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 EPILOGUE 



After Martin had been safely tucked away in the basement, and lockdown had been reversed, Penny and I went outside into the grounds for some fresh air. The sun had come up, and it was morning. Golden sunlight splashed across the lawns like a benediction, birds were singing like it was some great new idea they’d just had, and all seemed well with the world. Penny tucked her arm through mine and leaned in companionably close as we walked. Not going anywhere in particular, just walking. It felt good to be out among living things again, after so long in a house full of death.

“At least this time we have a live murderer to hand over,” said Penny. “That should please the Colonel.”

“I’m not sure this new Colonel is ever pleased,” I said. “I have a feeling it may be against his religion. Of course, he may not come out here. This was supposed to be an entirely unofficial case, after all. Officially, Frank Parker was never in this country, never mind in Organization hands. Unless they decide to say otherwise, to put the wind up the opposition. Just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean he couldn’t have said things first.”

“How will they explain all the deaths here?” said Penny.

“No one ever knows the truth about what goes on in places like Ringstone Lodge,” I said.

“If we don’t have to wait for the Colonel to turn up,” said Penny, “could we leave? I’d really like to get away from this place.”

“I don’t see why not,” I said. “MacKay and Doyle can cope without us. And I’m really not too keen on answering any questions the reinforcements might have when they finally show up. I’ll get MacKay to drive us back to the station.”

“What if he says he’s too busy?”

I grinned. “Then we’ll just steal his car and go anyway.”

“You have the best ideas,” said Penny.

We walked on for a while, enjoying the morning. We rounded the side of the house and looked out over the rows of tombstones. I wondered whether the recent dead would end up buried among the old graves. It seemed likely.

“It was a complicated case,” said Penny.

“Most of it was just distractions,” I said. “But we got there in the end.”

“So there never was a supernatural element to the case?” said Penny. “It was all just Martin, playing his tricks?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a tall slender figure in a long black dress, perched crouching on one particular tombstone like a great dark gore-crow. But of course when I turned my head to look at her directly, there was nothing there. Just a trick of the light, or my imagination at work.

“No,” I said. “Nothing supernatural at all.”


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Framed