Page 94 of Murder in Moonlight
Thomas Bolton stared down at her, his eyes glinting red in the flaring light. He stood quite still, something dangling from one hand—a club of some kind. Why did he need such a thing in—
“I fell,” she said stupidly. “I fell through the floor.”
“I pushed you.”
Of course he had. With the club. That was what he had jabbed into her back, casting her forward into darkness.
“Having previously taken the trouble to remove the floorboards,” he added. “You’re just too nosy, Mrs. Goldrich. You and your wealthy lover. I’ve done you a favor. You may die together, like Romeo and Juliet.”
Alarm jolted her brain back to work.Where is he?
She threw herself into a sitting position to see better, but immediately she choked and a searing pain sliced through her head. She let out a groan. Her whole body hurt and she couldn’t breathe for…smoke.
There was no mist, no fog, no flaring lanterns—only smoke and the crackle of flames leaping up the moth-eaten curtains and the bare, dry walls. He had set fire to the old wing.
“You’ll kill everyone!”
“No, no,” Bolton said. “I’m off to raise the alarm.”
“Wait!” she cried, grasping the fabric of his trouser leg. She had to make him stay a moment longer, come nearer, for she knew he would never take her with him. “You—not Alice—youkilled Walter.”
He laughed, high and terrifying in the hell surrounding them. “You didn’t know! He doesn’t know either, does he? I suppose yours was a better trap than I thought.” He crouched down to look into her eyes. “But mine is better. I killed Walter, and though you don’t seem to quite know it yet, I’ve killed you and Grey too.” He leaned nearer, and even through the smoke she could smell his breath—beef and brandy, fear and excitement.
She clutched his arm, his shoulder. “You can’t leave me here to burn! You can’t!”
Her right hand found his coat pocket and delved, somehow still as lightly and easily as breathing. Old habits did indeed die hard. She was looking for a weapon. He had to have a weapon or he could not make her stay… But it was a key her fingers closed around.
He meant to lock her in.
She moaned, letting her right hand dangle by her side as if it was too injured in her fall.
“Ican,” he said almost euphorically. “I really can do anything. I took Walter’s money. I took Walter’s wife, and I took Walter’s life. Deborah will still lie for me, while Alice and I live in wealth and happiness.”
“Deborah?” she repeated, stunned.
“Who do you think will bring Grey here to save you? In just a few—”
Abruptly, the door to the main house flew open and the light flamed over Solomon. Bolton jumped to his feet and flew across the room so fast it was frightening. The club came down hard before Solomon would even have seen him for the smoke.
By then, Constance was crawling along the floor toward them, mostly because she wasn’t sure she could stand. Only then it came to her there was less smoke nearer the floor. She could actually see Solomon’s dark head quite still in front of her. Then she saw the lantern flying through the smoke above. For an instant, she thought it was Bolton fleeing up the staircase to leave by the upper door, but glass shattered on the wooden steps and they burst into flames. He had thrown an oil lamp.
Then the door slammed shut and Bolton was gone. Constance crawled on, gasping out, “Solomon! Sol—”
She found his hair, grasping it between her fingers. She must have tugged it hard, for he groaned.
“Oh thank God,” she muttered. “Solomon, we have to get out of here!”
“He’s locked us in.” Solomon reached up, grasping her hand. The heat was unbearable, the flames burning ever closer. “Help me up so I can break in the door or the window boards if I can. I’m sorry. I came to save you, but we might have run out of time.”
Constance thrust her hand in front of his face and opened her fingers.
Solomon stared at the key in her hand and laughed. The sound changed immediately to a choking gasp. She threw her arm around his shoulder and they staggered to the door.
Chapter Twenty
Thomas Bolton onlyrealized he didn’t have the key after he’d slammed the door to the old wing and reached in his pocket. He must have dropped it inside!
Panic surged, for footsteps scurried across the hall toward him. He peered into the light, knowing his face must be blackened by smoke.
