“I can’t believe you just let him go,” Monica said for the third time.
They were having supper in Peter’s kitchen. Though Grace’s Spaghetti Puttanesca was on the blackened side, it was still edible, and the pasta was helped a good deal by several excellent bottles of red wine.
“We can’t keep him prisoner.” Peter said a little testily. “He told us what he knew, for what that’s worth.”
“The police could keep him prisoner; that’s what they do,” Monica pointed out.
Peter ignored her.
“Suppose he goes back to Allegra and Lady Vee?” Grace asked.
“We can only hope. What can he tell them except to confirm that we don’t know where the stuff is either?”
“So we’re ruling out this Allegra and her loony auntie, is that right?” This was Monica again. Over dinner Grace had filled in the parts of her story that she had left out before. While Monica had asked a number of questions and proposed countless theories, Calum had sat mostly in silence. Grace wondered if he suspected her and Peter of making the whole thing up—or perhaps of being genuinely demented.
“Although, it seems to me that this Allegra is your best candidate for murderess. She clearly knows all about the hidey holes and secret passages of this house, and she isn’t above kidnapping and theft.”
“She’s not the type,” Peter said slowly.
“Okay, I’m convinced,” Grace said promptly as Monica groaned. The two women shook their heads at each other over the heartbreaking gullibility of the male of the species.
“The man’s right,” Calum suddenly came back to life. “From what I’ve heard, this Allegra exhibits none of the classic signs of the homicidal psyche.”
“Which are?” Grace was curious.
“Don’t ask,” Monica told her. “According to Calum, I exhibit at least four of the classic signs.”
Calum gave her an admonishing but indulgent glance. Grace felt a little twinge of envy. It would be lovely to be so adored by a man. Except for the times that it would be utterly inconvenient—which were probably frequent.
“The fact remains,” Calum said, “since each and every one of these villains is convinced these artifacts are secreted here, one is forced to conclude that they must be here.”
“That’s not reasoning, that’s peer pressure,” Monica protested.
“Nonetheless, I think he’s right,” Peter said.
“I know what we’re doing this evening,” Grace informed Monica. “And it doesn’t include looking at wedding pictures.”
High Rhymes and Misdemeanors Page 43