High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (21 page)

Meredith closed her eyes. She saw again Amelia's hat sitting on the dresser. White lace daisies.
Tiny, colorful butterflies.

With a heavy sigh Meredith sat back down on her bed. Maybe that's what Kathleen was trying to tell her after all.

Seething with anger over the humiliation she'd suffered in front of the class, Amelia might well have followed Kathleen outside, bent on revenge.

It was difficult to imagine the young woman striking the teacher with that heavy branch. Then again, when driven by such powerful emotions, anything was possible.

Again Meredith closed her eyes. If she had done so, no wonder Kathleen had been so agitated. It would have devastated her to know she had died at the hands of a beloved student.

Somehow, Meredith promised herself, she'd have to find out for sure if Amelia was responsible, and if so, to make that young woman pay for the crime. Though how she was going to do that was a mystery. Amelia Webster was an accomplished liar, and all Meredith had for evidence was the word of a ghost. Not exactly something she could take to the police.

Especially since P.C. Shipham was so reluctant to take anything she said seriously. He'd really have a belly laugh or two when she tried to explain how she came to suspect Amelia of the crime.

There was only one way she could know for sure if Amelia was guilty and bring her to justice. She would have to make the girl confess.

It seemed an impossible task, but Meredith had faced impossible odds before and managed to overcome them. Somehow she would find a way.

"I promise you, Kathleen," she whispered. "If Amelia did this to you, I'll see she pays."

She slept fitfully that night and awoke to discover she had overslept. When she arrived at the assembly hall, breathless and feeling out of sorts, Felicity was delivering the morning address.

Sylvia looked down her nose at her as she slipped onto her chair on the stage, and Meredith responded with a bright smile. The new teacher looked away, her lips pursed in disapproval.

That would be another black mark in her book, Meredith thought, with a flare of resentment. No doubt to be duly reported to Stuart Hamilton. It was really tiresome to have an informant in their midst.

She wouldn't put it past the man to have deliberately placed Sylvia at Bellehaven for the express purpose of spying on her performance as headmistress.

In the next moment she was ashamed of her unwarranted suspicions. Sylvia was simply one of those women who took it upon herself to observe and expose any sign of incompetence or failure. While, no doubt, considering herself above reproach.

It was hard to befriend a woman like that, but if there was to be any harmony between the instructresses, as there must be for a school to be managed effectively, then she would have to find some way to bring Sylvia into the fold,
so to speak, and make her feel a member of the team instead of an outsider. No mean task.

So absorbed was she in the dilemma, she failed to realize Felicity had finished the morning address. Taken by surprise, she was left seated on her chair while everyone else rose to their feet for the prayer.

She jumped up so suddenly she caught the edge of the seat with the back of her knees. It toppled backward with an almighty crash.

Giggles rippled across the hall as she bent over to retrieve the pesky thing and set it upright. She straightened, and met Sylvia's condemning gaze full on.

Drat the woman. Hamilton was going to have an entire list of her faults to gloat over by the end of the day.

Annoyed to find the vexing man in her thoughts once more, she looked at Felicity, who also stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Please proceed," Meredith said, with as much dignity as she could muster.

Felicity gave a slight shake of her head, then began reading the prayer.

Meredith drew a long sigh of relief when she was free at last to leave the stage and retire to her classroom.

Chapter 17

The morning dragged for Meredith. The students
were restless and less attentive than normal, and she had trouble concentrating on the life and times of John Constable . . . one of her favorite landscape painters.

By the time the bell sounded she was only too happy to leave the class and go back to her office, where the accounts waited. Even then she found it hard to focus on the neatly written figures. The memory of Kathleen's despairing face kept floating into her mind, blotting out everything else.

When the bell rang for the midday meal, she was startled out of yet another reverie, with less than half of her work completed. Worse, she was no closer to solving the problem of how to force a possible confession out of Amelia Webster.

It seemed as if Kathleen might be doomed to wander around the grounds of Bellehaven, seeking a justice that would forever be denied her.

