Part 18 (2/2)
Mrs. Bellows shook her head sadly. ”This is the way she wanted to go in any case. She never wanted to end up in a home, let alone an inst.i.tution like prison.”
”Now Rosie will inherit the hotel,” Yvette said.
”Not necessarily. The will may be deemed void if proven to have been drawn up as an inducement to commit an illegal act.”
”Mrs. Smithings was genuinely fond of Rosie,” the cook pointed out. ”She could've written the will before she hatched the plot to murder the American guest.”
”The jury might be sympathetic about Rosie losing her twin sister,” Charley ventured.
”They might, were it not for Wanda's murder.”
”Well, that's that, then,” Mrs. Bellows said. ”I suppose I'm out of a job. I'll still serve Christmas dinner, of course. I hope it's all right if me and Clifford join you.”
”I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say it'll be our pleasure,” Rex replied.
”Did you really have no idea what was going on?” Charley asked the cook.
”I wasn't here all the time before the snow started. And the last couple of days, I've been too busy to notice everything.”
The doorbell chimed at that moment, and the people in the foyer froze in a stupor. Most of them had not seen a new face in days. Rex had almost forgotten about the police. ”Well, I suppose we had better let them in,” he said.
Grumbling, Clifford rose from his chair. ”I'll get it. There be no peace around 'ere. This be the most 'orrible Christmas ever.”
Rex gathered his notes and followed him to the front door.
”Merry Christmas, all,” announced a man in a fluorescent yellow police parka, followed by a similarly dressed cop in a tall bobby hat. ”Inspector Richard Driscoll at your service. This here is Sergeant Graeme Horne.”
”Rex Graves, QC.” Rex held out his hand while a team of black uniformed police filed past them, tracking slush across the parquet floor. ”I spoke with you on the phone yesterday,” he told the inspector. ”The co-murderer is locked in the office.” He indicated the door. ”She and Mrs. Smithings concocted the first murder between them. I've written up a report.”
”Right-oh. Three stiffs, wasn't it?”
”Four. Three murders-albeit, one accidental-and a suicide.” Rex gave the inspector the master key and explained where the bodies were to be found.
”The coroner's right behind me, so we'll get cracking. As soon as we get all your statements, you can be on your way.”
”We're staying for Christmas dinner to pay our respects to the departed. Mrs. Bellows here has been basting since daybreak. Turkey with chestnuts and brandy pudding.”
The police officer chuckled. ”Gluttons for punishment, the lot of you,” he said, making his way through the hall.
After a quiet word with Rex, Helen followed the coroner upstairs. Mrs. Bellows headed for the kitchen. Rex ushered the rest of the residents back into the drawing room while the police conducted their business. He watched through the doors as the Forensic Science Service pa.s.sed to and fro in white coveralls.
”What was the old lady hoping to achieve by b.u.mping off Miriam Greenbaum and destroying the ma.n.u.script?” Patrick asked, returning from guard duty now that the police had arrived.
”It was a personal crusade to impede the Bush propaganda,” Anthony said. ”The murder was politically motivated.”
”She was off her trolley,” was Charley's comment. Reclining on the loveseat, he put his feet up on Yvette's lap.
”I feel sorry for her,” she said.
”You feel sorry for everybody.”
Clifford twisted his cap in his hands. ”Now she be dead.”
Rex could not conceive of his mother's reaction to the news. He would wait to tell her until she returned from visiting her sick friend in Perth-she had enough on her plate for now.
Some time later, Helen stepped into the room. ”Well, I should be going.”
”Aren't you staying for Christmas dinner?” Yvette asked.
”I spoke to the medical examiner. They'll be ready to take Wanda to the morgue soon. I thought I'd go with her.”
”How awful for you.” Yvette pushed Charley's feet off her lap and got up to embrace Helen.
”This is my number and address in Derby,” Helen told her. ”Do write.”
”We will.”
”Patrick, Anthony.” Helen hugged them both. ”I wish we could have met under happier circ.u.mstances.”
”We'd love to keep in touch,” Anthony said. ”Here's our card.”
Helen nodded and with a glance at Rex, sidled into the hallway.
”I have a big lump in my throat,” he said, following her to the front door.
”Not bigger than mine.”
”I'm going to miss you.”
”Stop it.” Pressing her lips together, she stood staring at her boots.
”Shall I come with you to the morgue?”
Helen shook her head, ensconced in the blue woolen bonnet. ”No need. I'll head on home afterwards. The main roads should be clear. I only hope my car starts.”
”I asked Clifford to clear the snow off your windscreen.”
Helen winced. ”Now I know I'm in trouble.”
”Let me take your suitcase.”
”You really should put on a coat. You'll freeze.”
Rex picked up the case and followed her out the door and down the newly shoveled path to the parking area off the driveway. She popped open the trunk of a Renault and tucked in her bags, leaving s.p.a.ce for the suitcase. Rex closed the hatch while she tried to start the car. The engine neighed slowly on the first two attempts and then caught.
Leaving the car idling, she got out and turned to Rex. ”So this is goodbye,” she said with a trembling smile.
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