High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (19 page)

Glancing back at the flower beds, Meredith was not really surprised to see that Kathleen's ghost had vanished. With a sigh of resignation, she turned back to Felicity. "Which nincompoop is that?" she asked mildly.

"Why, that Montrose woman, of course. Why are you picking dandelions? Is this some new form of floral arrangement?"

Meredith looked at the weed in her hand. "I've just pulled it from the flower bed. Tom must have missed it when he weeded them."

"Tom misses a lot of things. Good job he has Davie to help him. Goodness knows what he'd do if Davie ever decided to leave."

"We would have to look for a new assistant for Tom, that's all."

"We certainly would. That old man can barely hobble around, much less do hard work like weeding flower beds."

Meredith didn't answer. She was thinking about the ghostly finger persistently pointing at the dandelions. Perhaps Kathleen hadn't been pointing at flowers all this time after all. Maybe she'd been pointing at weeds.

How could she have forgotten the first time she'd seen Kathleen up close, and the first time she'd spoken to her?
Don't worry, Kathleen. I'll make sure Tom gets the beds weeded.

Her ghost had made it clear from the first.

Not that it helped matters much, of course. She was no closer to finding a connection to weeds than she had been to flowers.

But at that moment the words clicked in her mind, bringing back a sharp memory of Amelia's outburst in the classroom. She had been far more emotional over Kathleen's death than anyone else, and yet just a day or two earlier, she'd been severely chastised by the teacher. For mistaking weeds for flowers.

Good heavens. Was it possible the humiliation had been enough to send Amelia chasing after Kathleen with a tree branch? But she couldn't have. She was in her room all evening with Loretta Davenport. Loretta herself had confirmed that.

"Goodness, Meredith, you are in a bit of a funk today. What's bothering you? Not worrying about that dratted ghost again, are you?"

Meredith shook off her muddled thoughts and smiled at her friend. "You haven't told me what Sylvia Montrose has done to upset you so."

"Nails," Felicity said, puffing a little as she stomped across the grass. "She's stuck nails all over the wall of Kathleen's classroom. The place is peppered with the pesky things."

"What on earth for?"

"She's nailing all sorts of things to the walls. Instructions for the girls, dinner party menus, list of household supplies, duties of servants, things like that."

Meredith frowned. "Why doesn't she write them on the blackboard?"

"I asked her that." Felicity shortened her stride as they reached the edge of the lawn. "She said she prefers permanent reminders of her lectures, so the girls don't forget
what they've learned. She believes that seeing the lists on the walls every day will help them memorize them."

"But all that hammering!"

"She doesn't use hammers." Felicity stuck her hands into the pockets of her skirt as she stalked across the courtyard. "She's got some newfangled nails that she can just push into the wall. She showed me one. It looks like a nail except it's got a large round head that she pushes with her thumb. Calls it a drawing pin, or something like that."

"How odd. I shall have to take a look at it."

"Yes, well, a hole's a hole, that's what I say. No wonder Kathleen's ghost keeps popping up all over the place. She's probably turning in her grave at the thought of that blasted woman puncturing her classroom walls."

"It's no longer Kathleen's classroom," Meredith gently reminded her. "It belongs to Sylvia now, to do with as she sees fit. As long as she doesn't do any serious damage, I really can't see the harm."

Felicity muttered something under her breath, but once again Meredith wasn't listening. She had just caught sight of Amelia and Loretta huddled together inside one of the tennis courts, and judging by the way they were waving their arms about they were engaged in a serious argument.

She watched them for a moment or two, then decided it might be a good idea to intervene. "I'll join you and Essie for supper," she told Felicity, and without waiting for an answer, sped across the grass to the tennis courts.

Meredith was not normally one to eavesdrop on someone's conversation, but as she drew nearer to the two young ladies it occurred to her that she might learn something helpful if she didn't reveal her presence.

Slowing her pace, she skirted the lawn and crept behind the trees until she was level with the tennis courts. Moving
as close as she could get without being seen, she peered around the trunk of a sturdy beech tree.

The girls were still there but were no longer arguing. At least, their voices were no longer raised. Amelia was facing in her direction, saying something to Loretta, but her voice was too low to carry through the trees.

