“Adkins? He wasn’t Adkins, not at all. He’s been spying on us all along. Valet? No. Detective Inspector Asher of Scotland Yard. Well, he’ll tell no tales now, will he? It’s a pity really. I didn’t like to do it, you know, but he did follow me down here and, well, there it is. Poor man. He could as well have let us all alone. I mean, Sterling was already caught. I couldn’t possibly run things up in London. It would have all ended. But he would keep poking his nose in. Your brother too, Miss Holland. Oh, and he was such a nice boy, but he wouldn’t listen to me either, and it just couldn’t be helped.”
“You were in it with your husband from the start,” Madeline said, scrambling to think of some way out of the jam she and Carrie were in. “The two of you killed Alice and Billy. Did you kill Tal, too? Your own son?”
Mrs. Cummins’s chin quivered, but her expression didn’t change. “Alice was a foolish girl. She got into the charity things and found the packets my husband was putting into them. I knew she didn’t want to hurt Tibby. Perhaps she was afraid he wouldn’t believe her. That’s why she didn’t tell him directly. She wanted him to see for himself. Well, I couldn’t have that, could I?”
“You gave her the cocaine?” Carrie asked in a quavering voice.
“In her drink, if you must know.”
“But Dr. Fletcher said it loses its effect if ingested,” Madeline said. “It has to be sniffed or injected.”
“Oh, he’s right. He’s quite right,” said Mrs. Cummins. “It takes a much larger amount of the drug to do any good if it’s taken by mouth. But I also know that something like lime helps.”
Madeline glanced at Carrie. “That’s why you made limeade.”
Mrs. Cummins nodded. “I couldn’t have her spoiling things, could I? It seems she did anyway, didn’t she, my dear? I hated to have to break poor Tibby’s heart, though.”
The hand holding the pistol shook, and Madeline took a quick step forward. Just as quickly she stepped back. Mrs. Cummins, smiling sweetly, had the pistol pointed at her heart. Then she straightened her shoulders, remembering Elizabeth Bennet saying she was too stubborn to be frightened or intimidated by anyone, remembering her every breath was in the hand of God, and she felt her own courage rise.
“It’s not too late,” she said, holding tightly to the hand Carrie had slipped into hers. “Tal is gone, but I don’t think he would have wanted you to hurt us. I don’t think even Mr. Cummins would want that, no matter what you’ve both done.”
Mrs. Cummins chuckled softly. “No, my dear, he wouldn’t want that. He couldn’t stomach violence. He really was never cut out for this business. He doesn’t know I’ve known about it all along. Almost from the very beginning. He would have been found out fairly quickly too, if I hadn’t been there to clean up his little messes now and again. But isn’t that a wife’s place? Quietly seeing to things for her husband and letting him think he did it all himself? You girls . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. You won’t need to worry about it.” She jingled the collar again.
Madeline forced her voice into steadiness. “What are you going to do?”
Nineteen
Drew shone the torch against the back wall of the cave, hunching over to avoid hitting his head on the downward sloping ceiling. “Another dead end.”
“Are you certain?” Nick came up to him, squinting into the darkness. “We’re not that far from Claridge Rindle. If that’s where they were dumping the whitewash, they must have brought in the cocaine somewhere round here.”
“You’d think so.” Drew carried the torch around the sides of the cave and then faced the opening again, considering. “Why dump it in the Rindle, anyway? Why not dump it in the Solent? Or down their own kitchen drains?”
“They dump it in the Rindle,” Nick said, “because it’s not far from where they keep the stuff.”
“Exactly. They dump the paint and bring the cocaine into the house through some sort of tunnel.”
Drew took a step backward and then jumped when he heard a squawk of feline protest.
“Eddie!” He picked up the cat, and she looked at him with her usual equanimity. “How did you get down here? And what did you do with your collar?”
Nick scanned the rocks once more. “Pity she can’t tell us. The way in has to be here somewhere, don’t you think?”
Drew looked into the cat’s docile green eyes, and one side of his mouth turned up. “Perhaps she can tell us. Stand there by the opening so she doesn’t get out.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just don’t let her out that way.”
