Scales of Retribution by Cora Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

arm politely.
    But Mara said coldly, ‘I think on this occasion, I will choose Hugh. His handwriting is very clear.’
    Hugh’s delicate white skin turned slightly pink as he came out to the whitewashed board and picked up the stick of charcoal.
    ‘Any comment from anyone?’ Mara looked around the room.
    ‘I think we should make a list of reasons why anyone might want to kill Malachy,’ said Enda, with a quick glance at Fachtnan. ‘It seems too early in the investigation to start writing down names.’
    ‘My own feeling exactly!’ Mara beamed at him. ‘This is just the beginning of the enquiry. It would be a great mistake to rush towards picking out something obvious, wouldn’t it? What should we do first?’
    ‘Explore the means to commit the murder,’ said Shane tentatively. ‘But perhaps you could tell us the facts, first, Brehon. No one has talked to us about the murder. We haven’t had any discussions about it or anything.’ He cast a sidelong look of dislike at the man sitting on the stool beside him and then turned an attentive face towards Mara.
    ‘Well, the facts are that on the morning of June 11, the physician Malachy was found dead in his stillroom by his wife, Caireen. On a table was a half-emptied glass of French brandy. It is presumed that some poison had been put in the glass – I’m not sure what—’
    ‘Impossible to tell,’ interrupted Boetius. ‘Could be anything, according to Caireen, the man’s wife.’
    Fachtnan raised his hand politely and Mara nodded at him.
    ‘Nuala, the physician’s apprentice, has told me that she can guess which poison was used.’ Fachtnan tried to keep his voice unemotional, but his dark eyes were worried.
    ‘Could you fetch Nuala, please, Fachtnan,’ said Mara politely.
    ‘Interesting that she knows . . .’ commented Boetius, but Mara ignored him and nodded toward Shane who was waving his hand in the air.
    ‘Should Hugh put a drawing of the stillroom on the board while we are waiting,’ suggested Shane. ‘We’ve all been in that stillroom, so we should be able to remember between us.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Mara.
    ‘Draw a square,’ ordered Moylan. ‘It’s a square sort of room.’
    ‘D for door,’ said Aidan.
    ‘W for window,’ said Enda. ‘The window could be important. It looks over the road, doesn’t it, Brehon?’
    ‘And the door is next to the stairs, isn’t it?’
    ‘And that sort of couch thing where he examines his patients – that’s over against the wall opposite the window.’ Now the suggestions were pouring in as fast as Hugh could draw.
    ‘Shelves on either side of the door.’
    ‘Poisons on that top shelf, by the fire – mark in the fireplace, Hugh.’
    ‘And the table!’ Enda was as sharp as ever. ‘Does anyone remember where the table was in that room? My own feeling was that it was next to the window. If that’s right, I think that is very significant.’
    ‘You’re quite right,’ said Mara triumphantly. Suddenly back with her sharp-witted boys, she felt a surge of energy and well-being. ‘And why is it significant, Enda?’ She gave a triumphant glance at the puzzled frown on the face of the stout, self-important figure of Boetius MacClancy, but managed to refrain from suggesting that Enda might explain the significance to the young man.
    ‘Because the window is by the roadside and anyone, with very little risk, could drop poison into the brandy.’ Enda addressed his words to Hugh, thinking that only to him would this need to be spelled out.
    ‘Ah, here is Nuala,’ said Mara, as Bran got up with a wag of his long muscular tail and went towards the door.
    Nuala looked wretched. Always very slim, she had lost weight in the last week and now appeared quite thin. Her tanned face had a sickly, yellowish tinge and her brown eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Mara greeted her with a brisk, matter-of-fact manner and respectfully asked for her opinion as to the poison.
    ‘I have been thinking about