Meredith squinted hard, grateful for her excellent vision as she stared at Amelia's lips. She couldn't quite catch all she said, but it seemed as if Amelia was threatening Loretta to keep quiet about something. Then, quite distinctly, Meredith deciphered the young woman's next words.

"I'll tell Mrs. Llewellyn you're sneaking out to see your boyfriend every night."

Meredith drew back, her mind racing to her conversation with Deirdre Lamont.
I'm not the only one sneaking out to meet a secret boyfriend.

If Loretta was in the habit of leaving the school to meet someone, it was also quite possible that she'd lied about being in her room the night Kathleen was killed. If that were so, that would leave Amelia without an alibi. There was only one way to find out. She must talk to the girl at once.

"It's feeling chilly in here." Grace rubbed her arms
and shivered. She walked over to the oven and touched it with her fingertips. "No wonder! The stove is cold." She swung around to look at Olivia, who stood at the sink peeling potatoes for supper. "Did you forget to put more coals in it?"

Olivia dropped the knife with a splash into the water. "Oh, crikey! I'll do it now." She rushed over to the stove and bent low to look inside the furnace. "It looks like it
went out. I'll have to light it again. Fetch me the morning newspaper while I get the sticks."

"What if Wilkie hasn't read it yet?"

"Too bad. Mona'll be here any minute to do her Sunday inspection, and if I don't have this stove lit she'll have another excuse to dock me days off. Mrs. Wilkins will have to do without her Sunday read, that's all."

"She'll be cross with you." Knowing there was no use arguing with her friend, Grace walked over to the pantry to get the newspaper. Olivia rushed by her to get the dry sticks that would set the coals on fire.

"Oh, no!" At Olivia's shriek, Grace flew out of the pantry, the newspaper in her hand. "Now what?"

"There aren't any sticks in here." Olivia pointed to the large wooden box at her feet. "It's empty."

"Oh, yeah. I used the last of them to light the stove this morning." Grace thrust the newspaper at her. "Here, you crumple this up and I'll go get some more sticks."

"Why on earth didn't you get them this morning?" Olivia demanded, furiously crumpling up sheets of the newspaper.

"I didn't have time, did I." Grace rushed to the door and hauled it open. "I won't be a minute. They're right there in the shed."

"Get a move on then." Olivia glanced at the clock on the ledge above the stove. "For gawd's sake hurry up. Mona'll be here any second."

"I'm going, I'm going." Feeling just a little put upon, Grace fled to the shed. After all, if Olivia had remembered to add more coals to the fire, she wouldn't be looking for sticks to light it again.

Inside the musty shed she saw a pile of the slim pieces of wood. Reggie must have chopped them that morning. Olivia wouldn't like that. The sticks would be damp and
hard to light. Quickly she gathered up a pile and rushed back to the kitchen, dropping one or two as she went.

Olivia knelt in front of the stove, shoving wads of paper into the furnace. "Quick, give me the sticks." She held out her hands and Grace dropped the pile into them.

Some of them scattered all over the floor, and Olivia glared at her. "Pick them up and put them in the blinking box. I won't need all these."

"Stop giving me orders," Grace muttered, with a rare show of defiance. "Who put you in charge?"

"Just hurry up." Olivia thrust the sticks in on top of the paper. "If Mona catches us doing this, we'll both be in bad trouble."

"It's all your fault." Grace bent over to pick up the wood. "And you're supposed to crisscross the sticks or they won't catch fire."

"Who says." Olivia took the matchbox out of her apron pocket and slid the drawer open. "I can light them any way I want."

"Suit yourself." Grace carried the sticks over to the box and dropped them inside. When she turned around again Olivia was leaning close to the furnace, her cheeks puffed out as she blew on the burning paper. She kept puffing and puffing, her face growing redder by the minute.

"I told you they wouldn't light like that," Grace said, feeling superior for once.

"It's because they're damp, silly." Olivia scowled at her. "If you'd remembered to fill the box this morning they'd be dry by now."

"And if you'd remembered to add the coals—"

"Oh, shut up." Turning back to the stove, Olivia leaned closer into the furnace, pulled in a deep breath, and blew her lungs out.

The paper flared up and yellow flames leapt between the sticks. Olivia shrieked and drew back, flames eating at the bib of her apron.

