Murder at the Mikado (21 page)

“I, uh . . .” Drew glanced over at Mrs. Devon, who at once busied herself with the vegetables. “I didn’t exactly get a chance to talk to him. I ran into a little snag on that front.”

She shut off the water, silent as she dried her hands. “What happened?”

“It’s actually something rather wonderful, darling.” Again he glanced at Mrs. Devon. “Why don’t we go into the library so I can tell you all about it?”

Madeline looked wary when, once she was seated before the library fire, he made sure to shut the door.

“I’m not going to like this, am I, Drew?”

“I hope you will, darling.” He sat beside her, forcing himself
to look more confident than he felt. “I can’t help but think it was an answer to prayer.”

She pursed her lips. “Prayer?”

He took her hand. “I went to the office to tell Landis I wouldn’t be involved in the case anymore. But before I got to him, I was stopped by Miss Leigh. Have you met her? She’s one of the secretaries. She told me there was someone in my office waiting to speak to me.”

Madeline’s mouth tightened. “Fleur.”

“I thought so, too,” he said, not letting her pull her hand away. “But it was Simone Cullimore.”

“Simone Cullimore? And she was the answer to your prayer?”

“Only in a roundabout way. Darling, you’ll hardly believe the wonderful news. She knew my mother, my natural mother, in Paris. Before I was born.”

Madeline’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, Drew, that
is
wonderful news. Definitely an answer to our prayers. What did she tell you? Do they still keep in touch?” Now she was squeezing his hand. “What did she tell you?”

“Her name is Marie. That’s all.”

The sparkle in Madeline’s expression faded to puzzlement. “That’s it? Just Marie? She can’t remember her last name or where she lives or anything else?”

“Oh, she remembers all right. I’m certain she does. She’s just not saying.”

“But why?” Madeline pressed her lips together. “I see. She wants something from you in exchange. She wants you to find out who killed her husband.”

“Got it in one,” he admitted. “I don’t want to let you down, darling, but you know how this not knowing has bothered
me. And there’s just been nothing at all, not all this while, not until today. I could hardly—”

“You could hardly keep your word to me and just let the thing go.”

He drew a steadying breath. “I was rather hoping you’d let me out of that promise. You will, won’t you?”

She only sat there, her mouth in a tight line, and he looked at her in disbelief.

“Madeline, you don’t . . . you don’t expect me to turn her down now, do you?”

“You promised me.”

“But surely you understand what this means to me.”

She pulled away from him and got to her feet. “I do, but really, Drew, all that’s in the past. What difference does it make? I’m more concerned about our future than your past. You’re still yourself, no matter who your mother was.”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said, forcing his voice to stay low and calm, “but I see you don’t.” He managed a faint smile. “How could you really? You know who your parents were. You know who you are. For my mother, all I have is a Christian name and a description,
French shopgirl
. Not much, is it?”

He didn’t get the understanding sympathy he was expecting. There was only a mix of hurt and anger in her expression.

“I thought we had an agreement, Drew. You promised.” Tears filled her eyes. “You promised.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, but—”

“But you’re going to anyway.”

“Madeline—” He broke off when the telephone rang. “Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Drew, I’ve just found something you ought to know about.”

No, no, no. Not Fleur. Not now . . .

“I thought we agreed—”

“Wait. Please.” Fleur’s voice was little more than a hurried whisper. “I don’t want anyone to hear me. Just in case, I mean.”

He looked at Madeline, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

“All right,” he said into the telephone after a moment. “What is it?”

“I found a syringe,” Fleur told him. “Stuffed into one of the drawers in my sitting room. I don’t know how the police could have missed it. Drew, someone right here in the house had to have poisoned those chocolates. I wasn’t sure before.”

“How do you know there’s poison in it?”

Madeline’s eyes widened when he said it, and she moved closer to the phone.

“The smell. That awful almondy smell I remember from when Peter . . .” Fleur’s voice broke. “Please, I’m so afraid. You have to do something.”

“I’ll telephone Chief Inspector Birdsong. He’ll send someone over there at once. Is Peter all right?”

