Holmes & Moriarty 02 - All She Wrote (MM) (17 page)

I woke to bright sunlight and a soft, insistent tapping at the bedroom door.

I couldn’t have been deeply asleep because memory came rushing back the minute my eyes jerked open—including the recollection that I’d spent the early hours of dawn poised over J.X.’s sleeping form watching like a hawk for any signs of distress after the paramedics had finished their unlovely business.

I could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart against my back. His hand rested on my flank. His skin felt warm, but not feverishly so, and neither too dry nor clammy. He was making peaceful snuffling noises into my hair. Probably endearing if you were the sort of guy who was moved by that kind of thing.

The knocking at the door was getting louder. After last night, whoever was outside likely feared we were both dead in here.

Gently, I lifted J.X.’s arm and slid out from under, doing my best not to hurt my shoulder or wake him. Throwing aside the blankets, I staggered over to the door.

It was funny what you could do when you had to. Yesterday at this time, I’d felt like a complete invalid, fit only for crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head. If anyone had told me I’d spend last night running up and down stairs and doing my impersonation of an action hero, I’d have requested a reality check.

A rain check at the very least.

I finally inched the door open and the maid eyed me doubtfully. It might have been
The
Spiral Staircase
eyeball I was giving her through the crack between door and frame. Speaking for myself, after the horrors of the night before it was almost shocking to see someone looking so…normal.

“Ms. Hitchcock would like to see you, sir,” the maid whispered.

I threw a quick look back at J.X. His weary, drawn face reminded me of a young, handsome Don Quixote. I wouldn’t have been surprised to spot pieces of broken windmill scattered in the sheets around him.

“I’ll be right there.” I retrieved my red wool bathrobe, tying the tasseled belt around my waist and easing out of the room.

As I made the now-familiar trek to Anna’s room I could see the gruesome signs of last night’s catastrophe—and the markers of a police investigation in progress.

I shivered, pulling the robe more tightly about me.

The drapes were drawn in Anna’s room. One soft light illuminated Anna sitting propped up in a nest of pillows and pastel cashmere throws. She appeared to be trying to force down tea and toast—and not making much progress. When she saw me, she pushed the tray away.

“Christopher.” She held out her hands and I hiked around the bed. “It’s too terrible to believe. First Nella. Now my poor Sara.”

There were tears in her eyes when she released me. I’d never seen her without makeup before. She didn’t appear to have eyebrows or eyelashes and the effect made her look very odd, like a mournful alien. Or possibly Elizabeth the First without her wigs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Grateful to be alive.” Anna made a face, a ghost of her old charming moue. “Guilty.”

“You don’t have anything to feel guilty for.”

“I know. But inside…” She put her hand to her eyes. It took her a moment to regain her composure. “I can’t help believing that if I’d gone to the police when this all started, Sara, at least, might still be alive.”

I wasn’t convinced either way. I said, “Have the police confirmed that the wine was poisoned?”

Anna shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything. I was too ill to talk to anyone last night.

I’m sure they’ll be up here any moment. According to the servants they’re prowling all over the house. Evidently, Sara’s room is sealed off.”

That made sense. It was inconvenient but not unexpected. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only woken up myself.”

“How’s J.X.? I can’t tell you how sorry I am that he was caught up in all this. That you both were.”

“He’s okay. He’s pretty tough.” I believe I sounded convincingly blasé for a guy who had spent the wee hours of the morning panicking every time J.X. hitched a breath or shivered.

“That’s the advantage of youth.”

I smiled wearily. Nodded.

“You were an absolute hero last night, Christopher.”

That got a splutter out of me. “No way. I just happened to be the last man standing. 
Literally.”

She ignored that. “I knew I made the right decision in asking you to come back to the house.”

“For all the good it did.”

“Now, Christopher.” She sounded like the old Anna. “You keep telling me not to feel guilty, but I’m far more culpable than you.”

We could have played ethical ping-pong all morning. I didn’t have the energy. Abruptly my aches and pains were catching up with me. I pulled over the white velvet side chair and sat.

