The doctor frowned. “No. It’s a bit of a wreck, isn’t it?”
Judith quickly explained about the hamster, the thrift shop, and her suspicions about bloodstains. Dr. Carmichael took the jacket from her and examined it more closely.
“Davey Piazza wasn’t wearing a jacket when I saw him. Odd, I remember thinking, because it was a chilly night.”
“Did you see it anywhere at the scene?” Judith asked.
“Why…” The doctor tapped his cheek several times. “No, I don’t think so. I discovered Patrick Cameron lying nearby, but I didn’t notice a jacket. It was dark and misty, of course.” He shook his head. “And now Patrick’s been arrested. Such a dreadful past few days.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed sympathetically. “Are those stains blood?”
The doctor looked again. “Very likely, but I’d have to make a more thorough examination.”
Judith nodded. “Thank you. We’ll leave you to your patients.”
Outside under the encroaching gray clouds, Renie poked Judith’s arm. “You have a theory. Let’s hear it.”
Before Judith could respond, Constables Glen and Adamson came out of the inn, heading for their patrol car parked at the road’s edge. Seeing Judith and Renie, they stopped.
“We’re off to Morton’s,” Glen called. “Don’t fret, we’ll get your husbands back to you safely.”
“Thanks! Good luck! Be careful!” Judith’s words followed the policemen into their vehicle.
“Shall we wait at the inn?” Renie asked.
Judith thought about it for a moment. “No. I trust the cops. Doing nothing would make me even more nervous than I am right now. Let’s take the bus.”
“What bus?” Renie asked, mystified.
“That bus,” she said, “coming this way.” She pointed to her left. “We’ll flag it down. We’re going to Hollywood.”
The driver was the same one who had given the cousins a free ride from Cummings House. Judith insisted on paying him for the previous ride and added a tip. If the man behind the wheel was surprised, he didn’t show it, but thanked them in a grumpy manner.
It took five minutes to reach their destination. Judith and Renie had remained silent during the brief journey. As expected, Fergus responded on the intercom. He didn’t sound pleased when Judith identified herself, but he opened the iron gates anyway.
“Madam is in her boudoir,” he said. “She’ll see you now.”
“Thanks, ol’ buddy,” Renie said. “You’re a sport.”
Fergus looked affronted.
Judith was relieved to see that Moira was alone, lying in bed and looking almost as pitiful as when the cousins had last seen her.
“I’m so sorry to be such a poor hostess,” she apologized, “but I’m still very ill. I wouldn’t have let you call on me if I didn’t think you had news of those silly emails.”
Judith couldn’t hide her surprise. “Who told you that?”
“Elise,” Moira said. Her face fell. “You do know what happened to them, don’t you?”
“We know they were stolen from my room at Grimloch along with the case,” Judith said. “We haven’t heard if they’ve been recovered.”
“Oh!” Moira flung a hand over her eyes. “How could Elise have made such a mistake?”
“Maybe,” Judith said, “she told you that to cheer you.”
Moira struggled to sit up. “Please, be seated. Oh, I don’t understand any of this! It’s all a vicious plot! Now Patrick’s under arrest, and I know he didn’t kill Harry! That bomb was meant for me!”
The cousins sat down in the side chairs by the bed. “You can help us find the killer,” Judith said, showing Moira the suede jacket. “You gave this to the thrift shop. It belonged to David Piazza.”
Moira frowned. “Goodness, it’s ruined. Davey owned a jacket like that, yes. But I didn’t give it to the thrift shop.”
“I heard,” Judith said, “you gave all his clothes away.”
Moira shook her head. “I did no such thing.” She paused. “Harry may’ve done it.” She paused again. “You see, Davey lived in the carriage house here on the grounds. After his accident, Harry went through his things, making sure there were no important business papers and clearing everything out because I couldn’t stand to see the place the way it was when Davey was alive. I couldn’t bear to do it myself. Maybe Harry took the clothes to the thrift shop. I really don’t know.”
Judith nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Yes,” Moira agreed. “I had a collapse very like this one after Davey died.” She moaned softly. “How much more can I endure?”
Judith couldn’t help but sympathize with Moira. The young woman had certainly been bombarded with tragedies. Still, her self-absorption caused even Judith’s soft heart to harden a bit.
“Life is not easy,” Judith declared. “Nobody lives unscathed. You have your son and some devoted friends. You’re able to live comfortably—a privileged life, in fact. We make choices, and some of them are wrong. I know—I’ve made mistakes and paid the price.”
“I don’t,” Renie said. “Only idiots screw up.”
Judith was shocked. “Coz! Watch your mouth!”
“Don’t start,” Renie warned, looking nasty. “You know what happens when we quarrel. I win.” She turned to Moira. “Sorry about that. Ever fought with your closest friends?”
Realizing what Renie was up to, Judith waited for Moira’s response.
“I have at that,” she admitted, falling back against the pillows. “Marie and I had a terrible falling-out a while ago.” Moira laughed weakly. “I thought she was marrying the wrong man. Imagine! I’m not one to criticize. I felt Will was too old for her and I didn’t trust him. Oh, I had reasons not to at the time.” Her expression was rueful. “Will always took Jimmy’s side against me in any dispute. Maybe Will lacked faith in my judgment, maybe he thought I relied too much on Davey Piazza, maybe early on he simply felt that I didn’t have enough business experience.” She shrugged. “But Will’s changed in recent months. Now Marie and I are close again and I have complete faith in Will’s loyalty.”
“That’s wonderful,” Renie said. She looked at Judith. “Okay, coz, I forgive you. For whatever it was,” she added.
Moira’s pale face showed some color as she sat up again. “What are you going to do with that jacket?”
“Give it to the police,” Judith said.
“No!” Moira’s hand shot out to snatch the jacket, but Judith was too quick for her.
“Why not?” Judith inquired mildly.
“I…” Moira closed her eyes for a moment. “It seems a silly thing to do.” She started to cry softly. “I want the jacket, as a keepsake.”
“Sorry,” Judith said. “Maybe later. You see,” she continued, standing up, “it’s not a souvenir. It’s evidence.”
The cousins had almost reached the door when Moira uttered a plaintive cry. “You don’t understand,” she wailed as Judith turned to look at her. “Historically,” Moira went on, dropping her voice and sounding somber, “we’ve had three verdicts in Scotland—guilty, not guilty, and not proven. No matter what happens, many people will believe I’m responsible for Harry’s death. ‘Not proven,’ they’ll whisper, and for the rest of my life I’ll live in purgatory.”
She turned her face to the wall and began to sob very softly.
22
I really do feel sorry for Moira,” Judith said as they exited Hollywood House. “Living in a village makes gossip even worse.”
“I’ll bet she moves after all this,” Renie remarked, walking along the driveway in a soft drizzle of rain. “Back to France, maybe. These days she could run Blackwell from an ice floe off of Antarctica.”
Judith nodded. “Oh well. We found out who the Leopard is—Will Fleming. He changed his spots.”