There was a flash of anger in Madeline’s eyes. She had to know now that he was speaking to Fleur. Fabulous.

“I’m sure he is,” Fleur said.

“Very well. Hold tight and don’t touch anything. I’ll ring up the chief inspector right away.” He replaced the receiver and turned to Madeline. “That was—”

“I know who that was. And now I suppose you’ll have to rush to her side.”

“And if I did?” he asked, a little more brusquely than was
warranted. “Look here, Madeline, I’ve told you as clearly as I am able that I’m not in love with Mrs. Landis. I’ll tell you again now. I’ll have my solicitor send it to you in a letter if you like, witnessed and notarized. I am not in love with Mrs. Landis. I am not infatuated with her. I am not the slightest bit interested in her. I would like nothing more than to never see her or hear about her ever again.”

“And yet you still jump every time she snaps her fingers.”

There was a heightened color in Madeline’s face, tears in her eyes, and a tremor in her voice. He pressed his lips together. Why couldn’t she understand?

“Madeline,” he said when he felt certain he could make a civil reply, “I need to call Chief Inspector Birdsong and tell him what Mrs. Landis just told me. He’s got to get someone out there to the Landis place right away.”

“You’re going to let someone else hold Fleur’s hand this time?”

“I am just going to let him know what she told me,” Drew said evenly. “She found a syringe. Most likely the one used to poison the chocolates. That makes it clear that someone in the house had to have used it. Someone who might well not be through killing.”

Her lips trembled, but then she nodded. “I’m sorry. Of course you need to see to this.”

“Darling . . . ?”

“Go ahead and make your call. I’m just going to take a little walk in the garden.”

He watched after her as she hurried off. It wasn’t like her to be jealous. It wasn’t like her to be demanding and suspicious and . . . oh, he didn’t know what else. It wasn’t Madeline.

He rang up the chief inspector and told him what Mrs. Landis had said.

“A syringe in her sitting room, by George. And my men missed it?” Birdsong grumbled under his breath. “I suppose I’d better go round there and see what’s what. You coming?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. I have a little mystery here that needs solving. But I would like to know what you find out, if you’d ring me back when you have a moment.”

“I certainly will. Um . . . everything all right there, Mr. Farthering?”

Drew couldn’t help smiling at the poorly disguised concern in the gruff voice. “I hope so, Chief Inspector. I truly do.”

He hung up and went to find Madeline. He found her at the back of the garden, a thin cardigan wrapped around her, her shoulders hunched against the cold as she stared at one of the rosebushes.

“It was so lovely this summer,” she said, not looking at him. “Now it’s bare and dead.”

“Not dead.” He moved closer to her. “Just bare at the moment. You’ll see. Come spring it will be bursting with blooms again.”

“Not if it’s dead.”

“Madeline—”

“Things die, Drew.” She gave him a sorrowful look. “Even the beautiful things.”

“Madeline—”

Her sorrow changed then to a determined cheerfulness. “Did you talk to the chief inspector?”

“Yes. He’s going out to see Mrs. Landis.”

“I suppose you’ll want to join him.”

“He’s a qualified police inspector. I expect he can handle
this sort of inquiry. I’ve something else I must look into.” He took both of her hands in his. “I want to know what’s really upsetting you. It has to be more than Mrs. Landis.”

“I don’t want you to be around Fleur. Is that so hard to understand?”

“What do you think I’m going to do, Madeline? Run off to the Argentine with her? Why don’t you believe me when I say I’m not the slightest bit interested in her?”

“I believed you when you promised you wouldn’t pursue the case, and I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

He bit back a sharp retort. They never quarreled. Not really. Surely he could get her to understand. Surely she wasn’t serious about making him drop the case. Not when he was so close to getting some real information about his mother. There had to be something else on her mind.

“You’ve been unhappy,” he said, studying her face. “For the past couple of weeks now. What is it?”

She shook her head, not speaking.

“What are you afraid of, Madeline?”

Something flickered in her eyes, and then she looked away again. He merely stood there, listening to her breathing, the breaths coming more quickly than usual. Finally she spoke.

“I haven’t been honest with you, Drew.”

