Black Moonlight Part 8

"What time was it when you returned?" Nettles asked.

"About one o'clock."

"And was Mr. Ashcroft alive and well when you went to bed?"

"I have no idea," she shrugged. "I took my overnight bag to the only empty guest room and stayed there for the night."

"Did you hear anything unusual during the night?"

"No, but between the crying and the booze, I was pretty much out cold. Next thing I remembered was waking up with the sun. I couldn't go back to sleep because it was too bright and the room was getting warm. So I went to our bedroom to change into my sunbathing outfit. Richie wasn't there and the bed was made. But that wasn't anything unusual. He never slept very much and when he did, he always made the bed afterwards. He said no one else tucked the sheets and blankets in the way he did: all the way around instead of just at the corners."

"Fascinating," Jackson commented absently.

Griselda looked around at her audience, her face a question. "Is that all? Because I can't think of anything else to tell you and I'd really like to get back to my sunbathing."

"Why do you need to sunbathe when you're covered in bottled tanning solution?" Marjorie asked curiously.

"Because until I can get tanned by the sun, I don't want to look like pasteurized milk," Griselda replied cattily. "You should try it some time." With a tug at the seat of her swimsuit, she stood up and sashayed toward the door.

"I don't know what to tell you," Herman Miller stated humbly. "I grew up in Philadelphia, graduated from Lafayette College in 1920, and tried my hand at writing the great American novel. When that didn't pan out, I put my typing skills to use as a secretary. I started working for Mr. Ashcroft about five months ago, right before his and Mrs. Ashcroft's wedding."

"What were you doing here in Bermuda?" Jackson raised.

"It was Mr. Ashcroft's idea. He had made arrangements to meet a representative from the English Steel Corporation who was going to be in town for the regatta. Mr. Ashcroft thought it would be handy to bring me along to help with any paperwork that might ensue."

"Was it handy?"

Miller crossed his legs and shook his head. "No, the man we were supposed to meet didn't show. He wound up cancelling his trip."

Jackson mirrored the leg cross. "What was this man's name?"

"Morrison. Kenneth Morrison."

Jackson jotted the name in his little notebook.

"Mr. Ashcroft and I were to meet him for lunch at the Inverurie Hotel, where he was supposed to be staying," Miller explained. "We went there and waited a good half hour for the man, but he didn't show. When I asked the front desk to page him, they told me he never checked in."

"Is that why Mr. Ashcroft was so irritated with you last night?" Marjorie questioned. "Because you had made, what was the term he used, a 'sham' of an appointment?"

"Oh, I didn't make the appointment," Miller corrected. "Mr. Ashcroft did. However, he was irritated by the fact that I hadn't confirmed the meeting. If I had, it would have saved us the better part of the afternoon. Add to the fact that I was late for dinner-"

"Why were you late?" Nettles inquired.

"I overslept. It was a very hot day, so I went to my room after lunch, to lie down."

"You slept all afternoon and were still late for dinner?"

"Well, I didn't fall asleep right away and then I woke up several times."

"Oh?"

"No." Miller's eyes darted to Marjorie and his face colored slightly. "The house was, um, noisier than antic.i.p.ated."

Marjorie blanched as she realized that Miller's room was adjacent to hers and Creighton's. "So, Mr. Miller," she said loudly, before Jackson or Nettles could inquire as to the nature of the aforementioned "noise." "Where did you go after you left the dining room last night?"

"The office to gather up some personal items and to type my list of references. I did stop back into the dining room for a brief moment, after Mrs. Ashcroft left it."

"Why?" Jackson probed.

"To give Mr. Ashcroft my key to the New York office. And to tell him that I would be leaving first thing in the morning."

"Really? What was he doing when you saw him? What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything. He was seated at the head of the table, drinking-a gla.s.s of port, I think. He simply put his hand out, collected the key, and then put it in his jacket pocket."

"Nettles," Jackson addressed the Inspector, "when you looked in Mr. Ashcroft's pocket for the note, did you find a key?"

"No, sir. All his pockets were empty."

"But I saw him put it in there," Miller insisted.

"Shh," Jackson ordered. "Simmer down. What did you do once you left the dining room?"

"I went back to the office. Mrs. Ashcroft can vouch for me."

Marjorie nodded.

"And then what?" Jackson prompted.

"Bed. It had been a heck of a day and I wanted an early start in the morning."

"Yes, so you could leave," Jackson said contemplatively.

"That's right," Miller agreed.

"Mr. Ashcroft was a difficult man to please, wasn't he?" Jackson posed.

"Extremely, yes."

"Insufferable even, wouldn't you say?"

Miller smiled. "With all due respect, Sergeant, I know where you're heading with this. And I did not murder Mr. Ashcroft."

"But he humiliated you. Fired you."

"Being fired was a relief," Miller averred. "I had spent five months tiptoeing around the man, making sure I got my job done, trying not to get in his way, doing my best not to anger him. My nerves were worn thin. I'm glad to be free."

Jackson smirked. "I'm sure you are."

