In Like Flynn (23 page)

Twenty-seven

I
looked out of my window as I heard feet on the gravel and saw the doctor arriving with the local police constable at his side and Soames leading the way. I wasn't sure how to proceed. I didn't want Theresa’s death to be ruled a suicide without voicing my suspicions, and yet suggesting her death might be murder would make Bamey the obvious suspect. And I didn't want Bamey to be the suspect, even if… I stopped that thoughtrightthere. If only Daniel were here. He'd know what to do. But I couldn't sit by and do nothing. Sitting by just wasn't in my nature.

I opened my door afewinches, watched and waited.

I could hear Barney’s voice from the hallway. “What do you mean by bringing the police into this? No crime has been committed.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but we have to investigate any case of unnatural death,” I heard the constable responding. “We have to determine it really was a suicide.”

“Really was a suicide?” Bamey was yelling now. “My poor wife killed herself while of unbalanced mind. Ask anyone in the house-hold. They'll tell you her mental state. Ask thatridiculousalienist fellow. He’s the one you need to arrest if you want to arrest any-body. He’s the one that drove her over the edge with his probings.”

“Calm down, Mr. Flynn. I can see that you're quite distraught,” I heard the doctor’s deeper, more educated voice saying. “All of this is just a formality. Nobody is suggesting anything other than the obvious. Now, if you'll lead the way to your wife’s room?”

I watched through the crack in my door as the procession came up the stairs. Bamey led the way. I noticed also that Soames followed them as far as the doorway. If Barney was going to insist on staying in the room with the doctor and Soames was going to hang around outside the door, I'd have no chance of speaking to the doctor alone without revealing my hand to the others in the house.

Then it occurred to me that maybe thetimewasrightto reveal that hand. A police constable was within shouting distance, so I'd be quite safe. All the same, my legs were quaking as I came down the stairs, and it wasn't just from my weakness either. Order had broken down in this otherwise clockwork-running house. Servants were standing about in the hallway peering up the stairs or whispering together. Belinda and Clara, both red-eyed, were hovering about the dining room doorway, clutching each other for support. Qara was already wearing black and Belinda’sfloweryhouse robe looked garishly out of place. They looked at me as if I was a ghost coming down the stairs.

“Molly, you're up and around again. That is good news,” Clara whispered. “So you've heard of the terrible tragedy that has taken place. God rest her poor tormented soul.” She crossed herself. This house is cursed. I always said it was from the moment they moved in.”

“My condolences to both of you,” I said as I approached them. “What a terrible shock for all of us. I hardly knew her and yet I had already become fond of her. It must be far worse for you, who had known and loved her for all of your lives.”

Belinda put her handkerchief up to her mouth. “I feel so guilty. I should never have brought Dr. Bimbaum here. I truly thought he'd be able to help her. One hears such wonderful things about alienists these days, but it was obviously too much for her. It’s all my fault.”

“I don't think you should blame yourself, Belinda,” I said. “Who knows the depths of despair that she had lived with for so long?”

“Maybe hearing her son’s voice was enough to convince her she wanted to be with him again,” Clara suggested. “She so wanted to have the spiritualists here, but that might not have been such a good idea either.”

“What the devil is going on?” a large voice echoed through the stairwell. Joseph Rimes stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the huddle of servants. “What do you think you're doing? Where are your master and mistress? Where is Mr. Soames? Get back to your tasks immediately.”

“Pardon me, sir, but an awful thing has happened.” Soames stepped out of the alcove where he had been waiting and drew Joe Rimes aside. He muttered into Joe’s ear and we watched Joe spin around, mouth open. “Good God, man. This is terrible. Why didn't somebody wake me? Where is O'Mara? Did anybody think of waking him up?”

Joe disappeared into Theresa’s bedroom and soon afterward a bleary-eyed Desmond O'Mara appeared in a striped dressing gown. We stood below watching the drama unfold above us. My stomach reminded me with a growl that I was in serious need of nourishment. I turned to Clara.

“Might we suggest that Cook makes a big pot of coffee and some simple breakfast—maybe boiled eggs and toast, as befits the occasion? It won't help anyone if we become faint from lack of food.”

Clara looked at me sharply, then nodded. Yes. You're right. I'll go and speak to Cook. I suppose it is up to me to see that the household keeps on running. Barney has no interest in household matters and little skill with servants.” She strode in the direction of the kitchen.

Belinda smiled. You've made her day,” she said. “Clara has been waiting for years to have the chance to boss somebody around.”

“What will you do?” I asked. “Will you stay on?”

She looked horrified. “Good Lord, no. I only stopped for a brief visit on my way home from Europe and to tell you the truth I can't stand this place. Too out of the way and dreary. Not a single real ball since I've been here and the only male within miles is that awful Roland Van Gelder. And having to put up with the uncouth behavior of Cousin Barney and Joe Rimes as well. I can't wait to go home to civilization.” She looked at me as if she realized she might have said too much. “And you, Molly. What will you do?”

“I can't stay on any longer,” I said. “It wouldn't be proper.” “Meaning you couldn't trust Barney’s wandering hands with no Theresa to keep him in check?” she asked.

I blushed. “Really, I didn't mean …”

“Of course you did. We've all been through it. Bamey can't keep himself away from women. That’s just his weakness. Theresa never was the warmest of lovers in thefirstplace and after Brendan she turned completely cold:—” She broke off again. “I shouldn't be talking like this with poor Tessa lying stiff and dead upstairs. She and I were never close but I would never have wished this ending on her, never.”

Clara reemerged from the kitchen, looking smug and satisfied. “I have ordered breakfast and it will be served shortly. Now to get those maids back to work. It will take their minds off things to keep them busy.”

“I rather suspect Clara will want to stay on,” Belinda muttered to me with the ghost of a smile.

Breakfast arrived and Joe Rimes and Desmond O'Mara came to join us. Nobody spoke as we sat at the big, white-clothed table. I don't know about the others, but I felt so much better with some-thing finally in my stomach. Through the open breakfast room door I watched the police constable come downstairs and took the opportunity to invite him to have a cup of coffee.

“Is the doctorfinishedup there?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I've been sent down to use the telephone and call for transportation to the morgue,” he said. “Secondtimein one week. Don't seem right, does it?”

“Precisely my thoughts, Constable,” I said. I glanced back at the breakfast room, where the others werefinishingtheir meal in silence. It was now or never. “So does the doctor really believe that she killed herself?”

He frowned. “What are you getting at, miss?”

“I just wondered if he can tell whether she did take an overdose of sleeping powders, or whether she might have been poisoned.”

“Poisoned? Whatever gave you that idea?” He had lowered his voice, but I hoped it carried far enough in the dead silence of the household.

“Because I suspect that somebody has been trying to poison me,” I whispered back, in what I hoped was a stage whisper. “I've been very sick this week, but only at night after I had a cup of hot liquid brought to me. For that very reason I didn't drink last night’s beef tea, but I've kept it in my room so that it can be tested later.”

“I can't believe what you're saying, miss.” The constable shook his head. “Surely you must be imagining things.”

“I only hope I am,” I said, “but I tried to understand why I was only sick at night and I worked out that my nighttime drink was the only thing I didn't take communally with the rest of the household. Anyway, one simple test and then well know. But I mustn't keep you from your work. The telephone is in Mr. Flynn’s office. Let me show you.”

I went across the hallway and ushered him into the room. It was a dark and somber room with its book-lined walls, and even darker at this time in the morning when the early sun was on the other side of the house.

“The telephone is on Senator Flynn’s desk,” I said.

He leaned closer to me. “So do you think I should suggest that we take any cups or glasses from Mrs. Flynn’s room for testing?” he muttered.

“I would think that they had all been carefully washed, but it couldn't hurt to take them for testing, and I would suggest to the doctor that he does a thorough autopsy.”

He shook his head again. “Doesn't seem possible. Who could have done such a thing? There must be a mad person in the house.”

“I may be wrong,” I said. “I really hope I am wrong.”

As I was talking I was taking in my surroundings. I saw that the room was made even darker by the creeper that half covered the window. Then I saw that it wasn't a window, but a pair of French doors. There was a way out of the house through Barney’s study. And the study was on the side of the house away from the main living rooms, which meant that someone like Desmond O'Mara, or even Soames, could have carried the child out of the house without being observed. All he would have to have done was walk past the blank back wall of the kitchen, into the tall bean rows of the kitchen garden and up to the cottage.

Then I reminded myself that Bamey and Joe Rimes and therefore also Desmond O'Mara were all overheard working in Barney’s study that afternoon. So that shot down an otherwise good theory.

“I’ll wait for you outside, Constable,” I said loudly as I emerged from the room, walked purposefully in the direction of the front door, then doubled back and sneaked up the back stairs to my room. If my conversation had indeed been overheard I was hoping to draw the rat to the bait. I opened my wardrobe and stepped in-side, half closing the door.

Then I waited. And waited. It was stuffy and cramped and the dust kept making me want to sneeze. After ten minutes turned into twenty and then half an hour, I began to think that this wasn't such a good idea after all. I was just about to come out and admit defeat when I saw my door handle start to turn. I held my breath. The door started to open and Cousin Clara came into the room.

She glanced around, then crept toward the cup and saucer still standing on my bedside table. I waited until her hand had almost touched the saucer, then I stepped out of the wardrobe. She gasped as she spun around.

“You're too late, Qara,” I said. “Some of the beef tea has already been taken to the police for testing.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “What beef tea?” “The beef tea on the table there that youflavoredwith arsenic for me last night. And several other nights before.”

I watched the color drain from her face, then she collected her-self. “Absolute rubbish,” she said.

Then what brought you to my room? And why that cup and saucer? Have you taken over the maid’s duties?” I went over to her and stared at her, eye to eye. I hadn't noticed before that she was almost as tall as me and for a moment I wondered if I was taking too big a risk. But she looked away, flinchingas if I had struck her. “What I don't understand is what you hoped to gain from it. Why did you want to kill me?”

“I didn't want to kill you, you stupid girl,” Clara snapped. “I just wanted to warn you off.”

“Warn me off?”

“She liked you,” Clara almost spat out the words. “I could tell that she liked you better than me. She was going to make you her new companion and then it was you she would take shopping and to Europe and where would that leave me? Where would I go if I was turned out of this house?”

Without warning she deflated like a balloon and collapsed onto my bed, sniffing pitifully. “I have nobody, no one who wants me in the whole world. At least Theresa needed me, until you came …”

“You foolish old woman,” I said. “I had no intention of staying and becoming Theresa’s companion. I was just here for a short visit, that’s all—not trying to oust you.”

“I didn't want to really hurt you,” she sobbed. “That’s why it was always such a small amount. Just enough to make you want to go back home to Ireland, that’s all.”

“But you nearly did kill me,” I said. “I reckon one more night of that and they'd have found my body in the morning, just like they did Theresa’s.”

“Don't.” She put her handkerchief up to her mouth. 'Don't say that. I still can't get over…”

“Another thing I don't understand,” I said, “is why you'd want to kill Theresa if she was all you had in the world.”

She looked up. Her blotchy and tear-stained face was not a pretty sight. “Kill Theresa? You don't think … You can't possibly think… f she stammered. “Theresa took her own life.”

“I'm not so sure,” I said, “and since you've confessed to one poisoning, you'd be the obvious suspect to me.”

Her face went ashen. “No!” she exclaimed, 'You can't believe that. Theresa was all I had in the world. I loved her. I would have done anything for her—I would have drunk poison on her behalf.”

“That’s not how the police will see it,” I said. “When they find the arsenic in that beef tea sample, they'll immediately put two and two together and come up with you.”

She reached out and clutched at my skirt. “I really meant you no harm.”

“But you did harm me, Clara. You almost killed me. Youll al-most certainly be arrested for attempted murder.”

“I didn't mean it.” She was sobbing now, a harsh, ugly noise coming from her throat. “I only wanted to feel secure and now I don't know what’s to become of me. They'd send me to jail or the insane asylum. Please, I beg of you, tell the police it was an acci-dent. Tell them I didn't mean it…”