“Samples, samples. We want to see how the poison is being administered, if, indeed, it is. According to your information and that of your relatives, these are things only you could have eaten and drunk in the past four days. We should come up with some answers pretty soon.”
“And in the meantime...?”
“In the meantime, I’d be careful, if I were you, Mrs. Winters. Very careful.”
Molly wandered into the living room and poured herself a glass of ginger ale. If ever she needed a stiff drink now was the time, and she wondered wistfully when her ban on alcohol would be lifted. There was no one in sight—she thought she could hear a heated discussion in the kitchen, and she had no desire to join in. One of these people was trying to kill her, had tried three times. Once with the poison, twice with her so-called accidental falls. She wondered if Ryker found those accidents suspicious. He’d been far too quick to dismiss them—doubtless he thought she imagined them as well.
Dinner that night was an uncomfortable affair. Toby stayed and stayed, far longer than anyone wanted him to, watching out of pale, brooding eyes, and helped polish off the roast chicken and tomato casserole Mrs. Morse had fixed, with Molly’s help.
She didn’t for one moment suspect Mrs. Morse. She simply wasn’t taking chances on letting any of the food out of her sight for even one moment.
Apparently Lieutenant Ryker hadn’t been any more tactful with Aunt Ermy’s dignity, for she spent the entire evening in a state of towering indignation. Of all the possible suspects, Molly would have preferred Aunt Ermy to be the guilty one.
Except that the poisoning had begun before Ermy returned home. So had the fall down the cellar hole in the burned-out stable. No, it didn’t seem as if Ermintrude was the villain, even if she was patently unlikable.
It seemed forever before Toby was ready to leave. In desperation Molly walked him to the front door. One of her many mistakes. Before she knew what was happening his arms were tight around her and his hot, whiskey-laden breath was in her ear, urging her to do all sorts of things, including leave the house and spend the night with him. The very thought disgusted her, not from an actual dislike of Toby, but more because of her helpless longing for last night and for Patrick. Who’d made love to her, finally, and then left her.
She pushed Toby away with an unnecessary vehemence. “Please, Toby,” she said angrily, straightening her clothes.
“Please, Toby,” he mimicked bitterly. “You used to care about me. You used to say I was your only real friend. Remember when we’d talk about going away together? Leaving here, leaving Patrick and all those others. I don’t know what’s happened to you. I’m only trying to help you. I just don’t think you should be alone here tonight with them.”
“I thought you decided that Patrick was the guilty party,” she said. “In that case I’m perfectly safe with Aunt Ermy and Willy.”
“There’s no way of knowing who’s to blame,” he said darkly, making a grab at her. She dodged him neatly.
“Listen, Toby, of course you’re my friend. I like you very much,” she said wearily, backing away from him. “But I’m too tired to play post office in the hall of my husband’s house. I think you should go home and go to bed and try to get over this...infatuation or whatever it is.”
“It isn’t an infatuation. I love you!” he whispered urgently, obviously affronted. “You promised me...”
“Toby, I don’t remember,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice. “Whatever I said, whatever I did, whatever I promised. I simply don’t remember it.”
He stared at her, his face shrouded with hurt. Without another word he turned and left, slamming the heavy door shut behind him.
Molly leaned against the door in exhaustion, and if it wasn’t for an odd impulse she would have left it at that. But, for some reason she drew back the little curtain beside the door. Toby was standing by his car, staring up at the house, and there was the oddest expression on his face. A look of strange intensity that was illogically frightening.
. And then it was gone, and he climbed into his car. It must have been a trick of the light, or a figment of her imagination, Molly told herself, moving back from tire window.
But she was unable to shake the eerie feeling that danced over her shoulder blades, as she pictured Toby’s face.
The bitch would die. Not tonight, much as she deserved it. Tomorrow, when there was time to plan.
She’d die in pain, struggling, calling for help. The life would be choked out of her, and no one would come to her rescue. They would find her body the next morning, eyes open and staring. She would be punished.
And she would accept that punishment, that sentence of death, gratefully.
Fourteen
Molly woke up early the next morning, her stomach calm. Whoever had sprinkled arsenic in her food had obviously thought better of it now that the cat was out of the bag. Unless, of course, her poisoner was simply gone from the house on unexplained business.
The old stone house was silent and still as she tiptoed through the halls, bundled in a warm blue wrapper, her bare feet moving noiselessly on the wooden floors. It was Mrs. Morse’s day off, and it was up to Molly to make the coffee and muffins this morning if she expected to have any. As a matter of fact, it was just as well—at least she was safe from an accidental seasoning of rat poison.
The muffins were just out of the oven, the sun was rising higher in the early morning sky, and she was sitting cross-legged on the counter, wiggling her toes in the sunshine when he walked in the door.
He clearly hadn’t been expecting to see her so early. He stopped dead, and they stared at each other across the shadowy kitchen with only the dawning light in it. She set down her coffee cup with great care.
“Good morning, Patrick.” Her voice was astoundingly even. “When did you get home?”
“Just now.” His husky voice sent chills down her spine. He came over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee, and his nearness seemed to set off all sorts of reactions inside her, reactions that she wasn’t sure if he was quite immune to. And then he spoke.
