Secret Reflection

9


Day Eight

Kelly had just pushed aside the breakfast tray when Nancy’s head appeared around the privacy curtain.

‘How’re you doing?’ she asked, smiling brightly.

‘I’ve had better mornings,’ she replied as she tossed the napkin onto her uneaten eggs. At least, that was what the attendant had said they were. They looked and tasted more like salty oatmeal – lumps and all. She drank the juice and ate the toast, which wasn’t too bad … but the eggs were beyond her.

‘You’ve got a nasty bruise there,’ Nancy said as she kissed her friend, taking care to avoid the darkened area.

‘I’ll bet,’ Kelly replied with a grimace. ‘My forehead feels like a football.’

‘I won’t say the obvious,’ Nancy replied with a cheeky grin. She brandished an overnight bag. ‘You can see for yourself – everything you need, plus that book you asked for.’

‘Did you tell John?’

‘That was a weird experience. I kept trying to imagine what he looked like … he has a very sexy voice.’

‘You think? I haven’t noticed myself.’ She looked away.

‘Don’t kid a kidder, as they say. He said to give you his best, and that he’d keep watch till you get back. He sounded smitten.’

‘Smitten?’

‘Yes – I reckon he fancies you, Kel. He was certainly very distressed to think you might have been hurt. And he said to tell you that you’re in his thoughts.’

Her eyes widened slightly. ‘Probably because I won’t be able to search for his cousin’s journal for a while.’

‘He didn’t sound so self-serving to me,’ Nancy said. ‘He sounded genuinely upset.’

‘Maybe, but smitten he ain’t. Besides, do you realise how impossible that would be?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘If he’s for real – he is stuck in some kind of alternate reality.’

‘So? What if you can free him?’

‘He says he’ll likely die if I can free him.’

Nancy brows rose. ‘Whoa! Are you saying that if you help him, you’ll probably kill him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re willing to do it?’ Nancy’s brows rose even higher.

‘It isn’t a matter of what I want. It is what he wants. He reckons that it is worse than hell to be trapped where he is. Most people are terrified of him – and because he can only appear every twenty years … he spends long periods, even years at a time, completely alone. He is convinced that death is preferable to that.’

Nancy drew a deep breath and sighed. ‘I don’t know that I could do it.’

Me either, thought Kelly. Aloud she said, ‘At this stage it’s a moot point. Unless I can find that journal I can’t do a damn thing anyway.’

The sound of someone clearing his throat made both women look around. Richard stood in the doorway, his jaw discoloured and swollen.

‘Tom told me I could find you here. I guess it means our trip to London is postponed?’ He strolled into the room and placed a chaste kiss on Nancy’s cheek. ‘I would have brought flowers but the nurse said if it were her, she’d prefer chocolate.’ He presented a small box of cream-filled confectionary. ‘You’re allowed to eat, aren’t you?’

Kelly glared across at the breakfast tray. ‘Most certainly am.’

She accepted the box, and his kiss, graciously.

Nancy stood. ‘I’d better get on home. I’ll call in this evening around five … if you think of anything you need, just call and I’ll bring it along. Any messages for home?’ she asked.

Kelly frowned with incomprehension. ‘Home?’

‘Your friend, back home – any messages?’

Suddenly Kelly understood: John. She shook her head. ‘Just say I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

Nancy smiled her goodbye.

‘You’re heading back to the States?’ Richard asked.

Again she was confounded. ‘Not yet – why do you ask?’

He motioned to the door. ‘Nancy’s mention of home.’

‘Oh, no – that was nothing.’ She smiled as brightly as she could. ‘How is the jaw?’

‘A hell of a lot better than your forehead, I expect.’

‘It’s okay.’ She gave him the same story as she gave the police, taking care not to mention John. ‘I’m sorry about Deanna. I know she was your friend.’

‘Dee?’ He stood and moved by the window, his hands fisted deep in his jacket pockets. He didn’t look at her. ‘Dee was just a kid who did a bit of work about the estate to earn pocket money now and then. I didn’t really know her very well.’

The journalist in her clicked instantly into gear. His tone, his stance, everything about him told her he was hedging. He knew a lot more about either Deanna, or her death, than he would say. She didn’t know which it was, but she’d be certain to find out.

He spun around and graced her with a broad smile. ‘I suppose we’ll have to wait a few days for our return date. Perhaps we can go to a restaurant after you’re released? I’d really like to have the chance to redeem myself after last night’s debacle.’

Return date? The automatic attempt to frown made her wince.

‘That’s very sweet, and dinner wasn’t a debacle. The food was great. How about we just play things as they come. Besides, it looks like I’m a murder suspect. I don’t know what will happen when the hospital releases me. The police might lock me up.’

‘I can’t believe that!’ He drew close to the bed, took her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘No one in their right mind will believe you killed Dee.’

She shrugged. ‘So far, I’m all they’ve got.’

