“Tell me he went to a better place!” she demanded loudly.
Cassandra’s face was gentle when she replied, “He went to a better place, mate. I promise you, he went to a better place.”
Abby stared at her a moment, assessing her honesty then she turned away and pressed her forehead to Cash’s chest and took a deep breath to control her tears.
Then another emotion, this one anger, took hold of her, her head tipped back and she shouted at Cash, “I hate Vivianna! She’s a bitch!”
Cash’s hand moved from the back of her neck, his arm coming around so his fingers could curl at her neck at the side.
“She’s gone, darling.”
“Good!” Abby snapped. “She’s pissed me off. All this drama! For what? Seriously! What a bitch!”
Cash stared at her a moment with the look on his face that he got when he was openly wondering about Abby’s sanity when Jenny called out knowledgeably, “Don’t worry, Cash. Anger is good. You only have to worry when Abby gets quiet. If she’s blabbing and pissed, all’s well.”
Abby twisted to look at her friend and demanded, “Shut up, Jenny.”
“I’m just saying –” Jenny started.
“Shut up!” Abby shot back.
“All righty then,” Jenny mumbled and Kieran’s mouth twitched.
“People!” Mrs. Truman cut in sharply, she was peering over the side of the parapet. “We’ve got company.”
Everyone moved to the edge and looked down to see the flashing lights of police cars. Something was happening with four policemen, the Fitzhugh women, Alistair and a man who Abby could swear, even from that distance, was Cash’s friend James.
“What on –” she breathed but Cash was on the move.
He grabbed her hand and she and Cash led the way. Everyone clattered down the stairs from the turret (this made dangerous by Zee darting between Abby’s legs on more than one occasion), down the hall, descending more stairs and then swiftly out the front door.
Abby hustled to match Cash’s long strides as he guided them across the courtyard to the police.
“What’s happening?” he asked when they’d stopped and Abby noted that Alistair’s face was red and he’d been in mid-bluster when they arrived.
“We’ve had a reported disturbance,” a policeman answered Cash’s question.
“What sort of disturbance?” Mrs. Truman demanded to know as if the last hour of disturbance upon disturbance hadn’t happened.
“We’ve got thirty-seven people at the station claiming they’ve seen a ghost and an extra seventeen people reported the same via the phone,” another policeman responded.
“A ghost!” Mrs. Truman shouted then lied through her teeth, “Codswallop.”
Jenny giggled
Abby turned wide eyes to Cash.
But Cash wasn’t listening. He was looking at James.
His eyes moved to the policemen who looked like they were both talking to, and positioning themselves to detain, Alistair.
“And why are you here?” Cash asked the second set of policemen.
One of the policemen’s eyes flicked to Cash but then went back to Alistair as he answered, “I’m sorry to tell you this, sir, but we have a man being questioned at the station. He’s alleging that he was paid by your uncle to tamper with your car. We need to take Mr. Beaumaris in for an interview.”
“He did it,” Mrs. Truman announced baldly and both the police positioned around Alistair looked at her.
“How do you know that?” one of them asked.
“I’m seventy years old,” Mrs. Truman explained on a humph as if his question was beyond ridiculous and beneath her notice but she was forced to reply, if only to demonstrate good manners. “At my age, you learn to read people. Just look at him,” she gestured to Alistair as if that was all it took to try and fry him.
“I didn’t attempt to kill my nephew,” Alistair lied.
“You did and there’s proof,” James cut in, everyone looked at him and he carried on, “Mick Johnstone recorded your conversation.” Alistair’s face blanched and James’s eyes moved to the policemen. “He records all of his conversations for insurance and future extortion. Ask him about the tapes.”
“And you came across this information how?” one of the policemen queried.
James shrugged. “He told his girlfriend then cheated on her. She kicked him out but he owed her money and never paid. She was willing to talk and she did.”
“Did you offer her money to talk?” a policeman enquired and James shook his head.
“No, she was happy to talk.” His eyes moved to an Alistair who no longer looked pompous but was having difficulty hiding his fear. “She’s pretty annoyed.”
“You men,” Suzanne remarked, “I hope you’ve learned from tonight’s events that it’s best never to cross a woman.”
“Amen to that,” Honor muttered.
One of the policemen approached Alistair saying, “You need to come with us.”
“I will not leave my home!” Alistair declared, pulling his arrogance around him like a shield and stepping back.
The other policeman moved forward. “You come willing, or we’ll be forced to arrest you and you’ll come in cuffs, your choice.”
Alistair stared, the police braced and everyone watched.
Tense moments slid by.
Finally Alistair’s shoulders straightened and his chin tilted back.
“I’ll want to call my attorneys immediately,” he demanded.
The policemen moved forward, one of them took Alistair’s arm.
“Of course,” he muttered.
Abby waited and watched Cash’s uncle, hoping he’d turn, say something to Cash, maybe apologise for being such a jerk or say something to Nicola, again something like apologising for being a jerk.
But he didn’t look back as the police led him away.
James glanced at Cash then followed the police.
Everyone stood silent as the police car drove Alistair Beaumaris from Penmort Castle hopefully, Abby thought, for the final time.
“Well, it appears all’s well at Penmort,” one of the other set of policemen commented.
To which Suzanne muttered, eyes still at the gate where they last saw Alistair, “You can say that again.”
Again everyone stood quiet and watchful as the second set of police took their leave.
Abby’s mind was so blank, all thoughts forced out likely in an effort at self-preservation so she could keep her sanity, that when Nicola spoke, she jumped.
“Honor, my dearest, I think now we could all use some champagne.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cash Claims Penmort, His New Family and Abby
Cash woke early, Abby’s warm, soft body a dead weight heavy against side. Her arm was draped across his midsection, her thigh thrown over his.
Last night after they made their way through an alarming amount of champagne or more accurately, the women and Angus had, Kieran and Cash stayed sober because someone had to just in case party guests, the police or any supernatural beings returned, Cash had led a drunken, giggling Abby to bed.
He’d taken off her extraordinary dress, slid her black nightgown on her body and guided her to bed.
She’d curled into him and fell asleep as if she hadn’t a care in the world however this was likely because it was less falling asleep and more passing out.
As he did every morning, Cash gave himself a moment to experience the intensely pleasant, peaceful feeling of Abby in bed at his side before he carefully moved away, trying not to disturb her.
The minute she lost purchase on his body, her arms snagged his pillow and she curled around it. There was something moving about her doing that every morning when Cash left her side but he didn’t give himself time to dwell.