There are too many distractions, and the study isn’t a fully equipped office. I need more than a laptop and a telephone to do my job properly.”
“You’re not thinking of going to London, are you?” I said, stunned. “For ten days?”
“I have to,” Bill replied. “We’re in the middle of sorting out the Shuttleworth bequest, which, owing to Mrs. Shuttleworth’s deep and abiding love for her many, many cats, is insanely complicated.
It’s all hands on deck at the London office, and I have to be there to make sure the paperwork flows smoothly. We mustn’t confuse Miss Muffi n’s trust fund with Mr. MuddyBuddy’s.”
“You’d put a cat’s welfare before your sons’?” I said, appalled.
“Don’t you understand? The boys could be in danger. ”
Bill sighed. “If I thought for one moment that the boys were in any kind of danger, I’d stay home.”
I waved Will’s drawing under his nose. “What about Rendor?”
“There is no Rendor, Lori,” Bill reminded me.
“I know there’s no Rendor,” I said, exasperated. “But the boys saw someone. I’ll bet there’s a creepy pervert lurking in the woods above Anscombe Manor.”
“You’d lose the bet,” Bill said complacently. “I just finished speaking with Kit. He checked out the place where Rendor allegedly appeared to the boys, and he didn’t find anything to indicate that anyone had been there—no footprints, no broken branches, no bat droppings. But there is a gnarly old tree that, on a misty October day, could be mistaken for a lot of things. He’s convinced that the boys mistook the tree for a vampire. That’s why he didn’t report it to us. He thought it was too trivial to merit a phone call.”
“What about the bats?” I demanded, pointing to the picture.
“Dead leaves blowing in the wind.” Bill took me by the shoulders and regarded me steadily. “Kit loves Will and Rob as if they
28 Nancy Atherton
were his own sons. He’s responsible for every child who sets foot in the stables. Do you really think he’d stand by and do nothing if he thought a creepy pervert was lurking anywhere near Anscombe Manor?”
“No,” I answered reluctantly, “but maybe he wasn’t looking in the right place.”
“I spoke with Emma as well,” Bill said, “and she—”
“Why didn’t she tell me about the vampire?” I interrupted. “She was here yesterday. She could have told me then, but she didn’t say a word.”
“She didn’t say anything because she knew you’d overreact, just as you overreacted to the telephone call from Miss Archer.” Bill raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Hmmm . . . I wonder if she was right?”
“But Kit might have missed something,” I insisted.
“I don’t think he did,” said Bill. “Emma told me that there were nearly forty people at the manor on Sunday—children, adults, stable hands, scattered all over the property. No one reported seeing a stranger in the woods, no one except Will and Rob, who had vampires on the brain because of that stupid comic book. They’re young, they’re suggestible. They mistook a tree for a vampire.” He tugged Will’s drawing from my hand, crumpled it into a ball, and deposited it in the wastebasket under the sink. “End of story.”
With some difficulty I swallowed my frustration and gave a short nod. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Have I ever been anything else?” he said, grinning. “I’ll stay at the Flamborough while I’m in London.”
“Naturally,” I said. Bill always stayed at the Flamborough Hotel when he was in London.
“If Miss Brightman or Miss Archer wishes to speak with me,” he went on, “they can reach me there or on my cell phone.”
“Right,” I said, trying not to look in the direction of the wastebasket.
Bill pulled me into his arms. “Coming to bed?”
Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
29
“I’ll be up in a little while,” I told him, resting my cheek against his chest. “I have to go through my notes from the Guy Fawkes Day meeting. Peggy Taxman is chairing the next meeting, and I want to be prepared.”
“You’d better be,” he said, shuddering. Peggy Taxman was one of Finch’s more forceful personalities. She had the same effect on Bill that Miss Archer had on me. “Peggy will have your guts for garters if you don’t do your homework.” He stood back and peered down at me. “No more worrying about Rendor?”
“No more worrying about Rendor,” I promised, and gave him a gentle push toward the hallway. “Go to bed, Bill. If you want to beat the rush to London, you’re going to need an early start.”
“Too true,” he acknowledged. “Good night, love.”
Bill kissed me on the top of the head and went upstairs, with Stanley padding happily in his wake. I listened carefully, until I heard the sound of our bedroom door closing, then darted over to retrieve Will’s drawing from the wastebasket.
“I’m not worried about Rendor, Bill,” I said under my breath.