“That’s it.” Chief Prescott headed for the door. “Watch and wait.”
As I opened the door for him he said in a low voice. “And Mrs. Sullivan, your own observations have been most useful, but I have to warn you: Leave this to the police from now on and devote your energies to looking after your husband instead.”
“Go back to my rightful place, you’re saying,” I commented. “And leave the real work to the men?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “I’m saying that if what we fear turns out to be true, then someone on this estate killed a man in the proximity of many other people. Such a person is extremely dangerous and would not hesitate to dispatch you, should he consider you a threat.”
He stepped out into the slanted evening sunlight, blinking slightly as it shone into his face. He stared up at the brooding shape of the castle. Then he put on his hat, gave me a curt little bow, and walked over to his automobile.
When I came back into the room Daniel was standing up, one hand on the back of an armchair. “I thought I’d go back to bed, if you don’t mind,” he said. “My head’s still throbbing like the devil.”
“What do you feel like for supper?” I asked, taking his arm to escort him up the stairs. “Anything I can tempt you to?”
He managed the ghost of a smile. “Normally I could answer that in the affirmative. This evening I can’t be tempted by anything except my bed and sleep. Oh, and another of those disgusting aspirin powders.”
“But you must eat something.”
“Just some more of that broth. That’s all.”
“That’s easy then. I don’t need to cook.” I helped him off with his jacket. “Why don’t you get undressed properly and into bed?”
“I should probably stay like this for now, in case somebody comes from the big house. I’ll just lie with a rug over me.” He brought out the words one by one, and with difficulty as if the climb up the stairs had winded him.
I draped the rug over him, then kissed his forehead. “I’ll be up with the aspirin then. And a spoonful of jam this time. That’s what the chemist said. It makes the bitter taste go away.”
He nodded, lay back, and closed his eyes. Then as I was leaving the room he said, “Molly, what made you say that about changing his will?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to think of a reason he’d want his family assembled in a remote place.”
“You might have hit close to the mark,” Daniel said. “Remember I said I surmised it was something financial. We’ll have to find out from his attorney whether any such change had been planned.”
“Or implemented already,” I said.
Daniel nodded. “If he was poisoned then one has to think that the most likely suspect would be a family member. Who else would know the alderman might have a quiet drink away from the house? And he was a wily old fox. He’d not have let a stranger get near enough to slip something into his glass.”
“We’ll know more when the doctors in Providence have examined the evidence,” I said.
“I hope they are more competent than that Prescott fellow,” Daniel grunted. “The problem is that most police forces outside of New York are hopelessly antiquated in their methods. No scientific approach to speak of. They rather try the witch trial approach—set fire to the suspect and if he doesn’t burn he’s a witch.” He lay back and closed his eyes. “You could see that the idea of fingerprints was a novelty to Prescott. He probably will have no idea how to lift them from a surface and to preserve them as evidence. Of course, most of the judges in this country are no better. They’ve never yet been admissible in court. But that will have to change.” He coughed again—a rasping, rattling cough that shook his body.
“Stop talking and rest now,” I said. “You heard Chief Prescott. He made it quite clear that he doesn’t want your help with his case. You get better and then we’ll go home.”
“He’ll just bungle everything and a murderer will walk away a free man.”
“Or woman,” I said.
He opened his eyes in surprise. “You yourself said that poisoning was a woman’s crime,” I pointed out. Then I tiptoed out of the room.
A little later the stew was warming on the stove and I finally had time to write my letter to Sid and Gus. The wind had dropped and the sky was bathed in pink light. I sat at the open window of the sitting room, enjoying the tangy ocean breeze and the gentle thump and hiss of waves. Birds were calling from the treetops. It was a peaceful scene and I tried to blot out the disturbing events of the day. I started my letter by telling my friends of the alderman’s death.