In Like Flynn (21 page)

“Are they?” she asked sweetly.

Twenty-five

C
ook had outdone herself with dinner that night. Lobster followed by a soufflé followed by enormous steaks topped with mushrooms and pâté, and the meal culminating in a light mixture of brandied fruit and cream. I ate cautiously, as my stomach was still delicate, but the odors were so enticing that I tried a little of each course. I did ask Alice to bring me up a cup of peppermint tea in case I had overdone it. And obviously I had as the sickness returned that very night.

I lay there, heaving and groaning, remembering Clara’s comments about the relative who had wasted away before their eyes. Was I never going to be able to eat proper food again without this sickness recurring? Was I never going to feel well and strongenough to escape from this place?

Dr. Bimbaum was sent to examine me in the morning. He tapped and prodded me all over, then smiled. “I think this is just an un-happy coincidence, my dear Fraulein. You ate shellfish last night, did you not? Most unwise. Shellfish spoils so quickly in this heat and one bite is all it takes. And you were already in a weakened state from your last bout of food poisoning. This time I warn you to be extra careful. Drink plenty of liquids, but take nothing else by mouth until your digestive system has had a chance to recover. I will have the cook make you a good veal bone tea for nourishment later. Apart from that, barley water, remember. Nothing but barley water.” He wagged hisfingerat me seriously.

“Thank you,” I said. “So you don't think it’s anything really serious? I'm not going to waste away and die, am I?”

“What rubbish. A young girl with your healthy constitution. Youll be back on your feet in a few days if you obey my instructions.”

I lay back, too weak even to sip the barley water that sat on my bedside table. I didn't ever recall feeling so bad in my life. My head ached, my stomach felt as if it had been trampled by a herd of bulls. I was hot and clammy all over one minute, then cold and clammy the next. Lights danced in front of my eyes. Everything seemed to have a strange color to it. I couldn't help wondering if they wererightand I really was dying. If that were true, shouldn't somebody be told? I managed to drag myself to the writing desk and scrawl a note to Daniel.

“I am very unwell,” I wrote. “If you couldfindany way to get me out of this place and safely home, I would appreciate it. I don't want to die here.”

Then I addressed it to Mrs. Priscilla OSullivan at Daniel’s address asked the maid to have it taken to the mailrightaway. It would take at least twenty-four hours to reach New York and then another twenty-fourfora response. I just hoped I'd be alive that long.

I had forgotten that the next day was Sunday. The week had passed in a blur of feeling terrible. So it would be more than twenty-four hours before Daniel even received the letter. I stayed away from any kind of nourishment all day on Saturday, as instructed by Dr. Bimbaum. In fact, I felt somewhat comforted by knowing there was a physician in the house, even if he was a specialist in diseases of the mind. By evening I was hungry but re-fused the calves foot jelly that was sent up to me and only took some sips of broth and barley water. Even that didn't seem to agree with me and I had another unpleasant night.

I woke to a clear, cool Sunday morning and I lay listening to the twittering of birds and the distant church bells on the breeze. Theresa and Barney came to see me before they went to church.

“I just wish we knew what to do for you, my dear lamb,” Theresa said. 'Dr. Bimbaum suggested that you see a specialist, and wants us to send you to a hospital, but I don't want you in one of those terrible places.”

“The man is a quack,” Bamey said. “I have little faith in anything he says.”

“Oh no, you're wrong, my dear.” Theresa touched his arm gently. “I really believe he is helping me. He wanted to have another consultation with me today, but of course it wouldn't be right on a Sunday. But tomorrow, maybe, and I think I may allow him to hypnotize me this time.”

“I absolutely forbid it, Theresa,” Bamey said.

“It could help, Bamey. You can come and observe if you want to.”

“You looked ten times worse after that first session,” Bamey snapped. “I'm all for sending the fellow packing right now.”

“It’s Sunday, Bamey. Let’s not argue, especially not in front of poor, dear Molly. Well say a prayer and light a candle for you, my pet.” She bent to kiss my forehead. “Just ring for Alice if you want anything while we're at church.”

They left me then and I heard their voices as they came out of the front door.

