Something dark spread around his feet. Was the rug dark crimson, too?I could have sworn it was white. I smiled to myself. That would be just Cynthia’s taste to add red everywhere. I rested my hand on the back of the chair and leaned down to gently wake the professor.
“Professor Hathaway, everyone’s waiting for you in the ballroom. You’ve won a prize—”
No. Oh, no.
It’s not a red rug.
I staggered back, bile rising in my throat. I opened my mouth, and screamed and screamed.
Professor Hathaway’s eyes bugged out of his head, his mouth frozen open in a grisly and silent shriek. The hilt of his sword stuck out of his chest, and blood dribbled between his legs to stain the rug at his feet.
Chapter Nineteen
Isank to my knees, my legs no longer able to support my weight. Footsteps thundered on the marble behind me. “Mina, did you find him—Oh,shite.”
Morrie’s arms went around me, pulling me into him, swallowing me in the warmth and safety of his body. He swore again as he too noticed the sword quivering in the professor’s chest.
He’s dead. He’s dead.
Those wide, terrified eyes, that jaw frozen in his death cry. He must have yelled out, but no one heard him over the frivolities in the ballroom.
The room spun. I buried my face in Morrie’s chest, wishing I could step back in time so someone,anyoneelse could have come out here instead of me. The professor’s expression would haunt my dreams. Even when I went blind I’d still see that horror behind my eyes.
“Well, this weekend finally got interesting,” Morrie murmured into my hair. “We were hoping for a jewel thief, but this is infinitely more intoxicating.”
Don’t say that. I never wished for this. I never—
More footsteps clattered behind us. “Whatever is the matter—” Cynthia’s words cut off in a piercing shriek as she too saw the professor’s body. More people crowded around, shrieking and exclaiming as they saw what had transpired.
“It’s Professor Hathaway!”
“He’s been stabbed!”
“Stabbed through with his own sword.”
“Everybody, stay back,” Morrie cried. “Heathcliff, call Inspector Hayes. Tell him there’s been a murder.”
“And a theft!” Christina yelled. “My jewels have been stolen.”
I opened my eyes. Christina stood, picking up a velvet pouch from the floor directly behind the chair. Her whole body trembled as she held it up so we could see. “We kept my mother’s jewels in this pouch,” she sobbed. “Daddy was going to give them to me at the ball. But it’s empty. This rotten person has come in here and killed my only daddy because of a few baubles.”
“Look behind you,” Morrie said. “That window is open. It looks as though the murderer might have escaped through it with the jewels.”
Heathcliff went to the window and pushed open the frame. “There’s a torn piece of fabric snagged on the latch, and a couple of beads on the ledge.”
Christina howled. “How could someone do this? How could they kill my daddy over a bunch of jewels? I just saw him this afternoon and he was so beautiful and full-of-life.”
David rushed over, wrapping her arms around her. “There, there. The police are on their way and they will catch the villain who did this.”
Cynthia wrung her hands. “I can’t believe it. The Argleton Jewel Thief has hit our house, and murdered the good Professor Hathaway!”
As Cynthia fretted and Christina wailed, I cast my eyes around the room, and couldn’t help but noticed both Professor Carmichael’s calm expression and Alice, frantically scribbling on her pad. A sinister thought leaped into my head, but I stuffed it down. This was clearly the work of an opportunist – someone rambling around the grounds took a peek in the window, saw the professor lying asleep by the fire and the jewels beside him, and took a chance. Perhaps the professor awoke and this assailant stood over him, so he lashed out with his sword, but the killer got it out of his hands and plunged it into his chest.
So if that was true, then why did I have such an awful feeling in my gut?
* * *
Inspector Hayes and DS Wilson showed up soon afterward and ushered everyone back into the ballroom so they could take our statements. I waved to Jo – the pathologist and my friend – from across the room. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say, “not another one?”
