Page 74 of Triple Jeopardy (Daniel Pitt)

Her eyes lit with amusement. “Daniel!”

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For a moment, he was afraid she was offended. Was she laughing with him, or at him?

“How very practical of you! Indeed, we should! I didn’t bring a hat! I shall have to buy one.”

“Do you mind?”

“Of course not. I shall call attention to myself if I don’t wear one.”

“You will draw attention anyway…” Again, the words were out of his mouth before he considered them, or how she would feel.

“Then I had better choose one that you think would be discreet,” she said a little hotly.

“Why? Do you want to be discreet?”

She did not reply, uncertainty in her eyes. It was the first time he could remember seeing her disconcerted by another person, rather than by circumstances or evidence. What an odd mixture she was of assertion and vulnerability.

“Sometimes being conspicuous is the best disguise,” Daniel ventured. Did that sound like a contradiction? Or possibly like an ambiguous reference to her appearance? What could he say that would not make it worse?

“You mean I will not look like a forensic pathologist?” she asked.

“Can you imagine Sir Bernard Spilsbury in that dress…and a hat?” He smiled.

She put her tea down before she spilled it and burst into laughter. “That was wicked!” she said when she had regained control of herself. “And very funny.”

“You don’t like him,” he observed. They were referring to the most famous pathologist in Britain, perhaps in the world, the virtual father of the science used in criminal trials.

“One doesn’t like Sir Bernard,” she answered. “One respects him, if one is in the right. And fears him, if wrong. To like or dislike him would be impertinent.” She was watching Daniel, reading his reaction closely. “Suggests he’s…human!”

“Then I shall be impertinent,” he replied. “And probably dislike him. Another cup of tea?”

“No, thank you. It’s time we began what we can do today.”

They went first to the post office. It was a short walk along a sunlit street, cobbled and shaded here and there by enormous trees. Woodwork framed windows paned in blues and yellows. Stone-faced buildings supported swaths of climbing flowers in rich bloom. Early sun reflected off large shop windows, making everything bright.

They waited outside while two or three customers went in, then, when the office was temporarily empty, took the opportunity. It was a little shop with several books and postcards and writing paper for those visitors who did not bring sufficient. Daniel went immediately to look through those, while Miriam went to the counter. Pleasant greetings were exchanged, then Miriam asked for stamps.

“I imagine you have some unusually handsome ones?” she asked. “I have friends to whom I would like to send something sort of out of the ordinary. It is, after all, a unique place.”

“Indeed,” the postmistress agreed. “Your first time here?”

“Yes. Although I have friends who live here, and one in particular had a godmother who lived here. Or…she used to.”

“She left?” There was surprise in the postmistress’s voice.

“No,” Miriam’s tone was suddenly subdued. “She died. I would like to visit the grave, or perhaps lay some flowers.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry.”

“You might have known her?” Miriam said hopefully.

Daniel knew the lift in her voice and could imagine her expression as clearly as if he could see it, even though he had his back to them and a fan of postcards in his hand.

“I know most people,” the postmistress agreed warmly. “Oh dear, I hope you don’t mean Miss Trelawny?”

“I do. Why?”

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