Page 30 of Murder Most Actual

The professor did not look convinced. “I’m not trying to win a fair lady, or to catch a bounder. I’m trying to stay as far away as possible from a man with a gun.”

“I’d listen to the man, dear.” Lady Tabitha’s tone wasn’t quite chiding, but it was definitely auntly. “I know you like your adventures, but this is an unnecessary risk.”

“But life’s nothing without adventure,” protested Sir Richard. “And I’ve always come through okay so far.”

“So had he,” Hanna pointed out, nodding at Belloc’s body. “It’s not exciting and it’s not cool, but the professor is right: we should all be trying to avoid catching the killer in the act.”

Everybody except Sir Richard was just agreeing with this sensible line of reasoning when a thought struck Liza that she immediately wished hadn’t struck her. “What if they’re in the boathouse?”

Hanna jumped away from the wall like it was electrified, sprawling on the floor and banging her arm on a frozen root. “Ow, fuck. Thanks, couldn’t you have thought of that before I pressed my spine against a shooting range?”

Even as she helped her wife to her feet, Liza kept her eyes trained on the boathouse. It had two doors, one leading onto the loch, and another side door not far from where Belloc’s body was lying.

“No.” Hanna was doing her resolute voice.

“But …” The door was definitely unlocked, Liza was sure of that. The padlock was open.

“No. I am not letting my wife walk into a barn and get a bullet in the face. Let somebody else check if they want to.”

Aunt Tabitha gave Hanna a disappointed look. “Isn’t that a little sexist, dear?”

“I said somebody else. Not one of the men.”

“Well, I’m not volunteering,” Aunt Tabitha told her. “So I suggest we either resign ourselves to reinforcing patriarchal norms or you let the lady go.”

Still nursing her elbow, Hanna scowled. “You know what, I’m willing to take the hit. If pandering to the occasional gender stereotype means that nobody I care about walks—hey! Come back here!”

Curiosity had got the better of Liza. She had been inching towards the boathouse and was now within reach of the door. Keeping herself flat to the wall in the hope that any bullets that came her way would be expecting her to approach from a more traditional angle, she reached out one hand from as far away as she could manage and pushed the door open.

It juddered about five inches before getting stuck on damp ground. But there wasn’t a hail of answering gunfire, which she took as a good sign. Still, trying to take at least some elementary precautions, she crouched low as she got closer, and forced the door wide enough to poke her head through. When she found that she still hadn’t died, she stood, opened the door fully, and walked in.

In some ways, it was an anticlimactic sight. The boathouse was mostly full of boats—primarily rowboats—and boating-related paraphernalia that was currently seeing no use. “Nothing,” she called back to the guests outside. “Unless they’re hiding.”

“We could search it?” That was the vicar.

“Liza, please come out of there.” That was Hanna. “I know this is your thing, but—and I’m doing I statements here—I feel quite scared right now.”

The boathouse door swung open again and Sir Richard entered, with his aunt and the vicar behind him. “Well scouted, old girl, but why don’t you go back outside? We’ll give this place the once-over and report back.”

While Liza didn’t especially like taking instruction from Sir Richard, or anybody else for that matter, Hanna had done the I statements, which meant that she was trying super hard to be understanding while also, on some level, losing her shit. A little sheepishly, Liza emerged.

Hanna had her arms folded in a way that looked a lot less I-statement-y than her tone had implied. “What part of no did you not understand?”

“The part where you’re the boss of me?” Liza shot back.

“You. Could. Have. Died.”

“I. Didn’t.” If she was honest with herself, Liza wasn’t sure if she was reacting more from anger or guilt.

“I … think I might go.” The professor was the only member of the little band who hadn’t gone into the boathouse, and now he seemed to be at least partially regretting it. “You ladies clearly have a lot to discuss.” Without waiting for a response, he hurried off.

“What are we going to do?” asked Hanna. Her voice had an almost plaintive edge to it.

“About us, or about …?” Tilting her head sideways and down, Liza indicated the sprawled corpse of the former detective Belloc.

“Both?” For a moment Hanna seemed to be wrestling with something. “And I suppose actually he is a bit more important right now.”

“Yeah, nothing like a dead body to put your relationship drama into perspective.”

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