She Shoots to Conquer (39 page)

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Authors: Dorothy Cannell

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Cozy

BOOK: She Shoots to Conquer
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“Nora Burton,” I said, “once and always the Eleanor you saw standing on those stairs,” looking toward them, “when you came to Mucklesfeld for the day.”

“You knew?”

“The likeness to her portrait was there, despite the attempt at disguise.”

“There was no time to say more than ask her to meet me at noon tomorrow at the end of the lane leading from Witch Haven. Ellie, I’m consumed with remorse about the contestants, but whatever happens, I realize now, my mercenary plan makes a mockery of marriage. I had increasingly come to know I couldn’t go through with it—mainly because of you. Your resemblance to Eleanor was the reminder I needed that love is worth the wait, even if it takes an eternity.”

“So it is,” I said. “I was lucky meeting Ben when I did. And you still have a long life ahead of you.”

“I’ll always be grateful you turned up out of the fog that night.”

“Thank you. Will you do something for me?”

“Gladly. What is it?

“Put down your foot as master of Mucklesfeld and insist that tonight Judy sleep in one of the beds in my suite. She is going to need some looking after and must not on any account be left alone.”

14


ne other thing,” I said, on receiving Lord Belfrey’s agreement to my request, “suggest to Eleanor that she take a good look at every pair of your cousin Celia’s shoes. I understand she has a closet full of them, most still in their boxes. Perhaps Eleanor’s already done so, but if not, I think that’s where she may find what she’s been looking for over the past few months. Shoes make good hiding places because a lot of people are squeamish about handling those that aren’t theirs. Oh, and would you kindly,” looking sadly down at Thumper, “ask Dr. Rowley if he’d be willing to return my friend here to his owners?”

“Of course. As for . . .”

“Eleanor will explain. I’m going upstairs now. Perhaps another of your ties for a lead . . .”

Once in my room I endeavored by stripping down both beds to work off the jumble of troublesome emotions the day had brought. Fortunately Alice popped her head round the door a short time later to say that she’d heard from Molly, who’d heard
it from Livonia, that Judy would be rooming with me that night, and did I need a change of sheets? I was relieved that Judy had agreed to my plan, and also grateful that I wouldn’t have to further enrage Mrs. Foot by asking her to supply fresh linens. Alice obligingly fetched them for me, apologized that she hadn’t yet mended the pillowcases, and got busy helping me remake the beds. I explained that both needed doing because Judy might balk at taking the one I’d been sleeping in.

“Awful what happened to her,” Alice plumped up the final pillow, “but imagine getting shot in the chest with an arrow and not at the very least ending up in the hospital. When you think it could have been the morgue, all I can say is whoever shot that arrow should be counting their lucky stars along with Judy.”

“Yes,” I said, straightening the cubbyhole bedspread.

“I don’t want to think it was your friend Roxie Malloy . . .”

“Then please don’t.”

“Of course you can’t bear to think it, but there’s no getting round it that she’s had her knife into Judy from the beginning. I doubt you’ll get Livonia and Molly to admit what they’re thinking but . . .”

“Alice, you’ve been awfully good about helping with the beds. I do appreciate it, but . . .”

“You’d like me out of here.” She paused in the doorway, bundling back up the forever falling hair. “Look, you’re the only one who really knows Roxie, so who’s most likely to be right? Why not get some shut-eye before Judy is brought up? I’m going to lie down myself and think about not becoming the next Belfrey bride. According to Molly, who heard it from Livonia, who heard it from Dr. Rowley, the Master of Mucklesfeld seems likely to make his pick the old-fashioned way.”

