“You’re our hero, boy. We were going to freeze to death in there,” Martha said joyfully with tears streaming down her face.
“Well, you probably would have suffocated first,” Sam said nonchalantly, which evoked horrified looks from both Helen and Martha. “Someone put a plastic cover over the ventilator. Might have kept you from getting oxygen.”
This caused Helen to finally faint but not before Sam grabbed her. He put her down on the floor as Piers and Donna emerged from the same passage Helen and Martha used earlier.
Piers saw the three of them and rushed over to where Helen lay on the floor.
Donna grabbed Sam. “What on Earth are you doing here? Oh my God. The Chief is going to kill us both.”
Martha grabbed Sam back from Donna and held on to his arm. “He saved our lives. We were locked in the freezer by that crazy housekeeper. Helen’s been shot and we would have run out of air. This boy is my hero.” Martha was rambling a bit and shaking from shock.
Donna looked stunned. Piers picked Helen up and carried her to a chair.
“She needs a doctor. Who did this Martha?” he asked.
“I just told you. Mrs. Thyme. She’s a total nut job.” Talking was helping Martha feel less hysterical. “She’s probably still here somewhere. She’s got a gun. She tried to kill Lana.”
Piers looked like he had been slapped and then punched. He sat down beside Helen and held her hand. Another piercing strike of lightning and the kitchen door slammed open. They all jumped and screamed as the Chief, wet as an otter, came in from the rainstorm.
“Chief,” Donna said, “the woman who is at the heart of this is possibly still in the house and she’s got a gun.”
“No she isn’t. She’s locked in my backseat with cuffs on. She was trying to leave. What happened here?” He glanced at Helen’s bloody arm and gave Sam a look of death.
Donna started to speak but Sam blurted out, “I think we should take these women somewhere more comfortable, Sir. They’ve had a terrible shock and one has been shot. Probably needs medical attention.”
“I’m fine.” Helen said, lucid again but still rather limp in her chair. “The bullet only grazed my arm. I think I’ll live.”
Johns looked at Constable Waters and smiled. He was angry with Sam but sometimes you had to be grateful for small mercies.
To Sam he said, “Fine idea. I’ll need to see everyone at the station for statements. Sam, you ride with Waters. Mr. Cousins, would you please see Mrs. Littleword and Mrs. Ryes to the station? I’ll have Doc Whithersby come by to check on them.”
They all stared at Johns. No one was able to move.
“You have Mrs. Thyme in the police car already?” Martha asked, a bit dubious.
“Yes. She never saw me hiding behind the wall outside. Grabbed her from behind. Tossed her into the car. Simple.”
Something in Martha snapped. She went over to Johns and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Chief Inspector. Thank you for everything.”
Johns looked down on Martha. Their eyes locked for a second.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Littleword.”
THERE WAS A SLOW PROGRESSION of vehicles away from Healy. Helen and Martha sat in the back of Piers’ Jaguar wrapped in blankets.
“Did she say why she wanted to kill you, Helen?” Piers asked softly while gripping the wheel with both hands.
“Yes. She also rambled something about Lana not being a good mother. Remember her saying that, Martha? I thought it odd at the time,” Helen replied.
“She didn’t want Helen moving in, Piers.” It was a good sign that Martha’s cheekiness was returning. She continued, “Thyme thought if the child came to Healy, she would get to mother him. Or maybe she had designs on you herself.”
Piers was quiet for a few minutes. Then he said, “She was Emilia’s nanny. I hired her ten years ago because she wanted to come back to England to be near Emilia. She was thrilled to know I might be getting custody of Emerson. I feel so terrible for putting you both in danger.”
Helen was resting with her head nestled into the crook of Martha’s shoulder. Martha was texting her daughter, Kate. She looked up and said, “It’s okay, Piers. You didn’t have anything to do with it. Probably ought to get that woman some serious psychological help, though.” Then she went back to texting.
Piers shrugged. At least Martha was back to normal. He wondered what Mrs. Thyme would tell him once he got to the Marsden-Lacey Constabulary.
