Secret Reflection (35 page)

Furrowing her brow, Nancy gripped Kelly’s arm tight. ‘But if you didn’t do it, what evidence could they have?’

With a long slow sigh, Kelly lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘Apart from the bicycle pump, I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got all the dirt on me from Frank. Deanna’s murder would probably help his case.’

‘What dirt? What are you talking about?’

Kelly squeezed her eyes shut for a second before focusing on Nancy’s concerned face. ‘I didn’t want to worry you. Frank is suing for half of my trust fund. He’s made all sorts of allegations from infidelity to inferring I have some kind of mental illness. That was why I was initially reticent to take on John’s story. If it got back to his legal team that I had started believing in ghosts … well, you can guess the rest. Dad has his people working on it but I need to keep my nose clean. Just the sniff of a scandal and he’ll have a field day.’

‘Oh, honey, why didn’t you tell us all this in the first place?’

Kelly shook her head. ‘I thought it would just blow over. As far as I’m concerned Frank can have the money. I don’t care anymore. But Dad refuses to let him swindle me out of my inheritance. My grandmother would have a fit if she were still alive to see all this.’

One of the workmen chose that moment to start hammering in the hallway beyond the kitchen.

Kelly pushed her plate away and stood.

‘C’mon, Kel, you have to eat something,’ Nancy cajoled. ‘You can’t face Mathieson on an empty stomach.’

Kissing Nancy’s cheek, she tried for a smile. ‘I’m fine … really I am. I just need some more sleep. I sat up last night writing John’s story and forgot the time. Maybe I’ll nap for a while and then have something.’

Nancy followed her to the hall where they dodged several workmen. ‘I don’t know how you could sleep with this racket.’

‘My CD player. I have some meditations on disk, and if that doesn’t work, there’s always U2.’ She hugged her friend and escaped up the stairs.

After half an hour she conceded that sleep was unlikely. The workmen had stepped up their pace with the opening next week. The nerve-shattering sound of drills had joined with the hammering to create a cacophony that defied anyone to sleep.

With a wistful glance at the empty mirror frame, she picked up her laptop and went downstairs to the small rose garden where she could find a little peace to finish her article. She sat under an arbour on a curved stone bench, and took a few minutes to draw in the beauty of her surroundings before she again tackled her story. It had begun to shape up nicely. While she didn’t mention her relationship with John or the true method of his incarceration, she did give all the details of how he’d tragically helped Elizabeth to end her agony, and how Edward had gone mad afterward and killed him. She quoted parts of the journal and made certain the reader would know who the real villain had been. While she didn’t want to lie, for Tom and Nancy’s sake she decided she’d leave out the part that John had now gone.

That thought brought a hot rush of tears to her eyes and as she lifted her head to blink them back, she saw Tom and Nancy heading towards her with Detective Inspector Mathieson bringing up the rear.

Panic filled her when she noted Nancy’s colourless expression. Had she thought right? Was the inspector here to arrest her? While she was just under suspicion, nothing of what had happened would have made it back home to the States. But if she was arrested … that would definitely make the newscasts.

With her heart beating hard in her chest she closed her laptop and mentally prepared herself. Her experience with Frank had taught her a little about how to suppress her feelings and withstand the emotional onslaught. Although this was completely different, the principles were the same. Think of something positive. Focus on the question at hand. Do not allow your imagination to run away with you.

‘Ms Reid,’ the inspector greeted her with what she realised was his version of a smile. The sides of his lips rose but only enough to cause them to thin.

‘Hello, Inspector.’ She set the laptop aside and hugged her arms to her chest. Nancy sat on her other side and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘I thought I ought to apprise you of developments in the Montgomery case.’ He crossed the gravelled space to grab a cast-iron chair from the nearby setting and sat before her. Tom hovered behind him.

‘We have Deanna Montgomery’s killer in custody.’

All the air left Kelly’s lungs in a great whoosh as the relief swept through her. Nancy enveloped her in a big hug and Tom stood grinning at her like she’d won a prize. ‘I knew it would all be fine,’ Nancy whispered as Kelly felt the tension of the moment force her eyes to well.

‘Who did it?’ Tom asked, point blank.

