Stroke of Death

by Agatha Frost

  Liz lay slumped against the desk for a moment, groaning as silvery stars crackled before her eyes. Through the haze, she saw the door fall back into its frame, leaving her alone in the spinning room.

  Knowing she did not have much time, Liz rolled onto her knees, slapping her hand on the desk, glad when it met her handbag. She tugged it over the edge, its contents flying out. She picked up her phone, the bright screen piercing her eyes. She blinked hard as she felt something hot trickling down the back of her head.

  Without a second thought, she called for the police first, and then an ambulance. After giving her address, the paramedic on the phone asked Liz how she was feeling. She tried to answer, but all she could think about was Debbie, who she had realised was a better liar than anyone she had ever met.

  15

  Liz stared at her new kitchen as she clipped her diamond studs into her ears. They were the pair she had worn on her wedding day, and she had only brought them out on similar occasions since. She hoped the diamonds would be a comfort to her as she watched one of her friends make a tremendous mistake.

  “Admiring your new kitchen?” Simon asked after letting himself into the flat, already in his suit. “Have you settled back in okay?”

  “I haven’t been able to sleep,” Liz said, her hand drifting up to the bump that still hurt on the back of her head. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Debbie hovering over me with her paintbrush.”

  It had been three days since Liz had confronted Debbie about her sketchpad, and three days since she had last been seen in town. Thankfully for Liz, the police had taken her seriously when she had run to them with her accusations. Thanks to unidentified fingerprints lifted at the crime scene, they had matched them to the prints covering Debbie’s house.

  “If she’s got any sense in her, she’ll be long gone by now,” Simon said as he fiddled with his tie. “I bet she’s on that same slow boat to China that brought your new kitchen in, which hardly looks any different, by the way.”

  Aside from a subtle change in colours, Bob Slinger had chosen an identical kitchen, with identical appliances. Liz did not mind; she did not intend on using it for anything other than microwaving for the time being.

  “I have a feeling she’s still hanging around,” Liz whispered, turning to Simon, her eyes looking right through him. “Whenever I leave my flat, I can feel her watching me.”

  “You’re paranoid.”

  “Possibly,” Liz agreed. “But I befriended her. I trusted her. She opened up to me, and told me everything I needed to know to point the finger at her, and yet I let that cloud my judgement. I thought I was all about the hard facts, but apparently, I’m as human as the rest of you. I feel awful for even thinking that Nancy could have done this. I need to apologise to her, but she’s been ignoring my calls, and she won’t answer the door. I even sent a bunch of flowers to her door through one of those online things, but she sent them right back.”

  “Nancy needs time,” Simon said as he pulled her into a hug. “She’s sensitive. One time she didn’t speak to me for a whole month because I made a joke about her fringe always looking a little too short.”

  “I like her fringe,” Liz said as she pulled away. “I should have known better. I’m a fool.”

  “A loveable fool. She’ll come around.”

  Liz hoped so. She turned to her sketchpad, which was sitting on the coffee table. She had pored over her notes a dozen times since Debbie had pushed her over. Every time she could not believe how extensive her notes on Nancy were, and how lacking her notes on Debbie were. The pieces were there in her scratchy pencil marks, waiting to be assembled. It made her wonder if she had retired at the right time.

  Before they headed to St. Andrew’s Church, Liz parted ways with Simon to walk across town to ‘The Posh End’. In the mess of the murders, Liz had let herself be side-tracked from what was important. She had been sitting on some information for far too long. It was only when she woke up that morning and realised that it was the wedding that she felt the urgency of the situation.

  Standing outside Christopher’s townhouse, Liz looked out at the choppy waves as dark clouds circled above. They could not have picked a worse day for a wedding. She spun around, feeling eyes burning into the back of her head. When she saw that she was completely alone, she hurried up the steps to the door and rang the doorbell.

  “Elizabeth!” Christopher beamed with a shaky smile as he fiddled with his cufflinks. “What a surprise.”

  “Can I come in?” she asked, looking behind him to the dreary hallway. “It’s important.”

  “Of course,” he said, stepping to the side. “As it happens, I’m all alone, so the company would be quite nice. Mother and Father are with Elisabeth next door in the bed and breakfast, and my best man – well, I don’t exactly have one. I did ask Daniel, but he wasn’t too keen on the idea of the speeches, so I suppose I’ll have to fill that role myself.”

  “Oh, Christopher,” Liz whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be!” he cried so loudly it made her jump. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.”

  “Supposed to be?”

  “It is the happiest day of my life,” he corrected himself. “I need to stop doing that. What is happening to my brain recently? All of those years of private education and it’s already turning to soup.” Christopher hurried into the sitting room where he took a seat on one of the antique couches. “Please, sit! I heard all about your scuffle with Debbie Wood. I must say I was quite surprised when the police informed me that she was the prime suspect in my sister’s murder. I can’t say I knew the woman much. I knew she jangled when she walked and always smelled of incense.”

  “It was quite a shock,” Liz said, perching across from Christopher. “I haven’t come to talk about that. There’s something much more important that I need to tell you.”