“Anna, what do you think is going on? None of this makes sense to me.”

“Nor to me.”

“The police are certain that Nella’s death was an accident.” She started to speak. I forged ahead. “Obviously that can’t be true of Sara’s. At least, I don’t see how it can be. That would be one helluva coincidence. But what the connection can be, I sure don’t see.”

“The connection is
me
. Someone is trying to kill me.”

“But there’s no way you could have been the intended victim of Poppy’s auto accident.

Even if it wasn’t an accident, you couldn’t have been the target.”

She drooped back against the pillows and stared despairingly at the ceiling. “I don’t pretend to understand the reasoning of a homicidal maniac, but obviously there’s a connection between the car accident and last night’s poisoning. Anything else defies logic.”

“But how can any of this be the work of a homicidal maniac? These attempts aren’t random and…last night proves that they’re coming from within the house.”

She shuddered and drew the comforter up around her shoulders. “I know,” she said almost inaudibly.

“Who has reason to want to hurt you?”

“No one.
No one
.”

“Then we’re back to looking at other possible motives. And financial gain is the most obvious.”

She shook her head.

“What about Ricky?”

She stared at me as though she didn’t understand the question.

I persisted. “I know what you said yesterday, but the whole house has heard you two arguing about money on other occasions. Obviously your relationship has its ups and downs.”

She made a graceful, dismissing gesture.

“Anna, he needs money and you’re currently standing in the way of that. Frankly, I think the way Miles set up Ricky’s trust fund was an invitation to murder.”

“Nonsense.” She was shaking her head again, very definitely. “Ricky wouldn’t hurt me.

We have our differences, but he’d never—”

“Someone would.”

She was silent.

“How
does
Ricky fare in your will?”

“I told you. Obviously…I’ve made provisions for him. He’s my stepson. He’s entitled to that.”

“He’s your stepson and he has financial problems. When, aside from you dying, does he inherit his father’s property?”

“When he turns fifty. Unless, prior to that time, I agree that he’s responsible enough to take control of his finances.”

Fifty?
“Which you’re not about to do.”

“Absolutely not.”

If I was Ricky, I’d probably want to conk her over the head myself.

“So he doesn’t inherit for another ten years?”

“Twelve, to be exact.”

“Was he here when you had your fall down the garden stairs?”

“No.”

“Was he here for any of your other close calls?”

“I don’t remember.” Her chin rose mutinously. “Ricky is not trying to harm me.”

“Have it your way. Maybe Rudolph is trying to knock you off.”

I’d been thinking she couldn’t get any whiter, but she went the color of dirty linen.

“Rudolph would never…” Her voice gave out.

I agreed with her. I’d never met a more kind and gentlemanly man than Rudolph. I was playing devil’s advocate as I said, “Rudolph was here when you fell. Was he here when you had any of your other accidents?”

“Yes.
No
. You’re mixing me up, Christopher. Stop this.”

“How can I? It’s not like I’m enjoying this. You brought me here to help you. What am I supposed to do now? Pretend nothing happened? Nella’s dead. Sara’s dead. I nearly died. J.X.

could have died.” With surprise I heard the wobble in my voice when I said J.X.’s name.

“I know.”

“That’s not easy to ignore. The police sure as hell aren’t going to ignore it.”

“Did you share any of this…ridiculous speculation about Ricky with the police last night?”

“I didn’t have to. The detective in charge of your case brought it up.”

She stared down unseeingly at her breakfast tray.

“I asked you once before and you basically told me to butt out. I’m asking you again.

What’s your relationship with Rudolph?”

She closed her eyes. Her head fell back on the mound of pillows. “You’re not naïve. You know what my relationship with Rudolph is.”

I considered her unhappily. I really
wasn’t
enjoying this. Anna had asked me to help her, and the only way I could see to do that was by ferreting out the truth.

“Okay, but there’s also local speculation that you’re having some kind of affair with your gardener.”

Her head lifted. “
Luke
?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t share
that
with the police, I hope?”

“No.” I hadn’t bothered because one thing I was quite sure the police would turn up all on their own was Luke’s criminal record.

