Murder and Mittens

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Murder and Mittens Page 32

by Anne Wrightwell

Chapter 32

  Etta caught sight of her mother running along the corridor to the door that separated the servants’ working areas, slamming the door back and racing through. Mrs. Wagstaff came hurrying down the stairs.

  ‘Have you seen Inspector Brighton, miss?’ she asked.

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘Miss James told me to fetch him. She said something about Lily being in danger. Lily’s gone off with Miss Potter. What do you think I should do?’

  ‘Go and get Inspector Brighton, of course. Where is Miss James going?’

  ‘Kate told her that they had gone to Bluebell Woods to pick flowers.’

  Etta didn’t wait to hear any more and ran off after Jen.

  Etta had not thought that her mother had that much of a head start on her but because she was not used to the back part of the house, she lost her way and had to retrace her steps. Then she had to thread her way through the busy kitchen where all the servants stopped their work and the tall cook asked, ‘can I help you, miss?’ in most unwelcoming tones, making it clear her disapproval of this invasion of the territory.

  “Did my I mean Miss James come through here?’ Etta gasped.

  ‘Yes, she went out the back door.’

  ‘Thanks. Awfully sorry to have disturbed you all.’

  She hurried out the back door and paused for a moment to get her bearings. Then she saw the start of the trees in the distance and around the side of the house. She located the path and ran along it, wishing she’d gone to the gym more often. She couldn’t see how to get into the woods until she spotted a wisp of black fabric on a low branch and went closer to examine it. The gap in the fence was just beyond. She squeezed through and went on.

  She could not see Jen. Where was she? It was quiet in the wood apart from the sound of her laboured breathing and the birdsong. Etta stood still, her head cocked on one side, listening. Her ears caught the sound of people moving about in the woods off to the left. Someone seemed to be making a hell of a racket, twigs breaking and sounding like bullets all over the place. She followed the sounds.

  The trees thinned out and she saw the backs of two people. One was her mother and the other was a man. She couldn’t tell who he was straightaway. He was tall but broad and his hair was tinged with grey. That ruled out Stephen Grenadier, could it be Sir James? But the clothes did not look right for him. It came to her – it was Lorenzo Spinoza.

  She was frozen with shock for a second. Miss Potter was standing, facing them. She edged carefully forward, trying not to make a noise and to keep in line with Lorenzo so Miss Potter wouldn’t spot her. Luckily her green and camel tweed skirt and green blouse blended in well with the colours of the wood.

  Lorenzo always talked loudly but he seemed even louder in the quiet wood so Etta could easily hear what they were saying.

  ‘That’s right, Cindy,’ he agreed. ‘That inspector guy isn’t the sharpest knife in the block, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘You and Miss Potter?’ Jen asked.

  ‘Got there in the end. That’s right, me and Cindy here, are what you would call partners.’

  ‘She’s your older sister?’

  ‘Well, aren’t you bright? We found each other when she applied for the job of Evvie’s maid. I didn’t recognise her but she recognised me. Well, she had the photo but I don’t think I looked anything like that kid. Still, Cindy knew.’

  ‘So, why did you kill Evangeline?’

  ‘Playing for time, Miss James, is it? Thinking someone is going to come riding along on a white horse and rescue you?’

  ‘That’s not her real name,’ Miss Potter said.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Lets get on with it, we need to find the kid.’

  Etta saw him lean forward and then, to her horror, Jen started to make gurgling noises and her body sagged. Etta ran forward but as she did so, Lorenzo must have loosened his grasp a little so Jen pushed backwards with her body and they both fell over, Jen on top of Lorenzo. Etta ran to the two bodies. Lorenzo still had his hands around her mother’s throat.

  Etta kicked him in the head, wishing she had her Doc Martens on instead of her low-heeled shoes. Lorenzo let go of Jen and grabbed one of Etta’s ankles. She tried to pull away but he held firm. So she stomped on his face with her other foot, the heel of her shoe caught his left eye, she felt something give and he screamed. As she did so, she felt a jarring blow against the side of her head and excruciating pain. Miss Potter had hit her with a thick branch. She fell down, face first into the twigs and plants as the ground rushed up to meet her, jarring her again and making the pain in her head turn to agony. Then she blacked out.

  Jen was on the ground, gasping for breath when she saw Etta fall. Then instinct and blind rage took over. No one was going to hurt her baby. She staggered up and threw herself at Miss Potter, knocking her over, the branch tumbling from Miss Potter’s hand. Miss Potter was under her, squealing and writhing. She could hear Lorenzo Spinoza moaning in the background.

  Jen raised herself up, her arms on either side of Miss Potter. She looked down at her and then brought up her right arm and then down and punched her on the nose. Miss Potter howled and fell back. Then she struggled to get up and away from Jen. She knocked Jen over her. Jen clung on for dear life and they both rolled painfully along the ground until Jen felt something hard wallop her head and everything went black. Her last thought was that she had failed.

 

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