Black Moonlight Part 9

"So you asked your father for advice," Marjorie deduced.

"I shouldn't have. I know that now. My father was only looking out for his own interests." Edward's face grew hard. "Everything I've wanted all these years, everything I've believed in ... it was all a lie. I did everything he asked-everything! I worked like a dog at his company, stayed on at the house-gave up so much-only to be cheated in the end."

Marjorie gave a start. Was it possible Edward knew the terms of his father's new will? "How do you know you've been cheated?" she asked. "Your father never told us who was going to inherit."

"Come now," Edward scoffed. "I'm not a fool. I know the game by now; fish of one brother, fowl of the other."

"And now there's a third brother in the mix," Jackson introduced.

"Yes, poor George. He's a good lad-too good to be mixed up with this lot."

"Tell me, Mr. Ashcroft," Jackson started, "when did this disillusionment start? Surely, the sentiments you've expressed did not sprout overnight."

"No," Edward confessed, "they've been brewing for several months now. I thought things would be different after Creighton left the company and moved to Connecticut. Between Father and me, I mean. But things were exactly the same as they had been."

"Then why did you come on this trip?"

"Because my Father was scheduled to meet with the head of the English Steel Corporation. If we, an airplane parts manufacturer, could have formed a partners.h.i.+p with them, it would have been the most important business deal we'd ever made."

"English Steel? You mean the appointment that fell through?" Marjorie clarified.

"Yes. I'm still baffled by that whole incident. The man went through the trouble of sending a telegram and then he doesn't show up."

"What? Who, Morrison?"

"Yes. Pru and I and ... Ca.s.sandra ... arrived a day ahead of my father. When we got here, there was a telegram waiting for us, confirming the time and place of the meeting." Edward shrugged. "The only explanation I can think of is that Morrison was detained by a family emergency or a last-minute illness. I suppose we'll find out more when we get back to New York."

"Mmm," Jackson noted absently. "Tell us your movements yesterday evening."

"Well, following dinner-or what should have been dinner-I went to the drawing room. After my outburst, I wanted to get away from everyone. My solitude was short lived; George joined me a few minutes later. He was stewing, and I can't say I blame him."

"Did you happen to notice the time?" Marjorie asked.

Edward shook his head. "No. But if it helps, shortly after George came in, we heard you leave the dining room and go out the back door."

"How did you know it was me?"

"We saw you through the drawing room window. You took the gravel path that leads to the stables and Selina's cottage."

Marjorie nodded. "That's right."

"So, your conversation with George," Jackson changed track. "What did you say to each other?"

"Conversation?" Edward repeated with a wry smile. "Commiseration was more like it. We both had our reasons for despising our father, and we discussed them in detail."

"Is that all you discussed?"

"If you mean, did we decide to team up and murder the old man? No. However, we did discuss Selina. George was disappointed that his mother hadn't confided in him. So disappointed in fact that he was considering leaving the island right there and then and never returning."

"Apparently you talked him out of it," Nettles noted.

"I had to. You see, after my mother died, my father erased all traces of her existence. Creighton and I were forbidden to talk about her or ask questions." Edward drew a deep breath. "I didn't want my father to come between George and his mother, too. So I advised him to go talk to her."

"Did he?"

"I believe so. At least that's where he said he was going. When he left the drawing room, he went up the path to the cottage."

"And where did you go when you left the drawing room?" Jackson asked.

"Upstairs to the bedroom. To check on Pru."

"And then where?"

"Nowhere, except the verandah for a breath of fresh air. Then I got ready for bed and turned in for the night."

"And your wife?"

"She had been terribly upset by the evening's events, but she took a Seconal and went to bed as well."

"Really? That's strange." Jackson scratched his head in mock confusion. "Because if you were both sleeping you two couldn't have had a conversation wherein you promised to 'take care' of your father."

Edward's eyes shot tiny daggers at Marjorie. "I misspoke, Sergeant. I did have the conversation your informant described, but I didn't think it was important."

"Your father's been murdered and you didn't think it was important?"

"I didn't think it was important because I was simply trying to calm my wife. If I didn't say I would do something she might have-" Edward stopped as he realized the gravity of his words.

Jackson grinned like a Ches.h.i.+re cat. "Thank you, Mr. Ashcroft. That will be all."

"No, wait," Edward pleaded. "There's something else. Something, I didn't tell you. I don't know if it's significant or not but ..."

"Go ahead," instructed the sergeant.

"Pru woke me up in the middle of the night claiming she heard noises as if someone were breaking in."

"This house is on a private island. Who could possibly be breaking in?" Jackson asked rhetorically.

"That's precisely why I dismissed it at the time but now ..."

"Did she describe to you what she had heard?"

"I wasn't really listening-"

"Shocking," Marjorie remarked.

"-so I don't remember her exact words, but she said something about a loud thump that came from downstairs."

"At what time was this?" Jackson asked.

"I honestly don't remember."

"Again, shocking." Marjorie quipped.

"We'll be certain to speak with your wife about the sounds she heard. That is, if she's well enough," Jackson jibed. "Good day, Mr. Ashcroft."

