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Remington stood in the doorway of
the salon, his eyes on the stairs, hearing Margaret, Bridget and
Laura talking behind him, but he really wasn't paying attention.
"Don't you think it's a wonderful idea, Remington?"
Bridget asked him.
He turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, Bridget. I wasn't listening
. . ." he apologized. "What did you want to know?"
It was Quinn who answered, ignoring Sheila's warning hand on his
arm. "Margaret was just suggesting that we kill the fatted
calf," he explained. "Have a party before you and Laura
leave for Los Angeles."
But Remington's attention was focused elsewhere again, and Laura
rose to go to his side as Margaret asked, "What's wrong,
Remington?"
"I'm just wondering why Mildred's not down yet," he
told her. "It's not like her to be late," he said, his
eyes meeting Laura's. "I'm going up to check on her,"
he said.
"I'll go with you," Laura told him, her dark eyes mirroring
the concern she saw in his.
"We'll be right back," Remington told his family as
he and Laura took a step- only to stop as he heard Quinn's next
remark.
"Really. I can't believe all this fuss over a secretary."
Turning around, Remington's blue eyes narrowed as he found his
cousin. "Mildred's much more than a secretary, Quinn. She's
as much a part of my family as any of you are. A very important
part. I suggest you remember that in the future." Before
anyone could speak, he turned and left the room again, Laura close
at his side.
As they climbed the stairs, Laura glanced back to see Quinn staring
somberly into his glass as Sheila turned away from him to sit
down across the room. Once in the gallery, she said, "We
still need to talk to Quinn about what happened this morning."
He nodded, his mind clearly preoccupied with his concern for Mildred.
"Later," he agreed, tapping on the door to Mildred's
room. When there was no response, he called out. "Mildred?"
Laura grabbed the doorknob, intending to simply go into the room,
but her eyes widened when she found it locked. "Mildred?
Open the door!" Meeting Remington's eyes, she automatically
pulled a pin from her hair. "Here. Do your stuff," she
told him.
Bridget joined them, her expression curious as she saw Remington.
"What are you doing?"
"The door's locked," he explained as the knob turned
in his hand. "Mildred?" he said, peering around the
door into the room.
Laura and Bridget followed him inside. "She's not here,"
Bridget said unnecessarily as Laura checked the connecting bath,
then paused beside the desk to examine a note pad there. She picked
up a pencil.
"She's vanished," Remington mused thoughtfully. "From
a locked room. Bridget, do you know where the entrance to the
passage is from this room?"
"Probably the closet," she told him, picking a dress
up from the floor beside the bed.
"Remington," Laura said, bringing the notepad over for
him to look at as he opened the closet door.
He glanced at Bridget, then said, "Go collect the flashlights,
Laura, and we'll find her." Laura nodded and left them alone.
"Now?" Bridget asked.
Remington placed his hands on the young woman's shoulders. "I
want you to go back downstairs for me, Bridget. Tell everyone
that Laura and I are going to look for Mildred. And there's one
more thing. A VERY important one. Don't take any more of your
medicine."
Bridget's light blue eyes showed her confusion. "Not take
my medicine? But, . . ."
"I don't have time to explain right now," he told her
as Laura returned with the flashlights and opened the closet to
search for the release that would open the panel. "But the
medicine you've been taking is what's causing your attacks. If
John gives it to you, pretend to take it, but don't."
"Remington . . ."
"Do you trust me, Bridget?" he asked softly, his eyes
meeting hers.
"Yes. I do."
He smiled and gave her a quick hug. "Good girl." He
took a flashlight from Laura.
"We won't be long," Laura told the woman as she and
Remington entered the closet.
*****
"You do realize that if she'd involved, you've just put them
onto us."
"I'm hoping that whoever took Mildred will make their excuses
and enter the passage to lead us to her," Remington said,
keeping his flashlight on the floor and moving silently down the
dark corridor.
After a few minutes, Laura said. "This is crazy. She might
not BE in the tunnels now at all."
