Read The Serpent Pool for Free Online Page A

could resist temptation no longer.
    ‘So, what is he up to these days?’
    ‘You don’t keep in touch?’
    Hannah shook her head. ‘He went to America.’
    ‘There’s always email.’ Louise pursed her lips, like a schoolmarm disappointed by a feeble answer from an otherwise diligent pupil. ‘He didn’t intend to be away for long, but one thing led to another and he finished up on a lecture tour. He only arrived back in England yesterday.’
    ‘He’s back in the Lakes again?’
    ‘At Tarn Cottage, yes. Brackdale is his home, don’t forget.’
    ‘I heard,’ Hannah said carefully, ‘that Miranda wanted them to move to London.’
    ‘Miranda?’ Louise didn’t bother to hide her scorn. ‘That’s over and done with, surely you heard? If you ask me, it was never going to last. Chalk and cheese. She wasn’t right for Daniel.’
    Louise must already have had two or three drinks. The first time they’d met, she’d seemed buttoned up, someone who never gave anything away. Her candour was as unexpected as the low-cut Grecian gown.
    Hannah took a sip of lemonade. Thank God the need to drive Marc home had kept her sober. She mustn’t give too much away.
    ‘Please pass on my regards.’
    ‘You can always lift up the phone yourself.’
    That was more like the Louise of old. Awkward and blunt as a Coniston crag.
    ‘Perhaps, one of these days.’
    ‘I expect he’ll give you a call. He may even want to pick your brains.’
    ‘Unlikely, I think. An Oxford don…’
    ‘You’re an expert in murder, aren’t you?’
    Hannah stared. ‘Murder?’
    ‘Didn’t you know? It’s his latest obsession, it’s the reason Arlo Denstone persuaded him to be keynote speaker at his Thomas De Quincey Festival. Murder considered as one of the fine arts.’
    ‘You mean—?’
    A woman cried out, a sound of anger mixed with pain. Hannah spun round, in time to see the Hitchcock blonde lift her full glass of red wine and throw its contents at her companion.
    Arlo Denstone’s white teeth maintained their sardonic gleam even as the wine dripped from his cheek and chin, and down his white jacket.
    The woman made a choking noise, as though she’d been strangled, and ran for the door.
    For a couple of seconds, nobody moved, nobody made a sound. Stuart Wagg was first to react. As the door banged shut behind the woman, he moved after her, followed by a handsome Asian man in a well-cut suit. Their swift, silent strides reminded Hannah of two panthers in pursuit of their prey.
    * * *
    The night blazed. Shell after shell cracked like gunfire, now bursting into stars of red and white and gold, now splitting into shoals of fish swimming through the darkness, now fanning out as silver snakes that slid across the sky.
    Stuart Wagg stood in front of his guests as they watched the fireworks. Feet planted on a low brick wall that fringed a circular paved area, he was bathed in light cast by lamps set above the glazed doors, holding a microphone in his hand like a singer on a stage. That little drama indoors half an hour earlier might never have happened. Arlo Denstone had changed into a striped blazer borrowed from his host and stood admiring the display as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Stuart puffed his chest out like a benevolent Victorian squire, presiding over an assembly of tenant farmers.
    Crag Gill basked in ever-changing coloured lights. To Hannah, it looked more like a spaceship than a home. She glanced over her shoulder. Away from the crowd, and in the shadows, Louise Kind shifted from one foot to another. Her expression was impossible to read. She didn’t like the limelight, unlike her lover.
    Stuart lifted his champagne glass with a flourish and bellowed into the microphone.
    ‘Happy New Year, everybody!’
    As people drank and marvelled at the cascades of fire above them, Hannah spotted Marc. His gait was unsteady and he kept spilling his champagne as he traced a zigzag route over the grass towards her.
    ‘Darling!’