Better to Eat You (24 page)

Sarah thought, I might as well be old. I might as well be locked up somewhere. My life might as well be over. She did not know that her death … in a glass of brandy … was not four inches from her hand.

But Sarah fought. Made her mind move the only way it could go. Think of Grandfather's comfort. He could not be taken to his bed. The bedroom windows looked directly on the cliff side where some dreadful thing had happened.

“Grandfather, lean back,” said Sarah, “and sip the brandy. Please do. Perhaps this is nothing so bad.”

He said, “I suppose Malvina has done some stupid thing. Am I alone now?” His chin sank on his breast.

“No, no. I am here. I won't leave you.”

His brows moved, corrugating his forehead. “Dear Sarah,” he said, “you don't look well. You are white. Your color is bad.”

“I'm all right. What can I do, Grandfather, to make this easier for you?”

“Drink the brandy,” he murmured.

“I will,” she said, smiling and picking up the glass. “I will if we make it a loving cup. If
you
will take some. Please, Grandfather?”

He closed his eyes. His lids shut down swiftly. “Sarah,” he burst, “how is it that you cannot tell me? Go and inquire. Go, look over the edge and tell me. I am calm. I wish to know. Here is my whole house rocking about me and I do not know anything. Malvina fell? Well then, is she hurt? Is she dead? Perhaps …” He began to struggle. “I shall go myself.”

“No, no … I'll go. I'll find out,” Sarah said. “Grandfather, don't move. Don't upset yourself.”

She didn't look back. She didn't see the old man's face as he slipped off the cushions and rose and followed.

Out on the sea walk again, Sarah crept to the edge and crouched down with her hands on the ground. Her forearms pained her as she leaned upon them. Whatever dim shapes were on the rocks or the path or the house level, it was a group in the bright circle of flashlight beams that Sarah could see. They were clustered on the path only a short way down from the brink upon which she hung.

There was a woman lying there and a man held her in his arms. His head … it was David Wakeley's head. The voice murmuring endearments and tenderness was David's voice. By the pose of the head, the caress of the hands, no one watching could doubt that the woman in his arms was one he deeply adored.

Sarah's heart winced. She, Sarah, was alone. She did not even know who it was that he loved so much and held so tenderly. Sarah, kneeling on the brink, was aware of the dark water.

She saw the doctor gesticulating. Then she saw David's head lift suddenly. He looked up. She heard his shout. “Sarah?”

“David.” Her voice was lost in the vast emptiness of air.

“Go in. Into the house. Wait for me.”

It was a shout. A loud shout it had to be to carry over the sea's noisy tumbling. A shout holds no nuance, cannot be tender or kind or even sorry. All shouts in a noisy night sound brusque or angry.

David saw the outline of her head against heaven begin to draw back and be hidden by the sharp line of the upper edge and he looked down into the light. “Consuelo darlin', are you feeling better?”

For three awful minutes David had been running toward a hole in the world where some screaming had been, thinking that the thing fallen from so high and now broken and silent across a rock was Sarah Shepherd.

But it was Malvina Lupino.

Then his shadow, Maxwell's man, had come behind him and Gust had come skittering down, crying that another woman lay fainting on the path. And he had climbed, thinking it would be Sarah Shepherd's unconscious body.

But it was Consuelo's.

So he held Consuelo and watched and hoped for her recovery, and people had come. None Sarah.

What made him look up and see her small neat head, a silhouette balanced dangerously in the sky, he would never know. But he shouted. She heard. David was not afraid for Sarah any more. She had gone where it was safe. The police were here. Malvina dead. The old Fox surrounded by people. It was all over.

So he kept murmuring and kept watching the exhaustion that frightened him on the beloved face and for which he was blaming himself.…

Sarah, withdrawn from the edge but still kneeling, looked over her shoulder. A small figure flitted, past on the walk in the poor light. It was Moon. He was exhorting someone to go into the house. Scolding and berating. Why, it was Grandfather! So desperate for news as to have come himself! But how impudent of Moon to speak to him so. Oh, the old man who had come all the way to the outer door of the study must not step nearer, where Sarah was, on the cliff edge! No, thought Sarah, it's too dangerous! Suppose in weakness he staggered? He might fall!