Miller's eyes grew wide. "That's not what I mean! I-"

"Thank you, Mr. Miller," Jackson interrupted. "If we need anything else from you, we'll let you know. Nettles, please escort Mr. Miller back to the drawing room. Thank you."

"I confess. I'm guilty," Prudence Ashcroft sobbed into an embroidered handkerchief.

"What!" Jackson exclaimed.

Marjorie held a hand up to silence the Sergeant and placed the other on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "Pru, darling, what are you talking about?" she asked in alarm.

"I wished my father-in-law dead and now he is!" she shrieked.

"Pru, calm down, honey," Marjorie soothed. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes, I do. Ca.s.sandra taught me that our thoughts can be as powerful as any weapon and we should control them carefully. She's going to be very disappointed in me!"

Marjorie recalled the spiritual guide's face as she kicked the cat across the verandah. "I wouldn't worry, I'm sure even Ca.s.sandra's foot has slipped once or twice."

"Oh no, it hasn't. It couldn't! She's a pure soul, unlike me." With trembling hands, Pru brought the handkerchief to her nose and began to cry hysterically.

Marjorie did her best to calm Prudence, but nothing seemed to help.

"Mrs. Ashcroft," Jackson begged, "you need to settle down, Ma'am. Is there anything we can get you?"

Prudence reached a hand into the pocket of her surplice front day dress and extracted two prescription bottles. "Water, please. I need my pill," she choked out as she fumbled with the cap.

"Nettles," Jackson ordered, "go fetch a pitcher of water and some gla.s.ses."

Before he could leave the room, Marjorie shouted, "Wait!"

As Nettles obediently came to a halt, Marjorie s.n.a.t.c.hed the opened bottle from Pru's tenuous grasp. "Seconal? Where did you get this?"

"The doctor," she sobbed. "The doctor Edward and Father took me to prescrib-prescribed them."

Livid, Marjorie picked up the second prescription bottle, which was suspiciously unlabeled. Inside were twenty or so small white tablets. "And these? What are they Pru? Where did you get them?"

Prudence covered her face and began to bawl.

Marjorie grabbed her wrists firmly and looked her in the eyes. "Prudence, I'm not angry with you. Just tell me what these are."

"I don't know," she blubbered. "Gris ..."

"You got them from Griselda?"

"To lose weight so that Edward-Edward would love me-love me again."

"They're Benzedrine," Marjorie concluded aloud. "How many of each have you taken today?"

Prudence pointed to the bottle of Benzedrine, "Three." She moved her finger to indicate the Seconal. "I-I can't remember."

"We need to get her to a doctor," Marjorie a.s.serted.

Jackson summoned the Inspector's a.s.sistance yet again. "Nettles, are the boys from headquarters here yet?"

"Yes, sir. When I went to look for the note, they had just arrived."

"Good. Have the Constable who was standing guard use one of the boats to take Mrs. Ashcroft to the hospital."

Nettles helped Prudence from her chair and took the prescription bottles from Marjorie. As they made their exit, Edward appeared in the doorway of the study.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded. What are you doing with my wife?"

"She's going to the hospital," Jackson said matter-of-factly.

"Is she sick?"

"Yes. And she may get sicker."

"I'm going with her."

"No you don't!" Jackson grabbed Edward by the arm. "You're staying here to answer a few questions."

Nettles, having pa.s.sed custody of Prudence on to the Constable, blocked the doorway.

Edward relented and made his way to one of the upholstered wing chairs. When he spotted Marjorie seated on the settee he stopped in his tracks. "What is she doing here?"

"She's a.s.sisting us with our investigation," answered Jackson.

"My brother's wife is a.s.sisting you, the police?"

"The new Mrs. Ashcroft has been quite helpful." Nettles replied.

"I'm sure she has," Edward said sarcastically. "Probably defending my brother while simultaneously making the rest of us look as guilty as sin."

"You don't need any help in that area," Marjorie stated sternly. "How long have you been feeding your wife Seconal?"

The color drained from Edward's face, leaving it a gray-tinged hue. "How do you-? Is that why she-?"

"Is going to the hospital?" Marjorie completed. "Yes. That and the Benzedrine she's been mixing with it."

Edward lowered into the wing chair. "Benzedrine? I don't know what that is ..."

"It's for weight loss," she replied. "Which explains why both Pru's evening gown last night and her dressing gown this morning were much too big for her."

"I didn't know."

"Didn't know that she was trying to lose weight to make you happy? To make you love her again?" Marjorie shook her head. "You married Pru. You, of all people, should know that she's impressionable. Sensitive. That's why you made her take the Seconal."

"The Seconal was prescribed by a doctor my father recommended; we took her to see him about two years ago. Pru didn't like the number of hours I put in at the office. She didn't like living with my father. When she ... was going to have a baby ... and then lost it, she became inconsolable. She'd go to c.o.c.ktail parties and start crying for no reason. We couldn't let her be seen like that-in that state. My position with the company is all I have; all I've ever had. Her outbursts were talked about for days afterward. They were bad for business and our family's reputation."