Witchmoor Edge by Mike Crowson

Matthew as
a witness and then he can get on with the door-to-door enquiries
afterwards. After you've done that, take someone from scene of
crimes and take a cast of car prints from Knowles's car and
Shields's car and compare them to the casts taken at the picnic
site."
    At that moment she had one of her flashes of
uncontrolled insight and nearly fell off the chair. She dropped her
notebook and folder and clasped a hand to her forehead.
    "You all right?" Cooke asked.
    "Yes," Millicent said faintly. Then more
strongly she said, "Yes, I'm OK. DS Gibbs. When those items of food
from the picnic scene come back from forensic, check them against
that till receipt. DS Turner, you and I will go and talk to the IT
specialist tomorrow. I've just remembered that she was called Rosie
O'Connor. Its very odd that someone with a strong motive for a
murder using morphine should share a surname with a hospital
pharmacist."
     
     
     

Chapter 6: Tuesday 14th August (Eve)
     
     
    N'Dibe smiled benignly and, perhaps, a touch
complacently. Although he was quite a big man, he was not
noticeably overweight nor was he a big eater. However he did seem
to have a fondness for ice cream. He ordered an especially large
one with chocolate syrup and cream. Millicent thought it looked
rather sickly, but N'Dibe finished it with an obvious relish and
pushed the dish away with a sigh of contentment. He wiped his mouth
almost daintily with a napkin and pulled his coffee towards him. He
must, Millicent thought, be approaching sixty if he had not already
reached it. He took a sip of coffee and continued as if he had not
paused for the ice cream.
    "At our public meetings we have a range of
speakers and discussion topics intended to attract as wide an
audience as possible. From those attending the open meetings we can
select those we invite to join the inner circle."
    "Select?"
    "It would hardly be appropriate to work at
close quarters with others about whom you entertain unease or
doubts."
    "That cuts both ways, surely," Millicent
objected.
    "Of course it does," N'Dibe agreed, smiling
again. "We meet people. We decide whether they would fit in and
whether we would enjoy their company. Then we try to get as close
to them as possible, to see whether they like our company before we
invite them."
    "I see."
    "You are privileged. It is rare that anyone
learns of even the existence of the inner group before we invite
them to join."
    "Why am I so special?" Millicent asked.
    "N'Dibe was thoughtful and took another long
drink of coffee before answering. "First," he said at length, "I
felt you were out of the ordinary from the moment I met you at the
twelve apostles stones. A silly name, by the way, since they
pre-date Christianity by three thousand years. Second, because you
told me of your second sight when you had not previously mentioned
it to anyone but your late husband."
    "And you made up your mind because of that?"
At that point Millicent realised she hadn't actually mentioned
second sight to the man, though perhaps she had implied it. "How do
you know that anyway?"
    "On the question of how I know, I know many
things not put into words. It was in any event a little more than
that which was decisive. Firstly I spoke to the others and they
will study you for themselves this evening. Secondly, much as it
may upset a detective to be on the receiving end of investigation,
I checked up on you."
    Millicent was not sure whether to be
offended. "How?" she demanded.
    "I made one or two phone calls, consulted a
crystal and so on." N'Dibe was smiling benignly again and Millicent
could not tell to what extent he was being serious. She was still
not sure whether she was offended. The large black man glanced at
his watch.
    "The meeting at the Central Library is at
eight," he said. "If we leave at once there should be plenty of
parking space just behind, off Manchester Road. That will give us
just enough time to get up to the fourth floor."
     
    The meeting was a mildly interesting