temper. Serves him right for

  being so pompous."

  "Well," said Arthur, after a slight pause, "only a few moments now to the

  reading of the will and the great share-out. I take it you're hoping for a

  suitable windfall, Richard?"

  "Arthur!" said Holly, shocked, but David just chuckled.

  "Since Arthur and I won't be getting anything out of the will, it allows us to

  be a little more direct," he said impishly. "Even in the face of sudden death

  and supernatural freaks, the MacNeils can still find time to argue over money."

  "Oh quite," said Arthur. "Still, some of us don't have to worry about inheriting

  money; not whe
n they can marry it instead."

  David looked at Arthur sharply, as though unsure whether to react to the barb or

  not, and then smiled and laughed and hugged Holly to him. "That's right, Holly.

  I'm just an unscrupulous fortune hunter after your inheritance! Probably

  strangle you on our wedding night and flee the country on a coal-black horse!

  Isn't that what the villains always do in those romances you read?"

  "It seems Arthur isn't the only one who's had too much punch," said Holly

  sternly, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Don't worry, Richard, they're

  always like this. And I'm sure you'll find Father has left you a generous reward

  for making such a long journey here."

  "Oh, I expect there'll be a little something," said Hawk. "But that really isn't

  why we came. Isobel and I are both comfortably well off. Mostly because there's

  not a lot to spend money on in the wilds of Lower Markham."

  "I sometimes wish that was the case in Haven," said David wryly. "There are all

  kinds of expensive temptations here. Right, Arthur?"

  "You should know, Davey. I think between us we've managed to lose money in every

  card game, gambling den, and race course in Haven. I tell you, Richard, not only

  is Davey the world's worst card player, but some days he just can't wait to find

  a horse that's going to lose so that he can put some money on it."

  David glared at him. "This from a man who once bet the deed to his house that he

  could drink one glass of every potable an inn had to offer!"

  Arthur raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I won the bet, didn't I?"

  "That's not the point!"

  "Boys! That's enough!" Holly looked apologetically at Hawk. "Maybe the punch was

  a bad idea after all. They're not normally this rowdy."

  "You're right," said David. "It's only money, after all. Take our minds off it,

  Holly, with some juicy titbit of gossip." He grinned at Hawk. "Holly's always up

  on the latest gossip."

  Holly scowled. "I used to be, until all the servants left. You'd be surprised

  what servants hear. For instance, have you heard about Jacqueline Fraser? Her

  husband came home unexpectedly and found her in bed with the head groom!

  Apparently it wasn't just the horses he'd been giving a good rubdown. Anyway, he

  threw her out without a penny! She had to go begging to her own Family for

  support. What made me think of that was… well, I can't help worrying if