When Nick was set, Drew put the cat on her feet in the middle of the cave. Then he clapped his hands and ran toward her. She appeared puzzled and didn’t budge.
Nick laughed. “What was that meant to be?”
“A normal cat would have turned and ran. She should have dived back into the hole she came out of.” He picked her up again. “Why can’t you be just an average cat for once?”
Eddie blinked at him.
Scowling, Nick came over to them. “Great lot of help you are. Now we’ll have to—”
“Wait!” Drew said, tugging Nick’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
They both stood stock-still. There it was again—the faint jingling of a bell. It was Eddie’s bell, Drew recognized it, but Eddie wasn’t jingling it.
Drew crept toward the sound, waiting for it to come again, and then he looked at Nick, brow wrinkled. “Behind there.” Shading the torch with one hand, he moved behind a large rock at the back of the cave and found a gaping opening in the seemingly solid stone wall, an opening that led to a tunnel.
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “How could they have missed—?”
Drew shook his head in warning. Even Nick’s low whisper might be heard. Surely whoever had left this open was still in there. It would have been closed otherwise. Closed and invisible. Again he and Nick were still. Listening. Waiting . . .
They heard the bell again, not far up the tunnel, from somewhere beyond where it curved. Then someone spoke.
“What are you going to do?”
Drew’s heart began pounding against his breastbone. That was Madeline’s voice, and he could hear the fear in it. Laurent and his local toughs had been taken away, though Adkins, his valet, was still unaccounted for. Then a second voice drifted back to them.
“I’m going to have to see you don’t cause me any further trouble, my dear. I hope you can understand my position. There’s really nothing else I can do.”
That was Mrs. Cummins’s voice, sweet and serene as always.
All the pieces then dropped into place.
“I suppose you’ll have to join poor Mr. Asher,” she said. “Can’t have you telling tales.”
Who was this Asher she was talking about? Whoever he was, Drew was sure he must be dead. Just the tone of Mrs. Cummins’s voice was enough to tell him that. He’d have to get Madeline out of there somehow.
“We won’t be needing the tunnel anymore as it is,” Mrs. Cummins continued. “May as well get some final use of it, don’t you think? Now, both of you, turn and face the wall.”
Both? Drew glanced at Nick, realization striking them both in the same instant. Who would be with Madeline but Carrie? Nick lunged forward, but Drew stopped him, warning him to caution with an upraised hand.
Together they moved slowly forward, Mrs. Cummins’s voice growing louder and more distinct.
“It’s a pity all of you didn’t go after Alice died. It would have saved so much trouble.”
Nick took another step, jostling a large suitcase sitting unexpectedly in the dim light. He and Drew both froze as the sound echoed down the tunnel.
“Who’s there, please?” Mrs. Cummins called. “I must ask you to come over to where I can see you. I should hate to have to do anything untoward to the young ladies.”
Drew stayed still for another moment. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the back of Eddie’s head, lifting a fervent silent prayer. Then he se
t her on her feet and gave her a push.
For a moment, she just stood there looking bored, but then she stretched herself and sauntered around the bend and out of sight.
“Who’s there?” Mrs. Cummins repeated, not taking her eyes off Madeline and Carrie. “I do have a gun, and I am quite capable of using it.”
There was another almost imperceptible sound down the tunnel, and she glanced back toward it. Madeline steeled herself to try to take the gun from her. But the older woman turned back, lips pursed as if she were about to scold a naughty child.
“No, no, now. That would hardly be wise.” She raised her voice once more and said, “I will give you to the count of three to show yourself.” She paused, listening. “One. Two.”
With a little gasp, she started, almost dropping the gun, and then made a wry face and picked up Eddie. “Little devil. I nearly trod on you again. I have a feeling you’re the cause of all this mess.” The collar jingled as she shifted the cat more securely against her. “Can’t have that happen again, can we?”
“What are you going to do?” Madeline asked again, not liking the stiff determination in the older woman’s eyes. “She’s no threat to you.”