While Nettles went to the drawing room to retrieve Ca.s.sandra, Marjorie flopped onto the overstuffed settee. Jackson sat down beside her.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That for every question answered, another three pop up in its place," Marjorie sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, there was the timing of this trip. Why was my father-in-law here now, when he typically came to Black Island only in the spring? Answer: he had a business appointment in Hamilton. But that answer opens up a whole series of other questions. Why didn't Morrison make that meeting? And, more importantly, why did he confirm an appointment he couldn't possibly keep?"

"Maybe like Edward said, Morrison became ill or suffered some family tragedy," Jackson suggested.

"That explains why Morrison didn't show, but it doesn't account for the telegram." Marjorie reasoned. "It's several day's pa.s.sage from England to Bermuda. Morrison would have known he wasn't traveling to Bermuda well before Edward or my father-in-law even left New York City."

"Meaning that the telegram should have been a cancelation, not a confirmation," Jackson finished the thought. "Do you think that's significant?"

"It leads me to believe that someone wanted to make sure that the Ashcrofts were in Bermuda this week."

"Yet out of the house on the day of the appointment," Jackson added.

"Mmm," Marjorie grunted in agreement. "Second, there's Prudence. We discovered the reason for her emotional behavior-"

"Oy," Jackson remarked. "I have to give that one to you, Miss. I don't know how you knew it was Benzedrine. I certainly didn't."

"But now we're left to wonder what she heard last night," Marjorie continued.

"Probably Griselda Ashcroft coming home," Jackson theorized. "If, in fact, Prudence heard anything at all. Given she can't recall how many Seconal she's taken, I have my doubts."

"True, Prudence couldn't remember how many pills she had taken, could she?"

"Meaning she must have taken enough to knock out an elephant," Jackson quipped.

"Or ..."

"Or what?" Jackson urged.

"Nothing. Just thinking aloud." Marjorie snapped from her reverie. "Then there's the note and the key. Both items were tucked into my father-in-law's jacket pocket and now both of them are missing. Why?"

"The note doesn't offer a handwriting sample," Jackson stated. "There's no signature."

"No, it's very formal. Very impersonal. It's odd."

"How so?"

"Well, it reads, 'The day of reckoning.' If I were sending someone a message, I would have used the word 'your.' 'Your day of reckoning.' However, I'm a writer, so perhaps it's just me."

"No, it's a valid point." Jackson allowed. "But what about the key? It's of no use here. Why would someone take it?"

"I confess, that one has me completely baffled," Marjorie stated.

"Well, perhaps we'll learn something when we question Ca.s.sandra."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up-not with that one. No, the people I'm really looking forward to questioning are Selina and George."

"You're right, we still don't know where Selina went after dinner. But we have some insight into George's movements."

"That's precisely it. We have 'some' insight," Marjorie pointed out. "But if George left the drawing room to look for his mother, where did he go? Edward says he saw George take the path to the cottage. But if George had, indeed, taken that path I would have seen him on my way back to the house. And, if he had met her in the kitchen, they would still have been there when I returned. So, where was Selina?"

An agitated Nettles suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Sergeant, she's gone!"

"Who? Selina?" Jackson asked obtusely.

"No, Ca.s.sandra." Nettles' brow furrowed. "Why would Selina ... ?"

"Never mind, Nettles." Jackson said crabbily. "What do you mean Ca.s.sandra's gone?"

"Well, she's not in the drawing room, sir. And no one else has seen her since we took Prudence Ashcroft to the hospital. I think Ca.s.sandra used the commotion as her opportunity to escape."

"It's an island, Nettles! Even if the woman used FDR himself to divert our attention, she still can't get very far! Search the house and the island. And check with our man at the pier to make sure she didn't take off in that speed boat contraption."

"Yes, sir!"

Before Nettles could take action, Creighton appeared in the doorway of the study. "That won't be necessary. I found her," he announced solemnly.

Marjorie, Jackson, and Nettles lined up, single file, behind Creighton and followed him out the back door and down the white gravel path to the stables. There, in one of the empty stalls, lay the twisted body of the spiritualist. Splatters of deep crimson stained her stark white dress and matted the black hair of her chignon. A few feet from her body, in a small mound of hay, rested a steel horseshoe hammer, the head of which was covered in blood.

Jackson kicked the stall divider. "Two people bludgeoned to death, and one of them right under our b.l.o.o.d.y noses! How did this happen? And how, Mr. Ashcroft, were you able to locate her so quickly?"

"I had seen Ca.s.sandra outside when I went to check on Selina. She was wandering along the path behind the house; when I pa.s.sed her, she mumbled something about needing fresh air in order to get in touch with her spirit guide, or something to that effect. When I came back to the house, I overheard Nettles asking Miller and George if they knew where Ca.s.sandra was. I a.s.sumed she was still outdoors communicating with the great beyond, so I looked in the most obvious places ... and found her."

"When did you leave for Selina's cottage?" Jackson asked.

"Immediately after Nettles took Pru in for questioning. Why?"

"Shortly after Nettles brought Pru to the study, she was taken to the hospital," Marjorie explained.

"Good lord," Creighton exclaimed. "Is she ill?"

"She may have accidentally overdosed on Seconal and Benzedrine."

"Seconal? That's a sleeping pill isn't it?"

"She's been on it for two years now, courtesy of your father and brother," Marjorie replied.