“Do you think we should bring the priest back with us?” I heard Clara asking.

“Really, Clara, you are being too morbid,” Theresa snapped.

“Not the last rites, just to pray over her,” Clara said.

They passed out of my hearing.

That afternoon they took tea on the lawn and played croquet. I lay staring at the plaster moldings on the ceiling, willing myself to get better. I longed for a cup of tea, but wasn't about to risk drinking one. To tell the truth, I was now seriously frightened. Should I try telephoning Daniel to have him come for me? Would I recover if I were in Sid and Gus’s care? And of course the nagging worry behind everything else—did I really have typhoid?

In the evening a cup of clear broth was sent up to me, but I was too weak to drink more than one sip of it. I lay watching the sun set, feeling the cool evening breeze stirring the lace curtains and listening tQ the night noises. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard a stirring in the vine below my window. I realized my windows were wide open to let in the breeze and wondered what wild animal, or even a rat, might be climbing up the trellis tofinda way into the house. If so, I was too weak to stop it from coming into my room. I had just decided that I was imagining things when a foot came over my windowsill.

I watched in silent horror as the foot was followed by a leg and a dark shape hauled itself into my room. I wanted to scream but I couldn't make my mouth work. If it were only a burglar, I would feign sleep and maybe he would pass me by. The shape stood up, revealing itself to be a tall man. He crept forward, reaching out in the darkness, obviously not seeing as well as I could. There was a lead crystal vase on the dresser beside my bed. Currently it held no flowers and would be heavy enough if I had the strength to lift it.

I tried to ease myself into a sitting position so that I could grab the vase, but the room spun around as soon as I sat up and I must have moaned because thefigureturned to face me.

Take another step and I'll scream to wake the house up,” I said.

“Molly? Thank God it’s you,” a voice said. “I was hoping I'd got theright window.”

“Daniel?” For a moment I wondered if his presence was part of a fevered dream. “Is it really you? I'm not hallucinating, am I?”

He put a warningfingerto his lips. “No, it’s really me,” he whispered. He came closer. “Are you all right?”

“Apart from the fact that I'm dying,” I whispered back and tried to smile.

“I tried to see you this afternoon but they wouldn't let me,” he said in a low voice. “They told me that you were indisposed.”

“I am,” I said. “Well and truly indisposed. But what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to stay well clear of the Flynns because they know you?”

“Oh, I told them I was staying in the neighborhood and I'd bumped into someone who knew you from Limerick and I promised her I'd give you the latest news from home.”

“I see. That’s good.” I closed my eyes as the room swung around again.

“Can we be easily overheard?” he asked, prowling around the room.

I shook my head. “I don't think so. But other people will have windows open, and sound carries on still nights like this.”

Daniel went across to the window and closed it. That should do it, if we only talk in whispers.”

“I can't talk louder than a whisper anyway,” I said.

Daniel brushed my hair back from my face. You're covered in sweat,” he said. “Lie back. Have you seen a doctor?”

Two of them. They both told me I had food poisoning and I'd befineif I ate nothing, which I'm doing. But the moment I eat or drink anything it all begins again. I've been vomiting my heart out for several days now.”

“That conjures up a pretty picture,” he said, but he was still stroking my hair tenderly. “Is there any particular time of day it comes on?”

“At night,” I said. “Always at night. I lie down and fall asleep feeling perfectly normal, then I wake up to the sweats and the cramps and the vomiting.”

“Do you drink anything before you go to sleep?”

Yes, they always bring up a milky drink or a cup of beef tea.”

He gripped my shoulders. “Did you drink it tonight?–

“No, just a few sips. I felt too weak. It’s still there on the bedside table.”

He picked it up, dipped his finger into it and licked the finger. “Did you notice a bitter flavor?”he asked.

“Perhaps. I thought my sickness had upset my taste buds.”

“I think it could be arsenic,” he said. “We've got to get you out of here. I think you're being poisoned.”

“Poisoned? But who would want to poison me?”

“Good question,” he said. “Who brings the drink to you?”

The maid. I have no idea who prepares it.”

“Somebody who doesn't want you snooping around any longer, by the sound of it,” he said. “Ill take a sample of the stuff and have it tested. Do you have something I could carry it in? A pill box? A little medicine bottle?”

