Black Moonlight Part 7

"What's this?" he asked of his wife.

"The scone recipe. If we're sending some home with Jackson tonight, you'd better get baking."

"A note." Jackson mused after Marjorie had recounted the previous night's dinner and the subsequent meeting with her father-in-law.

"And all it said was 'The day of reckoning is nigh?'" Nettles confirmed.

"Yes. Typed in all capital letters," Marjorie described. "In fact, if you want to see it, it's probably in Mr. Ashcroft's jacket pocket. That's where he put it after he showed it to me."

Jackson nodded to Nettles. "Go check for the note, eh?"

The inspector obediently left the room.

"And because of this note, Mr. Ashcroft believed his life was in danger," Jackson summarized. "So instead of calling the police, he changed his will, and consulted you."

"That's right," Marjorie corroborated. "In hindsight, I wish he had called the police, but Mr. Ashcroft wasn't the type to ask for help. Indeed, I think he wanted to use the situation to his own advantage."

"So, because of this meeting, you were the last person to see Mr. Ashcroft alive," Jackson a.s.serted.

"No, the last person to see Mr. Ashcroft alive was his killer," Marjorie corrected. "I was simply the last person to leave the dining room following that fiasco of a dinner."

"What time was that?"

"When I left the dining room? Oh, about eight-thirty."

Jackson took notes in a small black book. "Where did you go from there?"

"I went outside to look for my husband."

"You didn't know where he was?"

Marjorie silently debated whether or not she should mention Creighton's argument with his father. She had already told Jackson that her father-in-law had had words with every member of the household, but she had failed to impart the sheer magnitude of Creighton's anger.

After a few moments' hesitation, she concluded that it was better that Jackson hear the story directly from her than from the likes of Griselda or, heaven forbid, Ca.s.sandra. "Creighton and my father-in-law got into a bit of a row last night."

"Bad?" Jackson asked.

Marjorie nodded.

"Did it come to blows?"

"No, but it might have. Selina-"

"The housekeeper," Jackson verified.

"Yes, the housekeeper. Selina stepped in and told Creighton to go outside and cool off. Clear his head. I was about to follow when my father-in-law called me back."

"Why was your husband so angry? Because he had been cut from the will?"

The question sent Marjorie into a tailspin. If she told Jackson that Creighton was now the sole inheritor of his father's estate, it would cast suspicion in his direction. No, she decided. They'll find the new will and discover the truth soon enough. Until then, it's best to let Jackson think I know nothing about it.

"Mr. Ashcroft never revealed the ident.i.ty of his solitary heir; therefore, it was premature for anyone to be upset about having been 'cut.' No, Creighton was infuriated by his father's machinations. It was apparent the old man was taking perverse pleasure in deriding his dinner guests. He enjoyed making them miserable."

"Sounds like the life of the party," Jackson commented. "So when you left the dining room to look for your husband, where did you go?"

"I went outside through the back door. It's the exit closest to the dining room, so it seemed logical that Creighton may have gone that way. But he wasn't there. I even checked all the outbuildings and the grounds: no one."

"No one as in no Creighton, or-?"

"No one as in n.o.body. So I came back inside and gave a quick peek in the kitchen and dining room. Again, there was no one," Marjorie stated.

"Your father-in-law was no longer in the dining room?"

"I didn't see him, no ..."

"Go on," Jackson prodded.

"After the dining room and kitchen I decided to go upstairs. Edward, my brother-in-law, and his wife, Prudence, were in their room. I could hear them talking through the closed door as I pa.s.sed on the way to our bedroom, which is next to theirs."

"What were they talking about?"

Marjorie took a deep breath; as much as she liked Pru, she knew the conversation might be valuable to the case. "They were talking about what had transpired during dinner. Prudence was telling Edward that something needed to be done about Mr. Ashcroft."

"Is that how she phrased it? That 'something needed to be done?'"

"No," Marjorie denied as the words came flooding back into her memory. "She said that she wanted him out of their lives forever. At which point, Edward promised that he would take care of him. Those were the exact words he used: 'take care of him.' Prudence responded by saying that if he didn't, she would." Marjorie frowned. "That was all I heard."

"I see," Jackson remarked. "Where did you go then?"

"Into our bedroom. Creighton wasn't there, but I got the idea to check the verandah. That's when I saw Ca.s.sandra. She was on the verandah, but closer to the other end of the house. It was a full moon so I could see her clearly. She looked very different from when she was in the study and the dining room. Something about her was harder ... colder. And, I know this sounds silly, but she kicked the cat."

Jackson stared at her. "Beg pardon?"

"The cat I was talking about earlier, well it approached Ca.s.sandra and she kicked it. She had no reason for doing so; the cat wasn't harming anyone. And she-she seemed to smile afterwards. It was very disturbing." Marjorie punctuated the statement with a long pause. "After I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the cat, I went back downstairs. It must have been past nine o'clock by the time, because it was completely dark. I noticed a light coming in from the office; it was Mr. Miller."

"Did Mr. Miller appear angry?" Jackson quizzed.

"No, not at all," she replied. "If anything, he seemed to be relieved. And after seeing how my father-in-law treated him, I can't say I blame him. He was readying his list of references to put in the post. He and I spoke for a brief while-chit-chat really-before I went outside again, this time to the front of the house."

"Where you finally found Creighton?" Jackson a.s.sumed.

"Not before finding Griselda. She was sitting on the steps, crying her eyes out. I nearly fell over her. But I didn't, instead I helped her up and she, and her overnight bag, got into the speedster and set off to spend the night in Hamilton."

"What time did she get back?"

