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Page 276
of two men, one in uniform and one in plain clothes.
The plainclothesman introduced himself in fluent, if accented English and then asked, "You were with Mrs. Bates when she died?"
"Yes," Peter and Linda responded together.
"Ah, yes. The doctor tells me she died of a brain seizure, that she had one before, and that at her age another was to be expected."
So the Corfu doctor was not such a fool, Linda thought.
"Yes, she had a very bad stroke previously," Peter agreed.
"Ah, so you knew that, yes? Our doctor says there was nothing he could do except advise her against exertion. What was she doing on that hill?"
Peter closed his eyes and swallowed. "It was my fault," he said miserably.
"No," Linda interrupted. "It was my fault."
Peter was going to say something stupid, and this poor policeman, who simply wanted something to put into his report would hear the whole ugly-sad story. No one was guilty of anything, not even poor Mrs. Bates, who had only been sick, and there was no reason to generate a scandal in this tight little colony where she and Peter and Rose-Anne and the others might want to come again.
"Mr. Tattersall and I are going to be married," Linda continued before Peter could get a word in, "but we hadn't yet told Mrs. Bates. This afternoon, Mr. Tattersall and I had a silly argument,

 
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