The familiar scents of Toft House closed round her as she went in through the scullery. She waited long enough to be sure no one was about, then went softly up the main stairs. There was a moment when the floorboards outside her father’s room creaked loudly–she had forgotten those particular creaking boards–and she froze, her heart pounding. There was a faint sound from his bedroom, but nothing happened and she went up the second flight of stairs.
Mrs Plumtree’s bedroom was at the back of the house; Maud slipped inside, carrying the pillow she had taken from the airing cupboard, and stole across to the bed. She was quite sad about having to kill Mrs Plumtree, but it was a necessary part of the plan and it had better be done as quickly as possible. She pushed the pillow down onto Mrs Plumtree’s face; the woman gave a muffled gasp and struggled. Maud had to use quite a bit of force to keep the pillow in place. It was not really difficult, although the struggles went on for longer than she had expected. She watched the little clock on the bedside cabinet ticking the minutes away, because it would be helpful to know the length of time it took to smother someone. After ten minutes it seemed to be over, and Maud removed the pillow. Yes, it was all right. Goodbye, Mabel Plumtree. Now for the next part.
She had no qualms about killing her father, who was the one person who might spoil her escape and ruin her plan. He had betrayed her by taking her to Latchkill, and Maud was not going to feel in the least conscience-stricken about this. But it was important his death remained undiscovered for as long as possible, which was why Mrs Plumtree had had to die as well–she would certainly have raised the alarm if she had found her employer dead in the morning. With both of them dead it would be at least two days–maybe three or four–before anyone realized what had happened, and by then Maud would be miles away. Safe. Free.
Her father slept in the big front bedroom on the first floor. Maud, the pillow held firmly in her hands, eased the door slowly open. Careful now, he mustn’t wake up. But it was all right: she could hear him snoring. It was a horrid ugly noise. He was sound asleep, lying on his back with his mouth open. Maud was grateful to him for sleeping on his back because it would make her task much easier. She crept over to the bed, every muscle tensed in case he woke up.
He did not wake; he went on snoring. When Maud put the pillow over his face, he spluttered and gurgled, and fought the air with his hands, trying to beat her off. But Maud was ready for that–she had known he would fight harder than Plumtree–and she knelt on the bed and brought all her weight down on the pillow. The clock said fifteen minutes to midnight, and she watched the hands tick round. Three minutes–five. He was still struggling, but not quite so frenziedly. Seven minutes. Surely he was almost dead. It had only taken Plumtree ten. But he was still twitching a bit, and his limbs were still jerking and really, you would have thought he would be dead by this time. Twelve minutes–thirteen…Ah, he had stopped struggling. Better not to take any chances, though. Maud remained kneeling on the bed, her hands pressed flat down on the pillow. Two more minutes? Yes, better be sure.
In the end, it was seventeen minutes before she dared lift the pillow, and her wrists were starting to ache quite badly with the pressure. But it was all right. He was definitely dead: his lips were swollen, and blue-looking, and his eyes were wide and staring. Maud steeled herself to feel for a heartbeat just to be sure, but there was nothing.
She left the pillow on the bed, went along to her old bedroom and put several things into a small valise. Night things, a change of linen. Hairbrush, toothbrush, soap. Carrying the valise, she went back down the stairs. Her father had always kept a reasonable amount of money in his desk, and Maud needed money for what lay ahead. She had a little jewellery, some of it her mother’s, but most of it was at Quire House and she did not dare go back there.
There was almost ￡200 in the desk, which was very gratifying. Maud tucked it into her pocket, and went out through the back door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX