Page 92 of Murder in Moonlight
He didn’t answer, but the light vanished. What was he playing at?
Her heart lurched. Had someone attacked him? Were they not alone here after all? Had they been tricked in turn?
She paused, listening intently. Nothing moved. If anyone else breathed, she didn’t hear them. Her lamp trembled as she held it higher and made out the open door of the small room at the head of the stairs.
She had barely noticed it the last time, beyond the fact that it was entirely empty. She went closer. Her lamp’s light flickered over the bare walls—and a pile of rags at the far corner that had certainly not been there before. It was terrifyingly body shaped.
Oh no…She sped toward it.Don’t be dead, don’t be dead…
She stopped hard once more, for she could see now that her imagination had been playing tricks. There was no body inside those rags.
A blow to her back sent her staggering forward. The floor beneath her feet gave way and she fell through the darkness. There was the shock of landing, staggering pain, and then only blackness.
*
“Mrs. Winsom,” Solomonsaid. Had he got everything horribly wrong? Everything,everythingpointed to Bolton.
He rose to his feet, dexterously lifting book and blanket with him to hide the pistol.
“You seem surprised,” she said, moving toward him. She had changed from last night’s black evening gown into a simpler, less fashionable affair. She looked small and brave and entirely unthreatening. “I suppose I should be flattered.”
“What have you come to say to me?” he asked, feeling his way.
She set down her lamp on the nearest desk and took the chair opposite his. Oddly, she looked more serene than at any point since his arrival at Greenforth. And yet the lines of grief and worry remained, along with the puffiness and bruising around the eyes that spoke of too little sleep.
“I am responsible for my husband’s death.”
Even through the shock of his error, he acknowledged the odd phrasing.
She shuddered. “No, I did not stab him. But I know who did, and why. I am why.”
She lapsed into silence, her eyes distant, her expression one of misery.
“What happened?” Solomon asked.
His quiet voice seemed to drag her back to the present. She even smiled, without mirth or pleasure. “I fell in love.”
“With whom?” he asked. He was adjusting his theory, but not by much. He thought he knew.
“With my husband, a long time ago. Everyone did, of course. I was one of many, even then, but he chose me. I was so devoted that I accepted his infidelity as part of a wife’s lot in life. One does, you know. But one doesn’t always appreciate the hurt that builds and builds over the years, the weariness… And then came the ultimate betrayal.”
“Alice Bolton.”
“Alice, my friend. The wife ofhisfriend, his partner.” She stopped talking again. Her fingers pleated and pinched at the fabric of her gown. “I suppose it was my fault. By all mytolerance and turning of blind eyes, he thought he could do anything he liked, and I would neither notice nor complain.”
“Did you?”
“Complain? No. I went to Thomas. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known my husband. He was a friend.”
“You told him?”
“Yes, I told him. The thing was, he already knew. People underestimate Thomas. They think he sees nothing but numbers. They’re wrong. And he was devoted to Alice. He would do anything for her. I went to their house one day, when I knew Walter was with her in town.” She smiled, this time with unexpected warmth. “I had never been drunk before.”
“You went when you were intoxicated?”
“Oh, no. I arrived stone-cold sober. We drank together, Thomas and me, and talked and talked. I wept, and he comforted me, and still we talked. I had always known Thomas’s was the brain behind their partnership, though a business needs the kind of charisma and confidence that Walter brought. On that day, I saw that Thomas was the quiet hero, responsible for all our prosperity, and yet he allowed Walter to take not only the credit but a higher proportion of the bank’s profits. He said that was because Walter put up the first money that founded the bank, but I think it was just his way. The money didn’t interest him. He wanted to see if he coulddoit, build their own successful bank.”
Her distant eyes came back into focus on Solomon. “He is strong, you know, much stronger than Walter, who always stole the limelight without trying. And yet I was so comfortable with Thomas… As I say, I fell in love. Again.”
