Devil May Care (21 page)

She wrenched one of the candles from its socket and started along the hall. The house was solidly built; the candle flame burned steadily, although the DEVIL-MAY-CARE 171

battering of wind and rain outside had risen to a crescendo. Ellie heard footsteps behind her and whirled, imperiling the fragile flame.

"It's me," Donald said unnecessarily.

The knocking had become a fusillade of sharp raps.

"Go on," Donald said. "It's not a night to leave someone standing outside."

It was, certainly, a human hand that was wielding the heavy knocker. With the electrical circuits out, the chimes would not operate. All the same, Ellie was glad Donald was behind her when she opened the door and saw the hooded figure outside. It was a dark shape, featureless, muffled; the folds of the garment that enshrouded it streamed out in the wind like a long cloak. She had only a second's glimpse before the blast of wind and rain extinguished the candle. Then lightning split the sky apart; the cloaked form pushed forward; and a familiar voice said irritably, "Close the door before the cats get out."

"Kate!" Ellie fell on her neck.

After a moment Kate asked mildly, "Couldn't we do this inside? I'm rather wet."

Donald put out an arm and dragged them both over the threshold. He closed the door. Ellie continued to clutch Kate, who stood motionless while Donald fumbled for matches.

"I'm glad you're so happy to see me," Kate said, when the flame finally sprang up. "What's going on around here? Yes, yes, I know the lights are out; they always go out when it rains. I mean, what are all those cars doing outside? Are you having a party?"

She put Ellie's arms aside, gently but firmly, and began divesting herself of the long hooded rain cape she was wearing.

"How did you get here?" Ellie asked.

"Taxi from the airport."

"But, Kate! The airport is fifty miles from here."

172 Elizabeth Peters Kate's face took on an expression Ellie knew well--a look of cunning, shifty defensiveness. She would spend a hundred thousand dollars on a painting without blinking an eye, but she was parsimonious about minor expenditures. With her damp, tumbled curls, and the soft light blotting out the lines in her face, she looked like an urchin who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I didn't want to bother you to come and get me," she mumbled. "I knew you weren't expecting me, and the weather looked bad--"

"Expecting you? I've been praying you--Kate.

Didn't you get my message? Didn't the police call you?"

"Police?" Kate's face changed. "What's wrong, honey?" "That," said Donald, "is not a question to be answered in a word, or even a sentence. Where is your luggage, Kate?"

"Outside." Kate made a vague gesture, her eyes still riveted on Ellie's face. She threw the rain cape onto the floor. "Jack's," she explained, gesturing at the garment. "I lost mine someplace. Ellie, what--" "Tell her," Donald said. "A brief synopsis only, if you please."

He opened the door and plunged out into the rain.

When he returned with Kate's dripping suitcases, Ellie had barely begun her recital. Kate listened in silence. She had the enviable knack of knowing when to keep quiet and when to ask pertinent questions.

She had gone a little pale when Ellie told her about Ted, but she made no other sign of distress, except for a quick, sharp intake of breath when Ellie described the figures out on the lawn.

"Amazing," she said, when Ellie had finished. "Absolutely amazing ... Who's in there?"

Ellie glanced over her shoulder. Sounds of minor riot were issuing from the library.

"The whole crowd," Donald said. "We called a DEVIL-MAY-CARE 173

conference. Some conference! Miss. Mary insisted on holding a seance, and all hell broke loose when that last bolt of lightning knocked out the electricity. We thought your pounding at the door was the answer from the spirit world--"

"And then poor William got all upset," Ellie added.

"He was under the table; when the lightning struck, he took off like a bat, and the whole table shook."

"Was that what shook the table?" Donald pursed his lips in a long, soft whistle. "I don't mind admitting I'm relieved to hear it."

Kate's grin faded. "William! Poor baby, he's terrified of storms. I'd better go and see if--" "Later," Donald said firmly, catching Kate's arm as she turned. "Damn it, Kate, we've got more serious problems on our hands right now. William is probably under somebody's bed."

William was not. The familiar voice had finally reached him, through the fog of panic. Kate staggered back, pinned to the wall by a hundred and fifty pounds of upright Saint Bernard. His huge paws on her shoulders, William licked her face and then collapsed at her feet, whining.

"Poor baby," Kate crooned, bending over him.

"Kate!" Donald pulled her to her feet. "Will you try to concentrate? The first thing is to get rid of that mob in the library. Will you do it or shall I?"

"I think I'd better," Kate said thoughtfully. "Yes.

I would like to exchange a fev. vvords with the group.

William, darling, get off Mama's feet; she can't walk."

Singularly impeded by William, they walked down the hall to the library. Someone had found and lighted more candles. The doctor was bending over Mcgrath, who was slumped in his chair, his head thrown back. Ellie realized that the frantic screams she had heard were Mcgrath's. The women were all quiet, although Anne's face was the color of tallow.

Marjorie's head was bent over her folded hands.

174 Elizabeth Peters The doctor was the first to see the newcomer.

"Kate," he said, straightening up. His voice was quiet; but he seemed to shed ten years in an instant.

"Hello, Frank," Kate said calmly. "I see you have things under control, as usual." "Roger got a little upset," the doctor said. "Come on, Roger; you're all right. Nothing happened except in your mind."

Mcgrath sat up and mopped at his face with a handkerchief.

"Weak heart," he mumbled. "Shock to anyone ... "

"You'd better get home and get to bed," the doctor said shortly. "The rest of us had better go, too."

"Without wishing to appear inhospitable, I am forced to agree," Kate said. "It seems that I have a lot of catching up to do before I can talk sensibly to you. I'll telephone you all tomorrow."

The tone was pleasant but final. Even Anne, who had expressed her fear of thunderstorms, made no demur, and the others rose. They had begun to straggle toward the doorway when Donald said suddenly, "Wait a minute. The parchment. It was on the table.

It's gone."

"Probably got knocked off in the confusion," the doctor said, looking around as if he expected to see the missing document suspended in midair.

"It will turn up," someone said.

"Oh, no." Donald spread his arms across the open doorway. "Nobody leaves this room till that parchment is found."

"Well!" Mcgrath exclaimed indignantly. "Of all the outrageous remarks! Are you seriously suggesting, Donald, that one of us--"

"Who would want a dirty old thing like that?" Anne demanded.

"I don't know. But I mean to find out. Ellie, you and Kate can search the women. Dad and I--"

A howl of outrage arose. Even the Senator, who

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had been subdued and silent since Miss. Mary had accused his wife, roused himself enough to protest.

"You have no right to do that, Don," he said. "Let's search the room. The damn thing must be here somewhere."

He had the habit of authority; the others spread out, looking under the table, in the shadowy corners.

Kate stood back. She looked disappointed, and Ellie deduced that she had been looking forward to playing lady detective.

Finally one of the searchers straightened up with an exclamation of triumph.

"Here it is. I told you it must be somewhere."

The speaker was Senator Grant. Donald took the sheet from him and subjected it to a searching scrutiny.

He nodded grudgingly.

"Okay. You can go now."

"Well, of all the nerve," Mcgrath squeaked.

"Forgive him," Marjorie said softly. "We must not judge others without charity, Roger--all of you-- perhaps a brief prayer--"

"Pray on your own time," Kate said. "Scoot, Marge. Your four-footed friends and your kiddies are waiting."

The group filed out. Donald, clutching the parchment to his chest with both hands, went with them.

The last to leave was Miss. Mary. Her schooled face gave no hint of the emotions that lay within, but Ellie knew she must be disturbed; she had not spoken since the collapse of her seance. As the doctor prepared to follow the others, Kate put out her hand.

"Please stay, Frank. I won't keep you long, I promise; but I want to know about Ted. Ellie just told me."

"Of course I'll stay, Kate, as long as you like." The doctor's singularly sweet smile lighted up his face.

Then he looked surprised. "Ellie just--didn't you get the word from the police in Vermont? The kids sent

176 Elizabeth Peters out an SOS hours ago. But if you didn't ... Why did you come home?"

Kate's eyes widened. In their blue depths miniature candle flames, reflected, danced briskly.

"Of course I had to come home. I should have realized before, but I'm so disorganized-- There's a football same tomorrow."

