Dagger Magic

A distant buzz elicited a light scuffle of movement from inside, followed by the rattle of a lock being unsnibbed. The young woman who opened the door, however, was demon-strably not Claire. Standing no more than middling tall, this woman was stockily built, with shoulder-length light-brown hair, dark eyes, and a pale, clear complexion.

"Oh," she said, faint disappointment in her tone. "I was hoping you were the plumber."

McLeod already had his warrant card out, and presented it with an apologetic shrug.

"Afraid not," he said. "I'm Detective Chief Inspector Noel McLeod, Lothian and Borders Police, and this is my associate, Dr. Sinclair. We'd like a word with Mrs. Crawford, if it's not too inconvenient. Is she at home just now?"

The woman gave an affirmative jerk of her head. "Yes, she is. She's out in the back garden. Was she expecting you?"

"No," Adam said, summoning a reassuring smile. "I'm afraid this is a somewhat impromptu visit. The only excuse I can offer you is that the inspector and I sometimes have difficulty coordinating our respective work schedules, and decided we'd better seize the present opportunity, even if it meant stopping by unannounced. Are you a relative of Mrs. Crawford's?"

Disarmed by the gentleness of his manner, the young woman returned his smile. "I'm her sister-in-law. My name's Ishbel - Ishbel Reid. Claire's late husband was my brother. My own husband is away a lot - he works on the oil rigs - so I'm staying with Claire just now, to help out while she finishes up a secretarial course."

She looked as if she might have added something more, but then seemed to think better of it. After a glance over her shoulder, she stood aside and said, "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," Adam said. As he and McLeod entered, Ishbel closed the door behind them.

"Can you tell me what this is all about?" she asked, turning to conduct them through the house. "I thought the police closed the books on Claire's accident a while back, when it proved impossible to track down the person responsible."

"The books are far from closed," McLeod replied. "In fact, that's the main reason Dr. Sinclair and I are here - to got back over anything and everything your sister-in-law can remember from the night of her accident. It's possible we may be able to turn up a clue the previous investigators have overlooked."

Ishbel looked dubious. "I wish you every success, of course, but I probably ought to warn you that you may not find Claire very receptive. I'm afraid she's developed a rather hostile attitude toward the police - and who can blame her? It's been almost a year, Inspector, and so far as I know, you're no closer to catching the man who ran down Claire and my brother."

"I certainly understand your frustration, Mrs. Reid," Adam said. "And hers. Once we've spoken to her, perhaps we'll be able to persuade her that she has nothing to lose and everything to gain by helping us prove her wrong."

"Well, you're certainly welcome to try, so far as I'm concerned," Ishbel said. "Come this way, and I'll take you to her."

With Ishbel leading the way, they moved off down the hall. A door at the opposite end of the passage let them through into a sunny, open-plan sitting and dining room. At first glance, the place seemed a model of good housekeeping, fitted out with a tasteful array of new drapes, furnishings, and wall-coverings. At the same time, Adam was left with the distinct impression that there was something missing.

He took a second look around the room, then realized that the missing ingredient was what Peregrine might have termed the human element. There were no keepsakes or decorative objects left casually around on the tables. Though there were several prints hanging on the walls, these were all geometric abstracts without any reference to human form. Most significant of all, to Adam's way of thinking, there were no family photographs.

"I see your sister-in-law has recently had this room redecorated," he observed out loud.

"Yes." Ishbel's acknowledgement had a note of constraint in it. "It was done in conjunction with having alterations made so that someone in a wheelchair could live here. I still haven't quite got used to the new decor. If you'd seen this room a year ago, you'd hardly believe, to see it now, that it could be the same place."

"In what way?" Adam asked.

Ishbel pulled a slight grimace as she turned back to face them.

"In almost every way you could think of, actually. You know, of course, that Claire used to be a nursery teacher? Well, what your records and reports probably didn't tell you is how much she loved her job. She was wonderfully dedicated, and so clever with her hands. She used to spend all her free time making things to use in her lessons - hand puppets, models, mobiles, posters - just about anything you could think of that children would enjoy. And this room is where most of the work got done."