Part 5 (1/2)

The question begged for laughter, but I could only manage a wan smile. ”Whoever's threatening to kill him, for a start.”

I'm sorry?

I shoved all thoughts of Bill and Gina to the back of my mind and concentrated on telling Dimity about the poison-pen letter and the torched topiary.

It would certainly hurt Simon to hurt Hailesham. He loved it here when he was a boy.

”He loves it even more, now that he's grown up.” I thought for a moment, then went on. ”Nell Harris seems to connect the fire to Simon, too. When Edwin told her not to worry about it, she gave Simon one of her meaningful looks.”

Nell's skilled at reading people, as I'm sure you've discovered. What's your opinion?

”It's arson,” I said bluntly. ”I could smell kerosene from fifty yards away. If you combine arson with a death threat, it's hard to avoid the conclusion that Simon's being singled out for hara.s.sment.” I reached over to twiddle Reginald's ears. ”I wonder if he's up to something or if the letter-writer's just plain crazy.”

It could be a bit of both. Simon was a charming boy, but he had a streak of mischief in him as well. He rather enjoyed disconcerting people.

”He still does,” I said, recalling the touch of his fingertips on my face.

Ask Simon if he knows why the writer objects so strenuously to his presence at Hailesham. I doubt that he'll give you a straight answer, but ask nonetheless.

”I intend to.” I looked toward the balcony. ”It must be an inside job, Dimity.”

I agree. Edwin's always been a stickler for security. A stranger would find it difficult to flit about the property unnoticed.

There was a pause as Dimity collected her thoughts. Has anyone else received a nasty letter? You might inquire.You should also make it your business to discover who had the opportunity to deliver the letter to Simon's room.

”I suppose one of the servants could have done it,” I said, ”or any of the others who arrived before he did. I'll find out.”

Have you told Bill about the death threat?

”No,” I said, and hurried on. ”He's been really busy since we arrived and he was exhausted when we finally came upstairs, and if I told him, he'd insist on calling the police.”

True. As an attorney, Bill's accustomed to utilizing official resources. He might even be correct in doing so. A death threat should never be taken lightly, Lori.

”I'm not taking it lightly,” I said. ”I'm respecting Simon's wishes. He asked me not to tell anyone about it.”

Simon asked you to keep a secret from your husband? And you agreed? Dimity didn't write tsk, tsk, but I could almost hear her clucking her tongue. Tread carefully, Lori. You've walked this path before.

I was sorely tempted to tell her that my husband had fallen asleep with another woman's name on his lips, but I kept silent. How could I question Bill's behavior when my own track record was less than spotless? I'd never been unfaithful to him-in the strictest sense of the word- but Dimity knew that I'd had more than my share of close calls. She was tactfully reminding me of my unfortunate susceptibility to charming men to whom I was not married.

”I'll be okay,” I a.s.sured her. ”Simon's such a flagrant flirt that I'd be embarra.s.sed to be seduced by him.”

Three cheers for self-respect. Now, tell me, what did you have for dinner?

”For dinner?” I blinked, surprised by the change of subject, then remembered that Dimity was supposed to be enjoying a carefree holiday. ”Consomme, poached salmon, roast partridge, white asparagus, lemon sorbet, treacle tart, fresh peaches, and the usual a.s.sortment of wines and cheeses.”

Treacle tart? An unusual choice for such a formal meal, but I'm sure it was delicious. In my day, Edwin was known far and wide for the splendor of his table. I'm glad to know that high standards still prevail. Did he use the family dinner service?

”The china was marked with the Elstyn crest, if that's what you mean,” I said.

Lovely. And were you able to cope with the partridge?

”I poked the knife into the joints, the way you told me to, and the legs just fell off.” I frowned in puzzlement. ”Why do you suppose Simon wants me to meet him in the library?”

Isn't it obvious, my dear? He wants your help in finding the books vandalized by the poison pen.

I chided myself for not catching on more quickly, then remembered that I hadn't been thinking very clearly when I'd left the rose garden.

It seems our holiday at Hailesham Park will be every bit as adventurous as you predicted.You must promise me that you'll conduct your investigation with the utmost caution. Poison pens are notoriously unstable. If ours discovers that you're in league with Simon, he may come after you as well.

Her warning tweaked my curiosity. ”Has anyone ever sent you a death threat, Dimity?”

Yes, once, long ago. It's an occupational hazard for anyone with wealth.

I nodded thoughtfully. ”What did you do about it?”

I turned it over to Scotland Yard. They never discovered who sent it. But I did.

I sat up, intrigued. ”Who was it?”

One of my most trusted a.s.sistants. She made the mistake of clipping letters from a report issued by the Westwood Trust. The typeface was unusual and the report had a limited circulation. It didn't require much delving to reveal the culprit's ident.i.ty.

”Did you turn her in to the police?” I asked.

I had no choice but to inform the authorities. She'd become dangerously deranged, Lori, which is why I want you to be on guard.

”I'll watch my step,” I promised.

In the meantime, I suggest that you turn the light out and get some rest.You must be alert tomorrow.

”Good night, Dimity.”

Sleep well, my dear.

I waited until her words had faded from the page, then set the journal and Reginald on the bedside table, climbed under the covers, and switched off the light. I leaned back against the mound of pillows and gazed silently at the wall that separated my room from Simon's.

I was glad he'd come to me with the threatening letter. I'd been looking forward to guarding Derek, but the prospect of taking an active role in Simon's investigation was more appealing still. There was a certain thrill in knowing that a madman-or madwoman-walked among us.

Who would it be? I wondered. Who hated the likable Simon enough to attempt to drive him away from the grand reunion?

Derek's was the first name that came to mind. My friend didn't seem overly fond of his cousin, and had reason to resent him. While Derek was the earl's estranged and hostile son, Simon was the earl's favorite. As such, he posed a potential threat to Derek's inheritance.

”No, Reg, it can't be Derek,” I said, glancing at my pink bunny. ”He's not sneaky enough. I can picture him punching Simon in the nose maybe, but I can't see him pasting together an anonymous death threat. It must be someone else.”

Could Claudia be the culprit? I asked myself. It was difficult to imagine clueless Claudia plotting anything more complex than a shopping spree, but there might be more to her than met the eye.

Then there was Oliver, the bashful younger brother who'd grown up in Simon's shadow. Truckloads of demented resentments could spring from being ignored, overlooked, and dismissed as second best. Perhaps Oliver had finally had enough. Perhaps he'd decided to grab some of the spotlight for himself by casting a shadow over Simon. Oliver was a definite possibility.