‘Will Montgomery confessed to the murder of his daughter.’

Mathieson waited while each of them gasped before continuing. ‘It appears Will had been abusing his daughter for some years. During the autopsy it was discovered that she was pregnant when she died, and further investigations revealed that it wasn’t the first time. Deanna had had three abortions in the past four years.

‘After Deanna’s death Will tried to throw suspicion upon Ditchley by telling us he suspected the lord of having an illicit sexual liaison with the girl. According to Deanna’s friend at the bakery, and also Deanna’s younger sister, she had a big crush on Ditchley and of course, she had worked for him for more than four years. While we cannot rule out that the viscount had been having an affair with Deanna, blood tests revealed that the unborn child was most likely fathered by Will Montgomery.’

The astonishment on Nancy’s face reflected the look on Tom’s.

‘You mean that Will had been getting his daughter pregnant and making her have abortions?’ Tom shook his head in amazement.

‘Deanna’s doctor has confirmed the abortions. While the doctor claims he suspected something was very much amiss, the girl refused to name the father in each instance and Montgomery paid the doctor to remain silent.

‘Will claims that he came home drunk on Sunday night. He got angry when she told him of her latest pregnancy and hit her a little too hard.

‘Do you remember when you said you smelled horse manure in the passage, Ms Reid?’ Mathieson asked, though he continued on as if he didn’t expect her to answer. ‘Will Montgomery is a horse trainer. He prepares the polo horses for several of the locals. The fingerprints on the bicycle pump belonged to Deanna, as did those on the runes.’

A number of details suddenly clicked into place in Kelly’s mind. The runes had obviously belonged to the girl. Kelly’s research on runes had shown that they were supposedly a fashionable way of casting spells and hexes and, while she’d never know for sure, it figured that the girl had left the stones in her room in order to cause mischief.

‘You were unfortunately in the right place at the wrong time, Ms Reid, but blaming you didn’t quite hold up. So Will needed to divert suspicion elsewhere.

‘He knew Deanna fancied Ditchley and since Ditchley owed a lot of money to one of the local bookies, for whom Will is also the enforcer, he decided to use the viscount as a convenient scapegoat. Will had apparently issued a payment warning to the viscount earlier on the night of the killing and once Deanna told him the news about her pregnancy … well … you know the rest.’

‘What made Montgomery confess now?’ Tom asked, his expression still one of utter incredulity.

‘Will got home from Deanna’s wake to find his younger daughter, Eithne, gone. Furious that she hadn’t made his dinner, he went in search of her and found her bike near the track that led to the coach house. He followed her and claims he found the viscount attempting to seduce the girl. In a fit of rage he attacked the viscount.

‘We had been watching Ditchley as a follow-up to Will’s allegations and when the girl went in, we thought he might have been telling the truth about the viscount and Deanna. Will arrived and beat the viscount senseless before we could intervene.’

‘Is he all right?’ Tom asked.

‘We don’t know, as yet.’

Returning his gaze to Kelly, Mathieson said, ‘So you are now free to return to the United States in a few days, Ms Reid.’

Leaning back on the hard bench, Kelly stared skyward. ‘That’s probably best,’ she murmured.

‘But you can’t go yet!’ Nancy exclaimed.

‘There’s nothing to keep me here – I’ve just about finished your story, so it can be submitted in time for tomorrow’s deadline.’ She grabbed hold of her laptop. ‘I’ll send it off this afternoon.’

Nancy looked to Tom for support. ‘But you have to stay for the opening at least. And maybe, after that, you can actually take a relaxing holiday and see some of the sights. I should be able to take a break as soon as the opening is over … maybe we can head down to London and see a few shows.’ She took hold of Kelly’s hand and laced their fingers together. ‘We haven’t had the chance to do any girlie stuff at all!’

‘I don’t know, Nance.’ She gazed into Nancy’s earnest eyes. ‘I’ll stay until after the opening … but after that … we’ll see.’

Mathieson stood. ‘Well, I’ll leave you for now. We have your statement, Ms Reid, but I might need to get a few more details over the next couple of days.’

Kelly nodded.

The gravel crunched loudly as the inspector made his way back around the building to his car.

‘I still can’t believe it,’ Tom said into the silence. ‘How could that man molest his own daughter?’

