"No. Good name, though… I might adopt it myself. Who is he? What's he done?"
"Vera claims he's her son and that she helped him murder your mother. But she's gone off the rails completely, so it may not be true."
"Good God!" said Leo in genuine surprise. There was a short pause. "Look, it can't be true, Mark. She's obviously confused. I know she saw Ma's body on the terrace, and was pretty shaken by it, because I rang her after the funeral to say I was sorry I hadn't spoken to her. She kept telling me how cold Ma must have been. She's probably convinced herself it was her fault."
"What about this man being her son?"
"It's rubbish. She doesn't have a son. Dad knows that. I was her blue-eyed boy. She'd have jumped over the moon if I'd asked her to."
Mark stared toward the house, brow furrowed in thought. "Okay, well, Fox Evil's just been arrested for breaking into the Manor, and he had a voice distorter in his possession. Did your father tell you that most of the incest allegations were made by someone who spoke like Darth Vader?"
"I thought he was barking," said Leo sourly.
"Far from it. This guy's a psychopath. He's already attacked your niece with a hammer, and when he was arrested he was carrying a sawn-off shotgun."
"Shit! Is she okay?"
It sounded genuine. "Broken arm and broken rib, but still alive. The trouble is, you and Lizzie are implicated through the voice distorter. Mrs. Bartlett has told the police that it was you who contacted her some time in October so that Lizzie could give her chapter and verse on your father's abuse. As Darth Vader's been saying identical things to Mrs. Bartlett, the obvious conclusion-which the police are already drawing-is that you and Lizzie set this bastard on your father."
"That's ridiculous," said Leo angrily. "The obvious conclusion is that the Bartlett woman's behind it."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? She's lying through her teeth."
"What does she have to gain by it? You and Lizzie are the only ones with a motive for destroying your father and Lizzie's child."
"Jesus!" said Leo disgustedly. "You're as bad as the old man. Give a dog a bad name and every sod on the planet can have a go at hanging him. That's what Becky's up to in case you're interested… and I'm hacked off with it."
For the second time that evening, Mark ignored the rant. "What about Lizzie? Could she have been persuaded to get involved in something like this without your knowledge?"
"Don't be an idiot."
"What's so idiotic about it? If Lizzie's as shot as Becky says, it's conceivable a con artist persuaded her to go along with it… though I don't understand why, unless he can get access to the money when she inherits." He mentally crossed his fingers. "You said she never got over her first love. Perhaps he came back for another go?"
"No chance. He was a craven little sod. Took the money and ran. That was half the problem. If he'd come back, she'd have seen him for what he was, instead of remembering him as an Irish charmer."
"What did he look like?"
"I don't know. I never saw him. He was gone by the time I got back from France."
"How well did your mother know him? Would she have recognized him again?"
"I've no idea."
"I thought you said Ailsa took his education in hand."
"He wasn't one of the children, you jerk. He'd fathered most of them. That's why Ma went ballistic. This bozo knew more about sex than Don Juan, which is why Lizzie fell for him so heavily."
"Are you sure about that?"
"It's what Lizzie told me."
"Then there's only a fifty-fifty chance it was the truth," said Mark sarcastically.
Perhaps Leo agreed because, for once, he didn't react. "Look, for what it's worth, I can prove Mrs. Bartlett never spoke to Lizzie… not in October anyway. Or, if she did, she'd have been talking to her in the Intensive Care Unit at St. Thomas's hospital. Did this woman mention drips and monitors to the police? Did she say Lizzie's in such a bad way she can't even stand up anymore?"
Mark was taken aback. "What's wrong with her?"
"Her liver packed up at the end of September and she's been in and out of Tommy's ever since. In between whiles, she lives with me. At the moment she's in a hospice for a couple of weeks' respite care, but the prognosis is pretty dire."
Mark was truly shocked. "I'm sorry."
"Yes."
"You should have told your father."
"Why?"
"Oh, come on, Leo. He'll be devastated."
The other man's voice took on an amused note again as if irony were a means of coping. "That's what Lizzie's worried about. She feels ill enough without Dad weeping all over her."
"What's the real reason?"
"I gave her a promise I wouldn't tell anyone. I wouldn't have told you except that I'm buggered if I'll let a fat cow tell lies about her."
"It's Mrs. Weldon who's fat," said Mark. "Why doesn't Lizzie want anyone to know?"
There was a long silence, and when Leo spoke again his voice wasn't entirely steady. "She'd rather die quietly than find out that no one cares."
When Fox was finally brought downstairs, James was asked to wait in the hall to see if he recognized him. He was given the option of standing in shadow but he chose instead to place himself in full view, with DS Monroe on one side and his solicitor on the other. Mark tried to persuade Nancy to join them, but she refused, preferring instead to take Bella's suggestion of positioning herself in the kitchen corridor to block any accidental view Wolfie might have of Fox being taken away in handcuffs.
"Take your time, sir," Monroe told James when Fox appeared between two policemen on the landing above. "There's no hurry."
But James knew him immediately. "Liam Sullivan," he said, as the man was marched down the stairs, "though I never believed that was his real name."
"Who is he?" asked Monroe. "How do you know him?"
"He's a thief who took my wife's charity and threw it in her face." He stepped forward and forced the two constables to bring Fox to a halt. "Why?" he asked simply.
A rare smile lit Fox's eyes. "You're like Everest, Colonel," he said in perfect mimicry of the old man's baritone. "You're there."
"What were you hoping to achieve?"
"You'll have to ask Leo and Lizzie that. I'm just the hired help. They want your money and they don't much care how they get it-" his gaze flickered toward the corridor as if he knew Nancy was there-"or who gets hurt in the process."
"You're lying," said James angrily. "I know Vera filled your head with nonsense about your similarity to Leo, but that's as far as your connection with this family went."
Fox's smile widened. "Did your wife never tell you about Lizzie and me? No, I can see she didn't. She was a great one for sweeping the family scandals under the carpet." His voice dropped into Irish brogue. "Your daughter liked her men rough, Colonel. Better still if it was Irish rough."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Fox glanced at Mark. "Mr. Ankerton does," he said with certainty.
James turned to his solicitor. "I don't understand."
Mark shrugged. "I don't think Mr. Sullivan does either," he said. "I suspect Vera's fed him a piece of gossip and he's busy trying to use it to his own advantage."
Fox look amused. "Why do you think Ailsa paid my bills? It wasn't charity. She was trying to keep the sordid details of Lizzie's love life under wraps… particularly her passion for men who reminded her of her brother."
Monroe intervened before James or Mark could say anything. "How do you know him, sir?"