Better to Eat You

by Charlotte Armstrong

  Moon stood quite still. Then he grinned and nodded.

  “The doctor.…” said Sarah faintly.

  Moon’s head bobbed. He said one quick harsh sentence and Sarah nodded, automatically. Moon went away, back into the study. He thought he had warned her. She thought he had gone to fetch the doctor. She hadn’t understood a word he had said.

  “The news is so dreadful,” said Grandfather plaintively, “that I am not to be told?” His eyes peered through his fingers.

  “It’s dreadful.” Sarah knelt down. “Malvina fell over. Malvina is dead. But I will never leave you,” she cried, not knowing what else to say.

  “Ah, Sarah,” said the old man. “We two, eh? Are you all right, my dearie? You won’t faint?”

  “No. I am strong,” she said and she smiled fondly.

  Grandfather sighed.

  They were bringing Consuelo up into the study, David and Maxwell and Dr. Price. The Chinaman slipped through the inner door and Maxwell said sharply, “Keep that door shut. And be quiet.” They put her into Grandfather’s chair and David knelt with his face near hers. “Are you better, darlin’?” he pleaded.

  Dr. Price said, “She’ll be all right now.”

  “Davey …” The old lady’s lids moved.

  “I want to hear this.” Maxwell shoved the bright-eyed Chinaman aside.

  “There was something stuck into the path,” Consuelo told them. Maxwell swore under his breath. “You may well say so,” nodded Consuelo, her voice getting louder. “And I said much the same or stronger. Of all the nasty …”

  “Consuelo, did it scare you? Did you almost fall?”

  “Well, no. Since I happened to be coming along up on all fours. You see, my head’s not good for edges. Never was.” David squeezed her hand. “No,” she said, “the wire, whatever it was, didn’t bother me. But I had to pull it out, Davey. Because I thought it was dangerous.”

  “Dangerous!” He kissed her hand. “How you ever got up there … I”

  “I didn’t make it.”

  “You darned near made it.”

  “Well, good for me.” Consuelo’s grin was nearly normal. “Anyhow, I got pretty dizzy after getting that wire out of the way. It fell with an awful nasty hurry, d’you see? I think I lay down against the ground. Maybe I fainted. I dunno. Well, pretty soon, here comes Malvina.”

  Maxwell swore again.

  “She fell over me,” said Consuelo. “There I was, lying in her way.”

  “How in hell …?”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” said David sharply.

  “Oh, I don’t,” said Consuelo. “I do not. But it was darned strange.” Consuelo struggled higher and David supported her. “Here she comes, dragging her feet. I tried to move. I croaked. My lord, Davey, I’m quite a hulk. Nobody can deny that. How could she miss noticing me? But she didn’t seem to hear me or see me. She was deliberately dragging her feet, like a sleepwalker. So she went over, screaming.” Consuelo shuddered.

  “There was wire?” said Maxwell. “You mean that? You tell me this path had a trap on it?”

  “It sure did have a trap on it,” Consuelo said, “and where is Sarah Shepherd?”

  “That’s the little blonde girl?” said the doctor. “She’s in there. She’s all right. Now, Mrs. McGhee …”

  “Wait …”

  “You are better,” David accused her. “Consuelo, you foolish old darlin’.”

  “Yes, I’m better, Davey. And by gum,” said Consuelo looking around her, “maybe I did it the hard way, but I got in.”

  Moon began to jabber and gesture toward the inner door where the doctor stood with his hand on the knob, hesitant, still listening. Moon gave up the effort as suddenly as he had begun it and ducked out the opposite door upon the sea walk. He pattered swiftly to his right, to get around through the garden. One of Maxwell’s men stood in his way. “Now where do you think you’re going?”

  After a while Moon made a gesture toward the night sky, as one who submitted. He sat down on the flagstones and looked quietly off to sea.

  In the study, David stood up. “I’ve got to go to Sarah. Maxwell, I hope you realize that they tried to murder her again.”

  Maxwell said, “They won’t murder anybody. I’m going in there. I’ve got questions to ask.”

  So Maxwell opened the door. David could see through. He saw Sarah. She was sitting quietly on the stool where Malvina had sat so often. Her back was straight. Her head was high and steady. The big glasses gleamed owlishly. She was just there, solemn and sweet and composed. The door closed.

  David bent. “Consuelo, that arrow? Who was the child? Was it Sarah?”

  She stared at him.

  “I thought you’d know. You told me about a child shooting an arrow. This man has a scar. I think this man is Lupino.”

  Consuelo said, “Oh gosh, Davey … wait. Let me remember.”

  “It was a girl?” he prodded.

  “Yes, of course. It was one of the granddaughters.”

  “Which one? Not Malvina?”

  “Davey, I can find out. I can call somebody in London.”

  “Consuelo, did they look alike off stage? Fox and Lupino?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “Would you know Lupino from Fox?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes were honest. “I might. But it’s been years. I’m not sure.”

  Dr. Price said, “I’d advise her to rest.”

  Consuelo said, “Now, you keep quiet. Davey, tell me … can I do anything? Can I bluff it? Will that help you?”

  Chapter 22

  Maxwell stalked across the living room. “Who fixed a trap on that path going down?” he demanded. “Who was trying to do murder out there?”

  The little blonde girl said in a voice quite calm, “You mustn’t speak so harshly, please. My grandfather isn’t strong.”

  “Who was going to go down that path this evening?”

  “I was,” said Sarah.

  “Somebody is trying to murder you?”

  “Why, yes,” she said. “Malvina is. Malvina Lupino.”

  “Now, is that likely,” the Deputy scoffed, “when she is the one who fell and died?”

  Sarah stood up without trembling, conquering her trembling once more. (Once more.) “This is not good for my grandfather. If you please …”

  “Wait, Sarah,” Grandfather said crisply. “Sit down, dearie, and let us examine these things. All of this must be settled. I am tired of crises. Now, how did you get here?” he asked the Deputy. “David Wakeley sent you, I suppose.”

  “That’s right,” said Maxwell.

  Sarah began to tremble. She sat down.

  “We have had enough trouble,” said Grandfather. “And Malvina is dead? Speak bluntly.”

  “Yes. Dead. Fell all the way.”

  The old man put his hand over his eyes for a second’s time. Sarah moistened her lips. Everything swirled in her mind. David had been the liar! David had called the police. David had not intended to run away with her. It was Malvina who had told the truth. He chose no bride in so silly a fashion. That too was true. This woman who lived down the shore, whose car he drove, the one he held in his arms right now out on the cliffside, she was his beloved. Well, if it was so … Sarah clenched her jaw to hold herself quiet … then it was so, and no shuddering could change it. But was there no one anywhere who always told her the truth but this old man on the cushions?

  “What’s going on up here, Mr. Fox?” said Maxwell. “Can you tell me?”

  Grandfather said, “I’ll try.” He sighed. He looked slyly at Sarah’s face. “Sarah, you must sit quietly. You must do nothing. Do not faint. Take the brandy. Now, sir.”

  Grandfather shifted. He kept his hand against his face as if he shielded his cheek from the fire, although there was no fire burning any more. Sarah sat on the stool and looked helplessly up into his face. “There has been too much trouble,” Grandfather said. “This child had a bad experience. Her bridegroom fell dead—of a heart
thing, they say—as they left the altar. She cannot be rid of it. She cannot shake off that ghost. She has come to believe that wherever she goes, goes tragedy.”

  “I’ve heard this before. First from Wakeley. Then from Miss Lupino.” The Deputy was impatient.

  Sarah saw that her fate was not in her own hands, not in her will. She understood nothing.

