“Oh!” Moira flung a hand over her eyes. “How could Elise have made such a mistake?”
“Maybe,” Judith said, “she told you that to cheer you.”
Moira struggled to sit up. “Please, be seated. Oh, I don’t understand any of this! It’s all a vicious plot! Now Patrick’s under arrest, and I know he didn’t kill Harry! That bomb was meant for me!”
The cousins sat down in the side chairs by the bed. “You can help us find the killer,” Judith said, showing Moira the suede jacket. “You gave this to the thrift shop. It belonged to David Piazza.”
Moira frowned. “Goodness, it’s ruined. Davey owned a jacket like that, yes. But I didn’t give it to the thrift shop.”
“I heard,” Judith said, “you gave all his clothes away.”
Moira shook her head. “I did no such thing.” She paused. “Harry may’ve done it.” She paused again. “You see, Davey lived in the carriage house here on the grounds. After his accident, Harry went through his things, making sure there were no important business papers and clearing everything out because I couldn’t stand to see the place the way it was when Davey was alive. I couldn’t bear to do it myself. Maybe Harry took the clothes to the thrift shop. I really don’t know.”
Judith nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Yes,” Moira agreed. “I had a collapse very like this one after Davey died.” She moaned softly. “How much more can I endure?”
Judith couldn’t help but sympathize with Moira. The young woman had certainly been bombarded with tragedies. Still, her self-absorption caused even Judith’s soft heart to harden a bit.
“Life is not easy,” Judith declared. “Nobody lives unscathed. You have your son and some devoted friends. You’re able to live comfortably—a privileged life, in fact. We make choices, and some of them are wrong. I know— I’ve made mistakes and paid the price.”
“I don’t,” Renie said. “Only idiots screw up.”
Judith was shocked. “Coz! Watch your mouth!”
“Don’t start,” Renie warned, looking nasty. “You know what happens when we quarrel. I win.” She turned to Moira. “Sorry about that. Ever fought with your closest friends?”
Realizing what Renie was up to, Judith waited for Moira’s response.
“I have at that,” she admitted, falling back against the pillows. “Marie and I had a terrible falling-out a while ago.” Moira laughed weakly. “I thought she was marrying the wrong man. Imagine! I’m not one to criticize. I felt Will was too old for her and I didn’t trust him. Oh, I had reasons not to at the time.” Her expression was rueful. “Will always took Jimmy’s side against me in any dispute. Maybe Will lacked faith in my judgment, maybe he thought I relied too much on Davey Piazza, maybe early on he simply felt that I didn’t have enough business experience.” She shrugged. “But Will’s changed in recent months. Now Marie and I are close again and I have complete faith in Will’s loyalty.”
“That’s wonderful,” Renie said. She looked at Judith. “Okay, coz, I forgive you. For whatever it was,” she added.
Moira’s pale face showed some color as she sat up again. “What are you going to do with that jacket?”
“Give it to the police,” Judith said.
“No!” Moira’s hand shot out to snatch the jacket, but Judith was too quick for her.
“Why not?” Judith inquired mildly.
“I…” Moira closed her eyes for a moment. “It seems a silly thing to do.” She started to cry softly. “I want the jacket, as a keepsake.”
“Sorry,” Judith said. “Maybe later. You see,” she continued, standing up, “it’s not a souvenir. It’s evidence.”
The cousins had almost reached the door when Moira uttered a plaintive cry. “You don’t understand,” she wailed as Judith turned to look at her. “Historically,” Moira went on, dropping her voice and sounding somber, “we’ve had three verdicts in Scotland—guilty, not guilty, and not proven. No matter what happens, many people will believe I’m responsible for Harry’s death. ‘Not proven,’ they’ll whisper, and for the rest of my life I’ll live in purgatory.”
She turned her face to the wall and began to sob very softly.
22
I really do feel sorry for Moira,” Judith said as they exited Hollywood House. “Living in a village makes gossip even worse.”
“I’ll bet she moves after all this,” Renie remarked, walking along the driveway in a soft drizzle of rain. “Back to France, maybe. These days she could run Blackwell from an ice floe off of Antarctica.”
Judith nodded. “Oh well. We found out who the Leopard is—Will Fleming. He changed his spots.”
“Power struggle,” Renie said. “Harry versus Jimmy. Jimmy versus Jocko Morton. Seumas Bell versus Patrick. Any number of combinations, all struggling for control while Philip and Kate wait in the wings to make their buyout offer.”
“Right,” Judith agreed, taking out her cell phone. “At least I’m fairly sure who killed Davey Piazza.”
Renie stared at her cousin. “You are?”
“I wasn’t kidding about this jacket being evidence, though I’m not exactly sure how.” She dialed Alison’s number again. “It just dawned on me we’re stuck here. I got so focused on that jacket…Alison? Hi, Mrs. Flynn again. Could Barry pick us up at Hollywood House?”
