by Rhys Bowen
Chapter 38
DECEMBER 31, NEW YEAR’S EVE
The Worsting of the Hag tonight. Will anyone be killed? If so, who? I can’t believe he’ll do nothing on the twelfth day. I wish I were going home. . . . No, I don’t.
My stomach was in a tight knot the moment I awoke to the sight of Queenie’s large bulk looming over me. In fact, I had woken with a jolt, conscious of warm breath on my face. In my half dream it was the Labrador of my childhood, Tilly, who used to sit by my bed, waiting for me to wake up. I opened my eyes to see a large face close to mine. I gasped and tried to sit up. Then I saw it was only Queenie.
“What on earth were you doing that for?” I asked. “You scared the daylights out of me.”
“Sorry, miss. You were lying there so still, I wanted to make sure you were still alive.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said. “The sight of you a few inches away from me might well have given me heart failure.”
After that first scare I couldn’t shake off the tension. Something was going to happen today, I was sure of it. But I couldn’t think what, and to whom. As I sat writing my morning entry in my diary, I wished I could go home right then. Then of course I knew that was rubbish. I didn’t want to go back to Fig and her family, and it was no longer my home. I didn’t have a home any longer. After this I really had nowhere to go. Frightening thought. And also I’d soon be leaving Darcy. I knew that before I left I must pluck up the courage to tell him I couldn’t marry him. And that was the one thing I didn’t want to do.
The whole household still seemed to be suffering from the shock of finding Mr. Barclay yesterday. People sat separately at breakfast, not talking. I knew I was supposed to be the social organizer, but frankly I couldn’t think of anything to cheer them up. Mrs. Upthorpe looked positively sick. Only the countess ate a hearty breakfast and seemed in good spirits.
“Such gloomy faces,” she said. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Time for celebration.”
“But it doesn’t seem right, with that poor man not in his grave yet,” Mrs. Upthorpe said.
“It wasn’t as if we knew the man, after all,” the countess said. “These things happen. I lost my husband. A big shock. Not at all pleasant, but I got on with it. I don’t hold with all this moping. Death is a fact of life. It’s going to come to all of us sooner or later.”
“We’re just hoping it’s not sooner,” Mr. Wexler said. “I don’t want my family in any danger.”
“Of course they’re not in danger,” the countess said. “Who’d want to kill you?”
I managed a poached egg on toast and was just finishing when Darcy came in. “I have to send another telegram,” he said. “Fancy a walk to the village after breakfast?”
“All right.” I got up. “Are you not breakfasting?”
“I ate hours ago. I’ve been out for a ride with Monty. Lovely morning. Frost on the grass.” He stared out the window as we walked from the room. “God, I miss my horses, don’t you?”
“I’ve been at home, so I’ve been able to ride,” I said.
“Lucky you.”
“Not much lucky about being at Castle Rannoch, I can assure you.” I grinned.
“And you’ll go back there after this?”
“I’ve nowhere else to go,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. They don’t want me there. I’m not allowed to use the London house. I may find myself as lady-in-waiting to one of the royal great-aunts.”
“I know people,” Darcy said. “I should be able to find something better than that for you.”
I managed a hopeful smile. “Really?”
“It’s a bugger, isn’t it?” he said. “This having no money.”
“Not a word I’m usually allowed to use,” I said. “But it is an absolute bugger.”
“We’ll work it out somehow. Even if I have to get a job in a bank or behind a sock counter in a gentlemen’s outfitter’s.”
This made me laugh. “You’d probably plot to rob the bank.”
“Nonsense. I’ve sworn to the straight and narrow these days.” Then he stopped and looked ahead. “Isn’t that your mother?”
A figure in a long mink coat was coming up the drive toward us. And a short, stocky figure beside her. “And my grandfather,” I said. “It’s a little early for a social call.”
Mummy spotted me at the same time and waved. “Yoo-hoo, darling! We were just coming to see you.”
They waited until we joined them. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“It’s Miss Prendergast,” Mummy said. “We’re worried that something has happened to her.”
“Oh, no.” Darcy and I exchanged a glance.
“Well, I felt sorry for the old biddy,” Granddad said. “She had that awful shock yesterday. So I got your mum to come with me to see how she was doing this morning and nobody answers the door. We wondered—well, if anything might be wrong. Have you heard from the inspector this morning?”
“I haven’t seen anybody,” I said. “You didn’t happen to see her when you were out riding, did you?” I asked Darcy.
He shook his head. “We went up on the moors. Nowhere near the village.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Poor Miss Prendergast. She is a bit of a busybody, isn’t she? I hope she didn’t see something that put her in danger.” And immediately it crossed my mind that she had been the first person into the church. If the killer had been in the process of making his getaway, had she caught a glimpse of him? Had he thought she’d seen him? In which case she had sealed her fate.
“We’d better go and take a look,” Darcy said. We walked back down the drive together at a quick pace.
“Strange woman, isn’t she?” Mummy said, taking quick and dainty little steps on her high platform shoes to keep up with us. “I wouldn’t have thought she was the type prone to hysterics. Always acted like one of those capable and no-nonsense females.”