Chapter 37
ONCE EVERYONE HAD GIVEN THEIR statements, Johns put Mrs. Thyme into a secure cell and Constable Cross was given the serious task of keeping her safe and alive until the next morning.
Martha and Helen were checked out by Dr. Whithersby both medically and literally. An impressive bandage encircled Helen’s arm and they were both given a sedative to take once they arrived home, something to let them relax so they would sleep deeply.
Penny put her engagement to the clod, Jeffrey Baldwin, on hold.
Piers drove the girls back to Flower Pot Cottage and again slept on the couch to give them a sense of safety.
Donna went home to her boys, two dogs and a husband who was trying to heat up leftovers with no success.
Johns drove home to his old farm house to find his mother testing two new beers she had finished that afternoon. They deliberated deep into the night on the merits of both which in turn brought a very sound and peaceful sleep for the Chief.
BRIGHT AND EARLY THE NEXT morning, Perigrine and Alistair were busily pruning the bushes and weeding the beds around the constabulary when Donna arrived carrying her lunch.
“We have a tasty surprise for you, Donna Dear,” Alistair said with a knowing grin. “Harriet heard all about Sam’s heroism last night and sent over sticky buns, two sugar cakes and her famous shortbread for you.”
“Wow! Am I supposed to eat all that?” Donna tried to juggle multiple bags.
“Here. Let me help you carry some of that.” Helen came up behind her. “You’ve got more bags than arms.”
“No. You’re not supposed to eat it all yourself, Donna,” an indignant Perigrine said. “You’re supposed to share with your friends. Really. I don’t know about you sometimes.”
Alistair and Perigrine gave side looks to each other but Donna and Helen, with Martha in tow, ignored them and continued into the Constabulary.
Donna poked her head back out the door and called, “Are you coming or what?”
Perigrine and Alistair put down their shears, checked each other for stray hairs and leaves, then gracefully ascended the stairs and went inside.
Johns came from out of the back area where the cells were housed.
“Is Cousins here?” he asked the girls.
“On his way. Had to park the Jag,” Martha said with a smile.
Johns returned her smile. “The interview is going to take some time. Mrs. Ryes, would you please give us some of your expertise? The manuscript has been recovered and I would like your opinion once more about how we should proceed now that Mr. Devry is…well…dead.”
“Of course, Chief Inspector. I would love to have more time to examine it and a colleague of mine at the Bodleian will be an excellent resource.”
Perigrine and Alistair maintained delightfully inscrutable faces during this exchange but P. couldn’t help himself. He gave Donna a pleading look and she intervened on his behalf.
“Chief, Perigrine has some affinity for works of art. Might he have a look?” she asked.
Johns shrugged and waved them all through. “Fine with me. Don’t anybody get any ideas though. The evidence room is Marsden-Lacey’s Tower of London. No one gets in or out without being frisked.” He gave Constable Cross a stern look.
Perigrine could have kissed Donna for this treat of seeing the manuscript again and hearing Helen’s assessment. He gave her a wink as he passed by on his way to the evidence room along with Helen, Martha, and Constable Cross. No chances were being taken with the manuscript this time.
The rest of t
he constables and Alistair sat down for morning coffee and gossip. Sticky buns were passed out and coffee was dispensed. So many stories needed to be straightened out and discussed in depth before misguided locals told misconstrued versions of the previous night’s exciting events.
Chapter 38
JOHNS OPENED THE DOOR TO Mrs. Thyme’s cell. He motioned for Piers to wait a bit.
“Mrs. Thyme, I have Mr. Cousins to see you. Are you ready to have a visitor this morning?” Johns asked in a gentle manner.
He had learned from so many years in the force that with patience and kindness, you can save yourself a great deal of time. They needed to start soon because the welfare worker sent up from Leeds to attend to Mrs. Thyme was waiting in the interview room. The department always had a welfare worker in the interview process, especially when they were dealing with a person so unstable.
