As I focused on my goal, I caught movement from the dining room doors and glanced that way in time to see Dad and Malcolm Murray emerging from the quiet of the hall. For a moment they paused, Malcolm's hand on Dad's arm and my father actually waiting, head down, listening as The Orange's Irish owner whispered something to him. Dad shook his head and walked away at last, leaving Malcolm to stare after him with a sad look on his face. I swerved without thinking, crossing to join him and when he spotted me that sorrow turned to a flash of a smile in a heartbeat.
"A busy night, Fiona," he said. "And I hear you're to thank for catching the killer."
I shrugged at that, not caring about his praise at the moment. "What were you and Dad talking about just now?" Maybe it was being overtired or just tired of secrets but I know I was a bit abrupt. Okay, more than a bit. Malcolm didn't seem to mind, though his sorrow returned around the edges of the smile that didn't fade while he spoke.