Read Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) Online
Authors: Kate Kingsbury
Berried Alive (Manor House Mystery) (22 page)
Sighing, he put down his glass. "Yes, she did. According to the report I received just before I left, Maisie Parsons confessed to the murders. Apparently, her granddaughter was in love with one of our guys here at the base. When she found out he was married, she slit her wrists. Maisie had seen them together, but all she knew about him was that he had red hair. Her granddaughter had refused to tell her anything else."
Now Elizabeth understood. "So she started killing Americans with red hair, hoping eventually to get the right one."
Earl looked impressed. "Right! That's exactly what she did. Apparently she was frantic when her granddaughter died. She believes that suicide is a sin, and that it would prevent her granddaughter from entering heaven."
Elizabeth uttered a cry of dismay. "Oh, no. That poor woman."
"She was afraid she'd be blamed for the girl's death, since she was supposed to be taking care of her. So she hid the body. Our investigators found it early this evening, hidden in the coal shed beneath a pile of coal."
"That's enough to send someone out of her mind."
"I guess that's what happened." Earl reached for his drink again. "Something snapped, and she decided to go after the guy who was responsible. Unfortunately, all she knew was that he had red hair. It came down to eliminating all possible suspects."
Elizabeth shivered. "I wonder what will happen to her."
"I imagine she'll be put in an institution for the criminally insane."
"That's so sad."
"Yeah, it is sad."
She sent him a sharp glance, detecting something in his voice that worried her. "Earl, this must have been so unpleasant for you. Are you all right?"
He didn't answer her right away, worrying her further. Then he said quietly, "I'm afraid we still haven't caught up with the three guys who are causing all that trouble with our troops. Though at least, to our knowledge, they haven't killed anyone. It's more malicious mischief than anything."
"That's as may be. I still want them stopped." She studied his face, searching for some reassurance and finding none. "I suppose that's something we'll have to deal with now. And that goes for that doctor in North Horsham, too. I won't rest until they are all apprehended."
She watched him drain his glass and set it down. His expression suggested he had come to a decision of sorts, and now her faint trickle of dread became a torrent of fear. He had something to tell her. Something she wasn't going to like. She could see it in every line in his face, and in the way he held his body, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant task.
"What is it?" she said sharply. "What is it that you don't want to tell me?"
The infinite sadness in his eyes terrified her. "I never could keep anything from you, Elizabeth."
To her amazement and concern, he got up from the rocker and came over to sit by her side. He had never done that before, and now she was absolutely certain. This was the moment she had dreaded, ever since she realized that he'd stolen her heart.
She felt cold. So terribly, terribly cold. Every muscle in her face was clenched, and the hand he took in both of his trembled, in spite of her efforts to control it.
"Elizabeth," he said gently, "I do have something to tell you. My son has been in a car accident."
She smothered her cry of dismay as he continued speaking.
"He's in the hospital, in a coma. I've requested a transfer, and I'm leaving for the States in the morning."
Her throat closed up so tightly she had to force words through it. "Earl, I'm so dreadfully sorry. You know my heart and my prayers will go with you. Your family needs you now. I'm happy that you are able to join them. You know I wish with all my heart that your son makes a complete and speedy recovery."
He dropped his gaze, as if unable to meet hers. "I . . . don't know how long . . ."
"Or if ever," she finished for him. "I understand."
"No, I don't think you do." He got up abruptly and stood at the window, staring out at the dusk settling over the lawns and the distant trees.
She suddenly realized it was getting dark. She couldn't turn on the lamps until the blackout curtains had been drawn. She didn't want to turn on the lights. It was easier to deal with this terrible ache in her heart in the dark shadows of the quiet room.
One part of her prayed he would leave soon, before she broke down completely and made an utter, complete fool of herself. Another part of her prayed he would stay, because once he left, the agonizing chasm he left behind would be far too terrible to bear.
He wouldn't be able to help her judge the bake sale after all, she thought. It seemed an odd thing to fasten on, but somehow it seemed important. She'd been relying on him. How could she do it without him? How could she ever again enjoy anything without him?
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, he was standing before her. In spite of her misery, her heart leapt when he reached for her hand and gently pulled her to her feet.
"Elizabeth," he said, his deep voice resonating to the depths of her soul. "I want you to know that these last months have been among the happiest of my life."