"There wasn't time to get her anywhere else before dinner,"
Remington reminded her. "And I don't think Bridget's involved.
Why would she deliberately take medication that's so dangerous
if she were?"
"You've got a point. I just hope she's strong enough to stand
up to him."
"Shh," he whispered, stopping and listening. They could
hear a voice. Quiet, muffled.
"It's coming from downstairs," Laura told him, leading
the way toward the stairs. In the beam of light before her, she
saw the silver candle holder and candle on the floor, then froze
as the voices seemed nearer. Lifting her light to Remington's
face, she saw that he could hear it as well.
"Right behind this wall," he told her, pointing as the
voice continued now, clearer.
"The study," Laura agreed.
"I don't feel right about this," John was insisting.
"You said that the medicine wouldn't hurt her." Whoever
else was in the room responded, but the voice was low, and neither
Remington nor Laura could identify it or the words. "And
now this - Yes, I know I helped you, but--I think it's time to
stop this. I mean, maybe it's not necessary now. He's offered
me a position, taking care of the Manor - Yes, I know, but- No,
don't. Please. I'm not . . ." There was silence for several
moments, then he spoke again in a resigned tone. "Okay. I'll
go and finish it. But I'll not be giving my sister anymore of
that medicine." They heard him on the other side of the wall,
and ran back around to the stairs, turning off their flashlights
to press themselves close against the wall. "You'll have
to think of something to tell the others about where I've gone,
but I've no doubt that you'll come up with something, with that
devious mind of yours. I'm going. I'm going." Laura and Remington
remained where they were as John passed the stairwell, a flashlight
in his hand.
Once he was far enough down the corridor, they stepped out to
follow him. Glancing back to make sure the panel from the study
was closed, they turned their cautious steps toward the path that
John had taken, hoping he would lead them to Mildred.
*****
Bridget took the pills from the hand before her and placed them
in her mouth, then took the offered glass of water. "I'm
a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll lay down. You're
certain you don't know where John went?"
"He said something about having to see a friend of his in
Dublin."
Bridget nodded, then laid down, listening as the door closed.
Once she was alone, Bridget grabbed the glass and spit the pills
into it. Okay. She'd done as Remington asked. She only hoped that
he knew what he was talking about.
*****
Quinn was climbing the stairs as Sheila came down. "Still
no sign of Remington or Laura?" she asked.
"No. And I must say, I think it's bad form for them to have
disappeared like that. But I suppose we should have expected it,
considering that he's spent so much time in the states."
"They're concerned about Miss Krebs," Sheila reminded
him.
"I wonder where she could have got off to?" he said.
"I've no idea. Bridget wanted me to send you in to see her,"
Sheila told him. "She's worried about something."
"I'll stop in on her," Quinn told his wife. "Where
are you going?" he asked, as she took a few more steps downward.
"I thought I'd go out for some air," she explained.
The weather's supposed to turn later, and I want to take advantage
of the last of the good." She came back to him, touching
her fingernail to his shirtfront. "You could come with me,"
she suggested. "We could walk down to the lake like we used
to do . . ."
Quinn grabbed her hand and shook his head. "Sorry, Sheila.
Not tonight." He turned and continued up toward Bridget's
room.
Sheila watched him go, then went downstairs and out of the house.
*****
They were in the cellar area now, and Laura wished she'd brought
a sweater with her. The damp was chilling her terribly, and she
shivered slightly. Remington must have felt it, because he drew
off his jacket and hung it over her shoulders, then they both
went still as a scraping sound reached them.
The nearby wall moved inward, and they moved quickly to hide themselves
in a dark corner. "Bloody Victoria Station," Remington
muttered into Laura's ear. She poked him with an elbow to quiet
him.
The panel closed without their seeing the face of the person who
entered. But the person moved back toward the main house. Laura
indicated to Remington that he should continue following John,
and that she would follow the tall figure that was quickly moving
away from them. He shook his head, refusing to consider the idea,
but Laura pushed him down the corridor, then turned and followed
her own quarry. She'd recognized the build, but she wasn't sure
why the person would be entering the passage here and going BACK
to the house.