  “Well, then,” said Grandfather, “now we’ve done all we can. I asked Wakeley to come here because Sarah was drawn to him and I felt it would heal her.” Sarah’s lips fell open. “But the compulsion to punish herself, you see …” Sarah caught breath. “She set their working place on fire. Perhaps you know that,” said Grandfather.

  “That isn’t true,” said Sarah.

  Grandfather didn’t seem to hear. Perhaps she hadn’t spoken. “Then poor Dr. Perrott, in love with Malvina, chose to drive himself over the road’s edge and Sarah, of course, welcomed it. It seemed proof to her,” said Grandfather, “that all she wished to believe was so.”

  “No,” said Sarah. “No, I never wished …”

  “Ah, dearie, so long we’ve watched it,” said Grandfather sadly, “and you would not know.”

  She thought she was going to fall. She reached for the brandy.

  “But Edgar was saved.” Grandfather watched her sideways. “That was not in her pattern. Well, she had the poison …”

  “I … did not have the poison,” said Sarah.

  “Wakeley realized how serious her state was,” Grandfather went on speaking, “and urged psychiatric care. Oh, we were coming to it. And perhaps she knew this also.” Grandfather sighed. “Sarah put the wire in the path, of course.”

  “But I … did not,” said Sarah. “Why? Why?”

  “In your mind, my poor Sarah,” said Grandfather, “there is no reliable reason.” He leaned forward, eyes keen. “I saw you from my room. On the sea walk, this afternoon, with the wire in your hands.”

  “Now you are lying, too,” said Sarah faintly.

  Grandfather did not move his eyes. “Ah, she says everyone is lying,” he said softly, “all a part of this … Look out! Give her the brandy!”

  The Deputy bent and his arm went around her. He took the little glass out of her numb fingers and Sarah felt it against her lips. “Come now,” he rumbled. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  “Everyone says …” her mouth refused the glass to be able to speak, “things that are not true.”

  “Now, that’s not the way to look at it, miss.” The Deputy spoke one word, aside. “Paranoia?”

  “Poor child,” said Grandfather. “Poor, poor child …” and she saw his eyes.

  Sarah straightened her back. Her hand struck the glass and it moved in the Deputy’s hand as if on a hinge, away. She bent, feeling the Deputy’s arm strongly holding her (and fighting to believe she was sane). Sarah peered upward. There was something she had seen before. Something she knew and had not seen in a long time. “Your eyes, Grandfather,” she stammered.

  His eyes were perfectly cruel.

  Sarah swayed and the Deputy held her and the glass came up. “I don’t want it,” Sarah said. “I’ve got to think … because … everyone … really is … telling lies.…”

  The liquid would have slopped into her mouth but she heard David saying in a firm commanding voice, “Open the old man’s shirt.”

  So the Deputy turned. Grandfather leaned forward, one hand out. The Deputy’s fingers loosened and the old man took the glass. His head turned, eyes slid; the face was furious and evil.

  Sarah knew that David was approaching. She saw that he had his arm around a stout blonde woman who walked … why, she was old! … who tottered, with her eyes fixed on Grandfather, slowly toward them.

  Maxwell swore and his arm fell from Sarah’s back.

  Sarah turned her head again.

  “Grandfather,” she cried, and fell to her knees in perfect panic “Grandfather, what is the matter? Why is your mouth the way it is?”

  The lips writhed and through the bad teeth, bitterly, viciously, the old man said, “The better to eat you, my dearie? Eh? Sarah?” And the little glass fell from his hand to the carpet.

  “Get out of the way,” the doctor said.

  Maxwell lifted Sarah bodily.

  Arms took her.

  The doctor, working, giving orders, opened the old man’s clothing.

  “Look, Sarah,” said David in her ear. “It was all a lie. Do you know that scar?”

  “I remember it,” Sarah said.

  “Don’t watch, then. The brandy was poisoned. He is dying.” David’s fingers pressed her face. His voice was tender and she was in his arms.

  Consuelo McGhee’s beach house was furnished in slap-dash elegance. Sarah rested there on a wildly flowered couch and watched Consuelo encourage the fire.