Sarah sprang up. She did not yet understand what had happened to Malvina. Or to this woman beloved of David. But she knew her own duty. Someone must look after Grandfather. Moon had already persuaded him back into the house and as Sarah braced herself to step over the threshold she saw Mrs. Monteeth now teetering toward her on the walk.

“What happened, Mrs. Monteeth?” cried Sarah. “Please, do you know?”

“Miss Malvina. Miss Malvina is killed. She went over. Down on the rocks. Miss Malvina, too.” In the light from the house the housekeeper's flabby face was full of suspicious horror. “Like she
said.
Something terrible. Something terrible is going to happen to all of us around you.”

Mrs. Monteeth shrank from Sarah's hand and brushed by, making whimpering noises. Then Gust followed, elbowing Sarah rudely. “Now, listen,” he grabbed his wife, “no hy-sterics.” His eyes turned. “Somebody's got to get her off to our room. She can't take no more.” Sarah saw in his eyes the same horror.

Sarah felt leprous. She put her arm over her face. She heard the sounds they made, whispering and weeping, and then there was silence and she knew she was alone.

Only one place where Sarah could go, be wanted, be useful. She must go to Grandfather. So Sarah steadied herself, thinking, I can do this one time more. Next time, it won't work. I won't be able to do it. She went into the big room, marching, one more time.

Moon was pushing Grandfather back upon his cushions. The Chinaman turned and chattered a long stream of words and Sarah understood none of them. “Leave him to me,” she said firmly, pretending a great competence. “I'll take care of him. I'll give him the brandy.”

Moon stood quite still. Then he grinned and nodded.

“The doctor.…” said Sarah faintly.

Moon's head bobbed. He said one quick harsh sentence and Sarah nodded, automatically. Moon went away, back into the study. He thought he had warned her. She thought he had gone to fetch the doctor. She hadn't understood a word he had said.

“The news is so dreadful,” said Grandfather plaintively, “that I am not to be told?” His eyes peered through his fingers.

“It's dreadful.” Sarah knelt down. “Malvina fell over. Malvina is dead. But I will never leave you,” she cried, not knowing what else to say.

“Ah, Sarah,” said the old man. “We two, eh? Are you all right, my dearie? You won't faint?”

“No. I am strong,” she said and she smiled fondly.

Grandfather sighed.

They were bringing Consuelo up into the study, David and Maxwell and Dr. Price. The Chinaman slipped through the inner door and Maxwell said sharply, “Keep that door shut. And be quiet.” They put her into Grandfather's chair and David knelt with his face near hers. “Are you better, darlin'?” he pleaded.

Dr. Price said, “She'll be all right now.”

“Davey …” The old lady's lids moved.

“I want to hear this.” Maxwell shoved the bright-eyed Chinaman aside.

“There was something stuck into the path,” Consuelo told them. Maxwell swore under his breath. “You may well say so,” nodded Consuelo, her voice getting louder. “And I said much the same or stronger. Of all the nasty …”

“Consuelo, did it scare you? Did you almost fall?”

“Well, no. Since I happened to be coming along up on all fours. You see, my head's not good for edges. Never was.” David squeezed her hand. “No,” she said, “the wire, whatever it was, didn't bother me. But I had to pull it out, Davey. Because I thought it was dangerous.”

“Dangerous!” He kissed her hand. “How you ever got up there … I”

“I didn't make it.”

“You darned near made it.”

“Well, good for me.” Consuelo's grin was nearly normal. “Anyhow, I got pretty dizzy after getting that wire out of the way. It fell with an awful nasty hurry, d'you see? I think I lay down against the ground. Maybe I fainted. I dunno. Well, pretty soon, here comes Malvina.”

Maxwell swore again.

“She fell over me,” said Consuelo. “There I was, lying in her way.”

“How in hell …?”

“Don't blame yourself,” said David sharply.

“Oh, I don't,” said Consuelo. “I do not. But it was darned strange.” Consuelo struggled higher and David supported her. “Here she comes, dragging her feet. I tried to move. I croaked. My lord, Davey, I'm quite a hulk. Nobody can deny that. How could she miss noticing me? But she didn't seem to hear me or see me. She was deliberately dragging her feet, like a sleepwalker. So she went over, screaming.” Consuelo shuddered.

