Tom had barely let Betty out of his sight after her rescue. She was recovering rapidly from the shock of discovering she had been an intended murder victim. No more playing detective, she had vowed to me. From this point on, she would be entirely happy as a wife and mother. She even admitted to looking forward to the pleasure and responsibilities of great wealth. And she and Tom were making plans for what they would do for their friends the Edmondses.
Frances had been concerned that when Mr. Scrimshank was arrested she would be called in for interrogation by the police regarding the phone call she had made to him, which he said came from Mr. Gallagher. She had gone in voluntarily to talk to Sergeant Walters, with the result that she might be required to testify should Mr. Scrimshank plead not guilty to the criminal charges filed against him.
Ariel danced around Ben while he packed the Land Rover, issuing instructions with her customary bossiness.
“It’s not an easy job, bringing up parents,” I heard her telling him. “They can be a great trial at times, but I’m willing to accept my responsibilities if they’ll promise to play nicely together.”
Mrs. Malloy was delighted that Melody’s love interest was a policeman with an intriguing middle-aged voice and most of his hair. Lady Fiona was in the process of moving into the Dower House, much to the joy of Mrs. Cake and Mavis, and I decided to go and say good-bye to her.
“How very kind of you to pay me a visit, Mrs. Honeywood.” She ushered me into the pleasant sitting room, already made not quite the same as during Nanny Pierce’s occupancy by the addition of several small pieces that created a comfortable disregard for whether things matched or didn’t. “We’ve had rather a lot of flies in the house over the last couple of days, but otherwise moving has not been overwhelming. How is your brother, the artist model? No doubt you worry about his catching cold, but there are dangers in any career. One need think only of poor Mr. Scrimshank. Such a stressful job, being an accountant. Let us hope he will get a good rest in his new environment.”
“He may well have overworked, getting his sums to add up,” I said.
“Indeed, yes. I myself never mastered long division, Enid-you did want me to call you that-shall I have Mrs. Cake make us a pot of tea? Her foot is so much better that she hobbled over here and is in the kitchen.”
“Yes, I would love-”
“No, of course you don’t. I’d forgotten that you don’t take hot drinks, and I’m sorry to say I don’t have any of that mango juice you enjoy so much.” The French doors from the garden opened, and in walked a solidly built man of medium height and sparse gray hair.
“Sorry, m’dear,” he said to Lady Fiona. “Didn’t realize you had company. I’ll go off again, shall I?”
“Of course not, Nigel, we can’t have you starting up this wandering-off business again the moment you walk in the door. Do say hello to Enid Honeywood. Then sit down and tell us where you have been and whether or not it was a good trip.”
After shaking my hand and saying the usual things, he sat down and strummed his fingers on his crossed knees. “Haven’t had a bad time. Plenty of exercise! Been keeping fit yourself, my dear?” he inquired of her ladyship.
“I should be going,” I said, but Mr. Gallagher waved me down. “No need to rush off. Good to see you again after all these years. Eyes just like your father. Would’ve known you anywhere, Elsie.”
“Enid,” corrected her ladyship. “Nigel, dear, I do have some sad news about Nanny.”
It seemed to me that Mr. Gallagher’s face brightened. “Hung up her butterfly net, has she?”
“I’m afraid so, but at least you’re back in time to attend her funeral, and that of a clergyman who came to tea at Cragstone and seemed convinced that he and I had once been married. People can be exceedingly odd; the woman who bought Crag-stone with her husband is definitely peculiar. She got it into her head that I had murdered you. And disposed of you in the strawberry patch, I suppose.”
“Rubbish! Why would you do a thing like that, old girl? Knowing, as you do, that I’ve always been allergic to strawberries. Never mind that. Glad to see you’re not miffed at my going off and leaving you to cope with Nanny when she was foaming at the mouth over being sent here to live.”
“I’m always ready to hear your side of the story.” Lady Fiona sounded ever so slightly impatient.
“The thing is, Fiona, I’ve had amnesia.”
“Just as Mrs. Cake said would have happened. She was sure burglars had broken in and coshed-such a funny word-you on the head. Thereby causing you to wander off in a daze.”
“Hit the nail on the head!” Mr. Gallagher smiled in the manner of a man who knows himself to be blessed with a wife in a million. “Won’t go into details of everywhere I’ve been during the last year of a half, would take too long. But I have some lively anecdotes to share with you, my dear. Can be damned awkward not knowing who the devil one is! What brought me back to m’self was reading a mention in one of the daily rags about Cragstone being sold. Uh! Ha! I said to m’self. Something smells familiar! That place was my home! Better be heading back there. Was in the Scottish Highlands at the time, with nothing but holes in my pockets, making for something of a trek. Maybe we should take up hitchhiking together. The thing is, here I am, m’dear!”
“And very nice too.”
“How about a cup of tea for the weary traveler?”
“You haven’t told me the interesting part yet, Nigel. How did you happen to come down with amnesia?”
“Oh, that! Well, if you remember we had that little squiff about my not being able to find my blue-and-black Argyle socks. Entirely my fault! I was out of sorts after trying all day to reach Scrimshank on the phone. You’d gone up to bed and there I was sitting in the drawing room, when he came ringing the doorbell. Damned inconsiderate! He could have woken Nanny, causing me to be up all night with her while she told me bedtime stories.”
“She’s in the past, Nigel. Please continue with what happened that evening after Archibald Scrimshank arrived.”
“I’d done some figuring of my own, which brought me to the regrettable conclusion that the chap had been embezzling from us for years. Decided to do the gentlemanly thing and request an explanation. Honest, forthright, man-to-man. Wouldn’t have wanted to take the fellow to court but saw no harm in asking him to begin making payments arranged to suit both parties.”
“Exactly as I would have wished, Nigel. Unfortunately, the police have used very poor judgment by involving themselves in the situation. Archibald has been removed to one of those correctional facilities, as I believe they are called, where one isn’t allowed to choose one’s own pajamas. Fortunately, most men like stripes. I imagine your encounter with him deteriorated and ended in his attacking you.”
“Most unpleasant business. Didn’t recall it until the rest of my memory returned. I must have been knocked out cold for a while. Came round to an exploding head. Had no idea where I was, went for a walk hoping to shake things back into place, and couldn’t find my way back to the house. All behind me now, old girl. Wouldn’t be surprised if my trials and tribulations-and yours too, Fiona-will assist in our adjustment to a changing world.” Mr. Gallagher stretched out his legs and, beaming blissfully, closed his eyes.
“Not color television, Nigel. I really don’t think I could bear it.”
“Good grief! Nothing that dreadful! I was talking about living here at the Dower House instead of Cragstone. Regrets, m’dear?”
“None, Nigel. I think it may be rather fun.”
“Good show! Wonder if Mrs. Cake and Mavis would object to working for us only part-time? I rather enjoy the thought of its just being the two of us occasionally.”
“I think both of them have now warmed toward the new family and would probably enjoy working between both houses, with Mrs. Cake continuing to live at Cragstone.”