Black Moonlight Part 15

"No, no," Marjorie argued. "I'll be all right at the house. I need to stay there to keep an eye on everyone. Besides, if anything happens, Inspector Nettles gave me this," she held up the s.h.i.+ny silver whistle.

"What are you supposed to do with that?" Selina asked skeptically. "Blow it in the murderer's ear?"

"It's a police whistle," Marjorie explained. "I blow on it and the Constable watching the pier will come to my rescue."

"I don't know about the Constable, but George and I will definitely come running." Selina pulled a face, "Now I'm going to be awake all night, listening for the sound of a whistle."

"No, you won't. You're going to sleep well and get up tomorrow morning feeling better than you ever have." Marjorie reached her arms around the woman. "Thank you for dinner."

"You're welcome, child. And if you get frightened, please come here. It doesn't matter what time it is."

"I will," Marjorie a.s.sured her as she gave George a goodnight hug.

Meanwhile, Selina issued a warning to the black cat who, after devouring his dinner, had been lazing in the doorway all evening. "You look out for her, you hear? Otherwise it's no more fish chowder for you!"

The cat responded with a wide-mouthed "meow" before setting off on the path toward the house.

"Wait for me," Marjorie ordered and took off after him.

The cat stopped and watched with glowing eyes as she drew closer. Once she was within a few feet from him, he would take off again, only to stop a few yards down the path and monitor Marjorie's approach from behind a low shrub or a patch of tall gra.s.s. This game continued until they reached the rear entrance of the house.

Marjorie opened the back door and allowed her feline friend admittance before stepping inside. The comforting aromas of nutmeg and b.u.t.ter wafted through the hallway and enticed Marjorie to stick her head into the open kitchen door.

Mr. Miller sat at the long wooden table, eating a plate of starchy dumplings. Intrigued by the smell, the black cat jumped on the table to get a better look.

"h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Ashcroft," Miller greeted. "And friend."

"Bad kitty," Marjorie rushed forward, scooped up the cat, and dropped him gently onto the kitchen floor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Miller. I wouldn't have let him in if I had known you were eating."

"That's all right, I had a dog like that back in Pennsylvania. Came in handy for the things I didn't like." He hiked a thumb to the frying pan on the stove. "Are you hungry? It's my mother's recipe; makes a bunch."

"No, thank you. I just had some fish chowder with the Pooleys."

"Selina and George?" Miller said doubtfully. "Was it wise to accept food from them?"

"No less wise than eating the food you made." Marjorie stated matter-of-factly.

"Good point," he said with a smile.

Marjorie watched as Miller used his knife to push some dumplings onto the back of his fork. "Anything interesting happen around here while I was gone?"

"You mean more interesting than the murders? Or more interesting than your husband being arrested?"

"Now you're the one who's made a good point," she volleyed.

"Nothing happened and I'm sorry. Not about making a good point, but about your husband. For what it's worth, I don't think he did it." Miller dropped his voice to a whisper. "Between you and me, I think Edward's the culprit."

Marjorie sat opposite Miller and leaned in close. "Really? Why?"

"Because of the timing. By murdering Mr. Ashcroft when he did, he not only got rid of his arrogant father but he managed to make your husband look like the primary suspect. No one else here would be more interested in framing Creighton than his brother. What do you think?"

Miller pushed the last portion of dumplings onto his fork and carried them, carefully, to his mouth. Upon swallowing them, he picked up the plate and knife, and the napkin that had been resting on his lap, and brought them all to the sink.

"I have to admit, I'm at a total loss," she admitted. "Up until this afternoon, I thought Ca.s.sandra was the killer."

"She was pretty shady, wasn't she?" Miller washed his plate and the utensils with a soapy dishcloth and stacked them in the empty dish rack before drying his hands with a tea towel. "Well, I'm heading into the study for a drink. Would you care to join me?" he held his right arm aloft.

"I don't know," Marjorie said reluctantly.

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," Miller clarified. "We wouldn't be alone. Griselda and Edward are there already. They've been 'unwinding' since five o'clock."

"It's been a long day," Marjorie noted. "I should probably get to bed."

"Just a quick drink? Something to help you sleep. You can't tell me that you're going to nod off the moment your head hits the pillow-not with your husband in jail and the real killer still on the loose."

Marjorie accepted the proffered arm. "You could have stopped at the part about my husband being in jail. You needn't have added the bit about the killer being on the loose."

Miller laughed as they made their way down the hall, the small black cat following close at their heels. "There's safety in numbers. Since Ca.s.sandra's body was discovered, the three of us-four when George was here-have been trying to stick together."

They turned into the study to find Griselda, dressed to the nines in a red ruffle-fronted evening gown, draped across the settee, a martini gla.s.s in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "Marjorie!" she exclaimed upon seeing the blonde young woman standing in the doorway of the study. "Where have you been? Edward and I were positively in a panic over you!"

Edward, standing over the bar cart, shot a puzzled look in Griselda's direction before taking drink orders. "Marjorie. Miller. It's going to be a long night; what can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a scotch and water," Miller requested.

"You want the same, Marjorie?" Edward asked as he poured a gla.s.s of scotch for Miller and another for himself.

"No, nothing quite that lethal," she replied.

"You should have a martini, darling," Griselda instructed. "They're good for what ails you."

There must have been some truth in that statement, for it appeared that Griselda wasn't feeling any pain at all. "I'll take your word on it," Marjorie responded before directing Edward. "I just want something to settle my nerves before I go to bed."

"Then brandy's the thing you want," Edward declared. He unstopped a gla.s.s decanter and poured some of the contents into a snifter.

