Dashing Through the Snow

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “Jed, get out of the way,” Betty ordered. “We’ve got to keep her hidden in your office.”

  “What?” Jed protested. “Betty, we don’t want her to see what’s in there…”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Betty said. “We’ll be on the run as long as this little Flower keeps blooming.”

  20

  You broke the tibia bone near the ankle.” Dr. Rusch, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and rimless glasses, held up the X-rays as he spoke. “How did you manage that?”

  “I fell down a flight of stairs,” Duncan replied.

  “Lucky you didn’t do further damage by hobbling on that leg.” He patted Duncan’s arm. “You’re going to be in a plaster cast for about six weeks.” He smiled. “But I gather you don’t have to worry about missing work.”

  “I guess not,” Duncan said weakly.

  “Does it feel pretty sore now?”

  “Kind of,” Duncan admitted.

  “I’m going to give you something to dull the pain. It might make you a little drowsy.”

  “Doctor, I don’t have my cell phone. I hate to ask, but would you mind lending me yours? I need to talk to my girlfriend for a minute.”

  This is a first, Rusch thought with amusement. No patient has ever asked to borrow my phone. I guess having boatloads of money does change one’s mindset. “Duncan, I’m afraid you’re not allowed to use a cell phone in here. How’s this? Give me the number. I’ll have the receptionist call and give her your message.”

  Trying not to sound too disappointed, Duncan said, “If she could just tell my girlfriend I’ll call later. Thank you.”

  Ten minutes later the doctor came back to the cubicle in the emergency room. “She must be a popular lady. Her mailbox is full.”

  There’s something wrong, Duncan thought. I know there’s something wrong.

  A nurse came up to his bedside. She handed him a tablet and a glass of water. “This will make you feel better. It’s going to be a little while before we can take you in for the cast. We have a couple of skiers ahead of you. Why don’t you just try and take a nap?”

  Duncan swallowed the pill, leaned back, and closed his eyes. A sense of foreboding drove away his ability to relax and drift into sleep. Flower’s voice kept running through his head. “I’m scared, Duncan,” she was whispering. “Help me. I’m scared.”

  21

  Horace Pettie threw the WE MISS YOU sign in the back of the store, then plopped the ring down on a velvet pad on the counter. “I held this for Duncan, on a fifty-dollar deposit, for six months,” he said sourly. “I don’t know any other jeweler who’d have done that. Displaying the ring in the window these last few hours has helped sell my Festival of Joy charms. Now Duncan gets all upset because people get a look at his ring? Too bad about him.”

  “That’s right,” Luella agreed quickly, as she tied a red bow on a gift-wrapped package and handed it to the only other customer now in the store. “I’ve worked for Mr. Pettie for twenty years. He’s never been anything but the soul of kindness to the people of Branscombe. It just goes to show, no good deed goes unpunished. Isn’t that right Mrs. Graney?”

  The spry septuagenarian nodded. “Mmmm hmmmm. It seems to me that Duncan Graham doesn’t have to care about anybody now that he has twelve million dollars. Merry Christmas everyone,” she trilled as she left the store.

  Alvirah watched the door close behind her. “Now we can talk. Excuse me, sir, but I need to know where you got that ring.”

  Horace Pettie looked startled. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because it was probably stolen,” Alvirah said, checking again to be sure the microphone in her sunburst pin was on.

  Pettie’s lips tightened. “If you’re implying I obtained this ring in some underhanded way, you’re mighty wrong, and I’d appreciate you leaving my store this minute.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, and I certainly don’t mean to upset you,” Alvirah replied hastily. “But I can tell you that ring disappeared from the home of a woman who died under suspicious circumstances eight years ago in New York City.”

  “What?” Glenda asked, her eyes widening.

  Jack pointed to it. “This ring, Alvirah?”

  Alvirah nodded. “That ring. I’m sure of it.”

  The bracelets on Luella’s right arm jangled as she slapped her hand on the counter. “How can you be so sure it’s the same ring?” she asked angrily.