She looked at him with that directness he admired but with none of her usual playfulness mixed into it, just pain and remorse all at once.

“Go on.”

“I told you some time ago that I don’t have anyone waiting for me back in America. That’s true. I don’t. But I did once.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Girls like you don’t come along every day.”

A touch of color came into her cheeks, and she huddled deeper into her cardigan. “His name was Jimmy Adams. We’d known each other for ages, and everyone just assumed we’d eventually marry. I thought so, too. He had started giving me hints that he wanted to ask me, and I was all ready to say yes. We were such great friends and got along so well, it seemed the right thing to do.”

“Obviously something happened.”

She nodded. “Her name was Diane, but they called her Dinah. Short for dynamite. She was too. There was always a commotion wherever she was, and the boys were wild for her.”

“And I suppose your sweetheart fell for her. I’m so sorry, darling.”

“It’s a pretty common story, isn’t it? He told me for weeks that he didn’t care anything about her, that she was worse than a flirt and he would never want his name linked with hers.”

Drew squeezed her hands, trying to rub some warmth into them. “I suppose you broke with him when you found out he was seeing her.”

Madeline shook her head. “I didn’t know about it until they were in a car smash. She was behind the wheel. They’d been to one of the roadhouses out on the highway, someplace none of our friends ever went, and both of them had too much to drink. She hit a tree, and he was thrown out. He died two days later.”

“And the girl?”

Madeline’s eyes flashed. “She was only bruised. I don’t know what happened to her after that. Moved on to someone else, I suppose. I hadn’t really thought about her for a long time. Not until—”

“Not until Fleur.” He brought her hands to his lips. “No
wonder this has been difficult for you. But, truly, love, believe me—”

“I do! Drew, I do believe you. That’s what makes this so awful. I don’t think you’re interested in Fleur. I don’t think you’d betray me. I just . . .” Her breath hitched. “I don’t think I can marry you.”

“Please, darling, don’t say that.” He squeezed her hands more tightly, fighting the dread that swept over him. “You can’t mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You still love him,” Drew said, forcing the emotion from his voice. “Is that it?”

“No.” Her eyes brimmed over with tears once more. “I never loved him.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, I loved him. I truly did, but I wasn’t
in love
with him. Not the way a wife should love her husband.” Again she looked away. “Not the way I love you.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“I knew him for most of my life, Drew. And I still didn’t really know him. If I hadn’t seen him dead there in the hospital, if I hadn’t read the police report about the accident for myself, I would never have believed it. I would have sworn it was all a mistake, that it was someone else. You and I . . .” She reached up to touch his cheek. “We haven’t even known each other six months.”

“So what are you saying?” he asked. “That you want to put things off a while until you’re sure? Or that you want to end things entirely?”

She lowered her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how much I love you. I just can’t marry you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so hasty about saying I would, but I can’t. I know that now.”

“I thought we were past this. I thought—”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I hadn’t meant it. Then Fleur showed up and made me realize I just . . . I can’t go through with something like I did with Jimmy. Not again. Not when I love you so much more.”

“Madeline—”

“We’ve had fun together, Drew, these past few months. Why can’t we just go on the way we have been?”

“Fun?” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his clenched fist to his forehead, gritting his teeth until the surge of pain had passed. “Is that all it’s been? Is that all you want?”

She looked at him again, and there was hurt in her eyes. Then that look was gone, replaced by cool resolve. She gave him a tight smile.

“It’s been exciting and even rather frightening at times, but I guess I got too caught up in all the excitement to be practical.” She shook her head, catching an unsteady breath and then smiling again. “It doesn’t matter. I love you, Drew, I really do, but I’m not going to marry you.”

She slipped the diamond off her finger and, leaning over to kiss his cheek, pressed it into his hand. He seized the opportunity to pull her into his arms, holding her as close as he could.

“Please, darling, don’t do this. Don’t go. You’re not yourself right now. You’re . . . I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s not you. Please, before you do anything rash, just stop and think. I love you. I want you.” He pressed his face against the curve of her neck. “I need you. Madeline, don’t do this. Please.”