Page 103 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
“Go on, Inspector.” Ethan crept closer. “Prove us wrong. I dare you.”
But Dobson didn’t look caught; he looked angry. “What reason would I possibly have to hurt Eleanor?”
“Murder,” Maggie said simply.
“Fine.” His face was turning red. “Why would ImurderEleanor?”
“No.” Maggie could see her mistake. “I meant murderwasthe reason.” She looked up at Ethan. “Was I unclear?”
“It was a little confusing,” he told her.
“Oh no.” She turned to the group. “What I meant to say was... well...”
It was like the whole room was holding its breath when Maggie pulled the final notebook from the box.
“I think you’ve been looking for this, Inspector. It’s the ending of Eleanor’s new book.” She flipped through the pages. “Everyone knows Eleanor loves a twist, and I’ve got to say, it’s a good one. You see... when I realized she was writing a story about a woman who fakes her death and disappears because someone is trying to kill her, I thought she was being meta... making a point. I thought it was a clue—and it was. But I was also wrong because this book isn’t about Eleanor. It’s not even aboutnow.”
Maggie felt herself drifting toward the windows that looked out over the wide expanse of snowy grounds.“It’s about a young woman who walked five miles in the rain on a broken leg before collapsing on Eleanor’s doorstep. It’s about a girl who was so poor and a boy whose family was so powerful that no one would ever believe their golden son had beaten her unconscious and left her for dead. It’s about a young woman who was so terrified she decided to justbedead—change her appearance and her name and disappear—because, sometimes, being dead is the only way to stay alive.”
Maggie looked back at the group.
“It’s about a girl who was so scared she never spoke her attacker’s name—not even to Eleanor. But Eleanor was Eleanor... she always had her suspicions.”
Ethan looked down at Dobson. “It’s about the woman you thought you killed, Inspector. You know the case you came to Eleanor asking for help with forty years ago? The crime you thought you’d gotten away with? Well, Eleanor outsmarted you then when she got your victim out of the country. And she’s outsmarted you now.”
The color had drained from Dobson’s face. It wasn’t the look of a man who’d seen a ghost; it was the look of a man who’d just realized he was one.
He’d lived his whole life thinking himself a killer, believing that he’d gotten away with it. Maybe guilty. Maybe giddy. But absolutely certain that no one knew. But he should have known better. Because he knew Eleanor.
“She died! That girl died!” Was Dobson shouting at them or at himself? Maggie wasn’t sure.
“You never found the body, though, did you?” Maggie watched him thinking, remembering. “Eleanor couldn’t prove it was you, of course, but she always suspected. And she never forgot.”
“This... This is insane. I...” He looked around, as if remembering where he was and what was happening. “How could I have known what Eleanor’s book was about?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie turned to Cece. “You read part of it a few weeks ago. Did you tell anyone about it?”
Cece’s eyes went wide. “Yes.” Her hand shook as she pointed atthe inspector. “I told him. He was visiting Eleanor one day and asked if I knew what she was working on, and I told him about what I’d read. I told him.”
“And within days, someone started trying to kill her,” Maggie filled in.
“This is ridiculous!” Dobson spat. “I wasn’t even here when the two of you were shot at.”
Ethan crossed his arms and gave his cockiest grin. “How’s the ankle, Inspector?”
If possible, Dobson turned even whiter, but he didn’t say a word.
“See, here’s the thing,” Maggie explained. “Last night, someone used the master key to break into my room and knock me unconscious. Then they locked Ethan and me in the greenhouse—”
“Ethan andI,” Rupert snarled, sounding snide.
“Screw you, Rupert. And she’s right; it’s ‘me.’ Go on, baby.”
Maggie blushed a little at thebaby, but she kept her gaze on Dobson. “Someone locked us in and set the greenhouse on fire. Again.”
“So unoriginal,” Ethan muttered.
“Lucky for us, we escaped the same way Eleanor did—through the secret passageway that leads to the house. What we didn’t know at the time was that the passage also leads to the little cottage on the grounds—the cottage where someone had slept and built a fire quite recently, three nights ago, in fact.”