“There was wire?” said Maxwell. “You mean that? You tell me this path had a trap on it?”

“It sure did have a trap on it,” Consuelo said, “and where is Sarah Shepherd?”

“That's the little blonde girl?” said the doctor. “She's in there. She's all right. Now, Mrs. McGhee …”

“Wait …”

“You are better,” David accused her. “Consuelo, you foolish old darlin'.”

“Yes, I'm better, Davey. And by gum,” said Consuelo looking around her, “maybe I did it the hard way, but I got in.”

Moon began to jabber and gesture toward the inner door where the doctor stood with his hand on the knob, hesitant, still listening. Moon gave up the effort as suddenly as he had begun it and ducked out the opposite door upon the sea walk. He pattered swiftly to his right, to get around through the garden. One of Maxwell's men stood in his way. “Now where do you think
you're
going?”

After a while Moon made a gesture toward the night sky, as one who submitted. He sat down on the flagstones and looked quietly off to sea.

In the study, David stood up. “I've got to go to Sarah. Maxwell, I hope you realize that they tried to murder her again.”

Maxwell said, “They won't murder anybody. I'm going in there. I've got questions to ask.”

So Maxwell opened the door. David could see through. He saw Sarah. She was sitting quietly on the stool where Malvina had sat so often. Her back was straight. Her head was high and steady. The big glasses gleamed owlishly. She was just there, solemn and sweet and composed. The door closed.

David bent. “Consuelo, that arrow? Who was the child? Was it
Sarah?
”

She stared at him.

“I thought you'd know. You told me about a child shooting an arrow.
This
man has a scar. I think this man is
Lupino.
”

Consuelo said, “Oh gosh, Davey … wait. Let me remember.”

“It was a girl?” he prodded.

“Yes, of course. It was one of the granddaughters.”

“Which one? Not Malvina?”

“Davey, I can find out. I can call somebody in London.”

“Consuelo, did they look alike off stage? Fox and Lupino?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Would
you know
Lupino from Fox?”

“I don't know.” Her eyes were honest. “I might. But it's been years. I'm not sure.”

Dr. Price said, “I'd advise her to rest.”

Consuelo said, “Now, you keep quiet. Davey, tell me … can I do anything? Can I bluff it? Will that help you?”

Chapter 22

Maxwell stalked across the living room. “Who fixed a trap on that path going down?” he demanded. “Who was trying to do murder out there?”

The little blonde girl said in a voice quite calm, “You mustn't speak so harshly, please. My grandfather isn't strong.”

“Who was going to go down that path this evening?”

“I was,” said Sarah.

“Somebody is trying to murder you?”

“Why, yes,” she said. “Malvina is. Malvina Lupino.”

“Now, is that likely,” the Deputy scoffed, “when she is the one who fell and died?”

Sarah stood up without trembling, conquering her trembling once more. (Once more.) “This is not good for my grandfather. If you please …”

“Wait, Sarah,” Grandfather said crisply. “Sit down, dearie, and let us examine these things. All of this must be settled. I am tired of crises. Now, how did you get here?” he asked the Deputy. “David Wakeley sent you, I suppose.”

“That's right,” said Maxwell.

Sarah began to tremble. She sat down.

“We have had enough trouble,” said Grandfather. “And Malvina is dead? Speak bluntly.”

“Yes. Dead. Fell all the way.”

The old man put his hand over his eyes for a second's time. Sarah moistened her lips. Everything swirled in her mind. David had been the liar! David had called the police. David had not intended to run away with her. It was Malvina who had told the truth. He chose no bride in so silly a fashion. That too was true. This woman who lived down the shore, whose car he drove, the one he held in his arms right now out on the cliffside,
she
was his beloved. Well, if it was so … Sarah clenched her jaw to hold herself quiet … then it was so, and no shuddering could change it. But was there no one anywhere who always told her the truth but this old man on the cushions?

“What's going on up here, Mr. Fox?” said Maxwell. “Can
you
tell me?”

Grandfather said, “I'll try.” He sighed. He looked slyly at Sarah's face. “Sarah, you must sit quietly. You must do nothing. Do not faint. Take the brandy. Now, sir.”