“Good heavens,” said Emma, “I do. I’d totally forgotten. Young Bed did that with an ice pick when he was nine years old, playing I Spy with Walter. I was none too pleased when I found out, but their father thought it was funny, so we never plugged it up. I’m surprised you never discovered it, Sarah.”
“I never liked that cellar much,” Sarah admitted. “Walter used to tease me with horror stories about the man-eating water bug that lived down there.”
“What rogues those boys were,” said Emma fondly. “Go on, Parker, what did you do with the sleeping powder?”
“Waited till Mrs. Heatherstone put the milk on to heat and went into the butler’s pantry with the dessert, then ran in and dumped it into the pan. I stirred it around so nobody would get more than a fair share. We were as careful as we could be, honestly. Then I ran back down cellar and waited for Jenny.”
“Who was hiding somewhere out in the back yard by the time I got back from visiting Cousin Frederick, I’ll bet,” said Sarah. “I had a feeling somebody was watching me.”
“I was behind the coach house,” Jenicot admitted, “and I’ll bet I was a lot more scared than you were. Parker let me in as soon as you got inside, before you could set the alarm, then we had to wait around till we were sure you’d had time to feel the potion’s power. We watched through the peephole when you were getting the cups and the jug so we knew you’d drunk it. Then we got Ernestina out and hid her.”
“That must have been quite a job,” said Max. “How did you manage?”
“Well, you see, we knew it wasn’t going to be so hard as you might think,” Parker admitted. “Once when Mrs. Kelling was babysitting me, I watched the man cleaning Ernestina, and found out she was only held in with a few screws. I noticed he had both long ones and short ones in his box, so when he went off to have a cup of tea with Mrs. Heatherstone, I took out the long ones and put in short ones. I thought it would be fun to see Ernestina come popping out when they went to hang her back up on the wall, but she didn’t. So I knew the screws were still too short and all we had to do was lift her away from the wall without unhooking the chains, and poke the stretcher loose from the frame.”
“But we were very careful,” Jenicot insisted. “We didn’t hurt her a bit. We’d meant to put a clean sheet over her but I forgot to bring one and we didn’t think it would be right to pinch one out of your linen closet, so we used newspapers.”
“And then we had to go back and hide in the cellar for the rest of the night, till Mrs. Heatherstone unhooked the burglar alarms to let in Guy for the scenery,” Parker went on. “We were going to say we were out jogging if anybody saw us, but nobody did, so we got home okay.”
“Sarah,” said Max, “if any of our neighbors ever ask you to baby-sit their kids, for God’s sake tell them no. All right, now that we’ve settled that little question, how did the Bruges woman manage to get into Daventer’s place that night? Did she swipe his keys?”
“No, Charlie’s keys were all present and accounted for,” Frederick told him. “However, he had given out keys to several of his friends. I imagine Gillian contrived one way or another to get hold of one of those.”
Frederick didn’t say whose. He didn’t have to. Martha turned her head and gave Jack Tippleton a look of utmost contempt. Then she stood up.
“Thank you, Emma, for a quite remarkably interesting evening. Kiss me good night, Jenny.”
“But I’ll see you back at the house.”
“Not at that house, you won’t. Not tonight or any other night.”
Jack Tippleton goggled. “Martha, what are you talking about?”
“I’m all through talking, Jack. I’m acting. If you want a divorce, I shall see to it that you have ample cause. However, it doesn’t seem to matter much these days one way or the other. Ready, Fred?”
“Been ready these past forty years. You can forget about the face-lift, Jenny. I like her the way she is.”
“You’re leaving me for Fred Kelling?” Jack couldn’t seem to grasp that it was actually happening. “But he’s—” He was what? Elderly, yes, but so was Jack. Rich, respected, and certainly a damn sight more faithful than her husband had ever been. “But he’s ugly!” Jack blurted.
“Is he?” said Martha. “I hadn’t noticed. Good night, everyone.”
It was a superb exit line, but of course the actual departure got messed up with a lot of hugging and kissing and assurances from Frederick to Jenicot that she’d be welcome as the flowers in May at their house as soon as he and Martha got rid of the present tenants and fixed the place up a little. Only Jack Tippleton got left out of the celebration.
Being Jack, he had to get the limelight back somehow. He did it by swiping the Sorcerer’s own last, best line:
“Be happy, all, leave me to my despair. I go, it matters not with whom or where.”
The door closed behind him. Emma Kelling chuckled. “It may not matter with whom, but one can be sure it’ll be with somebody. Well, after that smashing grand finale, we may as well ring down the curtain. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready for bed.”
Sarah and Max didn’t answer. They were already up the stairs.
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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 © 1988 by Charlotte MacLeod
cover design by Mauricio Diaz
978-1-4532-7738-6
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