Mrs. Thyme met his gaze but she appeared disoriented. Still curled up in a corner of her cot, she hugged herself and stared at Johns from the deep, scared eyes of an animal. But once Piers walked into the room, she uncoiled from her bodily knot and threw herself at him, clinging to his shoulders and weeping uncontrollably.
Piers patted her while shooting unsure glances at Johns. Johns nodded and intimated he should keep up the assurances. After a few minutes she quieted down.
“Are you ready, Mrs. Thyme, to talk about what happened last night?” Johns asked in a calm and soothing tone.
Donna brought in a pot of tea and some of the wonderful treats Harriet had sent with Alistair and then left the room.
Johns poured her a cup of tea which she picked up and cradled in her hands. After a short while she started. “I didn’t want her to have Emilia’s child. I didn’t want any of them to have Emerson. Piers,” she said pleadingly, “Emerson has had such a terrible childhood. Carstons was so brutal and he needed to die.”
Johns and Piers looked at each other and then Johns spoke. “Did you feel you needed to kill Sir Carstons, Mrs. Thyme, to protect the child?”
She pulled herself upright in her chair. Her voice was indignant. “Well, someone had to do something. He killed his wife and he was going to ruin that child’s life.”
“What made you kill him so many years after Emilia’s death?” Piers asked gently.
With swollen eyes filling with tears, she looked out through the window and appeared to be focusing on one of Perigrine’s rose bushes. “Emilia had called me, Piers, over ten years ago and begged me to come to England to be close to her. You gave me the job. It nearly killed me to see how that brute of a husband emotionally tortured her. She had nothing, no money of her own to fall back on. The other worthless man in her life, her father, made her penniless to keep Carstons from getting his hands on her money. That’s why her worthless husband abused her. He only saw money when he married her. Once he realized he would never get his hands on a penny of her fortune, he decided to mash her, torture her and crush her any way he could.” Mrs. Thyme cried softly.
“I asked her to leave him, Hilda, but she wouldn’t,” Piers said in an apologetic tone. “She refused to see me after she found out about her pregnancy. I never knew what happened. Do you know why?”
Mrs. Thyme didn’t speak for a bit. It was as if she was having trouble finding the right words. When she finally continued, she picked up and held Piers’ hand, then said tenderly, “Emerson is not your child, Piers.” She let the words lay there.
His gaze locked onto hers and he asked hoarsely, “Whose child is he?”
“Louis was his father,” she answered in a dull tone.
They each looked for answers in the others’ eyes but finding none, Piers finally asked. “Did you kill Louis, too?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes. He was a mess. Couldn’t love anything. He had nothing but his own love for Emilia. He was as addicted to his love of her as Carstons was to his need to torture her. Besides he didn’t want Emerson. So weak, so pathetically weak.”
“Hilda, why did you try to kill me?” Piers asked, confused.
“I didn’t try and kill you. I wanted to kill that silly woman from Louisiana. You were dancing. It was hard to get a clean shot. She only wanted your money. Would have shipped Emerson off to some terrible school so she wouldn’t have a messy child around the place. I nearly died when I saw you were the one I hit.”
Piers looked down at Mrs. Thyme’s hand still covering his own. Johns could see the tension Cousins was under.
“Why Helen and Martha, then?” Johns asked not wanting to lose the momentum of her confession.
Mrs. Thyme looked surprised to hear Johns speak, as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. “Oh, like I told them, I had nothing against Mrs. Littleword. I did push her down the stairs but after I talked with her later, I realized she didn’t suspect me. It was Mrs. Ryes who was the real problem. She was just another woman who wouldn’t want to deal with a small boy underfoot. In the end though, you couldn’t kill one and not the other,” she said almost flippantly then turned her attention back to Piers.
“Piers, you have to understand. Women see everything you are and everything you have. They can be so grasping and self-absorbed. It was only a matter of time before you brought one home to be your wife. It had fallen to me to get Emerson a safe home with you. I wasn’t going to let Emilia’s child suffer at the hands of one more selfish, evil person.”
No one spoke for a few moments. Johns and Piers were trying to digest Mrs. Thyme’s story and fathom her insanity at the same time.