"Take it off!" Grace screamed, rushing to help Olivia tear off the burning apron.

Olivia balled it up and threw it at the sink. It landed on the back edge, and both girls sagged in relief.

"You could have been burned to death," Grace said, close to tears as she hugged her friend. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry I forgot the sticks."

"No, it was my fault for forgetting the stupid coals." Olivia sounded shaken, and her cheeks were drained of color. "I shouldn't have leaned in that close. Look, it's scorched me dress. I just hope it didn't burn me bodice. It's the only good one I've got." She pulled out the neck of her dress to peer down inside it.

"Well, the fire's lit again now." Grace pointed at the stove. "Better close the door and let it draw."

"Let's hope it gets warm by the time Mona gets here." Olivia moved closer to the stove and slammed the door shut. "Look at this mess on the floor. Sawdust everywhere. Help me clean it up before Moaning Minnie sees it."

"I'll get the mop, you get the dustpan and brush." Grace headed for the pantry again. "Good job Mrs. Wilkins went up to talk to Monica. Let's hope she keeps her talking up there a bit longer."

She reached into the corner for the mop, while Olivia bent over to pick up the dustpan and brush from the ledge under the shelf. Straightening, she wrinkled her nose. "It smells awfully smokey in here, don't it. Perhaps we should open the back door for a bit to let it air out."

"Mona will wonder why it's open," Grace said, walking
back into the kitchen. "Then we'll have to—" Her words were cut off by her shriek as she dropped the mop.

Olivia walked out behind her. "Now what?" She gasped. "Oh, my gawd."

Grace could hardly believe her eyes. The kitchen curtains on both sides of the window were ablaze, the flames creeping rapidly up to the ceiling.

Olivia rushed over to the sink and started slopping water out of it with her hands. Potatoes and peel flew everywhere as she yelled, "Get me a blinking basin!"

Heart thumping in fear, Grace jerked open a cupboard just as the door opened and Mrs. Wilkins walked in.

"I'm quite sure you'll find the kitchen spick-and-span as usual," she said, then stopped dead, her gaze glued to the flaming curtains.

Monica appeared in the doorway, her mouth dropping open with shock. For a moment everyone just stood there, staring, then Mrs. Wilkins rushed into action.

She grabbed the basin from Grace's shaking hands and shouted, "Go at once and ring the alarm bell. Tell the teachers there is a fire and get the girls outside. Olivia, find Reggie and send him here immediately."

Grace didn't wait to see what happened next. She bolted past Monica, who still seemed incapable of movement, and flew out the door, followed by Olivia. As they bounded up the steps, she prayed, "Please, Lord, don't let the school burn down. Oh,
please
, don't let it burn down!"

Chapter 16

Meredith started forward, intending to confront the
young women on the tennis courts. She had barely taken a couple of steps when the strident sound of the school bell echoed across the lawns.

She halted, staring across the grass at the gray walls of the building, trying to imagine why the bell would be ringing in the late afternoon. It couldn't possibly be time for supper yet.

Then, as she started walking slowly toward it, she saw a steady stream of pupils spilling down the front steps. Praying that it was merely a safety drill and not anything more serious, she sped toward the school.

As she rushed up the steps, she was forced to fight her way past the girls scrambling down them. Essie stood in the doorway, her white face pinched with fright. Her voice trembled as she urged the pupils to hurry.

"What's happened?" Meredith demanded, puffing to catch her breath.

"There's a fire in the kitchen." Essie grabbed her arm. "Mrs. Wilkins is down there with Monica. They told us to evacuate but—"

"Where's Felicity and Sylvia?" Meredith peered down the hallway, but could see no sign of either tutor.

"They're going around the rooms to make sure everyone is out." Essie wrung her hands. "Oh, I do hope they won't get trapped up there."

"Has anyone sent for the fire brigade?"

Hearing a commotion behind her, Meredith swung around. Three of the pupils had tried to get out the door at the same time and were fighting to get ahead of each other.

"Ladies!" Meredith grabbed a flailing arm and dragged the girls apart. "One at a time. Please. Remember what you've been taught. Decorum at all times. Even in times of grave danger. We must . . . " She broke off, aware of how utterly ridiculous that sounded.