“We can’t have her leading others down here. Especially not if there are certain unpleasant . . . remains to be found. Best to just be certain, I always say.” She thrust the cat into Madeline’s arms. “You’d better hold her. It will be easier that way.”
“Madeline,” Carrie whispered, shrinking closer to her. “Oh, God help us.”
“Sit down. It will be easier than having to fall all the way to the ground.” Mrs. Cummins gestured with the pistol. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“I don’t think so, ma’am.”
By the time she realized he was behind her, Drew already had a firm grip on the hand that held the pistol and on her other arm, twisting her around, pointing the gun toward the ceiling of the tunnel and away from Madeline and Carrie.
“Get it away from her, Nick,” Drew said.
Nick wrenched the pistol out of Mrs. Cummins’s hand and pointed it at her. “All right, Drew.”
Drew released her, and she pulled back from him, holding up her hand in a delicate gesture of defense. “You needn’t be rough. I’m not violent, you know.”
Nick pulled Carrie to his side and wrapped his arm around her, still keeping the older woman covered. “Oh no. Not at all.”
He glanced down at the body huddled against the tunnel wall, and Carrie turned her face against his shoulder.
Mrs. Cummins lifted her chin. “Well, he would nose about everywhere. I had the other end of the tunnel open and he found it, the nasty little weasel. After all this time, the police walking right past it, he found it. But it’s not as though I came after him with a butcher knife. Same with these two.” She nodded toward Madeline and Carrie. “They could have stayed quietly in the morning room until I had a chance to leave. Instead they had to nose about, and what else could I do?”
What else, indeed?
She glared at Eddie nestled in Madeline’s arms. “I should have drowned that rat weeks ago. I’ve always hated the sly little beasts, but Tibby adored them. How could I say no?”
Drew remembered his friend lying cold on his bathroom floor. “He found out about you, didn’t he? He was going to tell the police that you were involved as well as Mr. Cummins.”
“No.” Mrs. Cummins shook her head. “He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t have. We did it all for him, Sterling and I, but he couldn’t see that. He didn’t understand. He saw me burning that mallet. The one from the wine cellar. I don’t think he noticed what it was at first. Then when that horrid policeman told you all what had been used to kill the boy, he went through the ashes in my fireplace. The mallet itself was all burnt up, but he found those rings, those foolish little bands around the handle. They were all that was left, but they were enough. It all came out then. He knew I was the one who’d given Alice the cocaine. He said such dreadful things to me. To me! After all I’d done for him. He’d forgiven his father, but he wouldn’t forgive me. He said he’d rather die. Poor Tibby.”
“And that,” Drew said, “is how many beans make five.”
The words from Tal’s note made perfect sense now. He’d lost the girl he loved and the father he’d trusted. But to find his own mother was a cool-headed killer . . . “I could bear some of this perhaps, but not all of it. Not all of it at once. Not when I know it’s all been a lie. All of it. All my life.” Not his father, but his mother. “You took her from me. You may as well have killed me yourself. I’ll save you the trouble.”
Mrs. Cummins stood there staring into nothingness.
Drew took her arm. “Better come along now. It’s all over.”
Her rounded shoulders began to shake, then tears traced down her cheeks. “I . . . I know it was wrong. It was just so easy at first. So easy to grow dependent on the money.” She trudged toward the light in the wine cellar, her steps shuffling and unsteady. “It seemed such a little thing to do, simply passing the packets along. And then . . . then we couldn’t get out of it. Now Sterling’s in that horrible prison and Tibby’s dead, my poor Tibby. My poor . . . poor . . .”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she started to sag. Drew moved to catch her before she fell, but she lunged toward Nick instead. In an instant she had the gun in both hands, the muzzle pointed squarely at Carrie’s head.
“Back away,” she said, jaw clenched. “Just back right away.”
“Nick,” Carrie breathed, still clutching his hand. “Nick.”
“Don’t,” Drew said. “Hasn’t there been enough death already?”
“More than enough,” Mrs. Cummins said, her eyes shrewd and narrow.