“Well, she had just found a body,” Darcy pointed out.
“And you say she was a lifelong spinster?” Mummy went on. “I’d swear that woman was no virgin.”
We looked at her with interest. “Why do you say that?”
“The way she sat, darling. I noticed her particularly at that ball. She sat with her legs crossed, leaning back in her seat. Spinsters always sit bolt upright with their knees together.”
We had to laugh, but she went on. “They do. You know it’s that upbringing thing—their mothers drummed into them that the best form of birth control is to put a sixpence between your knees and keep it there.”
We were still laughing as she continued. “And there was something else I noticed yesterday. I don’t think she’s as old as we think. Did you see her hands? She didn’t have old hands. Look at your Granddad’s”—and she lifted one of his hands for my inspection—“wrinkles and age spots. Not at all nice. But hers were smooth and elegant.”
“Perhaps she just took care of them.”
“You can’t prevent age spots, no matter how much care you take.”
I tried to digest what this meant and then something struck me, like an explosion in my head. “Cornucopia,” I said, making them stop and look at me. “One of the words when we played charades. For the first syllable we had someone hobble like an old woman with corns. That was just after the two Misses Ffrench-Finch had crossed the room with Miss Prendergast. And later I had recalled that the first two walked exactly as we had depicted in the game, but Miss Prendergast strode out.”
“So if she’s really younger than she wants us to think,” Darcy said carefully, “what do you think that means?”
“That she’s not who she claims to be,” Mummy said. “What’s the betting she’s hiding out here?”
That stopped us all in our tracks at the bottom of the driveway.
“A package came for her yesterday,” I said. “From a firm in London. Angels. Any idea who they are?”
“I know that name. I’ve used them a thousand times. They’re well-known theatrical costumers,” Mummy said.<
br />
“Is it possible that she’s been hiding Robbins all this time, right under our noses?” Darcy said.
“Then who is she? We were told that his wife killed herself right after he was arrested. She couldn’t stand the shame,” I said.
“Killed herself by walking out into the ocean and the body was never found,” Darcy reminded me. “That’s an old trick for anyone who wants to disappear. So Mrs. Robbins is dead and Miss Prendergast, elderly spinster, comes to live in a Devon village, near where Robbins is in prison and where she can plan everything they are going to do when he breaks out.”
“Oh, crikey,” I said. “She was the first person on the scene when Miss Ffrench-Finch was found dead in her bed. It was Miss Prendergast who turned off the gas and opened the window.”
“So that there would be a legitimate reason for her prints to be on everything,” Granddad said.
“And yesterday in church,” Darcy went on, waving his arms excitedly now, “no wonder she had blood on her hands. She had just killed Barclay herself.”
Granddad wagged a finger at us. “You need to let Inspector Newcombe know about this right away. This is not something you should tackle yourself. They are nasty customers and may well be armed. I’ll go into the police station and you three behave as if nothing has happened.”
“Darcy and I will go and get a newspaper at the shop,” I said. “I can ask there if anybody has seen her this morning. Willum’s usually out and about.”
Darcy took my hand and we sauntered across the village green, two lovers out for an early morning stroll. In the shop we bought our paper and inquired about Willum.
“Willum? He’s come down with a nasty cold, my dearie,” Willum’s mother said. “I’m keeping him in bed today with a mustard plaster on his chest. Always had a weak chest, you know, so I can’t be too careful. Mind you, he’s so disappointed he’ll miss the celebrations tonight. He does so enjoy all that noise.”
“Please give him our best,” I said.
“I will, and I told him he can watch the fireworks on the green from his window, so he’s happy about that. Easy enough to make him happy, that’s one good thing.” And she smiled as she handed Darcy his change.
“Has Miss Prendergast been in for her paper this morning, by the way?” I asked casually. “She wasn’t home when my mother called on her a little while ago and we wondered if she was all right after that shock yesterday.”
“Wasn’t that just terrible?” Willum’s mother folded her arms across her ample bosom. “A shock for all of us here. Mr. Barclay’s been part of this village for twenty years now. There’s some that weren’t too fond of him, but he was always polite enough to me. Who would have thought that part of the church would fall down like that and kill him?”
“It didn’t,” Darcy said. “Somebody killed him deliberately, and tried to make it look like an accident.”
“Well, I never,” she said. “What is the world coming to? Not even safe in our own village now, are we? I’m glad my Willum is inside where I can keep an eye on him.”
“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon,” I said. “Now that the police know who they are looking for, they’ll soon catch them.”
“I hope so. I do hope so,” she said, shaking her head.
* * *
WE THEN HURRIED back to the hall to alert the Hawse-Gorzleys while we waited for news from the inspector. Lady Hawse-Gorzley stood staring out the window.
“You mean one of those convicts has been committing all these murders with the help of his wife, who was disguised as Miss Prendergast?” she said. “God, I need a sherry. How about you?”
“It’s a little early,” I said, “but given the circumstances . . .” I accepted the glass she held out to me. The liquid felt warm and comforting as it slipped down. “So until these people are caught, I think we should make sure that all your guests stay safely in the house,” I said.
