Free Black Moonlight by Amy Patricia Meade Page B

brother-in-law, and his wife, Prudence, were in their room. I could hear them talking through the closed door as I passed on the way to our bedroom, which is next to theirs.”
    “What were they talking about?”
    Marjorie took a deep breath; as much as she liked Pru, she knew the conversation might be valuable to the case. “They were talking about what had transpired during dinner. Prudence was telling Edward that something needed to be done about Mr. Ashcroft.”
    “Is that how she phrased it? That ‘something needed to be done?’”
    “No,” Marjorie denied as the words came flooding back into her memory. “She said that she wanted him out of their lives forever. At which point, Edward promised that he would take care of him. Those were the exact words he used: ‘take care of him.’ Prudence responded by saying that if he didn’t, she would.” Marjorie frowned. “That was all I heard.”
    “I see,” Jackson remarked. “Where did you go then?”
    “Into our bedroom. Creighton wasn’t there, but I got the idea to check the verandah. That’s when I saw Cassandra. She was on the verandah, but closer to the other end of the house. It was a full moon so I could see her clearly. She looked very different from when she was in the study and the dining room. Something about her was harder … colder. And, I know this sounds silly, but she kicked the cat.”
    Jackson stared at her. “Beg pardon?”
    “The cat I was talking about earlier, well it approached Cassandra and she kicked it. She had no reason for doing so; the cat wasn’t harming anyone. And she—she seemed to smile afterwards. It was very disturbing.” Marjorie punctuated the statement with a long pause. “After I snatched up the cat, I went back downstairs. It must have been past nine o’clock by the time, because it was completely dark. I noticed a light coming in from the office; it was Mr. Miller.”
    “Did Mr. Miller appear angry?” Jackson quizzed.
    “No, not at all,” she replied. “If anything, he seemed to be relieved. And after seeing how my father-in-law treated him, I can’t say I blame him. He was readying his list of references to put in the post. He and I spoke for a brief while—chit-chat really—before I went outside again, this time to the front of the house.”
    “Where you finally found Creighton?” Jackson assumed.
    “Not before finding Griselda. She was sitting on the steps, crying her eyes out. I nearly fell over her. But I didn’t, instead I helped her up and she, and her overnight bag, got into the speedster and set off to spend the night in Hamilton.”
    “What time did she get back?”
    “That’s an excellent question,” Marjorie noted. “The next time I saw her was this morning, in the dining room, after Selina’s screaming had garnered the attention of the entire household. Unlike the rest of us, however, she came in from outside. Looked like she had been sunning herself.”
    “Hmm. And, finally, where did you find Creighton?”
    “Took us long enough didn’t it?” Marjorie smiled. “He was on the front lawn cooling off, as Selina suggested. I sat with him and we talked for a while. Then we came inside to raid the pantry. We hadn’t eaten any dinner—no one had. Creighton grabbed a bottle of wine; I found some cheese and fruit. We took them back to the front lawn, ate, drank, and watched the stars. It was going on eleven when we got back to our room.”
    “And you didn’t hear or see anything else?”
    “Not a soul and not a peep.”
    “And your husband?”
    “You’ll have to ask him, but I doubt it,” she replied with an engaging smile.
    “No, I—um—imagine he didn’t either.” Jackson colored slightly and fiddled with his collar. Nettles appeared in the doorway of the study, shaking his head. “No note, sir.”
    “But there must be,” Marjorie exclaimed. “He put it there. I saw him!”
    “Sorry, Miss,” Nettles apologized. “We looked all over the dining room. Nothing.