There was only one way to find out.
*****
Remington stood, watching Laura disappear into the darkness, then
turned to catch up with John. For a moment, he thought he had
lost his cousin, but the flashlight beam reappeared as he watched,
and Remington realized that John was beneath the tower.
Hiding, Remington waited for him to climb into the lower room,
them cautiously moved nearer, looking up into the still open square
portal. He could hear the sound of footsteps as they ascended
the wooden stairway around the walls of the stone structure. When
he felt it was safe, Remington climbed into the tower himself,
managing to get beneath the stairway as John shone the light on
the straw covered floor.
At last, John reached the top of the stairs and took out a key,
unlocking another trapdoor into the tower room. "It's time
to go, Miss Krebs," he said.
"Go? You're gonna let me go?" Mildred asked hopefully.
"After a fashion," he told her. "Down the stairs.
Now."
"What do you mean?" she wondered.
Remington dropped back into the tunnel, pressing himself against
the wall, listening as they came down the wooden stairs. "You
know too much. I can't let you go back to the Manor." There
was a scuffle, and Remington tensed as he heard a bullet ricochet
off of the stone wall. "That wasn't very smart, Miss Krebs,"
he told her. "Now slowly. And no more tricks."
Remington saw the flashlight illuminating the built in earthen
ladder, and pulled slightly farther back. "Down there,"
John told Mildred. "And be careful. It wouldn't do for you
t'go breakin your neck just yet. And don't try t'run away. There's
nowhere TO run down there."
"You're not going to get away with this, John," Mildred
said as she managed the narrow ladder. "Mr and Mrs. Steele
won't stop until they catch you."
"Be quiet, woman," he told her as she reached the floor.
He moved the flashlight to follow her and grab the door to close
it.
Remington placed a hand over Mildred's mouth to stifle her cry
of surprise, pulling her away from the opening as he did so. Before
John's feet reached the floor, Remington grabbed his cousin around
the legs and pulled him down, hearing the gun go clattering away.
Remington's fist connected with John's jaw, sending the smaller
man into the wall, where he slid to the floor, stunned and out
of breath.
"Mr. Steele," Mildred said, rushing to him as he turned
on the flashlight.
He put an arm around her as he flexed his aching hand. "Are
you all right?" he asked her.
"I think so."
Remington knelt beside John as the man started to moan. "Why,
John?" he asked. "Why put your sister's life at risk?
Why kill innocent people?"
"I didn't kill anyone."
"Who did, then? Who else is involved in this, John?"
Remington wanted to know, pulling John to his feet. "Laura
and I heard you talking to someone in the study. Who?"
"Sheila," he said, shaking his head, trying to clear
it.
"Oh my god," Remington said, realizing that Laura was
following the REAL killer of the piece. "Come on," he
said, urging John to go ahead and Mildred to follow him. "We've
got to find Laura."
*****
Quinn entered Bridget's room to find her sitting up in bed, reading.
"Hey there," he said. "Sheila told me you wanted
to see me."
Bridget frowned. "No, I never said that. But I'm glad you're
here. Something strange is happenin around here, Quinn. I'm scared."
He sat on the edge of the bed, and took her hand in his. "John
will be home soon," he told her. "And once our American
cousin leaves, things will return to normal around here, I'm sure."
"He's not American, Quinn," Bridget insisted. "I
wish you'd give him a chance. I think the two of you could be
good friends if you'd just find a way to put aside that damnable
male pride."
"How do you manage to see the good in everyone, Bridget O'Riley?"
he asked softly. "I wish I had that gift at times."
"Oh, but you do, Quinn. Y'try to hide it beneath that tough
exterior, but I know you for what you really are. A good man,
who's made some wrong choices in his life. But it's not too late
to turn it `round, y'know."
*****
Laura followed the figure up both flights of steps, then paused
as the person opened a panel and exited the passageway. Taking
careful note of the location, Laura waited for a moment, then
followed.
"If you're talking about Sheila, Bridget, I'm afraid it's
far too late there."
