Page 18 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
“I’m glad you made it before the weather turned. It’s going to be quite a storm.” She sounded a million miles away, like she was talking to herself when she added, “I didn’t plan on the storm...”
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Maggie turned to see James standing in an arching doorway. “Inspector Dobson is on the phone. There’s a possibility he will not make it until morning.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Eleanor turned and, for the first time, looked at Maggie. “You go on to the library, dear. I’ll be right there.” Eleanor drew a ragged breath, bracing, like someone about to dive into an ice-cold lake. “We might as well get started.”
And Maggie couldn’t help but wonder:Started with what?
Police Transcript
Excerpt from the Official Police Interrogation of Margaret Chase and Ethan Wyatt
December 25
Inspector Patel:Who else was there thatfirst night?
Mr. Wyatt:Ooh! Is this the part where we lay out the suspects? Finally. Let’s lay out some suspects.
Ms. Chase:Well... there was Eleanor’s nephew, Rupert.
Mr. Wyatt:Yeah. There was that guy. And that guy’s wife.
Ms. Chase:Kitty’s sweet. A little—
Mr. Wyatt:Fertile. Very, very—
Ms. Chase:Tired. She’d have to be. The children are a handful. Let me see. There was Dr. Charles.
Mr. Wyatt:Yeah. I can’t tell you much about him. I think Charles was his first name. No. His last name. You know, I have no idea.
Ms. Chase:And, obviously, Their Graces.
Mr. Wyatt:Wait. I thought her name was Grace?
Ms. Chase:I’d never met a duke or duchess before.
Mr. Wyatt:Don’t forget the lawyer.
Ms. Chase:Right. And I guess that leaves Sir Jasper.
Chapter Fourteen
The good news was that Maggie had no trouble locating the library. The bad news was that she found it mainly by following the voices.Plural.Because, evidently, she and Ethan weren’t Eleanor’s only guests. And that was how she found herself inching toward her second party of the week, holding her breath as she peeked through a pair of wide double doors into...
Heaven. Or what Maggie had always imagined Heaven would look like.
The room was two stories tall and the walls were rimmed with shelves, but Eleanor didn’t have a cool, rolling library ladder. No. Eleanor hadtwo. One for each long side. It was all Maggie could do not to push them to the back of the room and challenge Ethan to a race.
She imagined soaring past a thousand books and photos and pieces of Eleanor’s life—like the oil painting that had been the cover of her tenth book. A Venetian half mask that had been in the movie they made of her third. Black-and-white photos hung over a fireplace that was surrounded by overstuffed couches and comfortable chairs. Dotted throughout the room were daggers and clubs, sickles and shields. It was like Murders-R-Us had had a sale and Eleanor had bought one of everything.
And yet the most unexpected thing was the Christmas tree, twinkling and glowing by the wall of windows that overlooked the grounds at the back of the house. It was tall and perfect, and suddenly Maggie was eight years old again, wishing Santa would bring her cousins for Christmas.
“You found us!” Ethan was standing by the fireplace, flames leaping and crackling as he stood close to Cece. They’d been talking, bonding. Probably on the verge of getting engaged as far as Maggie knew—not that she cared.
“Maggie?” Ethan sounded worried as he walked towardher.
“Yes. I found you.”
He looked from Maggie to Cece then lowered his voice. “Why, Margaret Olivia—”
