Free Aunt Dimity Beats the Devil (Aunt Dimity Mystery) by Nancy Atherton Page B

thing. But I could hear the stealthy footsteps and the quiet, raspy breathing.
    Someone was in my room.

CHAPTER

    M y heart thumped hard enough to bruise my sternum. I took a quavering breath, gripped the bedclothes with both hands, and inquired of the darkness, “Who’s there?”
    A ghoulish, glowing face appeared above me, near the ceiling, a demon conjured from the Stygian gloom. Every hair on my body stood on end. I gasped once, twice, forgot I was a woman of the world, and screamed like a banshee.
    At once, the bedroom lights came on and Nicole was by my side, apologizing, explaining, and beseeching me to stop having hysterics. It took a while for her words to penetrate. I was a little nervy.
    When she finally coaxed me out from under the blankets, I saw, to my chagrin, that my demon was nothing more than Mr. Hatch perched atop a stepladder near the wardrobe. He held the stuffed monkey under his arm and a hooded flashlight in his hand.
    “It’s only Hatch,” soothed Nicole. “He came for Jared’s pets. Dr. MacEwan told me of your allergies and I thought it best to move the animals at once.”
    “You were fast asleep when I come up, ma’am,” Mr. Hatch chimed in. “I didn’t like to waken you, so I come in quiet-like. Got the finches and the ferret with no trouble, but bashed the blasted monkey with my torch.” He propped the creepy creature against the wardrobe. “You nearly knocked me off the ladder with your screeching.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Hatch.” I pulled the covers to my chin, wondering why he’d waited until midnight to round up Jared’s repellent pets. “What time is it?”
    “Half seven,” Nicole replied.
    So much for the witching hour, I thought wryly. I’d been asleep for less than forty minutes.
    Mr. Hatch clambered down the ladder, then carried it and the staring monkey out of the room. Nicole waited until he’d shut the door to speak.
    “Please don’t tell Dr. MacEwan that we disturbed you,” she said. “He’s already furious with me for letting you work so soon after your accident.”
    “It was my choice,” I reminded her. “A foolish one, as it happens. I’ve been feeling out of whack all day. Dr. MacEwan says it’s the aftereffects of shock.”
    “How dreadful,” said Nicole.
    “It hasn’t been pleasant,” I agreed. “My imagination’s run amok. I’ve even started hearing things. I think they’re called auditory halluci—”
    “What did you hear?” Nicole broke in. She stood stock-still at the foot of the bed. She was wearing an exquisite slate-gray gown with embroidery and hand beadwork, and her dark hair fell in a wavy mane nearly to her waist. Silhouetted against the bedroom’s rich wall coverings, she looked like a wild-haired damsel from a Pre-Raphaelite painting. “What did you hear?” she repeated.
    Her insistent tone brought to mind the confession she’d begun but never finished in the library. I recalled, too, the conversation I’d overheard before entering the dining room for breakfast. When Jared was away, she’d said, she heard and saw things that disturbed her.
    “Laughter,” I replied. “I thought I heard a man laughing.”
    “Laughter?” Nicole seemed to relax. She came around the corner of the bed, trailing her fingers through the bed curtain’s long fringe. “I’ve never heard anyone laugh. Withme, it’s mostly creaks and taps and thumps that sound like footsteps. The last time Jared was away, I thought I saw a face staring in at me through my bedroom window.”
    “Huh,” I said, bemused. “I thought I saw a pair of glowing eyes.”
    “G-glowing eyes?” Nicole’s seemed ready to pop from their sockets.
    “Hyperventilation.” I blurted the first thing that came to mind, in order to calm Nicole, but once the word was out, it made sense of what I’d seen. “Rapid, shallow breathing can cause a person to see stars, Nicole, and I was huffing pretty heavily on the staircase. The ‘glowing eyes’ were just the result of