Heavy of heart, Meredith made her way to the dining
hall. The plate of lamb stew Olivia put in front of her failed to excite her appetite, and she had barely touched it when she dismissed the students at her table.

Leaving the dining hall, she made her way to the teacher's lounge, uncharitably hoping that Sylvia would not be there. At least that wish was granted, since Felicity and Essie sat alone by the window, discussing the afternoon's curriculum.

They both looked up as Meredith entered, concern visible on both their faces.

"You look dreadful," Felicity observed with her usual candor. "Are you ill?"

"Just a little tired." Meredith sank onto a chair next to them. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Felicity's gaze sharpened. "Kathleen been visiting you again?"

"No." Meredith looked down at her hands lying restlessly in her lap. "I rather wish she had."

"Is something worrying you, Meredith?" Essie leaned forward, her soft blue eyes anxiously scouring Meredith's face. "You don't seem yourself at all."

"That's an understatement." Felicity frowned at her. "You're letting this business with Kathleen destroy your own health. Let it go, Meredith. Kathleen is dead. You have a life to live, and people who rely on you. You can't allow a dead woman to interfere with that, no matter how close you were to her. Keep this up and you're liable to lose your position, your home here, everything."

"I can't let it rest." Meredith lifted her hands and let them drop again. "Kathleen won't let me. She'll follow me around and haunt me until I bring her killer to justice. I'm quite sure of it."

Felicity growled in disgust. "Really Meredith, you must
be strong. You've done your best to find out who killed her. The task is just too difficult. Kathleen must understand that." She shook her head, mumbling, "I still can't believe we are sitting here talking about Kathleen as if she were still alive."

Essie reached out and laid her cool hand over Meredith's fingers. "Felicity's right," she murmured. "This whole business is making you ill. We don't like to see you like this. You are usually so strong and unperturbed."

"I don't feel in the least bit strong and unperturbed." Wearily, Meredith stroked her forehead with her fingers. "I should tell you, however, that I believe I might have found out who killed Kathleen. I just don't know how to prove it."

Both women stared at her openmouthed. Felicity was the first to speak. "Who is it? How did you . . ."

"Oh, my goodness." Essie's eyes were wide above her trembling hand. "Is it someone we know?"

With a calmness she didn't feel inside, Meredith related her thought process of the night before. "I felt from the first that Amelia was unusually upset over Kathleen's death," she finished. "Especially in light of the fact she'd been so humiliated in front of the class. I just didn't put everything together until last night."

"But you still don't know for a fact it was Amelia," Felicity said, sounding doubtful.

"No, I don't." Meredith sighed. "And I have no way of proving it one way or another, save getting her to confess, and I really don't see how I can do that."

"It's a pity that you seem to be the only one who can see Kathleen's ghost," Essie said. "Perhaps if Kathleen could appear in front of Amelia, it would frighten her enough to admit what she's done."

"If she did it," Felicity reminded her.

"I'm as sure as I can be that she did." Meredith got up from the chair. "All of Kathleen's clues point to it. The flowers, the weeds, the butterflies . . . all of it."

"Well, I can just imagine Constable Shipham's response to that."

Meredith shook her head. "I just don't know what to do next. I'm going to take a walk around the grounds. Maybe it will clear my head."

Essie jumped to her feet. "I'll go with you."

"No, thank you." Meredith smiled to soften her words. "I really want to be alone for a while."

Though she seemed disappointed, Essie merely nodded and sat back down.

As Meredith reached the door she heard Felicity murmur, "Give our regards to Kathleen."

Essie uttered a sound of protest, but ignoring them both, Meredith opened the door and walked out of the room.

Once outside, Meredith walked briskly across the courtyard and followed the long curving path down to the gates. The breeze cooled her face, though the sunlight filtering through the trees failed to lift her spirits.

In another month the leaves would be turning, and the woods would be bathed in gold, yellow, and crimson hues. There was something more than a little sad about autumn. She hated saying farewell to the long, warm summer days, and dreaded the cruel winds of winter ahead.

