Moira sighed. “Nothing. I’d prefer to close my eyes and die.”
“Why?” Beth scowled at Moira. “Harry’s death isn’t your fault.”
Moira turned her head away but said nothing.
Judith tapped Beth’s arm. “Should I go into the other room?”
Beth shook her head and mouthed the word “drama.”
Judith spoke up. “I lost my husband when he was fairly young.”
Moira moved just enough to look at Judith. “Was he murdered?”
“No,” Judith said. “It was more like suicide. He purposely lived a destructive lifestyle. I have my share of guilt for what happened to him.”
“But nobody blew him up,” Moira said.
“He did blow up,” Judith asserted. “Medically speaking.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He weighed over four hundred pounds,” Judith explained. “He’d developed diabetes, he could barely walk, and his entire system went berserk. I felt it was partly my fault for enabling him. That very morning, I’d brought him a big bottle of grape juice before I went to work.”
Moira looked mildly interested. “But you didn’t drink it for him.”
“No.” Judith gazed curiously at the young woman. “You mean…?”
Moira looked at Judith and then turned to Beth. “That’s still not murder or suicide.” Her tone was bitter. “And,” she added, again focused on Judith, “you didn’t escape death along with your husband.”
Judith was puzzled. “No, of course not.”
Beth moved closer to Moira. “What do you mean?”
Moira’s fingers plucked fretfully at the lace on the sheet. “Harry asked me to meet him at the beach that afternoon. I thought about going, but changed my mind. I’d been invited to a wedding in Inverness. I couldn’t join Harry and get to the reception on time. If I’d gone…” She shuddered. “I might have been murdered, too.”
13
Moira!” Beth cried. “Why would anyone want to kill you? Or Harry, for that matter?”
“Don’t be naive,” Moira retorted. “You know about the power struggle at Blackwell, especially now that Morton’s come back.” She looked again at Judith. “I’m sorry. You’re a stranger, so you have no idea what’s been happening. But it’s hardly a secret. We’ve had the media in the UK give us a great deal of negative coverage.”
Beth was nodding. “Will complains about how ugly it’s gotten. His own position is precarious. The press has hounded him mercilessly about the company’s financial status. He won’t discuss it, of course. After all, it’s a privately held company.”
Judith looked apologetic. “I’m ignorant of big business. I was a librarian before I started my B&B.”
Moira grimaced. “I wish I’d never inherited Blackwell.”
Beth sat down on a tufted satin-covered chair. “You don’t mean that. Neither you nor your mum wanted Jimmy in charge.”
Moira’s color began to rise. “We certainly didn’t want Morton. Why didn’t he stay in Greece? Why did he come back now?”
“That,” Beth said, “is a good question. When did he get here?”
Judith felt like an interloper. She edged toward a divan a few feet from the bed and sat down. It seemed that the two women had forgotten she was in the room.
Beth, however, appeared to have read Judith’s mind. “Oh, Mrs. Flynn, this must be so tiresome for you. Let’s get Moira up and take her out into the garden. We can have some tea or a cool drink.” She shot her friend a sharp look. “What have you eaten today?”
“Nothing,” Moira replied. “I couldn’t possibly keep anything down. I’m very queasy.”
“Nonsense!” Beth snapped. “You can eat toast. Or porridge. I’ll have Elise fetch you something. Come, you must get dressed.”
But Moira was adamant. “No. I’ll try to drink some tea.”
Beth looked disgusted. “Frankly, you…” She clamped her lips shut. “I’ll speak to Elise.”
Beth left the boudoir. Judith had been studying Moira. Except for her pale, porcelain-like skin and the dark shadows under her eyes, the newly made widow didn’t have the appearance of someone in misery. Certainly she’d been in good health and satisfactory spirits the previous day.
Judith dared to risk a question: “Are you taking medication?”
“A liquid digestive aid,” Moira answered. “Aspirin for headache.”
“No prescription drugs?”
“No.” Moira frowned. “Dr. Carmichael is strict about prescribing them. He’s very old-fashioned. He wouldn’t renew my tranquilizers.” She began plucking at the sheets again. “What’s taking Beth so long?”
“Maybe she couldn’t find Elise,” Judith suggested.
