Fitzwarren. Sit down—I’m not staying.” Of course he did not. “Ronnie, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know, Mary, truly I don’t. All I can remember is, it was such a crush—there’d been something on the line and the trains hadn’t been coming in, something like that. And then it was cleared and I remember feeling the air moving down the tunnel, and then people started to push forward, and that’s all, and I’m very glad I can’t remember the rest of it.”
“You didn’t see anyone you know?”
“If my own mother had been there, I shouldn’t have seen her, unless she had been immediately in front of me. Why do you ask?”
I studied her carefully and decided her colour wasn’t too bad.
“Because there’s a possibility you were pushed, Ronnie.”
“But of course I was pushed, I told you—now wait a moment, do you mean… ? You mean deliberately pushed, don’t you? What a mind you have, Mary. Why on earth would anyone want to do that? It was an accident.”
“Has it not occurred to you that there have been rather a lot of fatal accidents around the Temple recently?” I asked her gently.
“No, Mary! Don’t be absurd. That’s… No.”
“Why do you think we haven’t let you be here alone? First Holmes, then either Dr Watson or Lieutenant Fitzwarren.”
That took most of the splutters out of her mouth, so that she lay there, as white as her sheets. Her hand sought Miles’s, who looked, I thought, as ill as she did.
“I’m very sorry to do this to you, Ronnie, but something is going on in the Temple, and I have to find out what it is.”
She looked at me for a long minute, her face growing ever more pinched. “Iris?” she said finally.
“She was part of it, made to look like some kind of warning from the drug world. And in October, Lilian McCarthy. And late August—”
“Delia Laird. You actually believe this.”
“I don’t know, yet. Ronnie, how much are you leaving the Temple in your will?”
“Twenty thousand. Why do you… No. Oh, no, Mary, you can’t mean it.”
“Ronnie,” I said clearly and with all the honesty I could manufacture, “I don’t think Margery is involved.”
“How could she not be, if you’re right?”
Good question.
“She could not have been personally involved with any of the deaths,” I said. “She had alibis for all three of those periods of time.”
“Someone else, then?”
“It’s possible that someone close to Margery is doing it. Even if it’s something Margery could do, I don’t see that it’s something she would do. I’m sorry, I’m not being very clear.”
“Yes, I see what you’re saying,” she said eagerly. “Even if Margery could commit… murder, she wouldn’t do it for money.”
It was not quite what I had meant, but I left it.
“Then who?” asked Miles.
“Someone, as I said, close to Margery, someone ruthless, intelligent, and who either benefits somehow from Margery’s wealth or who imagines he or she is doing Margery a service.”
“Marie,” whispered Veronica.
“Would Margery have gone to York without her?” I asked. Veronica’s face fell.
“No. Probably not.”
“I’ll find out, but I doubt she has the brains for it. Who would know about the wills… who leaves what?”
“Margery, of course. Rachel Mallory, she supervises the office staff. Come to that, anyone with access to the filing cabinets. There’s a file in there entitled ‘Wills,’ so we have a record of bequests.”
Convenient. “Is the cabinet kept locked?”
“Oh, yes. But the keys are in Susanna’s desk drawer, which isn’t locked.”
“So no more than two hundred people could have seen the file. That narrows my search down considerably: all I have to do is find someone who can read and who loves Margery. Easy enough.”
“What are you going to do, Mary?”
“Make myself indispensable around the Temple and ask many chatty questions.” And soon, I did not add, I would make suggestions that I was about to write a new will.
“Be careful, Mary.”
“Me? Good heavens, there’s no danger for me. You haven’t said anything about Holmes, though, have you? That he’s a friend of mine?”
“Not since you told me not to.”
Oh dear. “And before?”
“I don’t know. I vaguely remember saying something about the two of you, just a remark, such as ‘I had rooms in Oxford with a girl reading theology who actually knew Sherlock Holmes.’ Something like that.”
“Whom did you say it to?”
“I can’t remember, Mary, I’m terribly sorry, but there were half a dozen people, and I think I was at the Temple, but it might well have been a weekend house party.”
She was getting upset, which would do her no good.
“Don’t worry about it, Ronnie. If it comes to you, let me know, but something that vague—it’s not likely to be of any importance. What is important is getting you well and keeping you safe. I don’t think they’ll try again, but I don’t wish to lose a friend because I misjudged a madman. I’d like you to do two things for me.”
“Anything.”
“Listen to what they are before you agree,” I suggested. “First, I’d like to inform Scotland Yard. They’ll come and ask for a statement. You’ll have to tell them about the will, and when they ask if you were pushed, all you need tell them is that you can’t remember it but it might have been possible. They’ll put a guard on your door until the doctor says you may leave.”
“Is that it?”
“No. The second thing is, I want you to go away. Not for long, two or three weeks at the most, but thoroughly away. We’ll tell everyone you’re in a private clinic, recuperating. You can even go to one, if you like.”
“I can’t, Mary.”
“You must. You’re going to be out on home leave for at least three weeks, in any case. We’ll just make you a home from home. Please, Veronica, I beg you. My eyes are going to be too busy to keep one on you.”
“If I may?” Miles spoke up. “There’s a lodge I use, in Scotland. A bit on the bleak side this time of year, but there’s a large woodpile.”
“Perfect,” I got in before Veronica could say no. “You’ll take Ronnie up as soon as the doctors here give her leave, and you’ll stick to her like glue until I give you the high sign.”
I completely ignored Ronnie’s slow flush. Miles shot her a glance and retracted his hand, then scowled sternly down at her bedcover.
“There’re servants there, of course,” he said. “As chaperones. If you don’t think—that is…”
“I can only see one possible complication, Lieutenant Fitzwarren,” I said, and stopped there. He met my eyes, and his spine slowly straightened.
“There is nothing that need concern you, Miss Russell. While Veronica—while the safety of Miss Beaconsfield is my responsibility, you need not worry yourself as to my fitness.”
“That is most gratifying, Lieutenant Fitzwarren,” I said, and it did not seem odd to either of us that I, barely more than a girl, should stand in judgement concerning him. “Either Holmes or I will be here tomorrow, and we will arrange for transport and communication. In the meantime, you will, I hope, say nothing about this to anyone, even your families.” They agreed, nervously. I turned to go, and my eye fell on the shaky pile of reading material. “Is there a
