I changed into pajamas, despite the fact that it wasn’t quite nine. I felt tired after the events of the evening, but I didn’t want to go to sleep just yet in case Kanesha called me back.
Diesel stretched out on his side of the bed and warbled to let me know he needed more attention. After rubbing his head and along his spine for a bit, I made myself comfortable and picked up Spellwood Mansion. I was in the mood to read more Veronica Thane, and it would pass the time while I waited for a response from Kanesha.
Veronica was being ministered to by her best friend Lucy, I recalled, when I last put the book aside. I found my place once again.
“What happened, Lucy?” Veronica reclined against the pillows. “What time is it?”
“It will soon be eleven. You’ve been asleep all day.” Lucy patted Veronica’s hand. “We don’t really know what happened. When you didn’t return home last night, your guardian became worried. She asked Artie and me if we had heard from you, and when we told her we had not, she became even more agitated.”
“Dear Aunt Araminta,” Veronica murmured. “I regret so deeply that she was worried about me. And dear Artie, too.”
Arthur Marsh, known to his intimates as “Artie,” was a classmate of Veronica Thane and Lucy Carlton. Tall, handsome, and athletic, he was the son of Mrs. Buff-Orpington’s lawyer and chief advisor, Horatio Marsh. He was devoted to Veronica and often escorted her to dances and social affairs. His best friend, Anthony Rutherford, was Lucy Carlton’s frequent escort.
“She knew you would not do such a thing on purpose,” Lucy assured her. “She suspected that you might be in the midst of another adventure, and she asked Artie if he would search for you.”
“I was on my way home from visiting our old chum Mary Ferris in Trentville,” Veronica said slowly. “There was a frightful storm.”
“Yes, it was certainly fierce,” Lucy agreed. “Artie suspected you might have had an accident, driving in such conditions, but he said nothing of that to your guardian.”
“Where did Artie find me? And my car? Is my car damaged?” Veronica had great affection for her trusty red roadster, for it had served her well.
“Your car is fine,” Lucy assured her with a smile, well aware of Veronica’s attachment to the vehicle. “Artie found you, sound asleep in it, just a couple of miles outside of town along the river road. He was unable to rouse you, you were so deeply asleep.” Her troubled expression revealed her affectionate concern for her best chum.
“How very strange,” Veronica murmured. She did not remember feeling tired driving home from Trentville. But the storm—something about the storm. The memory teased her with its elusiveness. She expressed her frustration to Lucy.
“Dearest, you must not force your poor head to remember. It will all come back to you in time.” Lucy again patted Veronica’s hand, then offered her more water to drink, which she accepted gratefully. Her throat still felt quite parched.
“What happened after Artie found me in my car?” Veronica asked, still anxious about her roadster.
“He brought you home immediately, of course,” Lucy said. “As soon as you were safely in your bed and the doctor called to attend you, he went back with one of his chums to retrieve your roadster. It is in its accustomed place in the garage, never fear.”
“Dear Artie,” Veronica said, her eyes gleaming with the faint sheen of tears. Really, she did have the most devoted and worthy friends.
“Artie was desperately worried about you,” Lucy said. “As indeed we all were, for we could not wake you. Dr. Rhodes tried several remedies, but you remained asleep.” She paused, her expression pensive.
“How very peculiar,” Veronica said. “In general I do sleep rather soundly, but I am not hard to awaken.”
“It was very strange,” Lucy agreed. She hesitated before she continued, “Dr. Rhodes concluded that somehow you must have been drugged.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
I was about to turn the page to the next chapter—and find out Veronica’s reaction to the news that she had been drugged—when my cell phone rang.
To my surprise, the caller wasn’t Kanesha Berry. Instead the call was coming from the Farrington House.
The moment I said “Hello,” Winston Eagleton launched into speech. He sounded distraught.
“I do beg your pardon for calling you on such a matter, Mr. Harris, particularly after the events of this evening when I am sure you must be rather tired and wanting to rest.” He paused for a breath but continued his rapid speech before I could interject a word. “However, I find myself in a most difficult situation, and while one hesitates to presume on the kindness of someone who is nearly a stranger, yet one sometimes has to do these things.”
“Do what things?” I felt slightly dazed. I was struggling to hone in on whatever point he was dancing around. His obvious distress apparently only increased his volubility.
“In the situation in which I currently find myself, I desperately need the services of a competent lawyer. I was told by a most reliable source that your son is a lawyer, and while I realize it is the height of presumption on my part, I wondered whether you would ask him to represent me.”
“Yes, my son, Sean, is a lawyer, and a very good one,” I said. “I am sure he would be happy to help you, but exactly what situation are you in?”
“Oh, dear, I am not explaining things at all well, am I?” Eagleton sighed into the phone. “This is the inevitable result when I am overset by events. The situation is this. The police, in the form of a Kanesha Berry, who I gather is with your sheriff’s department, rather than the police department, intends to take me in for questioning. I am hesitant to go with her without the knowledge that I will have adequate legal representation”—and his voice dropped to a whisper—“because one has certainly heard that terrible things can happen to one if one is incarcerated, even briefly.”
Good grief, I thought, what on earth had happened now? Was Kanesha going to arrest Eagleton for the murder of Carrie Taylor?
“I will get in touch with my son and have him meet you at the sheriff’s office. In the meantime, I know he would caution you not to answer any questions until he has had a chance to talk to you and find out exactly what is going on.” I was burning with curiosity to know exactly what was going on myself but I didn’t feel like I should ask. Better to talk to Sean and let him sort things out. Kanesha’s patience was probably worn out by now. I could imagine the effect that Eagleton would have on her.
“Thank you, Mr. Harris. I shall not forget your kindness in my hour of need, I can assure you. Oh, dear, the policewoman is looking at me rather fiercely now, so I suppose I must end this call and wait for my legal representation to sort this out. But pray do not believe what you will hear, for I am not a thief.” The phone clicked in my ear.