  “The lady who owned it, Kitty Whelan, loved to garden. Her husband had the ring made for her for their fiftieth anniversary with the diamond in the center and the petals the color of her favorite flowers.” Alvirah pointed. “Look—white for lilies, red for roses, yellow for daffodils, and purple for pansies. Kitty just loved that ring. After her husband died she wore it every day. I worked for a woman named Bridget O’Keefe who was a good friend of Kitty’s. I was only there on Fridays, but before Kitty had a heart attack, she often dropped by. I saw this ring many times. Kitty always boasted that it was one of a kind, made only for her. But when Kitty’s nephew found her dead at the foot of her staircase, she didn’t have the ring on. He never found it when he cleared out the house.”

  “Maybe she had a special hiding place for the ring when she wasn’t wearing it,” Luella said. “You know how many times we’ve heard about jewelry that has turned up in the most unlikely places? After years and years?”

  “You’re right about that,” Alvirah agreed. “But there’s more to this story. Kitty’s nephew discovered that her savings account had been almost cleaned out, most likely by a companion who had worked for Kitty the last few months before she died. This of course raised the question if the fall down the stairs that killed her was accidental. But by this time the companion had disappeared into thin air, never to be seen again.”

  “Those stories disgust me.” Luella sighed. “A lady in my sister’s town was robbed blind by a so-called”—she paused and held up her fingers, making invisible quotation marks midair—“‘helper.’ Turns out the ‘helper’ was doing all the food shopping for her own family and friends and charging it to the old lady’s credit card. Thousands of dollars spent on food, and the woman weighed ninety pounds! Why the accountant didn’t call it to somebody’s attention is beyond me. It took a suspicious cashier who knew the dear old soul had not only gone into the hospital, but was also allergic to seafood, to raise a red flag. When the ‘helper’ tried to charge fifteen lobsters and three cases of beer, the cashier reported it to his boss. Turns out it was the ‘helper’s’ boyfriend’s birthday. She was throwing a party for him and his thuggish friends.” Luella dropped her hands. “It was a disgrace.”

  I just wasted precious tape on that story, Alvirah thought. “So you understand what I’m talking about?”

  “I do,” Pettie said. Obviously relieved he was not being accused of wrongdoing, he was enjoying the drama surrounding Duncan’s ring. “I understand completely. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a story about my wife’s cousin who…” The door opened, and new customers walked in. Pettie quickly cut himself off. “But I won’t bore you with that now,” he said hurriedly. “To answer your question, this ring was found on the street by a man who’s lived in Branscombe all his life. His name is Rufus Blackstone. He left it with me on consignment, and, let me tell you, he wasn’t as nice as I was about letting Duncan put it on hold for so long. He’s a crusty old codger. I’ll go in the back and look up his number for you. Glenda, you said you’re paying for this on your credit card?”

  “Let me pay for it,” Alvirah said. “The ring should go back to Kitty’s nephew. And Kitty had said she wanted Mrs. O’Keefe to have it if she died first. She was adamant about that.”

  “Poor Duncan,” Glenda said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want it now, but he told me he thought this ring would be perfect for his girlfriend because her name is Flower.”

  “If he wants, I can make him a copy with real stones,” Pettie volunteered, his face brightening. “It will be gorgeous!”
>
  “We’ll pass that on to him,” Glenda said wryly.

  Pettie hurried away with Alvirah’s credit card. Luella was just beginning her sales pitch to three giggling young girls wearing Branscombe High School cheerleader jackets. “You all should have one of these charms. You’ll love it! And what better way to always remember the Festival of Joy?”

  Jack turned to Regan and mumbled. “I don’t think we’ll need a charm to remember this Festival.”

  “I don’t think so,” Regan agreed. “Alvirah, did you ever meet Kitty’s companion?”

  “Just once for a minute. She and Kitty were getting out of a cab when I was leaving. I wish I’d taken a better look at her, but I was carrying out two big bags of garbage. Mrs. O’Keefe seemed to manufacture pounds of junk on a weekly basis.”