She opened her mouth to answer him, but he laid a finger momentarily against her lips. "No, let me finish. You have made the worst times bearable, and the best times unforgettable. No one wants to be in a strange country fighting a war, but if there was ever a compensation, I got the very best when I met you. I want to thank you for making a soldier far from home feel welcomed, accepted, and privileged to be in your company."
Hardly able to speak, she prayed she could find the right words. These, she knew, might be the last words she ever spoke to him. She wanted, with all her heart, for them to mean enough to him that they would forever stay in his memory.
"I am the one who has been privileged," she told him. "You have brought so much joy into my life. I have learned so much from you, about your people, your lifestyle, your
wonderful country. I've watched you fight many battles in your mind and your heart, and your compassion for your fellow man, your dedication to your duty, and your loyalty to your family has been a lesson and an inspiration. Thank you for making my world so bright in the midst of these terrible times."
She pulled in a deep breath, and was proud of the composure in her voice when she added, "I shall never forget you, Earl."
"Nor I you." He lifted her hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to each one. "Elizabeth, when this is over, I don't know if I'll be sent back here, or somewhere else. I just want you to know that wherever I go, I'll carry a part of you with me."
Her heart breaking, she pulled her hands from his grasp. "Just to make sure of that," she said unsteadily, "take this with you." She reached for the silk scarf she'd laid on the couch earlier. "An old-fashioned tradition, I know, but a good one."
He took the scarf from her and tucked it in his pocket. "I'll keep it with me always."
It was so dark now, she could barely see his face. Maybe it was just as well, she told herself. For to look in his eyes and see her pain reflected there would be too much.
He moved to the door, and she fought hard to keep the tears at bay. Unable to follow him, she just stood there, marking in her memory her very last sight of him.
He paused at the door, then turned to face her. "So long, Elizabeth. Stay out of trouble, all right?"
She clenched her jaw. "You, too." She could not say good-bye to him. That was too final. She could never say good-bye to him.
He turned to go, reaching for the door. Then, so suddenly it took her breath away, he spun around and took the three paces back to reach her.
His hands were rough on her arms as he pulled her toward him, but eagerly she welcomed them. His mouth found hers, and in a blaze of joy she clung to him, feverishly returning the long-awaited kiss.
It was over almost before she realized it was happening. With a muttered curse he let her go, strode to the door and was gone, leaving her dazed, aching and utterly, devastatingly alone.
Author Bio
Kate Kingsbury is the national best-selling author of over sixty books. Her work has appeared on many bestseller lists and her books have sold all over the world. She lives on a golf course in Oregon with her husband, and a rat terrier who thinks she’s a Great Dane. You can find her website at
www.doreenrobertshight.com
and if you “like” her Facebook page,
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kate-Kingsbury/51478828226
where she keeps her fans updated with all the latest news, she will be delighted to answer your comments.
Other Manor House Books Available on Kindle:
A Bicycle Built for Murder
Dig Deep for Murder
For Whom Death Tolls
Paint by Murder
Berried Alive
Fire When Ready
THE FIRST TWELVE PENNYFOOT HOTEL BOOKS ARE NOW AVAILABLE FOR THE KINDLE!
The Pennyfoot hides many secrets and its downstairs staff keeps a tight lip, even when the Edwardian aristocrats are dallying with damsels in the boudoirs, or gambling in the card rooms hidden below the floorboards. Should now and then someone fall prey to a dastardly murderer, however, it is up to Cecily Sinclair to restore order before Scotland Yard steps in and shuts down her infamous seaside hotel. Eccentric characters, mysterious guests and downstairs staff shenanigans add to the merriment of your visit to the Pennyfoot Hotel.
Watch for this new series by Kate Kingsbury, written as Rebecca Kent:
THE BELLEHAVEN HOUSE MYSTERIES
It is the height of women's suffrage in Edwardian England, and Meredith Llewellyn, headmistress of Bellehaven House Finishing School, has her hands full trying to turn rebellious, over-priviliged tomboys into graceful and accomplished young ladies. Her task is decidedly complicated by the ghosts of murder victims who insist on her helping them bring their killers to justice. Watch the fun as Meredith does her best to keep her ghost-sleuthing a secret from her wayward charges, while trying to convince her fellow teachers that she's not insane.
Available on Kindle in Spring 2014! For More Information, Check Out
http://www.doreenrobertshight.com/id4.html
High Marks for Murder
Finished Off
Murder Has No Class