“So you tried to shoot Lana, but you missed and got me?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry. I was so relieved you were okay, but there was a bright side. Miss Lana left that night and I haven’t seen her since.”
Johns and Piers gave each other quick, nervous looks and Johns scribbled a note on his legal pad: “Locate Lana Chason.”
“Mrs. Thyme, how did you know Emerson was Louis’ child?” Johns asked.
She looked at Piers.
“I read all of your mail, Piers. I know I shouldn’t have. There was a letter from an attorney in Connecticut dealing with Emilia’s estate and because you were the president of The Grange, they thought you might have an address for Louis. They had written him at The Grange and he hadn’t responded.”
“Louis’ sister said he shut down when he learned he was the father of Emilia’s child,” Johns said.
“Mrs. Thyme, did the attorneys tell you Louis was Emerson’s father?” Piers asked.
“Yes, after I told them I was Louis’ mother and that he was dying.”
Both Johns and Piers flinched at the irony of the comment. Johns shifted the questioning.
“Mrs. Thyme, will you please tell us how you killed Sir Carstons?”
“I always wanted him dead, but I saw him in the marketplace last Friday and I asked him about Emerson. I wanted to see the child,” she said as her face darkened. “He told me to go to Hell.”
Mrs. Thyme with her hands clasped in her lap, kneaded them together. “I followed him and saw him go into The Grange. There’s a small alcove, you know, right inside the door. I picked up the rock holding the door open. It was shadowy and I could sit quietly and wait. I finally saw what I needed to do. He needed to die.”
“Did you hear the conversation between Louis Devry and Sir Carstons?” Johns asked.
“Yes, and that was when I realized how I could get rid of two birds with one stone.”
Johns and Piers kept still and waited for her to continue.
“I could hear feet coming quickly down the stairs, and Louis telling Sir Carstons he wasn’t going to give him the manuscript. They argued and Carstons said he would see to it that Louis was turned over to the police for taking it from Harvard. Louis told him to get out and that he would turn it over to you, Piers, before he ever let Carstons get his filthy hands on it. I couldn’t see Louis, but Carstons walked right past me. I thought I had missed my chance. I sat there for a little bit. Before I could come out from the alcove,
a woman came breezing in through the doors. It was Mrs. Littleword.”
“What happened to Carstons?” Piers asked.
“He must have been hiding while the woman was in the room because once she was gone, I didn’t even have a chance to move before he walked right back through the doors. He was on the phone saying something about how Mrs. Devry was ill. I picked the heavy rock up again and, while he was talking, I simply came up behind him.”
“How did a piece of paper with my name on it get stuck to the rock?” Piers asked.
Mrs. Thyme thought for a moment. “I don’t know for sure. There was blood on my hand from the rock. I didn’t have anything to wipe them clean but I found a tissue in my pocket. Maybe one of your cards I carry was stuck to the tissue and the rock when I tossed it over the hill.”
Johns got a tingly feeling. “Mrs. Thyme would you have seen the item they were struggling over?”
“I found it the next day under Louis’ bed. I knew it was the same envelope as the one they had been struggling over and that it must be valuable. But if Louis gave it to you, Piers, it wouldn’t look like he needed to kill Sir Carstons. I wanted it to look like Louis had killed him. That way when he was found dead by suicide, the case would be closed. Then Louis would be out of the picture, too.”
Johns shifted the questioning. “Did you manipulate the surveillance videos?”
Mrs. Thyme looked bored by the question. “Piers’ passwords were written in his address book. That was simple to manage.”
“Another question, Mrs. Thyme. Helen and Martha found a piece of your glove in the garden. You must have known it was missing and yet you sent them out there anyway. Why?” Johns asked.
“I didn’t realize about the glove. I saw later it was torn but I needed to get rid of them because they were snooping around too much. The dogs would attack anyone near that garden wall and they had been trained to come up quietly on their target. Somehow those two escaped.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Did you follow them to The Grange, too?” Johns pushed a bit more.
Two Birds with One Stone (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 18
