Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (34 page)

She placed her hand on his, and once again, she was his old
friend. “Go to her, Creighton. Go to Marjorie.”

Creighton would not let himself be won that easily. “Why should
I listen to you?”

“Because I, more than anyone, know what it’s like to lose a love.
Marjorie is to you what Stewart was to me-there will never be another. Go to her, Creighton, while you still have a chance”

“Hmph, a ghost of a chance.”

“A ghost of a chance is still better than none! I, however, have
taken all my chances-except for one.” She was crying now, but despite the tears, her face seemed more serene than it ever had during
the past few days. “I ask that you not notify the police of this matter.
I’m already a prisoner to drugs, disease, and my own conscience.
Is it necessary to make me a prisoner of the state as well? Besides,
you know I’d rather die than leave this house and my memories of Stewart” She bowed her head. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, not now. Nevertheless, this is my last chance.”

Creighton rose from his seat and ran his fingers through his
chestnut hair. He felt tired and old; his head, his knees, his whole
body ached. He should never have come here. He was a foolthinking he could recapture the past, chasing after some romantic
boyhood dream. He had loved Vanessa as she was then, not as she
was now. Years of disease had rotted her soul as well as her body.
Yet, in those blue eyes, there remained a vestige of that indomitable
spirit he so cherished. Everything had been taken from her-was
he to take her dignity as well?

After a long pause, he turned to Vanessa. “Take it! Take your
chance. I’ll be gone in the morning and you’ll never hear another
word from me.” With that, he stormed from the dining room.

JAMESON’S SQUAD CAR APPROACHED Louisburg Square amid the
blare of sirens and whistles.

“What the … ?” Noonan muttered.

On the other side of the park, flames licked the summer sky, illuminating the inky night with an eerie yellow glow. Jameson brought
the car to a stop outside the square and the threesome proceeded
on foot along a narrow path that bisected the park. It was the path
where Marjorie and Creighton had argued just days before.

Marjorie hurried along the trail, her anxiety growing with each
step until, finally, near the exit of the grounds, she saw what she had
been dreading. It was the Randolph house, completely engulfed in
flames.

Marjorie pushed her way through the crowd of onlookers until
a large police officer in a dark blue uniform held out a restraining
arm. “Stay back, Miss.”

“But I-” she began to argue, before Jameson came to her aid.

He flashed his badge. “Detective Jameson, Hartford County Police. The lady’s with me.”

Noonan showed his badge as well, and the officer ushered them
inside the cordon. “Little out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?”

“I know the woman who lives here,” Jameson explained. “What
happened? Where is she?”

“Best ask the fire chief.” He directed them to a short, heavyset
man with a rubicund complexion, who was barking orders to men
in full firefighting regalia.

Jameson approached and flashed his badge. “Detective Jameson.
Hartford County Police. What happened?”

“Fire started after dinner,” he reported with telegram-like brevity. “Neighbor saw the smoke and called it in. By then, it had spread
through the house. Moving quickly. These old homes are tinderboxes. Have to move fast if we don’t want it to spread to the others.” Spotting a group of firefighters who had arrived on the scene,
he shouted, “Hurry! Hurry, men! Get the larger hoses! Quickly! No
time for lollygagging!”

“The woman who owns this house, where is she?” Jameson continued his inquiry.

The chief shook his head. “No one’s seen her. Best we can figure she’s still inside. Invalid, isn’t she?”

“Yes, yes she is,” Marjorie replied hastily. “There was a man staying with her-a tall Englishman with light brown hair. Have you
seen him?”

“Haven’t seen anyone come out of the house. Not surprised. Between the heat and the smoke, a person would lose consciousness
within a minute or two.”

Lose consciousness … that meant Creighton was still inside! Marjorie felt her knees buckle. Jameson and Noonan grabbed her before
she could collapse to the ground. “No!” she shrieked. “Creighton!
No!”

A shot of adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She could not,
would not, let him die! She rushed forward toward the burning
structure, but the three men wrestled her back. “Creighton!” she
screamed, breaking into tears.

Jameson put a comforting arm around her shoulders and pulled
her closer to him. Marjorie buried her head in his chest, her body
convulsing in loud, violent sobs. It wasn’t possible! Creighton dead
… and after she had learned that he loved her … after she had been
so cruel to him. Had she known earlier, how different things would
have been! He may never have come to Boston, never have been
with Vanessa tonight. If only…

She looked up at Robert and his sanguine countenance. How
could he remain so calm when Creighton was trapped inside that
burning house? She pushed him away and all the emotions that
had been pent up inside of her came rushing forth in a torrent.

“You! You wanted Creighton to stay here with Vanessa … suggested that he keep an eye on things here. You hoped something
like this would happen, didn’t you? You were jealous of Creighton!
You even forced him to resign as my editor! Well, now he’s out of
the way-permanently. Are you happy now? Are you happy?” Her
voice cracked as rage gave way to another onslaught of tears.

