Page 98 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
“Because... the greenhouse caught fire? Crashing glass? Poisonous smoke?” Ethan made it sound like a question, but only Dobson seemed to care.
“So you did that, did you?”
“Oh no.Wedidn’t do that,” Maggie told him.
“Then what have you been doing?” Dobson spat.
Ah. Finally. She looked up at Ethan and he grinned down at her, and Maggie couldn’t help but beam as she turned back to the group and said, “We’ve been solving a murder.”
Thirty minutes later, it actually did look like a crime scene, between the ripped paper and ragged ribbons, piles of mutilated boxes and Styrofoam packing peanuts and way too little sleep. But none of Eleanor’s guests seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. The children and their new toys were upstairs with Nanny Davis, and all eyes were on Maggie as she stood at the front of the room, counting heads. They were only waiting on one person.
“Here he is!” Ethan called from the doorway, Sir Jasper leaning heavily on his arm. There had been a great deal of debate about whether or not he should try the stairs, but in the end, no one deserved to hear this more than he did.
“Thank you, my boy,” Sir Jasper said, slipping into a chair by the fire.
“How are you feeling, Sir Jasper?” Maggie asked.
“Lucky, my dear. Extremely lucky. And ready to hear what you have to say.” He gave Maggie a nod, and she felt her palms start to sweat. Her heart was a little off-rhythm.
She was nervous. But thatdidn’t mean she was wrong.
“First of all, Merry Christmas!” Ethan stood at the front of the room and rubbed his hands together. “Did everybody get refreshments?” He pointed to the silver tray covered with tea and cakes.
“Say your piece, Wyatt. I suspect the phones will be working soon, and you’ll likely be behind bars by nightfall.” Dobson’s words were tough, but he shifted a little, wincing. It was hard to be afraid of a man carrying a cane with rosebuds on the handle.
“Inspector, I appreciate you have a job to do, and I’m sure this isn’t how anyone wanted to spend Christmas, so if you would please just bear with us,” Maggie pleaded. Then she beamed. “I think you’re going to be impressed by what we’ve found.”
He must not have seen any choice because he took a seat next to Kitty, who reached for a bag of yarn and nervously started to knit. The rhythmicclack-clack-clackingwas almost soothing in the suddenly quiet room.
“Do we have to sit through this?” the duke whispered to Dobson. “We should be—”
“Looking for the safe?” Maggie finished for him. She thought she saw him blanch. “Oh. We’ve already found that.”
For the first time, she truly had their attention. Everyone sat up a little straighter as Ethan placed a large square box on the table. It was done up in beautiful wrapping paper with a big red bow attached to the lid. Maggie thought it might be the most beautiful present she’d ever seen, but all of Eleanor’s guests just sat there, looking at it like it might be a bomb.
“This really is the gift that keeps on giving.” Ethan flashed her a smile. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“We’re Eleanor’s family!” The duke surged to his feet. “If that came out of her safe, then that box is our property. We have the right—”
“I’d sit back down if I were you.” Ethan’s tone was chipper but his eyes were dark, and the duke dropped onto the couch cushions like he wanted to turn into spare change and disappear. Then Ethan turned to Maggie, gave her a tip of animaginary hat, and exhaled one single word: “Sweetheart.”
The floor was hers, and Maggie felt her chest filling with something warm and lighter than air.
“Let’s review, shall we? Several weeks ago, Eleanor was walking down the stairs... and slipped on a runner that was suddenly loose. She tried to cling to a railing that was suddenly wobbly... and she fell.” Maggie looked over a group of people who had known that much for ages but hadn’t been able to bring themselves to care.
“Now, it’s an old house,” Maggie went on. “Things fall apart. Maybe she thought it was an accident. Or maybe she had her suspicions.”
“Suspicions about what?” Kitty asked, but Ethan made a gesture, as if to sayplease hold all questions until the end.
“We may never know what Eleanor thought. All we know is that a few weeks later, someone locked her in a greenhouse full of poisonous plants and started a fire. But you don’t become Eleanor Ashley without having a few tricks up your sleeve, so she escaped. Now Eleanor had a problem. Either her luck had gotten very, very bad...”
“Or someone was trying to kill her,” Ethan finished.
The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire. All eyes were on her. But Ethan’s smile, his nod, the silentgo on, you’re doing great, was the only thing Maggie saw. The only thing she needed.
“Eleanor soon realized she had a second problem. You see, whenever she mentioned these incidents to anyone—her nieces and nephew, even her old friend the police officer...” For once, even Dobson looked guilty. “They told her it was all in her head. She was imagining it. She was getting older, after all. Maybe she’d spent too many years looking for mysteries that weren’t there.”
And, suddenly, Maggie wasn’t talking about Eleanor anymore. “You know, if mankind has one universal superpower, it’s gaslighting women into thinking they’re the problem.” It was actually a great comfort, knowing that if it could happen to Eleanor, then maybe Maggie could forgive herself for not realizing it was happening to her. “To the world, Eleanor was just anold woman who wasn’t quite as sharp as she used to be. But even if that were true”—Maggie didn’t even try not to grin—“half of Eleanor Ashley is still worth two of most people.”