  Pettie reappeared with a small gift bag, an index card, and a receipt for Alvirah. “Could I get your John Hancock on this, Mrs. Meehan?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “And here’s Rufus Blackstone’s number. I just rang him up, but he’s not home and he doesn’t have an answering machine. I thought it would be a good idea to let him know that you’d be calling and also to give him the good news that he can pick up a check from me. If I get a chance, I’ll try him again.”

  “Thanks,” Alvirah said. “We’ll catch up with him later. I just have to find out where this ring has been for the last eight years.”

  “Wait till Duncan hears this,” Glenda said as they started out the door.

  “Don’t forget to tell him I can make up a beautiful ring for him in no time flat!” Pettie called after them.

  The crowd outside the window had dispersed.

  22

  After making sure that Flower was securely tied, gagged, and immobilized, Betty, Jed, Woodrow, and Edmund left Jed’s secret office and went back into the house.

  Woodrow walked to the stove where the freshly baked cake was sitting on the rack. He broke a piece off and crammed it in his mouth. “Not bad,” he pronounced.

  Betty grabbed the baking pan. “Keep your mitts off my cake!” she snapped.

  “The only thing I’ve had to eat today was a couple of pieces of candy,” Woodrow complained. “We were on our way to a nice lunch in Boston when we found out we were victims of a terrible crime.”

  “Jed, fix them something to eat,” Betty ordered. “Then you two have to stay out of sight. People are going to be coming here soon for tea. I’ll get Flower’s gear out of her room now.”

  “Out of sight? Where should we go?” Edmund asked. “Don’t say the shed. It’s cold.”

  “There’s only one place you can go. The basement. I can’t have you sitting here if somebody comes through that swinging door.”

  “The basement?” Woodrow complained. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “You’re not exactly honored guests,” Betty snapped. “I’ll be right back.”

  At the reception desk she reached in the drawer for Flower’s credit card receipt and tore it into shreds. Thank God Jed hadn’t validated the card yet, she thought. Then a terrible thought occurred to Betty. Had Flower spoken to anyone since she checked in?

  Betty hurried upstairs to Flower’s room. A cell phone was on the bed. Betty turned it on, held her breath, and pressed “dialed calls.” The last call Flower had made was early this morning. Betty exhaled slowly then pressed “received calls.” There hadn’t been any today, which meant that Flower hadn’t answered the phone after she checked in. Betty could see there were messages but would need Flower’s pass-code to listen to them. If I want it, she’ll give it to me, Betty thought darkly, as she turned off the phone and dropped it in the pocket of her apron.

  It was clear that Flower hadn’t gotten under the bed covers. Betty smoothed the spread and fluffed up the pillows. In the bathroom, she tossed Flower’s toiletries into her knapsack, wiped out the sink with a towel, and walked back into the bedroom. She took a quick look around for anything she might have missed, then grabbed Flower’s coat from the chair.

  In the hallway, she tossed the towel down the laundry chute and momentarily stuffed Flower’s things in the linen closet. To be certain that no one had returned while they were in the shed, Betty knocked on, then opened the doors of the other five guest rooms with the master key. Satisfied that the second floor was empty, she retrieved the knapsack and coat, hurried down the stairs, and locked the front door. Now anyone who shows up will be forced to ring the bell, she thought. I can’t take a chance on someone else having big ears like Flower.

  In the kitchen, Edmund and Woodrow were slurping vegetable soup. Flower’s nearly full bowl was still on the table. I should have told her we don’t serve lunch, Betty thought angrily. This is what I get for being too nice.

  She sat down at the seat Flower had never excused herself from, threw Flower’s coat on a chair, and started rummaging through her knapsack. “Nothing,” she said dismissively. Then, from a zippered compartment, she fished out Flower’s wallet. When she opened it, the first thing she saw was a picture of Flower and Duncan, their heads close together, smiling blissfully. She held it up. “Get a load of this.”

  “Romeo and Juliet,” Woodrow grunted as he scraped the bottom of the soup bowl with his spoon.

  “What a pair. They both ended up dead,” Edmund commented.

  “We all know how it ended, Edmund,” Woodrow said impatiently. “You always like to act as though you’re smarter than me.”