Jameson watched mutely as Noonan placed a soothing hand
on Marjorie’s arm and passed her a blue plaid handkerchief. Just
then, a young woman approached them. Marjorie recognized her as Vanessa Randolph’s kitchen maid, Martha. “Oh, heavens! Mrs.
Randolph! Is she hurt?”

“Don’t know yet,” the fire chief replied. “Think she’s still in the
house.”

“Heavens, no! I shouldn’t have gone out tonight! I shouldn’t
have left her-not in the state she was in!”

“What state was that?” Jameson asked.

“Oh, she was awfully depressed, sir. She and Mr. Ashcroft had a
terrible fight during dinner.”

“What was the fight about?”

The maid blushed crimson. “I’m sure I don’t know, sir. I don’t
listen through doors, but there was an awful lot of yelling. Then it
got kind of quiet-like, and Mr. Ashcroft stormed out of the room
and said he was leaving in the morning. Only he didn’t wait. He
left a few minutes later.”

Marjorie pricked up her ears. “He left? Then he isn’t in the
house!”

“That’s right, ma’am. I went into the dining room to clear away
the dishes. Mrs. Randolph was still at the table, but she told me
to clean around her. While I was cleaning up, Mr. Ashcroft came
back with his hat and his things and said he was leaving. Said he
couldn’t stand being in the house with her another minute, not
after what she had done.”

Marjorie and Jameson exchanged glances. “What did Mrs. Randolph say?” the detective queried.

“Nothing. She was awful upset, but she let him go. Then she
told me to stop my cleaning and take the rest of the night off.”

“Did she do that often?”

The servant shook her head. “No, but I guessed she wanted to
be alone, so I didn’t argue and went to the movies. That’s where I
just came back from.”

“Young lady,” the fire chief addressed, “before you left, did you
ensure that you had shut the gas off in the oven?”

“Oh yes, I even triple checked”

“And the other appliances?”

“Yes. I always do before going out.”

Someone shouted to the chief and the group turned to see two
firefighters carrying a stretcher covered with a white cotton sheetthe remains of Vanessa Randolph.

Tears welled in the kitchen maid’s eyes. “Oh, no!”

Marjorie patted the young woman comfortingly on the back,
while blinking back her own tears. Vanessa’s life, so full of sadness,
had come to an equally tragic, and untimely end.

A third fireman approached the chief with an item in a clear
cellophane bag. “Looks like that’s your fire starter. We found it near
the body along with what looks like a can of lighter fluid.”

In the flickering light of the dwindling flames, they were able
to distinguish the form of a cigarette holder, now blackened and
distorted by the fire.

The maid gasped. “That belonged to the Missus,” she identified the ownership of the object. “Means she did it to herself, then.
That’s why she sent me out. Oh, I shouldn’t have left her! I should
have known she might have done this! Poor Mrs. Randolph! She
always said she should have burned along with her husband.”

Swallowing her tears, Marjorie said, “She’s gotten her wish.”

With the fire at the Randolph home under control and the death of
Vanessa Randolph deemed a suicide, Marjorie, Jameson, and Noonan
made the journey back to Ridgebury without a single word to each
other. Only after Noonan had been deposited at the station and Marjorie and Jameson were on the front stoop of Marjorie’s cottage was
the silence finally broken.

“I’m sorry, Robert,” she apologized. “I’m sorry for all the things
I said to you tonight.”

Jameson flashed a weary smile. “That’s all right. You were worried. I might have reacted the same way if a friend of mine was in
danger.”

Marjorie shook her head. “You and I both know that there’s
more to it than that.”

“You were tired. It’s been a long day…”

“No, Robert.”

He sighed. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

She nodded, her eyes moist with tears. “I never wanted to hurt
you.

“When did you discover this?”

“Tonight. At the fire, when I thought Creighton was dead. It was
as if a part of me had died, too. I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Just like Mrs. Patterson had said … I couldn’t imagine my
life without him.” She slid the engagement ring from her finger and
placed it in Jameson’s hand.

“No, you keep it, for now,” he argued. “Think it over. You’ve been
through a lot today-”

“I’m not going to change my mind.” She took his hand and
closed his fingers around the gold band with the diamond chip. “I know what I have to do, Robert. I know what I need. I know what
you need, and it’s not me.”

“As they say, it’s for the best,” the smile on his face belied the
hurt in his eyes.

“I think so. Eventually you’ll see it too.”

“If he-” he started. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be here”

She smiled. “It will work out. It has to. But thank you” She
wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you
for being you.”

“I hope Creighton knows how lucky he is.” The detective embraced her tightly. “He was right about one thing-it’s terrible losing you.” He kissed her softly on the cheek and bid her adieu.

Marjorie watched as Robert walked away, and a gentle rain began to fall.