Kate might claim to be disorganized--and in certain crucial areas she undoubtedly was--but no one was more efficient in a crisis, not even Donald. The house had its own emergency generator, which the rest of them had forgotten in the stress of the moment; Kate reminded them. In a surprisingly short time they had restored order to the house, brought Kate up to date on what had been going on, and were sitting in the brightly lighted kitchen, with the air conditioner purring and food on the table. They would have reached this stage even earlier if Kate had not insisted on checking all the animals before she sat down. Kate was eating like a construction worker after a long day; she had been on the road, by one means of transportation or another, since dawn. She had one cat on her lap while she ate, three others squatting beside her waiting for tidbits, and William on her feet. The rest of the cats sat on the counter, in a neat line; Roger sat on his chair, at Kate's left. From time to time he squeaked imperatively and she reached out to tickle his whiskers.

"My, it's good to be back," Kate said, smiling fatuously at the assembled throng. "I don't know why I go away. I love it here."

"It's too bad Ellie can't say the same," Donald said grumpily.

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Not at all put out by his critical tone, Kate transferred her affectionate smile from Roger to him. She had changed into a particularly impractical caftan of trailing chiffon adorned by gold thread and bright embroidery. Ellie deduced from this that she was feeling sentimental.

"Well, I'm sorry about that," Kate said, in the tone of a hostess regretting a minor inconvenience, such as an inadequate supply of hot water. "But I'm sure we can straighten it all out in no time."

The doctor laughed out loud, and Donald, who had been on the verge of a rude reply, produced a sour smile.

"Kate, you are too much. You can't settle this one by calling the governor or one of your buddies in the UN."

"Really, Kate, the situation is no joke," the doctor added gently.

"I know." Kate pushed her empty plate away and rested her chin on her hand. "Believe me, darlings, I'm not taking this lightly. I am--I am concerned about Ted." Her face, which reflected every passing mood, looked suddenly old and gray; and Eilie, who had been a little exasperated at Kate's debonair air, melted like a candle.

"He'll be all right, Kate."

"I hope so. The point is that everything is being done for him that can be done. We can't do any more--except find out what happened to him." In spite of her obvious distress, Kate's eyes took on a faint sparkle. "Really, this is the most extraordinary story! All these years I've hoped for a haunted house, and now--"

"Come on, Kate, you don't believe that," Donald said.

"I wish I could." Kate looked sad, "But I'm afraid there are several unmistakable signs of human inventiveness --careless, too."

Accustomed as they were to Kate, the other three

178 Elizabeth Peters gaped at her for a moment. The doctor was the first to get his voice back.

"What do you mean? Damn it, Kate, we've been over this time and time again--" "You've been awfully rushed," Kate said charitably.

"You really haven't had time to think sensibly."

She broke off a piece of cheese, offered a chunk of it to Roger, who refused it with a shake of his whiskers, and absentmindedly ate it herself. She reached for the papers on which Donald and Ellie had written their account. "First of all," she began, and then paused to swallow. "Excuse me. First of all, look at this seconder--visitation. Your description of the woman's clothing."

Ellie took the sheet, while Kate fed Roger a chunk of pate. He accepted this.

"Full, flowing skirts," Ellie read aloud. "Shawl or cloak around the shoulders ... What's wrong with that?" "The period," Kate said. "You deduce that these people were the protagonists in our little domestic tragedy of about 1875; and the clothing of the third personage, the man, fits that date. But women weren't wearing full, flowing skirts in the 1870's. The bustle had come in by then. Skirts were fairly tight and close-fitting, except for that bump in the back.

A fashionable woman of that era could barely toddle, much less run. Mrs. Mcgrath was a lady of fashion, not a farm girl."

"So," the doctor said, after a moment of apoplectic silence, "you're right again, darn it. What conclusion do you draw from that, Mrs. Sherlock?"

"Ms. Sherlock," Kate corrected. She licked her fingers.

"It's obvious, isn't it? Either your trickster is abominably careless--an assumption which does not fit his ingenuity in other aspects of the affair--or he needed a particular type of garment for a certain effect, ana counted on your being too distraught to notice the discrepancy." She smiled at Ellie. "It must DEVIL-MAY-CARE 179