“This isn’t what Tal would have wanted.”
She nodded, her expression hard as ever. “He would have wanted to go on with his life. With a father he respected and a mother he trusted. With the girl he loved beside him. It oughtn’t to be too much to ask. But sometimes things don’t end quite as we plan, do they?” She motioned at them with the gun. “I was going to leave. Actually, Monsieur Laurent was going to take me over to the Continent on his yacht, and I was going to disappear. But it’s all a bust, as you young people say, and I’m rather tired of the whole thing now.”
“Mrs. Cummins . . .” Drew began.
She gestured toward the tunnel wall. “All of you. Face that way.”
They did as she said. Carrie started to cry, but Nick wisely did not take her into his arms. Drew caught his glance, and Nick returned the subtlest of nods. They were agreed then. They would not stand quietly and be murdered. Surely between the two of them they could overpower one little middle-aged woman. Then again she did have a fairly powerful equalizer in her hands. He prayed she wouldn’t have time to shoot more than one of them.
He turned to look at Madeline. She still had Eddie clutched to her heart, but her eyes were fixed on him. She had seen the silent communication between him and Nick. Six months a bride and he had brought her to this? Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
He glanced back at Mrs. Cummins, and she cocked the pistol, her expression still cool and hard. “The wall, Drew, dear. I don’t want to grieve you more than I must. Death is so ugly a thing to see.”
Drew faced the wall again, bracing one hand against it where Nick could see but Mrs. Cummins could not. He put up three fingers, knowing Nick would read his meaning. A countdown. Three. He lowered one finger, the roar of blood in his ears almost drowning out Carrie’s sobs and Nick’s quick breathing. Two. He lowered another, darting one last glance at Madeline, who stood with her cheek against the top of Eddie’s head, her eyes closed and her mouth moving almost imperceptibly, praying. Praying. And—
The shot roared and echoed in the tunnel, the deafening sound pierced with Carrie’s scream as she dropped to the ground. With a wordless cry, Nick flung himself toward Mrs. Cummins, but Drew grabbed his arm, dragging him back.
“Wait!”
Mrs. Cum
mins stood with her back to the opposite wall, the gun curled in her fist, and her fist pressed to her heart. That same cool smile was on her lips, but her eyes . . . the light in them had been snuffed out. She sank with surprising grace to the ground, a dark stain slowly spreading across the front of her blouse, dyeing red the demure string of pearls.
Nick blinked. He opened his mouth, swallowed hard, and then opened it again. The air rushed from his lungs as he sank to his knees at Carrie’s side. “Sweetheart! Carrie, please . . . come on now.”
She came to with a little muffled sob, and then her arms were around Nick’s neck. Neither of them said anything more. He lifted her up and carried her through the tunnel and into the house.
“Idiot,” Madeline murmured, walking into Drew’s arms. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Just trying to make sure you weren’t. Oh, my ears are ringing.”
He held her tightly. Then, feeling a slick wetness against his neck, he stepped back just a bit. “Darling—”
She put her hand to the three deep scratches on her throat and looked at her bloodied fingers with a shaky laugh. “I guess we’ve finally found something Eddie’s scared of.”
He gave her his handkerchief, which she crumpled in her hand as she pressed herself into his arms again. He held her until they were both steady. “Where did Eddie go?”
“Took off back toward the wine cellar. She’s probably basking in the library window by now, calm as ever.” Madeline glanced at the figure huddled against the tunnel wall and then put both hands to her head. “You’re right about the ringing.” She tried again to smile, but instead crumpled into tears. “Oh, Drew.”
Twenty
The lady of the house.” Inspector Endicott of Scotland Yard shook his head. “As cool a killer as ever I’ve seen, and done in by a cat. One for the books, eh?”
Drew stroked Eddie’s sleek head as she lay in a square of sunlight on the arm of the library sofa, grooming one already immaculate white paw. “I don’t know how we’d have ever found that tunnel without her.” He looked at Madeline seated next to him, and then at Carrie who sat in the wing chair across from her, with Nick standing behind her. “Any of us.”
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