Murder in Hampstead, Sabina Manea [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

her friend back to Lygon Place and suggested a shopping trip, a cinema outing – anything to take their mind off the case – but was rebutted. Lucia acted as if she was in a trance, watching back-to-back films and waiting for news.

On the Monday, just as the two friends were about to sit down to an early lunch, Lucia’s phone rang ominously.

‘The results are back. It’s foundation.’ The detective sounded deflated.

It was hardly a smoking gun, Lucia thought quickly. ‘Was there any DNA?’

‘None.’

‘It must have come straight out of the container, in that case,’ she deduced. ‘Mrs Byrne doesn’t wear any foundation, and neither does Margaret Walker. That leaves only one other.’

‘But how do we prove it’s Emilia’s?’ asked Nina. ‘Hold on, I know that look, Lulu. You’ve got a plan.’

‘I do. There’s no time to lose. We need to get to Beatrice Hall.’

Lucia desperately hoped that Emilia would be there now that the police had finished. She still had the house key in her handbag and was grateful she had resisted the impulse to hand it back to Mrs Byrne. This was probably the only chance they had to catch the bold murderer responsible for the deaths of Olga Galina and Adam Corcoran.

‘Oh, and make sure you bring the tin of 1080 with you,’ she instructed Carliss. ‘I’ll explain when we get there.’

* * *

As Lucia unlocked the door, they were met with the dull noise of the hoover – it was coming from the kitchen.

The policeman hesitated. ‘This could go disastrously wrong, Lucia. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

‘I know you want me to say yes, but, in truth, I’m not. Have you got a better idea?’ She knew he didn’t.

The inspector followed Lucia to the library, while Nina hid under the staircase. He knocked and didn’t wait for an answer before entering.

‘Inspector. What are you doing here?’ This time Emilia had genuinely been caught unaware. She was emptying the desk drawers, and the floor was covered in sheets of paper. She looked like she had been caught in the act. Her usually mellow eyes flashed with ill-concealed hostility.

‘Miss Poole. There was something I wanted to follow up on if you have a minute.’ He hesitated and coughed. This was the sign to Lucia, stationed outside, who in turn would wave to Nina and then run for cover.

Mrs Byrne’s voice resonated from downstairs. ‘Emilia! Emilia!’

Well done, Nina, that’s a very good impression of the housekeeper, Lucia thought admiringly from her hiding place.

‘Excuse me for a moment, Inspector. That sounds like Mrs Byrne. I shouldn’t be too long,’ Emilia excused herself.

As soon as Emilia disappeared down the kitchen stairs, Lucia bolted out of the nearest spare room and searched around the library for Emilia’s bag. The detective kept watch at the door, his blood pressure through the roof. Nina stayed put under the stairs, her mission accomplished for now.

‘Aha, see?’ Lucia pulled out a tube of foundation. The corner was slightly ripped, and a trickle of the stuff had emerged and run dry. ‘This explains it. Now for part two of the plan.’

As Lucia disappeared back down the corridor, Emilia made her way back up. Carliss picked up his phone and pretended to be engrossed in conversation. When he was sure he was in her line of sight, he put it down and affected an air of intense agitation. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Poole. I’ve just had an urgent call from the station, and I need to be on my way. I’ll catch up with you later if that’s OK.’

Emilia looked both bemused and relieved as he ran down the stairs and out of the front door.

Lucia emerged silently into the corridor and stood at the top of the stairs, where she was sure that Emilia would hear her through the closed library doors. She was so nervous, she felt she might be sick. The plan was reckless, with a high probability of failure.

‘Yes, Inspector, good afternoon. I won’t keep you long, it’s just that you said I should call if I remember anything out of the ordinary. Well, it’s not exactly remembering – I found something. You know the tin of rat poison from under the kitchen sink at Beatrice Hall? Yes, the one that your constable returned just the other day. Well, I happened to be needing some wipes – I’d smudged some paint, you see – and I lifted up the tin to look behind it. That’s when I noticed it. A long, dried up streak running down the side. I’m pretty sure it’s foundation.’ She pretended to listen to the response of her imaginary interlocutor. ‘Yes, I understand what you’re saying, that they found no DNA on the tin. But this is really important. There’s only one woman in this household who wears foundation, and it’s not Mrs Byrne. OK, OK, please call me back as soon as you can. I’ve got the tin. I’ll leave it on the windowsill by the front door until someone gets here to collect it.’

She huffed noisily and swore under her breath, though sufficiently loudly to make herself heard, and headed downstairs, taking care to make the steps creak as much as possible. She placed the tin carefully where she said she would and joined Nina under the stairs. They held their breath.

The few minutes that went by felt like hours. At last, the staircase creaked tentatively under soft steps. Once at the bottom, Emilia scanned her surroundings and spotted her target. She breathed, visibly relieved, and headed for the windowsill. They could see she was wearing disposable gloves. She lifted the tin gingerly and held it up to the light.

‘What are you doing, Emilia?’ said Lucia as she and Nina emerged into full view.

At the sound of Lucia’s voice, Carliss, who had been waiting outside the front