  “Where are my manners?” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I haven’t even told you how beautiful you look. Diamonds bring out the sparkle in your eyes. Can I get you a drink? How about a nice cup of tea, or maybe something stronger? I need something to settle my nerves. A little whisky should do the trick. I used to have a nanny I adored who would always put some on my gums when I –”

  “Christopher!” Liz bellowed, forcing him back into his seat. “Please, listen to me.”

  Christopher nodded as he resumed his position in the corner of the couch. He stared at her like a naughty schoolboy who was not ready to receive his punishment for his bad behaviour. It broke Liz’s heart to know that she was about to break his.

  “It’s about Lizzie,” she started after a deep breath. “She’s not all she seems.”

  “You mean to tell me she’s not Australian?” he said with a loud chuckle. “She’s exactly as she seems. In fact, I’d go as far as to say she’s –”

  “Using you,” Liz jumped in. “She’s using you, and your parents are using her. They’re blackmailing her into marrying you, so she can have your baby to continue the Monroe bloodline.”

  Christopher’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing more than a wretched groan escaped his lips.

  “I know it might be hard to believe, but I wouldn’t lie to you,” Liz said, edging closer to him. “I overheard her on the phone to her father on the night of the dinner party. She was telling him she wanted to go home, and she didn’t care about the money, and then I heard your mother during your wedding date announcement at the pub. She told her she was free to leave, but only after she had your baby.”

  “It’s not,” Christopher said.

  “Not what?”

  “Hard to believe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known about it from the first night I met her,” Christopher said with a sad smile. “I overheard a similar conversation between Elisabeth and Mother. Elisabeth’s family came from money, but the recession hit them hard. Things had reached breaking point for them, and they went to my parents for
a loan. That was before Christmas when Katelyn and I booked our tickets to visit Australia for the first time. I daresay they had been sitting on this plan since that day. I should have known it was too good to be true that the most beautiful woman at the gala would walk over to me.”

  “Oh, Christopher,” Liz said, reaching out and grabbing his hands. “If you’ve known since then, why have you let it get this far?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he said, his eyes glazing over as he looked through Liz. “I wanted a shot at happiness like the rest of you.”

  Not only did Liz’s heart break for Christopher, but it also shattered into a thousand tiny sharp shards. It was hard to hear, but on some level, she completely understood what he meant.

  “You can’t live a lie,” Liz whispered, squeezing his hand hard. “You’ll wake up every morning knowing it’s not real.”

  “Isn’t that better than waking up every morning alone?”

  “No,” Liz said without hesitation. “And I know that’s not nice, but you deserve better than that. The right woman for you is out there, and she’s not called Elisabeth, with an ‘s’ or a ‘z’.”

  Christopher chuckled, squeezing her hands back. He looked into her eyes for a moment before turning to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. His eyes popped out of his head, forcing him to jump up.

  “You should go,” he said, already walking towards the hallway. “I can’t be late.”

  “Christopher –”

  “Thanks for stopping by, Elizabeth,” he said with a stiff smile as he held open the front door. “I appreciate knowing that I have someone in this town looking out for me.”

  Liz stepped over the threshold into the chilly air, unsure of what to say. When she turned back to protest further, the door had already closed in her face. She walked down the steps heavily and reluctantly, uncertain of what had happened. Before she could dwell on it any longer, she felt eyes burning holes in the back of her head again. She spun around, sure she had seen a shadow dart around the corner of the street. She hurried in her kitten heels to inspect, but there was no one there.

  “Pull yourself together, Liz,” she whispered to herself as she set off across town. “She probably is on the slow boat.”

  Liz met Simon outside St. Andrew’s Church, which seemed to be as well attended as the funeral. He looked expectantly at her, but all she could offer was a shake of her head.

  “What a fool!” he snapped under his breath. “Didn’t he believe you?”

  “Worse,” Liz replied. “He’s known from the start.”

  “And he’s still going through with it?”

  “That’s what he said,” Liz said with a heavy sigh as she looked across the street at Debbie’s house. A police car had been parked outside since the night of her disappearing act. “Do you think she would be silly enough to try and get back in there?”

  “The police must think so,” Simon said as they walked arm in arm into the church grounds to join the rest of Scarlet Cove for the wedding. “Someone called my mum this morning claiming she’s been spotted in Scotland. Violet from the café reckons she’s been seen sleeping rough in London.”

  “I heard she jumped into the sea and was washed away with the tide,” Lance whispered between them, making them both jump. “Who knows if she was trying to swim, or if she wanted to drown?”

  Liz spun around. She was shocked to see that he looked sober and showered, and looking somewhat smart in his suit with his hair slicked back behind his ears.

  “Good to see you up and about,” Simon said with a heavy pat on his back. “How are you feeling?”

  “Foggy,” he said, his eyes locked on Liz. “I’ve heard I owe you an apology, or twenty.”

  “Forget it,” Liz said with a shake of her head. “It’s all forgotten.”