"That's an excellent question," Marjorie noted. "The next time I saw her was this morning, in the dining room, after Selina's screaming had garnered the attention of the entire household. Unlike the rest of us, however, she came in from outside. Looked like she had been sunning herself."

"Hmm. And, finally, where did you find Creighton?"

"Took us long enough didn't it?" Marjorie smiled. "He was on the front lawn cooling off, as Selina suggested. I sat with him and we talked for a while. Then we came inside to raid the pantry. We hadn't eaten any dinner-no one had. Creighton grabbed a bottle of wine; I found some cheese and fruit. We took them back to the front lawn, ate, drank, and watched the stars. It was going on eleven when we got back to our room."

"And you didn't hear or see anything else?"

"Not a soul and not a peep."

"And your husband?"

"You'll have to ask him, but I doubt it," she replied with an engaging smile.

"No, I-um-imagine he didn't either." Jackson colored slightly and fiddled with his collar. Nettles appeared in the doorway of the study, shaking his head. "No note, sir."

"But there must be," Marjorie exclaimed. "He put it there. I saw him!"

"Sorry, Miss," Nettles apologized. "We looked all over the dining room. Nothing. Perhaps he removed it from his pocket before he was killed."

"The typewriter ribbon," she nearly shouted. "My father-in-law was able to trace the note to the typewriter in his office because he saw the imprint in the ribbon."

"Requisition the ribbon, Nettles," Jackson ordered. "And then bring in Ashcroft's widow for questioning."

Nettles left the room and went about his duties.

"I have to hand it to you, Miss ... Mrs. Ashcroft," Jackson complimented. "It sounds as if you can place everyone's whereabouts prior to the murder."

"Not everyone, Sergeant Jackson. Unless someone else saw them, we have no idea where Selina and George were," Marjorie stated grimly. "No idea at all."

"I was Richie's secretary for five years," stated Griselda Ashcroft as she adjusted the top of her worsted wool swimsuit. She looked at Marjorie, "He liked me to call him 'Richie,' what with his and your husband's names being the same."

Marjorie responded with a polite smile. A name was the only thing Creighton and his father had in common.

Nettles entered the room and quietly took a seat next to Marjorie.

"We finally got married four months ago," Griselda continued. She thrust the gaudy sapphire and diamond ring in Jackson's face.

The Sergeant reared back. "Yes, that's-that's very nice. Your husband must have cared greatly to have given you a ring like that."

"Yeah, he was always buying me things. He was very generous."

"Hmm. And how did you feel about him?" Jackson posed.

"Why, I loved him, of course. He was my husband," Griselda stated matter-of-factly.

"And what about his claims that you were keeping an apartment in New Jersey?" Marjorie questioned.

Griselda threw her a dirty look. "That was a lie."

"Was it now?" Jackson chuckled. "Just because we're on an island in the middle of the Atlantic doesn't mean we can't find out for ourselves. Nettles?"

"Right, sir," the Inspector replied. "I'll make those phone calls when we get back to the station."

"Okay," Griselda capitulated. "Richie was right. I am paying for an apartment, but it's not what it looks like. At least it wasn't at first. Before Richie and I were together I was seeing a fella named Benny Kerr. I fell for him-hard. But he wound up being a real crumb. Always borrowing money off of me, going around with other women. So I called it quits. That's when I met Richie and I flipped for him. It was nice to have someone give me things for a change instead of the other way around. I ran into Benny a few months back, right before Richie and I got married. He was hard on his luck, so I loaned him a few bucks. I guess part of me still had it bad for Benny because one thing led to another and, well, you know."

"You must have been quite angry when your husband outed you last night," Nettles ventured.

"I was more surprised and embarra.s.sed at first. For him to say those things in front everyone! Later on though ..."

"You were angry," Nettles surmised.

"That's why I went upstairs, packed my bag, and left. I couldn't stand the thought of being in the same house as him."

"Where did you go?" Jackson asked.

"Hamilton."

"In the speedster?" Nettles asked.

"Of course, in the speedster. Did you think I took a canoe?" Griselda chortled.

"Who was in Hamilton?" Jackson challenged.

"What? What are you talking about?" Griselda responded.

"You didn't meet someone in Hamilton? Perhaps Benny Kerr?" Jackson proposed.

"Benny's back in New Jersey. Would I have liked for him to come down and meet me in Hamilton? Sure," she confessed. "But this trip was so last-minute that I didn't have the chance."

"I thought this trip was your idea," Marjorie spoke up. "Selina said that you wanted to get out of the city."

"I always want to get out of the city during the summer," Griselda stated. "But we were just here in April. It was beautiful then, but at this time of year? As much as I like this place, leaving New York to come here is like going from hot to hotter."

"If it wasn't your idea to come here, whose was it?" Marjorie asked.

"Richie's. He said he needed a vacation-well, 'holiday' was how he put it. He decided to come here because of the regatta this weekend."

"Was your husband a sailing enthusiast?" Nettles inquired.

"Heavens no!" Griselda exclaimed. "But some bigwig that Richie was trying to impress was. The fella was supposed to be in town this week, so Richie made an appointment to meet with him. Winds up the guy didn't show after all."

"Do you remember this person's name?" Jackson questioned.

"I don't think Richie told it to me in the first place. Miller should know." She lowered her voice and leaned forward with a wink. "Between you and me, that sort of thing never happened when I was in charge of Richie's appointments."

"Hmm," Jackson remarked. "Getting back to last night, if you didn't meet someone in Hamilton, what did you do there?"

"I went to the bar at the Hamilton Hotel."

"Nowhere else?"

"Nowhere else," Griselda stated blankly. "I chatted with a few fellas who were in town for the regatta, had a couple of drinks, and then came back to the island."