Lying wastes more time than anything else in the modern world. -- Margery Allingham, The Tiger in the Smoke

Yo-han had witnessed some grisly spectacles in his career. The man whose chest had been sawn open and all his internal organs removed held the title for the most grisly. He had fierce competition, though, including the woman who had lost half of her face in a bear attack, the man who had spilled acid on his arms, and Rachael Patton-Langdale with a chunk blown out of her skull.

His history gave him an advantage. He could examine the murder victims relatively impassively while the police constable was trying not to be sick.

Both victims were hung by the neck from different branches of the tree. Both ropes had been cut from the same length of rope, which was unusually thick and had probably been taken from a boat. The bodies had been dragged over to the tree from somewhere across the lawn.

Victim one: Mrs. Lennox. She was fully dressed in a plain white frock, not an evening dress. Her hair had been pinned up. Now most of it hung loose and was matted with blood. Her expression was mildly surprised but not frightened. She hadn't seen her death coming.

She had been struck in the back of the head with a heavy, blunt object. The murderer had hit her with such force that part of her skull had caved in.

Victim two: Çelik Bey. He was shirtless. His face was contorted into a ghastly silent scream. He had certainly seen his death coming.

It was a cliché of crime novels to say someone's throat had been cut from ear to ear. Yet that was the only way to describe it. The murderer had slashed so deeply into his neck that they had almost decapitated him. The rope holding him up was looped around his chest under his arms, because his head would have been pulled off if the murderer tried to hang him by what remained of his neck. His chest and arms were sliced all over with shallow cuts.

Yo-han leaned in to get a closer look. All of them had been inflicted with a long, sharp blade. The cut throat had probably been inflicted with the same weapon.

He was used to gory sights. All the same, he was glad the news had arrived before he had time to have breakfast.

Constable Martin wasn't so lucky. In the background Yo-han could hear him losing the fight to keep his food down.

After a careful examination Yo-han had reached several conclusions.

"They were both attacked from behind," he said. "They were facing each other. I think Mrs. Lennox died first, and Çelik Bey saw her death right before he was killed. Then they were dragged here from the scene of the crime. See the trail in the grass? Çelik Bey was stripped after death. Notice how there's very little blood from his throat; most of it went onto his shirt. These cuts were also inflicted posthumously. We're looking for at least two murderers of above average strength, with a personal grudge against Çelik Bey."

Constable Martin staggered over, still looking green. "It was her husband."

Yo-han raised an eyebrow. The thought had occurred to him when he first heard of the murder, but had been dismissed as soon as he saw the bodies. "How do you know?"

Martin shrugged. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Wife is unfaithful, jealous husband kills her and her lover."

"So why mutilate the lover when the worst betrayer was the wife?"

"Because he still loved her." Martin seemed to think this was final.

Yo-han thought it was proof he'd read too many penny-dreadfuls.

"I happen to know that Lord Kilskeery is suffering from a long illness. Do you think a sick man could commit two murders, almost simultaneously but with different weapons, and then drag both bodies a considerable distance before hauling them up into a tree?"

"With an accomplice, yes."

That would still require Lennox to have either clubbed his wife on the head or savagely cut a man's throat. Yo-han pictured how gaunt Lennox was. He remembered the feeling of picking him up and discovering he was practically skin and bones. He could not imagine Lennox taking any physical part in the murders.

He could have planned them, but that required more investigation.

"Where were the murders committed?" Yo-han asked.

"Over by the greenhouse. We haven't found the murder weapon — er, the weapon used on Lady Kilskeery — but we know what it was: an oar."

That was a surprise. Yo-han had pictured something like a baseball bat. "An oar?" he repeated incredulously. "Is the greenhouse beside the river?"

Martin shook his head. "There it is, beside the house. You can just see part of it from here."

"How do you know it was an oar?"

"One was stolen yesterday. Along with a coil of rope. The rope used to hang them, most likely." Martin shuddered.

That meant the murder had been planned for at least a day, by someone who had access to the house's boats. The murderers must be part of the household.

"Let's have a look," Yo-han said grimly.

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The greenhouse revealed nothing he didn't already know. There was blood on the grass outside. A trail of flattened grass and bloodstains led in the direction of the tree. A pile of crumpled, blood-soaked fabric partially concealed behind a tuft of grass turned out to be Çelik Bey's shirt. It looked as if the murderer had tossed it aside and forgotten about it.

The ground was dry. There were no convenient footprints.

Constable Martin put on a pair of gloves and gingerly picked up the shirt. "We'll check this for fingerprints."

"Mr. Seo!"

Both of them jumped at the shout. Yo-han turned. To his surprise he saw Eames running from the back of the house. He was pale and shaking.

He exclaimed, "Mr. Seo, they're gone!"

Yo-han's first thought was that some of the servants had run away. If so, it should be easy to find the killers. Eames' next words clarified the situation.

"The first Lady Kilskeery's pearls! The safe in Mrs. Lennox's room has been opened and the pearls are gone!"

For a moment Yo-han stared at him in absolute bafflement. Nothing about the case so far had suggested robbery was involved. When someone hated another person enough to bash them on the head and cut them up, they generally had a more serious motive than greed.

"Who found the safe?" he asked to give himself time to collect his thoughts.

Eames was still shaking. "Mrs. Lennox's maid. She thought there might be clues... And she found it open!"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"She shouldn't have intruded on a crime scene," Martin began indignantly.

Yo-han felt a headache beginning. "Lead us to the room."

Eames turned and headed back the way he'd come. Yo-han and Martin followed him. He led them through the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and through the back hallways. They ended up at a door just to the left of the main stairs. Their route puzzled Yo-han. It would have been much faster to go round the house, enter through the front door, and walk up the stairs.

Mrs. Lennox's room was a monument to bad taste. The walls were painted dark blue and the carpet was grey. She probably hadn't taken two unusually large American flags and turned them into curtains, but observers could be forgiven for assuming that based on the pattern. The chairs were upholstered with bright lemon-coloured material. The quilt-cover and pillowcases were white and made of some floaty, lacy material. It clashed horribly with the dullness of the room.

A massive painting was displayed on the wall beside the wardrobe. Yo-han squinted at it. He turned his head to the side. He took a step closer, then a step back. He still couldn't tell what it was meant to be. It looked as if the artist had begun to paint a woman, then had accidentally spilled several different colours of paint on the canvas, and had attempted to salvage the mess by turning it into a garden scene.

The safe was concealed behind the painting, which swung out to allow access. Yo-han went over to get a better look. He stumbled over a pair of slippers discarded carelessly between the wardrobe and the bed.

"Where is Mrs. Lennox's maid?" he asked, examining the safe's lock. It had been opened with a key. There were no scratches to suggest it had been picked.

"In the kitchen, having tea," Eames said. He'd stopped shaking but he looked quite ill.

"Who has a key to the safe?"

Eames thought for a minute. "Mrs. Skinner had one. She was the former housekeeper, but she's moved to Belfast with Lady Kilskeery." Seeing Yo-han's puzzled frown, he explained, "Lord Kilskeery's mother. I think Mrs. Skinner left her key behind. She hasn't been replaced. Mrs. Lennox kept a keychain with her all the time. I don't know what the safe key looks like, but I suppose it was one of hers. There might be a spare in the kitchen."

Yo-han studied the safe. An empty jewellery box lay open — presumably the one which had contained the pearls. Yet, oddly, an assortment of rings, brooches, necklaces, and earrings had been left untouched. They glittered in the light. What thief would resist the temptation to take some of them? They were much smaller and therefore easier to dispose of than the pearl necklace.

A suspicion was beginning to form.

He turned to Eames. "Does the maid have a key?"

Eames shook his head. "Mrs. Lennox never trusted any of us with keys to the safe. Her maid was only hired last week, to replace another maid who was fired for criticising Mrs. Lennox's behaviour."

Yo-han remembered the drunk man two nights ago. "Was the maid's name Jenny by any chance?"

Eames looked astonished. "Yes, Jenny Conley. How did you know?"

The man's words came back to him: "If my Jenny doesn't get her job back I'll wring that woman's neck!"

Yo-han thought of Mrs. Lennox hanging from the tree. From a certain point of view her neck had been wrung.

But what about Çelik Bey? Assuming Jenny's father had murdered Mrs. Lennox, which was currently an assumption based on mere coincidence, why had he also murdered a guest? And why mutilate that guest's body? As a blind, perhaps, to make the police look for someone with a grudge against Çelik Bey.

He turned away from the safe, and almost tripped over those damn slippers again. He kicked them out of the way in annoyance. Then he stopped.

"Mrs. Lennox was wearing outdoor shoes when she died," he said slowly. "So she took off her slippers herself. But the more natural place to leave them would be near the top of the bed."

He looked at the bedside cabinet. It had a cupboard at the bottom. He placed the slippers in front of the cupboard door and tried to open it. They were in the way.

"The thief also went through Mrs. Lennox's cupboard," he said. "Why? No one keeps valuables where they can be discovered so easily."

Until now Constable Martin had been hovering awkwardly by the window, looking like he felt there was nothing for him to do but couldn't think of how to leave. Now he came over to investigate too. Eames moved to the side of the cupboard to get a better view.

Yo-han moved the slippers out of the way and opened the cupboard. It had one shelf, which had small dividers splitting it into three squares. One of the squares contained a notebook. The other two were empty.

He lifted out the notebook and flipped through it. Some pages were torn out. The rest were blank.

"Do you have a pencil?" he asked the constable.