“You mustn’t—
must not
—mention Luke to the police. Not in any context.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s an ex-con. And if you introduce his name into this case, the police will give up looking for anyone else. Promise me you won’t mention Luke’s name.”

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“I
am
asking you. I’m insisting.”

“Anna.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. No. I can’t make you that promise. Besides, if the police aren’t complete incompetents, they’ll already have that information.”

“They
are
incompetents. That’s obvious from the fact that they believe Poppy’s crash was an accident.”

We were back to that. One thing about Anna, she was a tireless advocate. Which is a nice way of saying she didn’t know when to give up.

“Is Luke in your will?”

Her mouth tightened. She didn’t reply.

“Let me try it from this angle. Is there anyone on the planet who
isn’t
in your will? Did you maybe forget to mention some gal in Vanuatu? It would be nice to cross
someone
off our suspect list.”

Anna said tartly, “You’re assuming the primary motive for wanting me out of the way would be gain. Perhaps it’s something else. Revenge. Lust. Fear. Jealousy.”

“I’m open to suggestion here. Feel free to tell me who wants revenge on you.”

She shook her head.

I sighed. “Out of curiosity, why was Luke in prison?”

Anna struggled inwardly. At last she said huskily, “He was convicted of attempted murder.”

J.X. was awake and dressing when I returned to our room.

“Hey, what are you doing up?”

“There you are.” He’d clearly had a shower. Drops of water beaded the bare honey-brown planes of his chest and shoulders. His hair was black and sleek as seal fur. Dark shadowed his chest and groin. “I was coming to look for you. You okay?”

“Me? Fine. I wasn’t the one throwing up my guts last night.”

He looked briefly self-conscious. Having excellent self-esteem, he shrugged it off as efficiently as his digestive tract had thrown off poison. “I’m fine. I’m a quick healer.”

No kidding. He still looked pale, but other than that he seemed to be his normal exhaustingly healthy self. His expression was grim, though, his face set in tough, unfamiliar lines.

His cop face, I thought.

“What’s the situation this morning?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.” I tossed my robe over a chair. Sadly, it appeared we were not going to hide in our bedroom all day. “I haven’t had much chance for reconnaissance. Anna’s freaking me out.” I headed for the bathroom.

J.X. disconcerted me by stepping into my path and pulling me into his arms. “How so?”

It seemed only polite to reciprocate.

In the course of reciprocation, I lost the conversational thread.

“I’m very glad you didn’t die last night,” I told him a short while later.

“Thanks. Me too.” He kissed the bridge of my nose. “What were you saying about Anna?”

I had to think.

“
Oh.
I have this bad feeling that she knows who’s behind these attempts on her life. Or that she at least strongly suspects. Yet she won’t speak up. Won’t even seriously discuss the possibilities. She keeps insisting Poppy’s car crash is somehow related. That it wasn’t an accident. And she made some weird comment about revenge being a possible motive.”

J.X.’s dark brows formed a straight line. “Well, the car wasn’t tampered with. Is she suggesting the Clark woman tried to commit suicide?”

That was an angle I hadn’t considered. “I don’t know. She’s not exactly suggesting anything. She’s insisting that it wasn’t an accident. And that she was the intended victim.”

I expected J.X. to scoff at this, but he seemed to consider it. “I guess it’s not impossible if you buy the attempted-suicide theory. The House kid was a favorite of Anna’s, right? So if Clark did want to hurt Anna for some perceived wrong, taking the girl with her—and let’s not forget
you
, Anna’s old friend—might have been a way of settling scores.”

“If it is, it’s the dumbest plan I ever heard. Poppy would be dead. How would that be a satisfying payback?”

“It wouldn’t be, not to a balanced mind, but whoever is behind these attempts isn’t hindered by a balanced mind, if you know what I mean.”

Here I’d insisted to Anna that we weren’t dealing with a homicidal maniac. J.X.’s mouth twisted at whatever he read in my face. “When I was with SFPD, very early in my career, I was involved in a suicide-by-cop shooting. Do you know what that is?”

“Yeah. How do you mean
involved
?”