  “Which part?” Lance asked, his brows lifting up high. “The burning cottage, or almost running you over? I am sorry, though. I don’t remember any of it, and I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s all I can offer.”

  “I get like that after too much Guinness,” Simon said with an awkward laugh. “We all go off the rails sometimes.”

  “I’ve checked myself into a treatment facility,” he said. “Moving in tomorrow for sixty days. It will give me time to figure out what I’m going to do next. I have nowhere to live, no car, and my reputation is in tatters. It’s a good job my parents are dead, or else they’d be strangling me to death right now.”

  As though he realised what he had said, his eyes filled with sadness. Liz could not blame him for his grief making him do crazy things. For some people, insanity was an extra step in the process.

  “Finding out that it was Debbie has given me some closure,” Lance continued. “I’ve been off the gin long enough to remember that I stood no chance reconciling with Katelyn, dead or alive. Having her here always left it open in my mind, but it was a fantasy. She wanted me for my money, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  With that, Lance patted them both on the back before moving to another group of people he likely owed apologies to. The parallels between Christopher and Katelyn’s relationships suddenly struck Liz; they were two halves of the same piece.

  Liz and Simon made their way into the church, taking the same pew as they had at the funeral. The chatter echoing around the room was almost unbearable, especially when it got to ten minutes past the starting time and neither bride nor groom was anywhere to be seen. As Liz fiddled with her watch, she hoped it stayed that way.

  When Lizzie walked into the church, Philip on her arm in place of her real father, Liz’s heart sank. Not only did she look beautiful in a figure-hugging mermaid dress with a long train and equally long veil, she also looked nervous. The quivering smile on her lips almost made her look human. When she noticed that her husband-to-be was not waiting for her at the front of the church, the quivering intensified.

  “He must be stuck in traffic,” Philip announced to the chattering crowd, much to his wife’s obvious frustration. “He’ll be here.”

  And Philip was right. Minutes later, Christopher walked into the church, a similar look on his face to that on Lizzie’s. Constance breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Philip chuckled as though there was nothing untoward happening.

  “Sorry,” Christopher mumbled as he hurried down the aisle. “Traffic.”

  “Told you so!” Philip exclaimed. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Constance. Today of all days!”

  Christopher took his place at the front of the church, his eyes on the floor and not on his beautiful bride. When the priest, Father Dwyer, prompted Christopher to pull back his fiancée’s veil, he did so with clumsy fingers. If he was happy to be going through with the sham wedding, he was not letting his face know.

  The service went by slowly, and the usual talk of the roles of marriage mocked by what was happening in the place of worship. When it came to the part for onlookers to object, it took all Liz’s strength, and Simon’s hand on her knee, not to jump up and call out each one of them for their role in the deception.

  “Now, this is the fun part, ladies and gentlemen,” Father Dwyer announced jovially, not picking up on the obvious tension. “We’ve reached the part of the ceremony for Elisabeth and Christopher to say their vows. Are you both ready to repeat after me?”

  They both nodded, neither of them looking ready.

  “Then, as agreed, ladies first.” Father Dwyer turned to Elisabeth, his smile wide. “Repeat after me, dear: I, and then say your name, take you, Christopher Winston Monroe, to be my lawful husband.”

  “I, Elisabeth Daniella Wilson, take you, Christopher Winston Monroe to be my – to be my lawful husband.”

  “Very good,” Father Dwyer chuckled. “To have and to hold from this day forward.”

  “To have and to hold from this day forward.”

  “For better, for worse.”

  “For better, for worse.”

  “For richer, for poorer.”

  “For richer, for p-p
oorer.”

  “In sickness and in health.”

  “In sickness and in health.”

  “Until death us do part.”

  “Until d-death us do part,” Elisabeth finished her voice suddenly tiny. “Is there anything else?”

  “Now it’s your fiancé’s turn,” Father Dwyer said with another chuckle. “You did very well.”

  Father Dwyer turned to Christopher to complete the vows. Liz was sure that Constance could taste blood from the ferocity with which she was biting her lip.

  “This is the easier bit,” Father Dwyer exclaimed. “You’ve already heard it all once, so simply repeat after me. I, and then say your name, take you, Elisabeth Daniella Wilson, to be my lawful wife.”

  “I – I Christopher –,”

  “Take you,” Father Dwyer prompted.

  “T-Take you.”

  Christopher paused and gulped hard before looking around the church, his eyes landing on Liz for a brief moment.

  “I Christopher Winston Monroe, take you, Elisabeth Daniella Wilson to be my – to be my –”

  “Dammit, boy!” Constance cried. “Stop stuttering. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Constance!” Philip mumbled, jerking his head to the church full of people. “Let them get on with it.”

  “Let’s try this again,” Father Dwyer said quietly to Christopher. “Nerves are normal. I’ve seen men twice your size pass out.”

  Christopher nodded and gulped again before looking at Lizzie.

  “I, Christopher Winston Monroe,” he started. “Do – Do –”

  “Do take,” he prompted again. “Do take, you –”