  “No need for acting,” Edmund shot back. “You’re the one who wanted to leave the ticket in the freezer. At least I knew that was a stupid idea. If we had taken the ticket, we’d be having a big juicy steak in Boston right now.”

  “Stop it!” Jed growled savagely. “There’s no way this is going to end well for me and Betty! We want out!”

  There was a moment of silence in the kitchen as the impact of what he was saying sank in on the Winthrop cousins.

  “I like our life here in Branscombe,” Jed continued heatedly. “I don’t want to leave.” He turned to Betty. “Do you?”

  “Not really.” Betty agreed. “Traveling is very stressful these days, never mind being on the run. Jed hasn’t been feeling that well. He likes to stay home at night watching television. We’ve turned into homebodies. And it’s not so bad. Whatever it takes, no more running.”

  Jed nodded. “If we get involved with kidnapping, and we hold that little girl for ransom, there’s no way we can stay here. Betty and I like Branscombe, and we like New Hampshire. We like the snow, and Betty has turned into a good little baker, as you may have noticed.”

  “Listen to them,” Woodrow said to Edmund. “You’d think they were Ma and Pa Kettle.” He turned to Jed. “What about the fact that you’re cheating people with your Internet schemes and stealing from your guests’ homes months after their wonderful stay at The Hideaway?”

  “That’s just to keep me busy! It might not be right, but it’s small potatoes compared to kidnapping charges. And even if you did get your lottery ticket back in exchange for that girl, there’s no guarantee you’ll end up with any money. The day someone tries to collect on that ticket, the lottery office will be swarming with Feds. And Lord knows we can’t trust you two to pay me and Betty our share if you somehow did collect. Why, you didn’t even call us to give us the good news that you’d won, now did you?”

  “We were going to…” Woodrow said.

  “Honestly, we were,” Edmund said. “We were just so excited…”

  “Oh, sure. Let me tell you something. If we let that girl go, ten minutes later every cop in New Hampshire will be hunting us down.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that if you want to get your ticket back from Duncan, don’t say one word to him about the girl. Threaten him about his own safety if you have to. He’s getting that other lottery money. Maybe he’ll give you back your ticket. But I’m warning you, don’t make any deals to exchange Flower for the ticket.” Jed glared coldly at the cous
ins.

  “Then what do we do with her?” Edmund asked. “We can’t just leave her back there.”

  “Of course we can’t! You think we want her around?” Jed exclaimed. “There’s only one solution.” He lowered his voice. “When it gets dark, we’ll put her in the trunk of your car and drive up to the lake at Devil’s Pass. We’ll weight her down with a block of cement. That lake is big and cold and deep. She’ll never be seen again.”

  Edmund and Woodrow stared at him in shock. “Kidnapping offends you, but murder doesn’t?” Edmund asked, his voice barely audible.

  Jed shrugged.

  “I see,” Edmund mumbled weakly.

  “Going to prison again is what offends me,” Jed said vehemently. “There’s a lot better chance we’ll get caught if we hold her for ransom. This way she’ll disappear without a trace.”

  “Let me try and trade Flower for the lottery ticket,” Woodrow begged. “We promise we’ll pay you as soon as we get the money. Just think of all the nice places in the world you can visit…”

  “We’ve made our choice,” Betty said with finality. “No more running.”

  Jed looked out the window. “At 5:00 it’ll be dark and the whole town will be gathering at that candlelight ceremony. We’ll make our move then and get it over with. After that, Betty and I would appreciate it if you two made yourself scarce. We don’t want any more trouble.”

  “Make ourselves scarce?” Edmund gasped. “We have no place to go and we can’t leave Branscombe without that ticket. Your basement actually sounds very nice. Can’t we stay there just for tonight?”

  23

  The celebratory luncheon at the Branscombe Inn was winding up.

  Tommy’s parents were sitting on either side of him, their attitude fiercely protective, as if a wanton woman might appear at any moment out of nowhere and ensnare their newly wealthy son. “I know Tommy would like to meet the right girl, but now it’s going to be even harder,” his mother, Ruth, said. “She’s going to have to pass the test with us, and believe me, we’ll put her through the ringer, right, Burt?” she asked her husband.