We were coming to a stretch of road I hadn’t travelled before. The lighthouse rose up from a serene sea, the wind dropped. What better place to keep us prisoner than in a disused lighthouse? “Magdalene,” I said brightly, “how long have you known, fully, what was going on?”
She sighed. “I suppose I’m not as quick as some. When I first came down here and saw Sid, I wondered if he might be the one, out to even some old grudge. I didn’t figure out the truth until the night of the party at the restaurant. I don’t suppose you remember, Giselle, but I was looking out the window, and I saw Reggie across the road under a streetlight, staring his weasel stare, and suddenly all was made plain.”
The Raincoat Man tossed his cigarette overboard and scratched at his greasy sideburns with the muzzle of his gun. “I was halfway up the stairs of the bloody restaurant when two waiters chucked me out, the sods, otherwise I would have nabbed you that night.”
“You wouldn’t,” snapped Magdalene. “I had my watchdog with me.” She tapped me on the shoulder and Heinz’s bumpers grazed against a jut of rock in rounding a curve. “Giselle, I know you won’t understand why I didn’t tell Eli how I’d finally seen through his pretense of being keen on Mrs. Jarrod. But after him being so strong and splendid in driving me away to the safety of the convent, I wanted him to go on thinking he’d spared me.”
“I do understand completely,” I said.
“What I don’t understand is how I could have been so simple as to believe that he and Mrs. Jarrod were… you know.”
“You mean because she was taller than he?”
“That, and Eli doesn’t like pickled herring.”
“What is this?” sneered the Raincoat Man. “Schoolgirl confessions?”
We ignored him. Magdalene sighed. “Just to make sure I wasn’t going peculiar in my old age, I wrote to Paris and asked him to tell me, was I right-was I wrong? I got a letter back saying that Eli had decided to face up to the inevitable. Sometime this idiot was bound to get up his courage and kidnap me. So, best to get it all over and done with. Eli would pay the ransom, get me back, and then go to the police. They couldn’t talk about idle threats then, could they?”
“Yeah! Well, the brain here outthought your old man.”
I took another curve. The letter that, according to Roxie, had come for Magdalene from abroad must have been the one from Paris. Ben started to snore, which comforted me; the sound was noisily healthy. The same could not be said of Heinz’s emanations.
Reggie’s hateful currant eyes turned toward me. His dirty fingernails grabbed at my sleeve. “Why are you slowing down?”
“I have the thing floored,” I pacified. The purr was still nice and even, but sleepy. We were coming to an elbow of land directly in line with the lighthouse. The Heinz slid a few more yards, then stopped. I gripped the steering wheel. “Sorry, Reggie, this is as far as we go. Something must have died.”
“Something is going to die, sister, if you don’t think again.” His voice came silky quiet as his fingers closed around my knot of hair.
“You wouldn’t kill us. You’d lose your bargaining edge.”
“I could kill one of you.”
“And then the arcade boys might decide not to do business with you.” A gull winged it overhead. The scent of hawthorn on the grassy incline to our left and the distant swish of the waves made the place cruelly peaceful.
“Giselle, far be it from me to interfere,” came Magdalene’s plaintive voice, “but I think, for the sake of my son, you might start the car.”
“Spoken like a first-rate mum.” Reggie licked his scaly lips. “Benny boy mightn’t love his wifey anymore if her nose came out the back of her head.”
I explained and continued to explain until the message sank in that the car, not I, was the one playing games. Reggie sat picking his teeth and thinking, something clearly at which he wasn’t too handy. At last he snarled, “You two out. Benny stays where he is.”
To be preyed upon by wild dogs and the elements? Now I had to stall. “What are we supposed to do-thumb a lift?” The last words came out in jerks. I was half out of the car. Reggie and Magdalene were already in the road and I was hearing the loveliest sound on God’s earth. And, what was more, a sound that was endearingly familiar. Creeping toward us was the hearse. I recognized Butler, who was driving, but the other two occupants were strangers. Both wore leather riding helmets and goggles, but then I saw a flutter of lavender shawl and a beaded carpet bag being flagged out the window. Spitting fury, Reggie waved the hearse on. Perhaps he had forgotten the gun in his hand.
The hearse stopped. Nipping out of the vehicle, Butler glided around to open the other door, but Primrose was already trotting toward us, the ends of her shawl blowing in the breeze. “Ellie, my dear! Hyacinth and I are out on a scenic drive. How very pleasant encountering you! Surely this must be your mother-in-law, of whom we have heard so much. Have you also stopped to admire the view?” Primrose peered into the Heinz. “Why, poor Mr. Haskell! Carsick I see.” Deliberately, she looked at Reggie and the gun. “Young man, were you never told it is rude to point?”
Snickering, Reggie chucked Primrose playfully under the chin with the gun. “Hey, old girl, was you born when brains was rationed?” He sucked in a fetid breath. “You got a choice. Get back in the death wagon with the other ugly sister, or come for a little walk and spend a naughty weekend with me. Only it won’t be just the two of us, sweetheart, I’ll have me other prisoners along.”
Butler amazed me. He stood immobile in front of the hearse, his eyes fixed on the puffy little clouds, his expression one of mild amusement. It was Hyacinth in a Sherlock Holmes cape who now whapped past Magdalene, me, and Ben, still mercifully prone and oblivious in the back seat.
“How dare you!” She swept her sister aside and fixed her goggles on Reggie. “How dare you address my sister as sweetheart! I demand satisfaction, sir! And choice of weapons.”
Her arm swung out in an arc, her hand cracked Reggie on the chops, her elbow caught the gun, sending it spinning over the cliff edge. It was probably imagination overload, but I swore I heard a small gulp from the sea.
From the Files of
Saturday, 16th May
The Whist and Crocheting Groups both cancelled meetings on the evening of the above date, on account of several members not feeling up to light-hearted socialising as a result of the immensely disappointing cookery demonstration in the church hall. When it next meets, the Board will consider whether to withdraw our annual contribution to the Policeman’s Benevolent Fund. It will also discuss whether the club feels it would be immoral to serve the recipe provided by Mr. Bentley Haskell at the Midsummer Potluck.
Also to be discussed at the next Board Meeting-1st June-is the matter of membership badges lost or misplaced by owners. Suggestions for penalties for this infraction will be voiced. In the past, offenders have been banned from participating in trips for a three-month period, but with the rising cost of badges, it is felt that this censure is insufficient.
23
“I always hoped I would get to meet the Raincoat Man.” Primrose pushed her goggles up on her forehead as, with cowardice aforethought, Reggie decided against taking on four women bare-handed. Away he went, slithering over brambles and boulders to the flat land above the road, hurling down stones and threats.
“I ain’t done for! I’ll be back!”
“I shall pray for you,” Magdalene called after him triumphantly. I would have cheered for her if my throat hadn’t squeezed shut.