Chapter 43. Shattered
Dawn was just breaking as Scarlet came home. She took a long, hot bath and dressed, but the warmest sweaters and tights could not block the chill that had settled in her bones. The kitchen had become a crime scene. Enid switched her sphere of operations to the tiny kitchen off the ballroom. She could toast bread. Milk could be placed against the cold windowsill to keep it fresh. Scarlet crawled into bed with Nick. He still was healthy, wide-eyed, fresh, new and needy. He had no idea how horrible the world really was. “She’s gone,” Scarlet told Enid. “The brain injury was just too awful.” “What made you wake?” “I’m not sure. I had an awful dream. It was something about Miss Bottomley on a raft. I must have heard something.’ “Miss Bottomley screamed. I heard it too. That dreadful woman must have attacked her to stop her noise.” Candi had lots of reasons for attacking people. All given to her – thought Scarlet grimly, by my dear husband. The detective climbed the stairs. He didn’t look like a detective but more like a floorwalker with a shiny bald head and a sharp suit. “Scotland Yard,” he introduced himself. “Inspector MacBlythe. May I get the details of your story?” “We’ll meet you in the sitting room,” sighed Scarlet. She climbed reluctantly out of bed and walked to the chintz settee she had so admired just a few brief weeks ago. She had thought she knew trouble and sorrow then, but she had been truly naïve in the ways of misery. Fatally so. How could she could have ever guessed what viciousness simple selfishness would release! The Inspector was not as surprised by the existence of a night guard as the bobby had been. “This place is a treasure house,” he said. “It’s at least a two-man job.” “I wish we’d thought of it,” Scarlet wept. “The security man seemed so sure.” Enid freshened the tea. “What connection are you to Mrs. Pourfoyle?” MacBlythe was coming to the meat of the matter. “When I found out she and my husband were having an affair I told him I wanted a divorce. She quit her job and moved into our country house – at least that’s what my solicitor tells me. But last week she came up to London and threatened me as if I was the one blocking the divorce. But Ian’s blocking it. And he’s got other girlfriends. Also according to my solicitor.” MacBlythe took down all Pelham’s and Ian’s information, and moved to Enid. Nick began to cry and Scarlet gladly sprang to her feet to remove him from the room. Pelham called when the police had finished with him and requested an interview – “you and Enid both.” “Oh, good,” said Enid. “We’ll have dinner out, afterwards.” “I’m too tired for anything but fish and chips,” said Scarlet, who really didn’t want to see people. “That’s fine with me.” Dear Enid, obliging as always. Bob Thomas and Pelham met them in the Partners’ Room, which had a long table, imposing portraits and deep comfortable wingback chairs. Nick slept angelically in his carrycot. Scarlet imagined someday trying to explain all this to him. “Well, this is a terrible thing,” said Bob Thomas, pouring tea all around. From an antique silver set, Scarlet noticed. She and Enid refused sherry. “Is the woman mad?” “Temporarily maddened,” contributed Pelham, who was more accustomed to the vagaries of divorce. “Well, she’s committed murder, is what she’s done,” said Bob Thomas. They all agreed it was a terrible thing as they sipped their tea. There was a knock on the door and Pom thrust his head inside. “Pom, I’m in a meeting!” gasped Scarlet. “I asked Mr. Bronfen to join us,” said Bob Thomas. “Tea? Sherry?” Pom accepted a small sherry. He sat next to Scarlet and held her hand tightly, under the table. “All three of you – Mr. Bronfen, Mrs. Rumson and Mrs. Wye - are beneficiaries under Miss Bottomley’s will.” Light burst onto Scarlet when she realized, he is talking about me! She had forgotten she was Mrs. Wye. Suddenly she was on a par with Lady Lechmere in her attorney’s eyes. She had been upgraded. “Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “But won’t they contest it?” “Who?” inquired Bob Thomas calmly. “There are no interested parties. She was literally the last of her line. The property would have reverted to the Crown.” “Mr. Inkum-“ “Mr. Inkum would not dare. The papers he attempted to get Miss Bottomley to sign were so outrageously self-interested he would be drummed out of the profession.” It sank in. She sadly recalled Miss Bottomley’s delighted exclamation, “do you know, I am a very rich woman?” Pom and Enid and Scarlet gazed at each other, dazzled. Bob Thomas cleared his throat. “There are six trusts concerning real estate, art, publishing and commercial properties. Mrs. Wye is the discretionary trustee and I am the advisor.” And he proceeded to explain. Scarlet was openly clutching Pom’s hand as they staggered out of the lawyers’ office. “I’m gobsmacked,” said Enid. “What a lovely human being she was.” “And how we’re going to miss her,” gasped Scarlet. Pom guided them into a nearby bistro – “do you like pizza? You must try it,” and ordered a bottle of chianti. “To Miss Bottomley’s foresight and generosity,” said Pom. Nick’s eyes were big and he looked from each to each in the candle flame. “But we couldn’t protect her!’ sighed Scarlet. “It’s because of me she’s dead, don’t you see?’ “How could you know Candi would do such a thing?” “I couldn’t!” “Any thug could have broken in and attacked poor Miss Bottomley at any time. She could have been assaulted on the street! She was all alone before we came.” “But the time was so short. Too short.” “Time is always too short,” said Pom and he squeezed Scarlet’s hand meaningfully.
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November 2021
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