Pearl scoffed. ‘You’re mad.’
‘So if she didn’t deliberately set out to kill Nan,’ Lena interrupted, ‘why did she hit her violently?’
Milly looked at Pearl steadily. ‘Because she thought Nan was me.’ Her sister didn’t flinch. ‘She was jealous of my inheritance. She wanted her revenge.’
‘Now that I think about it,’ said Lena, ‘Nan was wearing your old coat, so if she had her back to Pearl . . .’
‘I tell you, I wasn’t even here,’ Pearl protested angrily. ‘I was on my way to Harwich when the fire broke out!’
Milly turned away. Yes, she was right about that. Seebold had said when he and the fireman had talked it over, they’d all agreed that the fire must have burned for some time before anyone noticed, but the three of them – Agatha, Freddie and Pearl – would have left Findon hours before.
‘Did the firemen say how the fire started?’ Lena asked.
‘Not really,’ said the inspector. ‘I haven’t had the official report yet but there was some discussion that it might have been a childish prank gone wrong.’
‘I heard that,’ said Seebold.
‘Well, there you are then,’ said Agatha. ‘It can’t be one of us. It must have been someone from the village. We don’t have any children around here.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Seebold. ‘The arsonist didn’t need to have been here when the fire broke out.’ He looked directly at Agatha. ‘What if he – or she – had set up some kind of delayed fuse?’
‘And why would you say that, sir?’ said the inspector, his eyes narrowing.
‘Because I saw the firemen with a tin they’d found under the eaves,’ said Seebold. ‘I didn’t give it a thought at the time, but now it makes sense. You stuff some old rags in a tin with some linseed oil; give it a few hours to warm up, and poof!’
‘Well, that lets me out,’ said Pearl. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start with that one.’
‘I remember you mucking about with something like that when we were little,’ said Milly idly.
There was an ominous silence. Everybody stared at Milly. ‘Didn’t Daddy have an old book warning of the dangers of fire?’
‘What book?’ said Lena.
‘I don’t remember the name of it,’ said Milly, heading for the big bookcase, ‘but I’ll know it when I see it.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Pearl snapped, as she put herself between Milly and the bookcase. ‘Our old books were chucked out years and years ago.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Milly, pointing over her sister’s shoulder. ‘There’s that book of spells you used when we were kids.’
‘Stop making such a damned fool of yourself, Milly,’ Pearl spat as she batted her sister’s hand away from the shelf. ‘I said leave it!’
The inspector went behind her to reach up and pulled down a leatherbound book. ‘Is this the one you mean?’ They saw him looking carefully at the title. ‘Witches, Spells and Folklore. Ummm, interesting.’
The book next to it had fallen down. He went to set it upright, but then a lacrosse stick perched on top of the books slid towards the floor. Pearl seemed agitated. Something had attracted the inspector’s attention. ‘Give me your handkerchief, Constable,’ he said, standing over the stick so that no one could touch it. ‘That looks like dried blood to me. Looks like we might have found the murder weapon.’
Milly gasped, while Pearl gave her a stony look which would have curdled milk.
Between the two of them, the inspector and the constable wrapped the handle of the lacrosse stick in the clean handkerchief. ‘When we get back to the station, get that finger-printed,’ the inspector said, ‘and check the blood.’
Constable Cox nodded.
Everyone was distracted by the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel outside and Nipper, who had been lying with his head between his paws on the patio, stood up and barked. Leaving the lacrosse stick in the care of his constable, the inspector went into the hallway and opened the front door, as a policeman climbed out of the car. ‘Only one car, Hawes?’
‘Detective Sergeant Drummond is just behind me, sir.’
They were interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream coming from the sitting room. The inspector rushed back inside, closely followed by Hawes and DS Drummond. At the same time, Nipper had come through the front door and pushed his way into the hall between their legs. Constable Cox was lying on the floor. He was out cold, and Pearl, the lacrosse stick in her hand, stood over him.
Seebold had positioned himself in front of her and stood with his hands outstretched. ‘Calm down, miss,’ he was saying. ‘Give me the stick.’ Nipper rushed into the room and began to bark.
Pearl dropped the stick with a clatter.
‘She just hit the poor man and knocked him out,’ Lena gasped as she grabbed the dog’s collar.
As the other policemen piled into the room, Pearl grabbed the cake knife she had dropped earlier and launched herself at Milly. Lena shouted, ‘Look out!’
All at once, Milly was pushed violently against the chest of drawers by Seebold’s bulk as he put himself between the two girls – which meant that Pearl plunged the knife into his shoulder rather than Milly’s chest. He let out a yell and his body curled downwards but he didn’t fall. Nipper barked like mad as Pearl brandished the knife again, this time aiming for Milly’s throat. Before they knew it, the dog had broken free and hurled himself at her, knocking her off balance and giving the other constable a chance to grab her arm and pull her away. As she dropped the knife, the policeman swung her across the small table, knocking the cake to the floor. Having pulled Pearl’s other arm behind her back, the policeman locked on his handcuffs. ‘You are under arrest for attempted murder,’ he began. ‘You do not have to say anything . . .’
Pearl threw back her head and began to laugh; a high-pitched cackle that sent shivers down everyone’s spine. They were all stunned by what they’d just seen, then Milly let out an anguished moan. Seebold had crumpled to the floor, the blood seeping across his shoulder blade and soaking his jacket. Milly grabbed a cushion and pressed it over the cut, while Lena reached for the telephone to ask for an ambulance.
Apart from lifting her legs slightly to get out of the way of tumbling figures, Agatha remained in her chair, watching the proceedings, apparently devoid of all emotion.
She was the only one of them to notice the dog making short work of the cake.
It was two in the morning. Seebold appeared to be asleep. They had taken him to Worthing Hospital and, after examination, the doctor deemed his wound was largely superficial. However, one part of the cut across his shoulder had needed stitches. After he’d been patched up, they decided that he should stay in overnight. While Lena returned to Nan’s cottage to look after her animals, Milly waited in the corridor until the nurse came to say he was back from the treatment room and on the ward.
He looked very peaceful. It was unusual for her to be able to look at him at such close quarters without him seeing her. Someone had pushed his hair back off his forehead and she found herself coaxing a tendril towards his face. It always looked so much more attractive that way. She was looking at his mouth. What would it be like if . . .?
When he opened his eyes and looked at her, Milly felt her cheeks flush. ‘You saved my life,’ she whispered.
