Absolutely. I’m sure it will be most cathartic. Have you told Rob and Will about Abaddon?
“Bill told them that we’re going away because a bad man wants to hurt us.” I shook my head. “I didn’t want to tell them anything, but Bill convinced me that they’d be safer if they were aware of the danger.”
How did they react?
“Like five-year-olds,” I said with a wry smile. “They went into their twin mind-meld and came out with: ‘Don’t worry, Daddy, we’ll be careful. May we bring our cricket bats?’ ”
Splendid. They clearly have complete confidence in your ability to protect them, which is as it should be.Will Annelise accompany you?
“No,” I replied. “It was a tough decision, and Annelise isn’t happy about it—she feels as if she’s abandoning us in our hour of need—but it’s the right thing to do. We don’t want to drag her any deeper into our troubles than she already is. Bill and I decided that her family’s farm would be the safest place for her until Abaddon’s locked up.”
I agree.The Sciaparelli clan knows how to look after its own. At times like this, it’s extremely useful for a young woman to have seven muscular and highly protective brothers nearby.What about Stanley? The cats I’ve known haven’t been terribly fond of travel. Are you going to bring him with you? Or will Mr. Anton take care of him?
“Stanley’s going into protective custody at Anscombe Manor,” I explained. Anscombe Manor was the sprawling home of our closest friends, Emma and Derek Harris, and of their stable master, Kit Smith. “Emma’s promised to keep an eye on Stanley, and Kit won’t let any harm come to the boys’ ponies.”
I suspect that Kit will sleep in the stalls, armed with a pitchfork, until the danger passes.
“It wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” I said. “Kit’s a man of peace, except when it comes to people who hurt animals.”
Well.You seem to have everything in hand.
“Yep.” I nodded.
You’ve rearranged your affairs with great composure.
“That’s right.”
The packing is finished, the telephone calls have been made, and everything else has been properly seen to.You’ve been energetic and sensible and, most important, well organized. I applaud you.
“Thank you,” I said, with a little half bow.
Now, my dear child, don’t you think it’s time for you to tell me what’s really going on inside that head of yours?
I studied the question in silence, then lifted my gaze to look slowly around the room. I couldn’t count the number of hours I’d spent in the study since the cottage had become my home. I was intimately familiar with each floorboard’s creak, each shadowy corner, each whisper of wind in the chimney. As I ran my hand along the armchair’s smooth leather, I recalled that I’d been sitting in the same chair the first time I’d opened Aunt Dimity’s remarkable journal.
I closed my eyes and let my mind travel through the cottage’s other rooms, past the silver-framed family photographs, the piles of stuffed animals, the scrawled notes taped to the living room’s mantel shelf—reminders of events and appointments that had seemed important six hours ago but that had since become wholly irrelevant. I saw with my mind’s eye the ink-stained cushion on the window seat beneath the living room’s bow window, the scratches on the legs of the dining-room table, the overflowing coatrack in the front hall. I saw the twins asleep in their beds, nestled beneath quilts sewn by the village’s quilting club, and Bill standing over them, with cold fear in his eyes.
“What’s really going on inside my head?” I said softly, and looked into the fire’s quivering flames. “I’m being terrorized by someone who wants to kill my husband, my children, and me. I’m being forced to leave the place I love above all others on this earth, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back. I’m keeping calm for Bill’s sake and the boys’, Dimity, but if you want to know the truth about how I’m feeling, here it is: I want to camouflage my face and go out there in the dark with a machete and a machine gun and a flamethrower. I want to find this evil creep and shoot him and stab him and stomp on him and cut him into little pieces and burn him to ashes and send his ashes into space so they’d never pollute any air I might breathe.” I paused to let my thundering heart quieten. “I guess you could say that I’m having a slight problem with anger management.”
To the contrary, my dear, I would say that you’re managing your anger exceptionally well.You haven’t by any chance acquired a flamethrower, have you?
I astonished myself by laughing out loud. “Of course not, Dimity! I haven’t had the time. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with a flamethrower if I had one.”
I’m sure they come with instructions.That being said, I believe you’ll be better served if you leave all such matters in the capable hands of Ivan Anton and Chief Superintendent Yarborough.