The Bird That Did Not Sing (DCI Lorimer) by Alex Gray Page B

husband.
She
can’t
stay
here
, she wanted to say, but the words simply refused to be uttered.
    ‘I don’t know,’ Lorimer replied truthfully. ‘There are several things she might want to see to. Like what’s happening about this theatrical enterprise.’
    ‘Surely there will be someone else to take charge of that? Charles Gilmartin must have had other assistants for something as big as this.’
    ‘I suppose so. Has Vivien spoken to you about any of that?’
    ‘No,’ Maggie admitted. She bit her lip.
Best
to
be
honest,
she told herself. ‘How do I go about asking her without sounding like we want her to leave?’ she said at last.
    ‘
Do
you want her to leave?’ Lorimer was frowning.
    Maggie hesitated. ‘It’s awkward…’
    ‘She doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go, Mags. Surely we can help her out for a few more days?’
    ‘Of course…’ Maggie broke off, hearing the creak of footsteps on the stairs. ‘I’ll make the tea, shall I?’ She turned away, a surge of anger making her feel ashamed of herself for wanting rid of their house guest and irked that Bill might be thinking less of her for even hinting at such a thing.
    Vivien stood across from them, her red hair a bright halo from the sunlight pouring in through the kitchen window. She held the sunglasses in her hand now and her eyes looked as though she had scrubbed them hard after a bout of weeping.
    The very sight of her made Maggie feel a dreadful sense of guilt.
How
would
you
feel
if
it
was
Bill
who’d
died?
a little voice asked.
    ‘Come and sit down,’ Lorimer said, already at his friend’s side, guiding her to a chair.
    Maggie busied herself with teacups and milk, glancing covertly towards the pair of them, listening intently.
    ‘We’re more than happy for you to stay here while you sort things out, Vivien,’ he was saying, a kind hand on her arm. ‘There’s no way of telling how long this investigation might take. What do you want to do?’
    Vivien looked up as if to catch Maggie’s eye, but she had anticipated this and looked down, concentrating on pouring tea into the three cups, refusing to let herself be drawn into any discussion lest she give herself away.
    ‘It’s very kind of you… really,’ Vivien said in a small voice. ‘Taking a stranger into your home…’
    ‘Hardly a stranger.’ Lorimer gave a smile, covering her hand with his.
    ‘Tea?’ Maggie brought the tray to the little table and passed a cup to Vivien.
    ‘Thanks, Maggie. You’ve been marvellous,’ Vivien said sweetly, her green eyes meeting Maggie’s own.
    She was on the point of breaking down again, Maggie could see, the woman’s voice husky with tears. Surely a few more days wouldn’t matter? And how would she reply without sounding insincere?
    As if sensing her hesitation, Lorimer came to his wife’s rescue.
    ‘Maggie always rises to the occasion,’ he said. ‘How she’s put up with me all these years, goodness knows.’ He grinned ruefully across at his wife, making Maggie feel at once reassured.
    ‘I can believe it,’ Vivien said slowly, looking from one to the other. ‘You’re a very special couple.’
    ‘Meantime, perhaps there are people you need to contact? Folk from the theatre company?’ Lorimer suggested.
    Vivien nodded. ‘Everyone is still down in London at the moment. It was only Charles… Charles and I who came north to arrange the administration of things from this end.’
    ‘But you have people you can call?’
    She nodded. ‘Martin Goodfellow. Charles’s assistant. I already called him. He knows Charles died…’ She broke off, one hand flying to her mouth. ‘Oh God, I suppose I have to tell him what’s happened now, don’t I?’
    Maggie saw the colour drain from the woman’s face.
    ‘You can say that more tests are being done. Nothing of this needs to be made public just yet,’ Lorimer reassured her.
    ‘So the press…?’
    ‘Nobody will know anything until the Procurator Fiscal decides what steps to