Fancy pressed her hands to her face and then pulled them out to the sides, stretching her skin. “You’re dead wrong,” she said. “He’s easy because he’s a nice guy. He’s a bit weird about his job and he’s freaky to look at, but basically he’s a really nice person.” She looked at the knife on the floor and then back at Keiko with a lighter kind of exasperation. “Just because Murray’s the pretty one, it doesn’t mean Malcolm has to be a monster.”
Keiko’s mind eddied back down to somewhere nearer her body where it belonged, but she shook her head, insisting. “Why would Malcolm say the carcass had two knees-I’m sorry!”
Fancy shuddered, even at the second hearing. “They do have two knees! There’s only one animal in the world that has four knees.”
“What?” said Keiko.
“Elephants.”
“How do you know that?”
“From Vi. From homework. Ask me some dinosaur names. Ask me anything.”
Keiko blinked.“But why did Murray say he didn’t know what killed his father?”
“I don’t know,” said Fancy. “Why does anyone say anything?”
“Well, why did he say that his father’s body wasn’t in his grave?”
“He didn’t!” said Fancy. “I was there, remember. He didn’t say his dad’s body wasn’t in the grave-I can’t believe I’m talking about this, I’m never going to sleep again-he said his dad wasn’t in the graveyard, because he loved his dad and there’s more to a person than what they leave behind to be buried. Keiko, I was here when Mr. Poole died, you weren’t. He was laid out in the house for viewing. It was an open coffin.”
“You saw him?”
Fancy almost laughed, almost. “Have we met? No, of course I didn’t see him. I couldn’t bring myself go near the place because the bloody coffin was open, and I felt terrible about it. But do you think I’ll ever forget everyone else going on and on about how peaceful he looked?” Keiko wanted to interrupt, to protest that of course people would say the right thing, but Fancy held up her hand. “Mrs. Watson was there. Hm? Mabel?”
“Yes, but Mrs. Watson is involved somehow. I told you about her face when she saw the letter.”
“Okay,” said Fancy slowly, “but if she isn’t one of them and she sent a letter threatening to expose them, why would she lie about Mr. Poole being in his coffin all ready to be buried?” Keiko twisted her mouth in grudging acknowledgement. “And anyway, Pet took Vi to the wake.”
“Viola saw him?”
“Oh yes, and it gave her great satisfaction to come home and tell me all about it. She said he looked like Fred Flintstone-whatever that’s supposed to mean-and that they had dressed him up like a baby and she thought it was a shame because everyone knew he always wore men’s clothes.”
Keiko nodded slowly.“Viola saw Mr. Poole in his coffin. Okay.” She bent her head briefly. “But what about the rest of it? If it’s not what I think it is, then what is it? What is wrong with them?”
“Who?”
“Mrs. McLuskie, Mrs. Dessing, Mr. Ballantyne, Mr. Imperiolo. You see what they’ve got in common?”
“It’s the committee,” said Fancy.
“Exactly. And they all did my dry run questionnaire and they’re all in a… a state about something.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Fancy. “What do you mean? You said that stuff you do was supposed to be confidential.”
“It is,” said Keiko. She couldn’t meet Fancy’s eyes. “Supposed to be. I was desperate, Fancy. I was trying to help Murray and he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.”
“Well, I can tell you what Iain B and Vinegar Tits Dessing are in a state about,” said Fancy. “They’re having a fling. They walk their dogs at the glen. Pet can see them from her shop window, says they’re in the woods for hours sometimes. And once she saw them in a bar in Dirleton.”
Keiko shook her head. “That’s only two of them,” she said. “What do all four of them have in common to be so scared about? And the Pooles, of course. They wouldn’t let themselves be tested. They refused.”
“Maybe they didn’t trust you,” said Fancy, making Keiko flush.
“A butcher, a baker, two publicans, and a restaurateur,” Keiko said.
“What about Mrs. Watson?” said Fancy. “Did you snoop at her answers too?”
“Mrs. Watson sells fruit and vegetables,” said Keiko. “She doesn’t get any supplies from Malcolm Poole.”
Fancy rubbed her face again then stood and went to the cupboard to get her bottles of port and brandy. She poured two and pushed one across the table towards Keiko.
“You really have gone absolutely barking mad,” she said, and she began counting off on her fingers. “Iain and Sandra are at it. Etta McLuskie? Pet reckons Etta’s pulling strings about the redevelopment. Kenny Imperiolo… I don’t know.”
Some distant memory was stirring in Keiko. “I think he writes all his own reviews for restaurant websites,” she said.
Fancy gave a shout of laughter. “Genius!” she said. “Of course he does! Man, I can’t believe nobody rumbled him before now. He must be shitting hedgehogs. Jimmy McKendrick’s got that hotshot web manager picking the Painchton site to bits trying to do that… you know when you get it up the Google rankings?” She laughed. “No secrets from those guys. They’re like hackers.”
“Yes, all right,” said Keiko. “I admit all of that, but are you telling me you never thought the committee was doing anything except plan the redevelopment?” Keiko said, watching Fancy closely.
“No way, Jos-” Fancy began. Then she stopped. “Actually yes, I did. I do. I don’t know what it is they’re up to, but please believe me: top of the list of what it’s not is… that thing you said.”
Keiko bit her lip. “Why does Mrs. Poole hate me so mu-” She shook her head as Fancy tried to protest. “She does hate me. Why did Murray leave the butcher’s shop in the first place, before his dad died? Why has she dragged him back?” She waited while Fancy chewed her lip in silence for a minute.
“Who knows why Murray left,” she said. “Because he doesn’t like it? Who knows why she wants him back. Because her husband’s just died and she wants her sons near her? Why does she hate you? Maybe because her husband’s just died and she doesn’t want you to take her son away. Maybe she doesn’t want you to make her big fat miserable son even more jealous of his brother. Maybe she’s just a racist. It happens.”
“Okay,” said Keiko, “but listen to this. You admit that the committee is up to something, but you think it’s a coincidence that they’re all supplied by Malcolm and they all meet up at Mr. McKendrick’s all the time and they’re all up to high doh and oxters and crabbit as wee ferrets, but-”
“Jesus Christ,” said Fancy.
Keiko raised her voice and kept going. “But what about the food? What about the schedule? They didn’t even hide it-it was like a campaign. It was unstoppable, an obsession to get me into their houses and stuff me with four-course meals and give me great big tubs of leftovers and come and check to see that I’d eaten them. It was… it was madness.”
“Yeah,” said Fancy. “Death by drop scone. See I never got much of that-except from Pet-because they didn’t approve of me, but you were always going to be for it: a good girl like you, all on your own and thousands of miles from home. You might as well have had a red cloak on and a basket of stuff for Grandma.”
Keiko was nodding, but Fancy saw through it. “What?” she said. “What else is there?”
“Janette Campbell,” said Keiko. “Why was she so cold when I talked about the slaughterhouse? I don’t believe it was what Malcolm said.”