She turned to me then. “You don’t think anyone here is in danger, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “If he has been killing only the jurors from his trial, they are all dead now, except for one man, who went to Australia.”
“That’s a relief,” she said. “But I suppose he could get desperate if cornered and who knows what he’d do. The man must be stark raving mad.”
“No, I think he’s cool and calculating,” I said. “He’s been plotting this all the time he was in prison, I suspect. Or he and his wife have been planning it between them. I don’t know how involved she was and whether she was a willing party to all this. I remember that she tried to express regret to me several times, saying how sorry she was that someone had to die. Of course that could have been an act and she could be the cold, brutal one for all we know.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley sighed. “Such a farce,” she said. “And for what? The jurors were only doing their duty. I know I’ve had many unpleasant tasks as a magistrate.” She turned to the window again. “My husband is out on the estate somewhere. Someone should find him and bring him inside.”
“Darcy already went to do so,” I said.
“Such a kind boy,” she said. “Well, not really a boy any longer, is he? It’s hard for me to think of him as grown-up. I remember him fondly as a child—such a little rogue.”
“Still is,” I said.
“I notice you two are fond of each other. Any plans to marry, do you think?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I can’t marry him.”
“Why ever not?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m part of the line of succession. I can’t marry a Catholic by law, and I don’t think he’d be prepared to give up his religion.”
She looked amused. “My dear girl. It’s not as if you’re going to be queen one day, is it? Just renounce your claim to the throne, say you’re not interested, and they can step over you.”
“I can do that?”
“Why not? Even kings have abdicated before now. One might do so again.”
Suddenly, in spite of everything we’d been through, the world was a brighter, more wonderful place.
“I never wanted to be queen anyway,” I said.
We looked up as one of the maids came in. She curtsied. “My lady, the policeman is here to see you again.”
Before Lady Hawse-Gorzley could say, “Please show him in,” Inspector Newcombe strode into the room.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this, Lady Hawse-Gorzley,” he said. “But I just wanted to come up and tell you that they’ve flown the coop. We had to break in the cottage door and they’ve gone. Taken any incriminating evidence too, although there are signs that Robbins was living upstairs.”
“Nobody saw them leave the village?” I asked.
“They must have had a vehicle hidden nearby and crept away sometime during the night. I can’t get over that Prendergast woman. Had us all fooled, didn’t she? If she was that good an actress, why didn’t she make money legitimately on the stage?”
“She wasn’t that good,” I said. “My mother saw through her.”
“Well, we’re talking of a superior actress there, aren’t we?” he said with a smile. “But I’m hoping they won’t get far. We’re sending out alerts for them all over the country and at all the ports. We’ll catch ’em eventually, you’ll see. And then they’ll both hang. And good riddance too.”
“So he’s not going to finish the twelve days,” I said. “I’m surprised.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley had been standing there silently. Now she said, “Did you say the man’s name was Robbins? Not Robert Robbins, by any chance?”
“That’s right. One of the three convicts who escaped.”
“What an unpleasant man he was,” she said.
“You knew him?” the inspector asked.
“Oh, yes. I presided as magistrate when he was first arrested,” she said. “He came up before me on extortion charges, but I could see there was more to it than mere extortion. I was convinced he’d killed at least one landlady, so I h
anded him over to the Crown court.”
My heart was thumping loudly. “Oh, no.” It came out as a whisper. “Then you’re intended to be the twelfth victim. You’re the one he’s been waiting for.”
Chapter 39
STILL NEW YEAR’S EVE
Nobody dead yet.
It was the inspector who spoke first. “Right. That settles it. You’re staying in the house and we’re putting a police guard on you until Robbins is caught.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley shook her head. “Oh, no, Inspector. Don’t you see—this is our only chance to catch him. I’m afraid I must carry on as planned tonight. I must offer myself as bait.”
“You can’t do that,” I said.
“Why not? If tonight passes without my presence, he’ll just slip away and probably be on the next boat out of England. I want him caught, Inspector. I want to make sure that this time he doesn’t escape the noose on a technicality. I want him hanged. And her too. She was part and party to all this.”
“You’ve got guts, my lady, I’ll say that much for you.” The inspector nodded grimly.
“I’m one of the old school,” she said. “We were brought up to do our duty.”
“It might just work,” he said. “We’ll provide you with a police guard, of course. You’ll be protected all the time.”
“They should be disguised as our guests,” I said. “If Robbins and his wife can use disguises, then so can we. They mustn’t get any hint that we are waiting for them.”
The inspector nodded approvingly at my suggestion. “So what exactly happens at this little beanfeast tonight?” he asked.
“We all assemble on the village green, then we go from house to house banging on pots and pans and making a lot of noise. It’s to drive out evil spirits for the coming year. Wonderfully primitive.” And she smiled. “And then we reassemble outside the pub for hot toddy and baked potatoes and sausages and there are fireworks on the village green.”
The inspector was frowning. “That sounds like the most challenging kind of situation possible to try to protect somebody. If Robbins doesn’t want to get close and reveal himself, there’s plenty of chance for a shot in the dark. I’m beginning to think it’s too risky to contemplate.”