“Auntie, do as she says,” ordered Fell.
“No,” said Aunt Agnes. “Guns don’t frighten me. She’s nothing but a bully.”
And Gloria shot her.
Maggie, who had edged around behind Gloria, screamed and threw herself on her, love and terror lending her mad strength.
Fell, who had never hit anyone in his life before, drew back his fist and struck Gloria full on the chin. Her head rocked back and she slumped in Maggie’s arms.
The gun rattled to the floor.
“Tie her up,” said Maggie. “Aunt Agnes. Is she still alive?”
Fell knelt down. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll phone an ambulance. And the police. There’s string in that drawer there, Maggie. Can you tie Gloria up?”
Maggie nodded. While Fell phoned, she fumbled with the string, her hands shaking so much she thought she would never be able to get Gloria’s hands and ankles tied. But at last she achieved it and then rushed upstairs to the bathroom and was violently sick.
Fell slumped down on the floor beside the body of his ‘aunt’ and nursed his swollen and bleeding knuckles. The day suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet.
And then he could hear the sound of sirens.
Maggie crept down the stairs as the first cars drew up outside the house.
Then the kitchen was full of police, followed by ambulance men. The paramedics said that Aunt Agnes was still alive…just. Gloria was lifted up and taken off.
Dunwiddy arrived and the questioning began. After a time, Fell cut him off. “We’re both shocked and I have to get to the hospital to see my aunt. You know where to find us. For God’s sake, give us a little peace.”
“All right, but I’ll be back. That was some knock-out punch you gave her.”
Fell looked down at his swollen and bleeding knuckles. “It never hurts in books,” he said.
At last Maggie and Fell were left alone. “We’ll need to cancel the wedding,” said Maggie wearily.
“Oh, God, what a mess,” mourned Fell. “All I want to do is go to bed and sleep for a week.”
“You go to the hospital, I’ll cancel all the arrangements and guests, and then I’ll follow you there. I’ll phone and get you a cab.”
The doorbell rang. “Now what?” asked Fell. “Someone else come to kill us?”
Maggie gave a shaky laugh. “There’s nobody left.” She answered the door. It was Peter with his photographer, Derek.
“What’s going on, Maggie?” he asked. “Someone tipped us off that the place was full of police.”
“We haven’t any time to speak to you now,” said Fell, appearing behind Maggie.
“It’s all right,” said Maggie. “Have you got a mobile phone?”
“Yes,” said Peter.
“Then come in. I’ll tell you what happened and then you can help me to cancel all the wedding arrangements.”
And so Peter got the story that was to land him a plum job on one of the national newspapers.
¦
When Maggie finally arrived at the hospital, it was to find Fell sitting in the reception area. “She’s going to live, Maggie,” he said. “The bullet went through the side of her body. They say she’ll live. Whoever would have thought she would be so brave?”
“She saved our lives.” Maggie sat down next to him. “Peter helped me cancel all the wedding arrangements.”
“I’ll bet he enjoyed that.”
“Well, he did, rather.”
A doctor approached them. “Mr. Dolphin?”
“Yes, my aunt…?”
“She’s resting comfortably. She’s lost a lot of blood but she is going to be all right. There is no need for you to wait. You’ll be able to see her tomorrow.”
Maggie drove Fell home. He stood looking around the kitchen. “Do you think we want to go on staying here, Maggie? So many bad memories.”
Maggie walked to the stairs and turned and held out her hand. “There are good ones as well.”
Fell looked at her. Her face was white and her eyes still red with weeping. Her hair was lank. All he saw was a beautiful woman. He took her hand in his and they went up the stairs together.
¦
It transpired that Rudfern had salted away a great deal of the robbery money in a Swiss bank. Dunwiddy had taken to dropping in on them for a chat. He said that Gloria’s brain appeared to have cracked and it would be doubtful if she would ever be considered sane enough to stand trial. He was delighted to be asked to their wedding, which had been rescheduled.
Fell was looking forward to their honeymoon, to get peace and quiet, and above all, to get away from Aunt Agnes who, fully recovered, was as carping and irritating as ever. She, too, had become a frequent visitor, and how, thought Fell, can you send someone away who has saved your life?
At last the day of their wedding arrived, a cold, brisk, bright day, with the last of the red and gold leaves of autumn fluttering down from the trees in the churchyard of St. Peter’s Church.
Maggie and Fell were still local celebrities, and so the church was full of sightseers as well as Fell’s ‘relatives’. Maggie’s mother was there in an acid pink suit and a huge pink hat. Mrs. Moule, very excited at being maid of honour, had her Zimmer frame decorated with paper roses. Cousin Tom acted as Fell’s best man. Maggie was given away by Inspector Dun-widdy, who looked as large and untidy as ever in a morning suit which he had obviously not worn in years because it was too tight on him.
The vicar, Mr. Sneddon, had heeded Fell’s warning not to have any steel bands, and so the wedding march was played by an odd ensemble of young people with white spotty and villainous faces on two guitars, a glockenspiel, an electric keyboard, and a tambourine.
To Maggie, the day was perfect, and even when her mother got disgracefully drunk at the wedding reception at the Palace Hotel and tried to sit on the vicar’s lap, she felt that nothing could ever dim her happiness.
She did feel, however, that old Mrs. Wakeham, who had failed to make an appearance, might at least have written to Fell.
They left for their honeymoon, surrounded by cheering crowds. Maggie threw her bouquet, which was caught with amazing deftness by old Mrs. Moule.
And so they went to Paris on their honeymoon, and once abroad, decided to travel on to Vienna, Prague and Budapest. They stayed at the best hotels in each city and spent a great deal of money.
It was only when they returned home after six weeks that Fell began to worry about money. There was still plenty left, but they had spent so lavishly on the new kitchen, the wedding reception and the honeymoon that he was horrified at how so much had melted away. The bookshop was a problem. Stock would have to be bought. The lease had been paid. But it would be some time before they could start making a profit. And a bookshop in Buss? Would anyone come? He wished now he had talked Maggie into starting a restaurant. There was always room for another restaurant in Buss. But he kept his worries to himself. He was so deeply in love with Maggie that he wanted to protect her from any anxiety.
One morning, after they had been back for a week, the phone rang. It was Mr. Jamieson, the lawyer. “Could you step around to my office, Mr. Dolphin?” he asked. “I have something of interest for you.”
Maggie was out shopping and so Fell left her a note on the kitchen table and started walking towards the market square. Snow was beginning to fall from a steel grey sky.
What on earth did the lawyer want to see him about? Perhaps the lawyer had heard from the bank manager about his profligate ways and wanted to give him a warning.
Fell mounted the steps to the lawyer’s office.
“Come in,” said Mr. Jamieson expansively. “Tea?”
“No, thank you,” said Fell nervously. “What’s all this about?”
“Sit down. I have the papers here.”
Fell sat down in a chair opposite the lawyer. He could hear the noises from the market below, just as he had