  “I think I remember you,” puzzled Sarah, “but why do I think of red hair?”

  “No doubt because I had it,” said Consuelo, “the week end of the arrow. Must have been your father I gave what-for?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Your mama had the grand good sense to run away with him and get out of that. Might as well know that I don’t think your own grandfather was a lot better than this one. They were very much alike, more ways than their looks, that pair. Don’t blame yourself for being fooled. Lupino fooled everyone. Would have fooled me, too, as far as that goes. I wouldn’t have sworn which one he was. So old.” Poking the fire, Consuelo shivered.

  “I was in a state when I came here,” said Sarah flushing, “and he was kind.”

  “Honey,” Consuelo said.

  “Yes, Mrs. McGhee?”

  “He had to be kind. But it was just a legend. He was no ancient lovable clown. He was arrogant and wicked. You’ve been fighting alone too long and you didn’t know what it was you were fighting, and it’s not so good to be alone.” Consuelo sat down and twisted her beads and something about her was wise and comical. “Now don’t you mourn them, Sarah, those three. They couldn’t stomach themselves, if you ask me. All three of them did themselves in, if you’ll notice. Edgar must have known there was poison in the glass and knew who put it there. That’s why he took it. And Malvina might as well have jumped. I told you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the old man knew the brandy was poisoned. He planned it for you.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Let’s us be glad it’s over,” Consuelo grinned, “and wait for Davey.”

  So David found them. “Tidied up?” asked Consuelo brightly.

  “Fairly so.” David sat down. He was tired. The Sheriff’s Deputy had been a blaze of angry energy, beating about him for order and information, mad as a bee because he had almost poisoned Sarah Shepherd with his own hand. “How are you, Sarah?”

  “Sarah’s fine. We hashed it all out. It’s all straight now.” Consuelo’s chins joggled.

  Sarah said soberly, “It’s hard to believe that they are all gone. The Nest is empty.”

  “Nest of snakes,” snorted Consuelo.

  “What a blood thirsty old critter this is,” said David adoringly.

  “I can’t get over it,” said Sarah, suddenly sparkling. “She climbed up that scary path for my sake and she doesn’t even know me.”

  “Go ahead, make me a hero,” beamed Consuelo. “I did it for Davey, you know.”

  “He doesn’t know me, either,” Sarah said.

  “Well …” David smiled. “By the way, Sarah. Here is your Will. Shall we burn it?”

  Sarah said, “That was silly. It’s like waking up.” She sat high and saw the paper flare. “It seems almost f-funny now. How you and I kept asking each other to get married. Whatever were we thinking of?”

  David batted his lock desperately. Consuelo yawned. “What’s that? Eleven-thirty! Past my bedtime. Good night, children.”

  Sarah watched her go. She turned to look at David and he was trying to bite a smile in two. “She’s lying!” said Sarah.

  “Yep.�
�

  “I bet it’s not her bedtime. Oh, David, I could just adore her, too.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to say to you. I hardly know where I am.”

  He picked up her hand, fearful for her still, wanting for her peace and balance. “You’ll see,” he murmured. “Work it out slowly. But there’s nothing wrong. You don’t bring bad luck. Couldn’t. Will you hang on to that to start with?”

  “I know I am lucky,” she said solemnly.

  He thought of the pressures she’d had upon her, the evil that had been all around her, and how this small body encased a spirit that had not broken. His eyes stung. “Meantime,” he said cheerfully, holding back, “you know, I need a secretary.”

  Sarah’s beautiful mouth twitched. “You are stubborn,” it said.

  He could see past the tears to the laughter and deeper. He looked at the mouth and held back no longer.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  copyright © 1954 by Charlotte Armstrong

  copyright renewed 1982 by Jeremy B. Lewi, Peter A. Lewi, and Jacquelin Lewi Bynagta

  This edition published in 2012 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media

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