When the door closed behind her it hit me that I was holed up, skulking from Mrs. Malloy, who needed me more than at any time in our relationship. Three words into talking to her, she would have known for sure I was acting solo on a hunch. Something I would never have done, but for her being suspected by some of
deliberately shooting Judy. Until I was proved right or wrong, it seemed kinder in the long run to keep my own counsel. And the same seemed true when it came to considering my obligation to warn Judy. I did not allow myself to focus on the entirely likely possibility that the killer would not obligingly step forward as I both hoped and feared. One thing of which I was confident was that Mrs. Malloy would not pay me a visit once Judy was with me. In fact, knowing what the situation was to be, as she had surely learned by now, would explain why she had not yet marched in upon me. Astute though she is, wounded feelings mount rapidly to unreasoning huffiness with Mrs. Malloy, which interestingly was one of the things that touched me most about her.

The person who came in next was Livonia, looking radiantly pretty, despite her opening words being an expression of regret over Judy’s ordeal, followed by the information she knew would hurt, despite my need to know.

“I went with Tommy,” the name curved lovingly on her lips, “to take dear Thumper back to his owners. Mrs. Spuds gave us directions—she seems such a lovely person, those kind blue eyes and beautiful white hair. Oh, Ellie, I do wish you could keep that dear dog. He so obviously believes he belongs with you. Tommy had tears in his eyes when we talked about it. He’s wonderfully sensitive. And terribly upset about the skeleton. But how could he have known how Georges would dress it up? Or that . . . that I would be one of those to see it?”

“I knew you shouldn’t be cross with him.”

“Oh, dear, dear, Ellie!” She perched on the bed in the main room. “He’s so caring of my feelings. I’ve never been this happy in my life. Don’t you think he’s the dearest man and such a clever doctor? Wasn’t it amazing how quickly he diagnosed Judy’s sprained ankle?”

“He is perfect.” Her joy was so contagious, all else fled my mind for the moment. “Perfect for you. And you and Mrs. Spuds will be the best of friends, and you’ll get a couple of cats you and Tommy will both dote on and have friends, including Lord Belfrey, over
for Sunday lunch and everyone will say the Rowleys are what Grimkirk should be all about.”

“His lordship confided in Tommy—isn’t it wonderful to think of them growing close?—that he isn’t going on with
Here Comes the Bride
. Not only did that free Tommy so he could speak honorably of his longing to marry me, he also thinks that something has happened to transform his cousin into a blissfully happy man. I know it has to be very disappointing for the other contestants, but I can’t help believing that even for them it is all for the best. To marry without love . . .” She sat staring dreamily into space.

“Let’s hope something splendid happens to each of them,” I was saying, when edging in sideways came her beloved and mine carrying Judy between them in a linked armlift. She looked quite chirpy in her seated position, but I noted the shadows under her eyes and the twitch of the mouth that suggested she was battling pain. As I had expected, she insisted on taking the bed in the cubbyhole, saying she would be cozily cocooned in there. To have tried to persuade her otherwise would have delayed getting her into bed, which Livonia and I accomplished as soon as the men left. Ben had smiled at me in a way that at that moment felt more enveloping than an embrace, before saying he would send a meal up in half an hour, although Judy might be asleep by then as a result of the tablets Tommy had given her.

“I wouldn’t worry if she’s not awake to eat; what she needs most is rest. What happened must have been a severe shock to her system,” whispered Livonia, sounding very much a doctor’s wife when we returned to the bigger space after spreading the bedclothes gently over Judy and folding back a triangle to leave the injured foot uncovered.

“Thanks for the help and the shared confidences,” I said.

“Oh, I do hope you’ll stay in touch.” The hug she gave me had a warmth I would never have expected from the frozen creature she had been on first meeting. “I want so much to go on being friends.”

“So do I, Livonia; already you feel like a close pal.”

She blinked tearily. “Promise to fetch me if you need help of any kind with Judy, getting her to bathroom or just someone else to talk to her? Remember, I’m just a few steps away. And do try to get some rest yourself, I know you have to be worried about Mrs. Malloy. She has to be feeling under a cloud because of,” lowering her voice, “not liking Judy, but I believe she was telling the truth about not being the one who shot that arrow, deliberately or otherwise. She’s your friend and that’s enough for me.”

“Out,” I said, edging her toward the door. “You’re so dear you’ll have me bawling if you stay a moment longer. Go to Tommy and fall into his arms, you deservedly lucky girl.”