Martin hunted through his pockets, then produced a pencil. Yo-han scribbled over the first page. Faint outlines showed through.

"I thought so! She leant heavily on the previous page and the impression came through."

"But what does it mean?" Eames asked. "Half grim? Baron nine thirds? That's not a proper fraction!"

"That should be half gramme. She's spelt it with only one M. For the rest, your guess is as good as mine," Martin said.

Yo-han closed the notebook and put it in his pocket. "I think I know what this means. Mr. Eames, does Lord Kilskeery own racehorses?"

Eames looked at him thoughtfully. Yo-han could see that his mind had begun to run along the same lines. "His father did. A— The current Lord Kilskeery still owns them, but he stables them with a friend in England who runs them in his name. He said they're too expensive to keep here. He keeps two horses here, but they're only for riding."

"Does he bet on the races?"

"No, he doesn't like gambling. He also doesn't drink, or hunt, or speculate, or do anything that might diminish his income. Mrs. Lennox was fond of spending money, and she quarrelled with her parents so they wouldn't send her any."

"So, if Mrs. Lennox wanted to get extra money, she could bet on her husband's horses?"

Eames shrugged. "She could. She could also lose money. I never heard of money mysteriously going missing. Though, come to think of it, she did have a lot more than usual lately. She insisted on buying a mink coat that cost £600. Can you imagine? £600!"

Yo-han thought of those words "half gram". He thought of the missing necklace. One explanation fit the facts. But it was highly improbable.

"Well, I think we've learnt everything we can here," he said, getting up. "Now it's time to question the maid."

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Eames led Yo-han and the constable back to the kitchen. They found Miss Gilchrist, the maid, munching her way through a digestive biscuit. She didn't look particularly shaken.

Yo-han and Martin seated themselves at the table opposite her. She eyed both of them askance, especially Yo-han.

"Could you explain what happened this morning, ma'am?" Constable Martin asked.

Miss Gilchrist chewed away stolidly before answering. "I sleep up on the third storey. Above the missus's room. She has a bell hung in my room that she can ring when she wants me."

Yo-han listened intently. Martin began to look impatient.

"I can always hear when she closes her door. The sound comes right up through the floor. Well, early this morning — I didn't check my clock but it was still dark — I hear the door close. 'That's her gentleman friend leaving,' thinks I, if you know what I mean. And I wait for her to ring, because she always wants a bath after her friends' visits. Well, she don't ring. I listen, but I fall asleep because next I know it's daylight and Mabel is screaming her head off."

Miss Gilchrist paused to take another sip of tea.

"Well, I get dressed and go down. And I'm blessed if Mrs. Jenkins don't come racing up the stairs screaming the missus is murdered."

"What did you think when you heard that?" Yo-han asked.

Miss Gilchrist peered at him in a none-too-friendly way. "What are you?"

"A detective," Yo-han said, allowing a little more coldness to creep into his voice.

She shook her head and muttered something that sounded very rude. "Thinks I, the master has done for her at last."

Martin gave Yo-han a triumphant glance.

Yo-han ignored him. "And why did you assume Lord Kilskeery was the killer?"

The question seemed to baffle her. "Well, it's obvious, an't it? Everyone knows she was no better than she should be. From what I hear he never wanted to marry her."

Yo-han let the subject drop for now. "And then?"

"Thinks I, that time when her door woke me? That was her leaving. She must have gone to his room, they fought, and he killed her. So I goes to her room looking for evvy-dince. And what do I see but the safe wide open and the pearls gone! Down I run and tell Mrs. Jenkins. She give me a cuppa, and here I've sat ever since."

"When did you last see Mrs. Lennox's pearls?" Yo-han asked.

Miss Gilchrist looked blank.

Yo-han tried again. "Did she wear them last night? The night before?" He knew for a fact she hadn't, because he would have noticed.

"No," Miss Gilchrist said slowly. "I don't believe I ever seed the pearls. She an't worn them since she hired me."

"Then how did you know they were there?"

"She told me. Pearls worth thousands, she says, kept in the safe because she don't trust the bank."

Yo-han put together all the information he currently had, then made a gamble. "Did Mrs. Lennox spend much time with the head groom?"

Both Martin and Miss Gilchrist looked startled.

"Why, yes, she did. I never seed anything but I think..." Miss Gilchrist trailed off and nodded solemnly.

"Thank you," Yo-han said, getting up. "You've been very helpful."

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"Now what?" Martin asked. "I don't mind admitting this whole thing is too deep for me. Head grooms? Racehorses? What have they to do with the murder?"

Yo-han shrugged. "So far I don't think they have anything to do with it."

Martin tried to wrap his mind around this. He failed. "Well, for Pete's sake, what do I do?"

"Currently I think the best thing you can do is go back to the police station and make arrangements for the bodies to be removed. Arrange a post-mortem, though I doubt it will reveal anything. I expect to solve the case within two days."