I shook my head. “I don't take medicines. I've never been sick, until now.”

“Don't women travel with an array of little boxes and toiletries?”

“Not me,” I said. “I'm a poor Irish peasant, remember.”

'You're hopeless,” he said, but he was smiling. “I suppose for want of anything better—” He took out a clean handkerchief and dipped it into the cup. “I'll wring it out into a container when I get back.”

“Ingenious,” I said. “I must remember that.”

He turned to glare at me. “I'm so angry with myself, putting you in harm’s way like this, when I wanted just the opposite …”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I meant that I thought this would be a perfectly safe assignment for you, and now if I hadn't arrived in time, you might be lying here dead. It was stupid of me…” He got up and started pacing the room.

“But I've been very careful, Daniel,” I said. “They all think I'm harmless Cousin Molly. Nobody would know I've been snooping, apart from the spiritualist ladies, and they've done a bunk.”

He stopped pacing and spun around.

The Sorensen Sisters? They've gone, have they?”

They have. Right after I confronted them and told them I'd found out some of their little tricks.”

He shook his head in exasperation. You weren't supposed to confront them, just report back to me.”

“I didn't intend to. They found me snooping in their attic and I decided that attack was the best form of defense.”

The head shaking continued. “So they fled, which is incriminating enough in itself. Do you think you've got enough to nail them this time?”

To be honest, I don't think well ever nail them. They have too many believers who won't hear a word against them.” I tried to prop myself up. “Do you think you could pass me that barley water. My mouth is like sandpaper.”

Daniel poured from the jug, then tried the water first before giving it to me. “No, that seems to be all right,” he said and perched on the bed again beside me.

“I still can't believe that someone here would want to poison me,” I whispered. “They couldn't have been nicer to me.”

The Misses Sorensen obviously have a good reason to get rid of you. How long ago did they leave?”

“Oh, days ago. I'm a little fuzzy on time but the worst of the sickness came on after they went, so it can't have been them.”

“Well, somebody obviously thinks you've been asking too many questions. Listen, Molly,” he said, leaning closer so that his lips were almost touching my ear, “you had good instincts when you thought there was something not quite right about this place. I checked into your Miss McAlister. She bought herself a nice little house in the Washington area soon after she left service here, claiming it was a legacy from her rich aunt. By all accounts she lived quite well. The thing is that her only aunt is still living and not at all rich. Nobody in her family has died in the last five years and there have been no public records of any legacies.”

“So it was some kind of payoff then?” I whispered. “She was black-mailing somebody and she came back here to get more and—”

“And somebody pushed her over a cliff,” Daniel finished for me. “I went to see the spot for myself today and I think you were right. It wasn't a point on the path where she would have lost her footing easily or unintentionally.”

“So somebody in the house has something to hide,” I said.

“Any idea who?” he asked.

“I suppose it could have something to do with Barney’s shady deals,” I said. “He’s known for them, isn't he? But I don't want to think that, because it would mean it was Bamey himself who got rid of her.”

Daniel shook his head. “Men like Bamey Frynn tlon't do their own dirty work. He'd have had somebody else push her off the cliff.”

“I findthat hard to believe,” I said. “I was with him when the body was discovered. He seemed genuinely shocked when he found out who it was. And genuinely surprised that she had come back, too. He said she'd only been with the family for a short while.”

“Long enough to have found out something she shouldn't,” Daniel said.

“I suppose it could have been something to do with the kidnapping of the Flynns' baby, but I don't see how. Miss McAlister didn't come to the house until the kidnapping was over.”

“And the kidnapper was already dead,” Daniel reminded me.

“Yes, but I've been asking some questions—don't look at me like that, I've been very discreet—and I don't think Bertie Morell had the brains or the character to mastermind such an audacious crime.”

“You think he was just the pawn who carried out the deed?”

“Yes, that’s what I think, if he did it at all. I didfindone of the child’s favorite toys in the attic of the cottage behind the house. So it seems possible that the child was held there for a while, al-though I can't see how Morell could have brought him there without being seen. And you know what else I have been thinking…”