“I only wish that Molly, with that awful Mrs. Knox as a mother, can end up as happy. Mummy could be controlling in that plaintive way of hers, but if I’d had a talent for ballet and it had been my grand passion as is the case with Molly, I think she would have been proud enough to have encouraged me instead of saying that a lump of a girl would be booed offstage. Oh, I do hope someone can wave a magic wand for her, and for Judy and Alice, who also have their very special gifts. Okay, Ellie! I’m leaving before you toss me out.”

Of course the moment she was gone, I selfishly wished her back; a peek into the cubbyhole showed Judy to be asleep, breathing evenly and otherwise revealing no sign of restlessness. It was still early—only six fifteen—and the evening stretched endlessly ahead. Ben would come whether or not he was the one to bring up the meal. Mrs. Foot, Mr. Plunket, and Boris might insist on doing that, but in either case he would not linger talking because of risking disturbing Judy.

Half an hour later, Tommy put in a return appearance to check on the patient. He nodded in a satisfied way and left a couple of tablets with me that he said I should give to her at ten if she woke up, but not to disturb her if she slept on. I was struck by his new aplomb, but the boyish beam was very much in evidence when telling me he was taking Livonia back to his home for dinner.

“Mrs. Spuds is preparing something special and will stay to
observe the proprieties,” he added earnestly. “As Livonia may have told you, she was not treated with greatest respect by a man named Harold, and I intend to proceed gently with her.”

Not too gently, I hoped. On his departure I put the tablets in a little dish on the chair and picked up the book that still had me on chapter one. It was by an author who was new to me and I hadn’t found it particularly gripping, but it might take off in the next fifty or so pages. I was on the bed, having read no more than three pages, when Ben came through the door empty-handed.

“Judy sleeping?” he asked in a hushed voice, with an eye to the cubbyhole.

I nodded up at him.

“Sweetheart,” he continued to whisper, “when I said I’d bring up the tray for you and Judy, Mrs. Foot looked close to tears.”

Being a woman capable of compassion, I refrained from saying that must have been a gruesome sight.

“She went on about having snapped at you earlier.”

“That,” I too kept my voice way down, “is an understatement; but she was under stress. Thumper chased Whitey up Boris’s trousers, and from the sound of it he’s going to need thrice weekly sessions with a psychiatrist.”

“Boris?”

“Whitey.” Poor Thumper . . .

“My poor Ellie,” he bent and kissed my cheek, “was it a terrible wrench parting with him?”

“Yes, but I have to accept that he isn’t mine. Speaking of low spirits, is Georges in the dumps now that Lord Belfrey has decided not to continue with
Here Comes the Bride
? Or hadn’t you heard about that?”

Ben whispered that he had, and from what was being floated around, it sounded as though congratulations might be in order anyway. Was that an assessing glance he was giving me?

“That leaves me heartbroken.” For a moment I forgot to whisper. “I’ve always relished having a man enjoy looking at me
because I remind him of the woman he loves. Oh, all right! I admit to being flattered. He’s handsome and if a woman doesn’t have some ego, she’s dead. But would I want to put him in a shopping bag and take him home? The answer is no. He doesn’t make me laugh or want to throw things at him. And I doubt he can boil an egg. Now go before you wake Judy.”

“I’ve had terrible pangs of jealousy.” He stroked my hair.

“Well, think of some way to make it up to me—some wonderful present, although I can’t for the moment think of anything I desperately want.”

“Can’t you?” Ben said on his way out the door.

I picked up my book and had read another page and a half during what length of time I did not know—my mind having wandered so far afield that I hadn’t checked my watch—when my next visitor, the least welcome by far, arrived. Mrs. Foot with a loaded tray.

“Let me help you with that—it looks heavy,” I said, jumping up.

“Mr. Plunket came down with a headache.” She allowed me to take the tray from her and watched me place it on the bed. “It’s taking up the drink after being off it so long, but I’ll get him sorted once Mucklesfeld is back to itself again.”

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