Bellehaven was so cold and drafty in the winter, the only way to keep warm was to huddle over the fires that burned in every fireplace. She dreaded the extra layer of clothes needed to be comfortable.

She loathed the icy sheets on the bed at night, the frost inside the windows, the snow piling up in drifts so high it was impossible to walk to the village.

How wonderful it must be to live in a warm climate, to anticipate the sun every day, enjoy tropical nights and warm sea breezes. In the heart of the dark, dreary English winters she'd read about such places and felt a longing deep in her soul.

A longing unlikely to be satisfied, she thought wistfully, as she retraced her steps back to the school. Then again, how ungrateful was she to resent her situation. At least she was alive—unlike Kathleen, who'd had her life snatched from her in such a brutal manner.

No matter how harsh the winters were, she could still enjoy roasted chestnuts, ice skating on the pond, and the Christmas season, with its special kind of magic all around.

While poor Kathleen floated around on the outside, belonging to neither this world nor the next. Waiting for her best friend to set her free.

"I tried, Kathleen." Meredith lifted her chin to the sky. "I really tried. I'm so sorry I let you down." When she lowered her face again it was wet with tears.

It was much later in the day when the idea came to
her. After supper she had gone back to her office to finish the bookkeeping she had neglected earlier.

Her eyelids were heavy and drooping by the time she finally closed the last ledger. She sat at her desk for several minutes, letting the weariness take over her. All being well, she told herself, she would sleep better tonight.

The seconds ticked by on the clock, until at last she stirred, stretched, and rose to her feet. If Kathleen should pay her a visit this night, she would be too deep in sleep to see her.

She smiled, remembering Essie's words from that afternoon.
Perhaps if Kathleen could appear in front of Amelia, it would frighten her enough to admit what she's done.

After gently closing the door of her office, she headed for the stairs. Halfway up them she paused. Of course. She should have thought of it before. With renewed hope, she continued on her way.

Amelia Webster had not slept well for the past week
or so. Although she fell sleep within minutes, it was to endure disturbing nightmares such as monsters chasing her, flames leaping from their deadly claws. After which she would awaken, drenched in sweat yet chilled to the bone.

This night was no exception. The monsters in her dream had come so close she could feel the heat from their breath, yet when she awoke, her entire body shook with cold.

Reaching out, she took hold of the eiderdown and dragged it up under her chin. The chill seemed to penetrate the mound of soft feathers.

Turning on her side, she peered at the bed next to hers. In the shadows cast by the moonlight she could see the flattened covers quite clearly. Frowning, she stared harder. Loretta was not in her bed.

Amelia sat up, hauling the eiderdown up over her shoulders. Loretta had been in her bed earlier. They had talked for a while before falling asleep. Where could she be?

Sighing, Amelia slid down onto her pillow again. She must have slipped out again to meet her boyfriend. After Mrs. Llewellyn had expressly forbidden her. She'd be sent home in disgrace, if she didn't take care. Loretta had whined about Mrs. Llewellyn's warning all through supper.

Well, if she wanted to risk being expelled, that was her
business. Amelia turned on her side and closed her eyes. She had enough to worry about without concerning herself about Loretta's problems.

Doing her best to shut out the thoughts crowding her mind, she concentrated on getting back to sleep.

A slight sound barely penetrated her conscience. It was only the wind blowing branches against the window, she told herself. But, a moment or two later she heard it again—a scraping noise. No, a rustling. Like skirts brushing against the dresser.

It had to be Loretta, come back and creeping into bed. She no doubt hoped her friend was asleep and hadn't noticed her absence.

Quietly Amelia turned over, intent on scaring the daylights out of her. "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded, in her best imitation of Mrs. Llewellyn's sharp tones.

But Loretta was not standing by the bed. She was over by the dresser, and she looked quite different. Much taller, and . . . Amelia swallowed. She looked as if she had no head. Only a white, swaying body with waving arms.