"You're right, Quinn," Sheila told him, coming from
the armoire into the room. "Close your eyes, Bridget,"
she ordered in a soft voice, pointing a gun at Quinn's chest.
"Sheila, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
Quinn demanded to know.
"Just finishing what I started this morning, but that fool
Remington got in the way."
"This morning? The reins? It was YOU? But- why?"
"I'm tired of your belittling me, Quinn, of your constantly
telling me I'm worthless because I can't give you a son. Well,
I've found someone who doesn't care whether or not I can have
children. And the only way for he and I to be together is for
you to die."
"Sheila, you won't shoot me," Quinn told her. "Not
with Bridget as a witness . . ."
"Ah, but Bridget's going to take the blame. Just as she took
the blame before."
Bridget's eyes widened as a memory surfaced. "It was you.
You killed Mary. And- And Brian. But why? Why, Sheila?"
"I killed Mary because she was sleeping with my husband and
didn't care if I knew it. You should have kept to your women in
Dublin, Quinn. At least they didn't have names, didn't gloat,
didn't come to me and tell me how much in love they were with
you, how much she wanted to give you what I couldn't."
Quinn watched Sheila carefully. "What about Brian?"
he asked. "Why kill him?"
There was madness in Sheila's voice now. "He was going to
tell Bridget that I'd seduced him into my bed, that he couldn't
marry her because of that. I couldn't allow that to happen. So
I used some of my sleeping pills and drugged Bridget so that she'd
not remember anything. After I pushed him down the stairs, I brought
her out to find him."
"He was right about the medicine," Bridget realized.
"Remington. He told me that it was dangerous for me."
"I needed someone to take the blame for Quinn's death. You
seemed the perfect one, Bridget. Of course, John doesn't agree
yet. But he will."
"John?" Bridget repeated. "John's involved in this?"
"He's going to marry me- once he takes possession of the
Manor. It should have been his, you know. He told me how he was
always helping the old man, and then was left only a tiny allowance
in the man's will."
"You'll never get away with this, Sheila," Bridget said.
"I'll tell."
"Then you'll be found with a bullet in your head, having
turned the gun on yourself after realizing that you'd killed Quinn."
She took careful aim at her husband. "Good bye, Quinn."
Quinn saw Laura's face behind Sheila in the armoire, but gave
nothing away, fully expecting to feel a bullet any moment. But
Laura leapt onto Sheila, knocking the gun away. Quinn grabbed
it as Laura subdued the blonde, who collapsed into a chair, glaring
defiantly at them. "I had to do it, Laura. You know what
he's put me through. Your Remington won't be any better. They're
all cut from the same cloth."
Laura shook her head. "I think, Sheila, that they're exactly
what we make of them."
*****
Later, after the Dublin police had come and taken Sheila and John
away, Laura and Remington went for a walk in the garden. "How's
Margaret?" Laura asked him.
"Not well. She was quite fond of John. What he did, or tried
to do, was a shock."
"She's a strong woman," Laura pointed out. "And
Bridget needs her right now."
"I've asked Quinn to stay on, take care of things as my agent,"
Remington told her.
"And he agreed?"
"I'll have to keep a close eye on the books," Remington
said, "But I think he'll do fine. I can't believe that John
was willing to let Sheila kill so many people and almost kill
his sister just to get his hands on the Manor."
"I don't think it was all John's idea," Laura told him.
"I think Sheila planted the idea in his mind that he deserved
to have inherited everything because he was here, and you weren't.
SHE wanted to be lady of the Manor, and used John to achieve that
goal. I've no doubt that she would have gotten rid of him once
he was of no more use to her."
"You could be right," Remington agreed, turning her
into his arms. "I promised Aunt Margaret that we would stay
on another few days," he said. "If you don't mind."
"No. But I think I WILL send Mildred home to recuperate.
Who knows?" she said, snuggling closer to him. "We might
even get a second honeymoon, Mr. Steele."
"I do like the way you think, Mrs. Steele," he said
approvingly, pulling her into his arms for a long kiss.
The End.