‘Are you planning to go up to Loch Soular again?’ Ally asked. As she spoke, the thought occurred to her that it was possible, just possible, that there was still some madman on the loose, killing people for no good reason. After all, the killer didn’thaveto be anyone from around these parts. Then she wondered if Amir had put any police on duty up there, particularly where Greg had been found.
‘Look, girls, you must ask your mum because she may well want to go with you.’Not,Ally thought,that Patti would be a tower of strength should any madman decide to pounce.
‘I’ll go upstairs and ask her,’ Janey said.
‘No, I’ll go,’ said Julie. ‘You go get the dog.’ With that, she made her way upstairs.
‘I hope Mom agrees,’ Janey said, ‘but otherwise I guess we’ll just have to play with Flora in the garden.’
After a couple of minutes, Julie reappeared. ‘Mom says it’s OK, so let’s go!’
Ally was a little surprised, particularly as Amir had saidsomething to the effect that the women were convinced that someone wanted to annihilate the whole family.
Later that morning, the doorbell rang. When Ally opened the door, she found herself facing a horde of cameras and a microphone being pushed towards her face.
‘Mrs McKinley?’ asked a tall, red-haired man with a beard. ‘Just wondered if you could give us a minute?’
Totally unprepared for this, Ally looked round in confusion. ‘Why do you want to talk to me?’
‘We understand that two of your guests have been murdered, and we wondered how you, and the grieving family, are coping?’
‘We are all coping,’ Ally replied briefly, backing into the hallway.
‘But you have two widows and two fatherless girls in there, I believe?’ the red-haired man persisted.
‘Yes, but I think it’s highly unlikely that any of them will want to talk to you,’ Ally said, about to close the door.
The reporter wasn’t about to be fobbed off. ‘Perhaps you could askthem?’
Ally nodded, closed the door and went to the foot of the staircase. ‘Anyone want to talk to the media?’ she yelled upstairs.
‘No!’ shouted Wendy. ‘Tell them to sod off!’
‘Give me a minute,’ said Patti.
Ally returned to the front door to face the mob, which appeared to have grown in the few minutes since she’d seen them last. She then turned to see an immaculately made-up Patti behind her, wearing a classy cashmere sweater and straight-legged jeans. Switching on a smile, she walked towards the door to face the barrage of cameras and microphones.
‘Ah!’ said the red-haired reporter. ‘Mrs Armstrong, I believe?’
‘Yes,’ Patti replied confidently. ‘We have to remain here until the killer is found. I heard what you were asking Mrs McKinley, and she was right – we’re all coping as best we can.’
‘So you have no plans to return to Canada any time soon?’
‘I already told you that we have to remain here.’ Patti smiled sadly. ‘Will that be all?’
‘Um, just one more thing, Mrs Armstrong,’ one of the other reporters shouted. ‘Have you any idea who might have done these killings? Do you think it was one person or two?’
‘I have no idea,’ Patti shouted, ‘but perhaps you should be asking the police instead of harassing innocent, grieving women. Thank you.’ With that, she backed into the hallway, having closed the door firmly. ‘You have to know how to deal with these people,’ she informed Ally, who was standing behind her.
Ally really didn’t know what to make of Patti. Was she really grieving either man? Or was this confidence, this put-together appearance, just a coping mechanism?
Then, as she began to make her way upstairs again, Patti suddenly paused. ‘Where are the girls?’
‘They’ve taken Flora for a walk, if you remember,’ Ally replied.
‘What?’ Patti rotated and began to descend the stairs again. ‘Did you say they’d gone for awalk?’
‘Yes, an hour or so ago. Julie went upstairs to ask your permission – don’t you remember?’