‘Everything will be fine. You’ll see.’

Detective Inspector Mathieson chose that exact moment to arrive. His large frame filled the doorway. He looked like he was wearing the same suit as he had the night before. Perhaps he hadn’t yet slept? His hard face hinted that he wasn’t in the least happy she already had a visitor.

‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave, sir,’ he said to Richard, whose face began to flush. ‘Police business.’

Richard nodded, then smiled at her and dropped her hand, taking care to evade the inspector’s scrutiny as he passed. ‘I’ll stop by again later.’

Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t answer.

‘May I ask who that man was?’ Inspector Mathieson inquired as soon as the door had swung closed.

‘Don’t you know that already? Surely your guard would have challenged Richard when he wanted to visit me. Oherwise why have the guard in the first place?’

The inspector’s thick brows drew together to form a single line above his dark, probing eyes. ‘I’d forgotten you were a journalist,’ he commented with a slight sneer. ‘Actually, I intend to talk to Lord Stanthorpe about his relationship with Ms Montgomery later this morning.’

He drew his trusty PDA from his breast pocket and started making scratches with the stylus.

‘Can you remember anything more about last night, Ms Reid?’

‘Not that I can think of,’ she said. ‘Like I told you, it was completely dark.’

The man pinned her with a pointed stare. ‘Perhaps you heard a strange sound … or smelled something unusual?’ he suggested. ‘Most people remember just the visual details at first. It is only later that the memories from the other senses surface.

‘Take your time, Ms Reid. Walk your mind through each stage of last evening until the time you say you blacked out.’

‘I did black out. I really don’t know what else I can tell you.’

The inspector peered at her over his PDA. ‘Take a minute, Ms Reid.’

As she thought about what occurred in those last few minutes in the passage her nose began to twitch. She sat up straighter as the memory returned. ‘Yes! You’re right … I did smell something. Manure. Horse manure.’

One heavy brow rose quizzically. ‘How do you know it was horse manure?’

She gave a wry laugh. ‘I got some thrown at me when I went to a polo match a couple of days ago. It all but ruined my jacket. It’s not a smell I’d easily forget.’

‘Thank you, Ms Reid. Every clue helps. Has the doctor told you when you may leave the hospital?’

She glanced over at the book that sat upon the cabinet. She wished the inspector would leave so she could start reading.

‘Ms Reid?’

‘Huh? No, not yet. She said something about a CT or MRI or one of those acronyms. She wants to make sure there is no bleeding in my brain.’

He took a card from his wallet and handed it to her. ‘I’m keeping the officer outside your door. Please ring me if Helen says you are permitted to leave. I’ll have an escort accompany you back to Stanthorpe House.’

‘Is that because I’m still a suspect? Am I under house arrest, or do you still think my life is in danger?’

‘Both, Ms Reid. Until the autopsy on Ms Montgomery is complete, I cannot say more.’

‘I understand,’ she said, though in truth she didn’t really.

‘And if you think of anything … anything at all that might help the investigation … call me. Day or night, I don’t care.’

‘I will,’ she replied, staring at the card.

With a sharp nod, he left.

Heaving a deep sigh she reached over to the bedside cabinet and grabbed the red-covered book. Okay, let’s see who you really are, John Tarrant.

An elegant script for a man, she thought, as she skimmed the first few pages.

She’d read all of three paragraphs when the nurse arrived, handed her a small container of pills and a paper cup of water, then informed her that as soon as she had downed her tablets, they were heading to radiology for more tests. The medication made her drowsy and by the time she returned to her room, Kelly had fallen asleep. Nancy came by but left her sleeping and it was very late that night when Kelly finally came awake again.

A tray of sandwiches had been left at her bedside, which she ate with relish. The tea had gone stone cold but the jug of iced water was full. She poured a glass and settled down to read John’s journal once again. She read through the night, and when she finally set the book aside, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

‘Oh, John.’

Journal of Edward James Ditchley,

Stanthorpe House, Oxfordshire, England.

July 15, 1862

My darling Elizabeth, I regret to say I reached my wits’ end with my wife this afternoon. After months of refusals and endless blubbering, I was forced to make her submit to me fully. Her time will soon come for the birthing and though I forbade it, her family intends to visit within the month.

As is his wont, your murderer railed and cursed when I threatened his precious Anne with the strap. Indeed, it took several strikes before she submitted, and you know how I have always detested violence, my darling one.

Your murderer again thought to vanish and spare himself from witnessing Anne’s subjugation but I have found the perfect answer to that dilemma. Each time he takes himself away or closes his eyes, I go to his mother and tell her more of her son’s perfidy. If your murderer wishes to spare her that knowledge, he must remain and witness the outcome of his murderous actions.

I confess to you, my love, that it pains me to tell you of all I must do but it is the only way to avenge you. Truly, justice cannot be served until Anne is dead and your murderer comes to know the anguish he has caused me.