by Jill Barry
“Stop! Stay where you are, Ruth.”
Shocked, she screamed and let go of Eddie. She scrambled to her feet and reached a hand inside the jacket she wore hanging loose.
“Don’t even think about it.” Ray sprang forward and tackled her while Tim dashed to grab Eddie beneath his armpits and drag him to safety.
Ruth dissolved in Ray’s arms like a rag doll left out in the rain. As she’d hoped, he relaxed his iron grip. She jerked an arm free and lashed out at him. Steel flashed in the moonlight.
Ray Kirby cursed as the blade caught the back of his hand. Ruth wriggled from his grasp. Tim Harley lunged at her, snatching the knife, flinging it away. The house sitter flailed and kicked but without success.
“I owe you one, mate,” said Ray. “You must be a rugby player.”
And all the time, the water went on tumbling into The Devil’s Pool.
Ray rested his bandaged hand on the Deacons’ kitchen table. Bethan had made coffee and helped herself to bread, butter and cheese. She’d found a jar of homemade beetroot chutney in the fridge. Realised the handwriting on the homemade label matched that of the note to Eddie Deacon which she discovered on the floor in the drawing room when she and Huw Blayney went around drawing curtains and blinds against the fast-looming darkness. She’d shuddered and replaced the jar.
“I still think you should have gone in the ambulance with Eddie.” She sat down next to her husband, facing Ray.
“Thanks to Tim, I hardly lost any blood,” said Ray. “No lives were lost. I might have a job driving back though.”
“You can have a lift with Bethan and me,” said Tim. “I guess we’ll be here a while longer though. Hugh Blayney’s still answering questions.”
“I should let the hotel know I’ll be too late for dinner.” Ray looked up at Bethan.
“I’ll ring and make sure they leave something for you. They’ll have a night porter on duty.” She wondered whether her husband had twigged the dynamics of earlier events but there was too much going on to bother about what Tim might or mightn’t be thinking.
“Thanks,” said Ray. “I’m relieved they carted Mrs Deacon off to hospital.”
“She was still out for the count and she’ll be monitored through the night. I’ll go down early in the morning and see how both of them are.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Tim.
“No, you’re collecting Poppy from her boyfriend’s, remember?”
Bethan and Tim stared at one another.
“Those must have been potent sleeping pills,” said Ray, breaking the silence.
“Ruth made it clear that was all she gave Mrs Deacon,” said Bethan. “She was so calm. Helpful, even.”
Ray blew air through his lips. “Poor, tortured woman. Stuck in a cell with goodness knows what to come now.”
“Ruth Morgan tried to kill you, Ray.”
“She lashed out at me, Bethan.”
“She took a knife from the kitchen. Eddie Deacon’s lucky she didn’t use it on him. Thank God you got to her when you did.”
“Huw told me he wouldn’t desert her,” said Tim. He’ll keep tabs on her wherever she’s sent. Visit her. He sees something in her, doesn’t he?”
“She’s an intelligent woman.” Ray grimaced. “I thought life in mid Wales was pretty tranquil until tonight.”
“It usually is.” Bethan smiled at him. “Now I can’t help wondering whether you’ve changed your mind about moving here.”
“No way,” he said. “Try and get rid of me.”
Bethan clamped her fist to her mouth. Stifled a sob. Watched her husband’s face tighten as he read the expression on Ray Kirby’s face.
Huw Blayney walked into the room. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
“I still can’t believe this is happening. You couldn’t ask for anyone more caring and dutiful than Ruth. Apparently, she was worried about the dog being left alone. Isn’t that typical?”
Bethan stared at him. “Actually, I hadn’t thought about Sparkles. Will they put her in the police pound or whatever it is?”
“Ruth would hate that to happen,” said Huw.
Bethan stared at him in disbelief.
Tim got up and pulled out a chair for the older man. “I’m sure Huw’s right. Surely, if we let her out before we leave, she’ll be all right in her usual bed?”
“I could sort her out in the morning. I’ll need to get a cab to bring me over so I can collect my car,” said Ray.
“No!” Huw Blayney almost shouted. “I’ll be responsible for the dog. That’s what Ruth would want.”
Bethan nodded. “That’s so kind.” She turned to Ray. “I can pick you up from the hotel before I go on to the hospital tomorrow. The Deacons are, after all, my clients and they don’t seem to have made many friends in the village, apart from Ruth.”
“Thank you,” said Ray. “Ironic, isn’t it? The one person the Deacons could always rely upon is no longer around to help them.”
The End