‘The world is full of crazies, Tom.’

‘You’re not kidding. And what about Richard? Do you think he was sleeping with Deanna?’

Nancy screwed her face in distaste. ‘I hope not.’

‘The inspector said he owed a bookie a lot of money,’ Tom pointed out.

‘Yeah, but there’s a big difference between a gambler and having sex with underage girls,’ Nancy replied.

Kelly kept out of their discussion. If she never saw Richard again, it would be too soon.

After submitting the story to one of the bigger syndicated newspapers that covered Britain, Kelly wandered down to the library and found an assortment of books to tide her over until she headed home. While she would have liked the idea of hanging around and playing hooky in London with Nancy, she knew the new hotel would demand most of her friend’s attention. Better to come back in a few months time, if work permitted, and spend time with her then.

When she’d originally booked her plane ticket, Kelly had left the return flight open since she didn’t know how long she’d want to stay hiding in England. Now she intended to escape back to LA and do the same thing: hide. Only this time she was hiding from an emotion far more shattering than the one that had brought her here. It was quite ironic really, only a few weeks ago she crossed the Atlantic thinking that she could never fall in love again and now she had to admit that with Frank it hadn’t been love at all. Despite the fact that she and John had never even touched, the emotional link between them had been forged so much stronger than between her and Frank, and Frank had known her more intimately than any other person alive.

And that was the worst of it. John was no longer alive and she had only his journal to help her mourn. On that terrible night when he’d disappeared from her life forever, she had, just for an instant, considered joining him. But she knew she must endure. John had endured much more pain and had done so with good grace. She needed to do the same.

Besides, she was a coward. After that short moment of lapse, she realised that taking her own life would achieve nothing.

It took a few hours online, but she eventually found a flight that would take off from Heathrow on the Friday after the hotel’s opening celebrations. A noon departure would make it easier on everyone and it gave her an extra day to recuperate should there be too much champagne drunk on Wednesday at the party. Not that she’d be drinking champagne anytime soon.

Over the next few days Kelly pitched in and helped with whatever she could to help them prepare. She needed to keep busy. That way she wouldn’t think, or remember – activities that had become a danger to her sanity. To make matters worse, every night she woke around midnight, quivering in the afterglow of another dream where her phantom lover coaxed her to orgasm; each one stronger than the last. Having her period didn’t even prevent it. If this kept up she would definitely need a therapist when she got home.

The staff of the hotel had swelled to the point that she couldn’t find a place where she could catch a few minutes alone unless she slipped up to her room. On Monday she had morning tea with Barnsley where, with the blessing of both Tom and Nancy, she handed over the journals for authentication. Although she didn’t in the least expect to learn they were fakes she maintained John’s secret, even with Barnsley. After all, with John now gone, she could prove nothing – only her heart of hearts would ever know the complete truth. Barnsley promised to return John’s journal by the opening. Nancy had told her that no matter what it was worth, historically or as a piece of Victorian memorabilia, it belonged to Kelly for as long as she chose.

To her utter shock, when Kelly arrived back in her hotel room that afternoon, she found that a new glass had been fitted to the mirror. She didn’t know what she had expected, but the replacement glass seemed to be the final closing of the door: a statement that he was lost to her forever. Again the numbness flowed over her and she stared at her reflection, imagining that she saw John standing there alongside her in all his majestic glory, gazing back at her with that look in his eyes that told her more eloquently than words that he loved her.

On the evening before the hotel opening, Nancy, Tom and Kelly sat down to a late, but blessedly quiet, dinner.

‘I feel like I always did the night before I had to go back to boarding school,’ Nancy said as she placed her empty wine glass in front of her husband so he could refill it with blackcurrant juice. ‘I’m excited, but I’m also dreading tomorrow. Any kind of freedom we might have had will be over for quite a while.’

‘You might think like that, Nance, but I will be very glad to get things underway. I want to see the results of all our recent hard work and I really want to prove to a couple of my nay-saying colleagues from London that we can make a go of this place even if we aren’t on the usual tourist routes. It’s been a gamble from the start, but we have a full house for the first two weeks and there seems to be a lot of interest since Kel’s article about John came out.’