"Brandy," Griselda repeated melodramatically. "My Richie had to have his brandy every night after dinner. Two gla.s.ses. No more, no less. Oh, Richie!" she wailed.

"This is her third crying jag tonight," Edward whispered to Marjorie as he pa.s.sed her the snifter.

Marjorie suppressed a laugh. "Thank you," she said, swirling the contents of her gla.s.s.

"No need for that," Edward noted. "I could smell it the moment I opened the decanter; probably the heat. It's gone frightfully still outside, hasn't it?"

"Everything else around here is dying," Griselda noted. "Why should the breeze be any different?"

Miller took his drink from Edward and sat in one of the two wing chairs. "I think we're in for a storm," he opined.

Griselda swung her legs over the side of the settee in order to make a spot for Marjorie. "Swell. All we need is a Frankenstein monster and we'll have ourselves a genu-ine house of horrors."

Marjorie eased herself onto the cus.h.i.+on beside Griselda. As she did so, the cat jumped onto Marjorie's lap and began purring contentedly.

"Oh!" Griselda shrieked. "What is that?"

"Come now, Griselda," Edward joked. "If anyone should be able to recognize a cat, it's you."

Griselda glared at Edward. "I mean, what is it doing here?"

"I found him on the verandah outside our bedroom yesterday," Marjorie explained as she rubbed the cat's ears. "We've been friends ever since."

"You made friends with a black cat? Don't you know they're bad luck? Bad luck isn't exactly in short supply around here."

"According to Selina, it's worse luck to turn a black cat out of your home." Marjorie looked at the cat, "That's why you got fish chowder tonight, isn't it?"

Griselda bolted upright. "Selina made dinner? Why didn't I get any?"

"I told Selina to take the evening off," Edward answered. "After all she'd been through, I thought she could use the rest."

"It seems she didn't need the rest, if she was cooking for George and Marjorie and-and-a stray cat," Griselda said with venom. "She could have been cooking for us; I'm famished."

"Did it ever occur to you that you could make yourself something to eat?"

"I don't know how to cook!"

"You could always make a sandwich. There's roast beef in the icebox," Miller suggested.

"I don't even know where the icebox is, let alone the bread, and the knives and-and-oh, never mind," Griselda dismissed the idea. "I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Why do we even have servants if we don't let them do what they were hired to do?"

Edward laughed. "Only a few short hours ago you were accusing Selina and George of committing the murders. Now you want them to serve you supper."

"Excuse me if I'm dying from hunger and can't think straight. Besides, you're one to talk. You accused Marjorie of being the killer and here you are fixing her a brandy."

Marjorie looked angrily at her brother-in-law.

"I did not accuse Marjorie of being the killer," Edward contested. "I merely commented on the fact that my father was murdered on the same day she was introduced to the family. I found it an odd coincidence."

"That sounds like an indictment to me," Marjorie said.

"It wasn't," Edward maintained. "It isn't. It was an ... observation, that's all."

"Yes, I've heard that observation before." Marjorie flashed a brilliant smile.

"Everyone seems to have an observation," Griselda slurred. "So what's your opinion, Mister ... Mister Miller?"

"Me?" Miller asked in genuine surprise. "I think Edward here did it."

"I'm your suspect?" Edward responded ingenuously.

"Yes you are," Miller replied.

"Why?"

"You're just plain smug. And, if I may be bold, you drugged your wife. A man who's willing to do that to a lady cannot be trusted."

"Hmm," Edward responded appreciatively.

"Why didn't anyone pick me?" Griselda posed. "I could have murdered Richie and ... and ..."

"Ca.s.sandra?" Marjorie offered with a poorly disguised yawn.

"That's right," Griselda affirmed.

"If you want someone to concede that you could have returned early last night and snuck to the back of the house this afternoon, you've got it. Jackson, Nettles, and I all considered you a suspect." Marjorie yawned again.

Griselda sighed contentedly. "Yes, I am. I'm a suspect."

"For G.o.d's sake, go to bed," Edward urged.

"Well, I don't know about Griselda," Marjorie interjected as she took the black cat from her lap and placed him onto the cedar floorboards, "but I'm certainly ready."

"Now?" Griselda glanced at her watch. "It's only ... nine-thirty. The party's just getting started."

"Maybe for you, but I-" Marjorie had risen to her feet, only to fall back onto the settee.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Ashcroft?" Miller asked.

"I-I just got a bit dizzy."

Edward rose from his spot in the wing chair and took hold of Marjorie's left arm. "You've had a long day. Let's get you to bed. Mr. Miller, will you give me a hand?"

Miller complied and took Marjorie's other arm.

"Wait," ordered Griselda. "You're not taking off with the only other woman in the house. And you're definitely not leaving me here by myself. I'm going with you!"

The trio, accompanied by the meowing black cat, a.s.sisted Marjorie up the cedar staircase and into her room. As Marjorie perched on the edge of the bed and unbuckled the ankle straps of her shoes, the cat leapt beside her and immediately began kneading the bedspread.

"She looks a bit pale. Perhaps you should stay with her," Miller suggested to Griselda.

"I'll change into my nightgown and be right back, " Griselda took off down the hallway at breakneck speed.

Edward, meanwhile, had gone into the bathroom and retrieved a gla.s.s of water. "Here, drink this," he directed as he handed the gla.s.s to Marjorie.

"What is it?" Marjorie asked.

"It's water," Edward answered. "What did you think it was?"

"Nothing," Marjorie replied evasively.

"If I were trying to drug you, I wouldn't be so stupid as to do it with a gla.s.s of water or a snifter of brandy, with everyone watching," he insisted. "I'm sure this is just the day's events catching up with you."