I put an arm around her as we entered the hall. The lights were on, but I found myself overwhelmed by the same feeling of oppression that had filled me on my arrival at Cragstone. It was a feeling that lingered all afternoon and culminated in the news that Nanny Pierce had stumbled off the high street pavement into the path of the four- thirty bus.
12
If it had to happen,” Tom repeated, for at least the fourth time the next morning, “it’s for the best that she died instantly.”
“There is no looking on the bright side,” said Betty. “The woman was murdered, and we know who did it.”
“Are you saying Val was responsible?” His face whitened. The three of us were in the drawing room, which was incongruously flooded with sunlight, the rain having finally stopped yesterday shortly after Val had blundered weeping into the house to break the news.
“Don’t make this harder than necessary, Tom.” Betty stood with arms akimbo, tapping a foot. “You know I’m talking about Lady Fiona. She planned it when she invited Nanny Pierce out for the afternoon. She must have been worried that the old girl had realized that she’d done away with Nigel. Perhaps she’d even found proof-at least of the motive-and decided a shove under a bus was the answer. She got lucky with the weather. Mist and rain made a good screen against the other people at the stop seeing what she did. She has to be stopped, but it won’t be by the police. Val said they didn’t question its being an accident.”
“You didn’t voice your suspicions to her?” Tom’s protuberant blue eyes spoke volumes. They both seemed to have forgotten I was in the room.
“Yes, I did.” Betty spoke with an assurance she had not possessed before the seance. Her belief that Nigel Gallagher needed her had done wonders for her morale. “If you’re prepared to listen, Tom, I don’t think Val was surprised. In fact, I think the idea of murder had already crossed her mind. She kept repeating that there was something odd about the way her aunt pitched forward as she did. She said she’d been looking for her and Lady Fiona up and down the high street a good part of the afternoon. Having no luck, she finally went and had a meal herself before going to the stop, knowing they would be there to catch the four-thirty bus. The accident”-Betty’s voice was laden with sarcasm-“happened just as Val was about to tap her aunt on the shoulder and tell her she had her senior citizen pass.”
“Do you think Val will be up to attending the garden party this afternoon?” Tom sank into a chair.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Of course she won’t! I feel bad about going on with it, but I have no choice. Ben has all the catering done and it would be wretched to disappoint the schoolchildren. Their parents and families I don’t care about.” Betty gripped her hands. “This was never about them. But they’ll come in droves, no doubt to see if we’ve polluted the grounds of Cragstone.”
This wasn’t
“Where’s Ariel?” Tom asked sharply.
“In the little parlor with Mrs. Cake,” I told him.
“Thank heaven for some normalcy,” said Betty.
“Ariel isn’t feeling normal,” Tom retorted, “she’s all to pieces. She was sobbing and crying when I saw her after breakfast. She’s got it in her head that Miss Pierce’s death is her fault because she’s been thinking nasty thoughts about the woman. I did my best to settle her down, but I don’t think I was successful.”
“Then why don’t you… we… go to her and start acting like parents?” Betty said.
It was another of those times when I found myself sliding out the door. I would have given anything to go into the kitchen and seek the safe harbor of Ben’s arms, but he didn’t need me chewing up his time. The garden party was due to begin at one o’clock and would continue until four. I wandered out into the grounds to survey the umbrella tables and the two marquees that had sprung up earlier as if because of the heavy rainfall. The clouds were white and fluffy, the sky a guiless blue, the breeze a gentle caress. What a festive scene, what a place for merriment and childish laughter while their elders sipped tea or lemonade and sampled the delicacies that would be provided!
I was about to go back into the house when Mrs. Malloy came out to stand beside me. It was my hope that she wouldn’t pick up where she had left off, about how the real Madam LaGrange’s vision of a woman going under a bus had tragically come to pass. It had made me feel intensely creepy when she brought it up the first time… and the second. Fortunately, she brought up the subject of her sister, Melody, instead.
“She’s disappointed like you’d expect that she can’t be here this afternoon. I told you how good she always was at the egg-and-spoon race, and it would have been nice to see her win another ribbon to add to her collection. But with Mr. Scrimshank planning to attend as always, she’s decided this is her best opportunity, while the cat’s away, so to speak, to have Mavis’s husband come to the office and try to open that safe. If all goes well, she’s going to copy what’s in the Gallaghers’ file, put the originals back, and take her set home with her to go through this evening, to see if she can discover how Mr. Scrimshank managed to diddle them.”
“I wonder if he was at that bus stop when Nanny Pierce took her spill.”
“It’s a thought, isn’t it?”
“Did you talk to Melody about Nanny’s death?”
“Some. But she wasn’t listening. Her mind was on whether Ed could open the safe.”
“No word yet from Milk Jugg?” We reentered the house by the side door.
“Not a dicky.”
“At least you can fill in the time, Mrs. Malloy, by writing another eulogy: this one for Nanny.”
“The one I did for Mr. Tribble never got going. I couldn’t get past the first few lines.”
I awaited the recitation, and it was forthcoming:
“No one could call him tall,
In fact he was quite small,
With a religious bent,
And gentle, kind intent,
To stand him in good stead,
Now that he’s dead.”
“The laureateship awaits,” I said.
“Oh, bugger that,” replied Mrs. Malloy. “I’m all out of poetry. If I was to meet the Queen herself this afternoon I couldn’t come up with a verse.” Luckily, she teetered off on her high heels before I could come up with a reply.
To my surprise, the next couple of hours passed rapidly. I showered and changed into the best of the few dresses I had brought with me, a simple sheath in a buttery yellow. Despite a lack of enthusiasm, I took pains with my hair and limited makeup. Ariel had said that no one would be looking at her, and the same could be more truly said of me. There would be few people present that I had yet met or would be likely to get to know much better. Ben came into the hall as I came down the stairs and caught me in his arms.
“You look delectable, sweetheart.” He kissed my mouth and my throat, his hands making their wondrous way down until I laughingly pulled away.
“Will I see you out and about?” I asked.
“As soon as Tom and I have supplied the necessary replenishments after the five thousand have worked their way through what we’ve already set out. He’s been a great help this last couple of days. He can’t seem to stay busy enough. Every time there’s been a lull he comes up with something else for us to cook. You’d think he was providing against an oncoming famine.”
“Betty’s been toying with the idea of their turning the west wing into a restaurant and gift shop. Maybe you could give Tom some ideas on how to go about it, if you think he’s on board.”
“It would be a good career solution, given the size of this place. He could hire a chef to get them started and learn as he goes. Now that the shock of winning the lottery has passed off a little, it might be the right time for him and Betty to come up with a plan to save them from the void they’re now in.”
Ben returned to the kitchen and I went forth into the garden party. At first I thought I was in a maze of people.
