Black Moonlight (9 page)

“I don’t know what
to tell you,” Herman Miller stated humbly. “I grew up in Philadelphia, graduated from Lafayette College in 1920, and tried my hand at writing the great American novel. When that didn’t pan out, I put my typing skills to use as a secretary. I started working for Mr. Ashcroft about five months ago, right before his and Mrs. Ashcroft’s wedding.”

“What were you doing here in Bermuda?” Jackson raised.

“It was Mr. Ashcroft’s idea. He had made arrangements to meet a representative from the English Steel Corporation who was going to be in town for the regatta. Mr. Ashcroft thought it would be handy to bring me along to help with any paperwork that might ensue.”

“Was it handy?”

Miller crossed his legs and shook his head. “No, the man we were supposed to meet didn’t show. He wound up cancelling his trip.”

Jackson mirrored the leg cross. “What was this man’s name?”

“Morrison. Kenneth Morrison.”

Jackson jotted the name in his little notebook.

“Mr. Ashcroft and I were to meet him for lunch at the Inverurie Hotel, where he was supposed to be staying,” Miller explained. “We went there and waited a good half hour for the man, but he didn’t show. When I asked the front desk to page him, they told me he never checked in.”

“Is that why Mr. Ashcroft was so irritated with you last night?” Marjorie questioned. “Because you had made, what was the term he used, a ‘sham’ of an appointment?”

“Oh, I didn’t make the appointment,” Miller corrected. “Mr. Ashcroft did. However, he was irritated by the fact that I hadn’t confirmed the meeting. If I had, it would have saved us the better part of the afternoon. Add to the fact that I was late for dinner—”

“Why were you late?” Nettles inquired.

“I overslept. It was a very hot day, so I went to my room after lunch, to lie down.”

“You slept all afternoon and were still late for dinner?”

“Well, I didn’t fall asleep right away and then I woke up several times.”

“Oh?”

“No.” Miller’s eyes darted to Marjorie and his face colored slightly. “The house was, um, noisier than anticipated.”

Marjorie blanched as she realized that Miller’s room was adjacent to hers and Creighton’s. “So, Mr. Miller,” she said loudly, before Jackson or Nettles could inquire as to the nature of the aforementioned “noise.” “Where did you go after you left the dining room last night?”

“The office to gather up some personal items and to type my list of references. I did stop back into the dining room for a brief moment, after Mrs. Ashcroft left it.”

“Why?” Jackson probed.

“To give Mr. Ashcroft my key to the New York office. And to tell him that I would be leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Really? What was he doing when you saw him? What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He was seated at the head of the table, drinking—a glass of port, I think. He simply put his hand out, collected the key, and then put it in his jacket pocket.”

“Nettles,” Jackson addressed the Inspector, “when you looked in Mr. Ashcroft’s pocket for the note, did you find a key?”

“No, sir. All his pockets were empty.”

“But I saw him put it in there,” Miller insisted.

“Shh,” Jackson ordered. “Simmer down. What did you do once you left the dining room?”

“I went back to the office. Mrs. Ashcroft can vouch for me.”

Marjorie nodded.

“And then what?” Jackson prompted.

“Bed. It had been a heck of a day and I wanted an early start in the morning.”

“Yes, so you could leave,” Jackson said contemplatively.

“That’s right,” Miller agreed.

“Mr. Ashcroft was a difficult man to please, wasn’t he?” Jackson posed.

“Extremely, yes.”

“Insufferable even, wouldn’t you say?”

Miller smiled. “With all due respect, Sergeant, I know where you’re heading with this. And I did not murder Mr. Ashcroft.”

“But he humiliated you. Fired you.”

“Being fired was a relief,” Miller averred. “I had spent five months tiptoeing around the man, making sure I got my job done, trying not to get in his way, doing my best not to anger him. My nerves were worn thin. I’m glad to be free.”

Jackson smirked. “I’m sure you are.”

Miller’s eyes grew wide. “That’s not what I mean! I—”

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” Jackson interrupted. “If we need anything else from you, we’ll let you know. Nettles, please escort Mr. Miller back to the drawing room. Thank you.”

“I confess. I’m guilty,”
Prudence Ashcroft sobbed into an embroidered handkerchief.

“What!” Jackson exclaimed.

Marjorie held a hand up to silence the Sergeant and placed the other on her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “Pru, darling, what are you talking about?” she asked in alarm.

“I wished my father-in-law dead and now he is!” she shrieked.

“Pru, calm down, honey,” Marjorie soothed. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. Cassandra taught me that our thoughts can be as powerful as any weapon and we should control them carefully. She’s going to be very disappointed in me!”

Marjorie recalled the spiritual guide’s face as she kicked the cat across the verandah. “I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure even Cassandra’s foot has slipped once or twice.”

“Oh no, it hasn’t. It couldn’t! She’s a pure soul, unlike me.” With trembling hands, Pru brought the handkerchief to her nose and began to cry hysterically.

Marjorie did her best to calm Prudence, but nothing seemed to help.

“Mrs. Ashcroft,” Jackson begged, “you need to settle down, Ma’am. Is there anything we can get you?”

Prudence reached a hand into the pocket of her surplice front day dress and extracted two prescription bottles. “Water, please. I need my pill,” she choked out as she fumbled with the cap.

“Nettles,” Jackson ordered, “go fetch a pitcher of water and some glasses.”

Before he could leave the room, Marjorie shouted, “Wait!”

As Nettles obediently came to a halt, Marjorie snatched the opened bottle from Pru’s tenuous grasp. “Seconal? Where did you get this?”

“The doctor,” she sobbed. “The doctor Edward and Father took me to prescrib—prescribed them.”

Livid, Marjorie picked up the second prescription bottle, which was suspiciously unlabeled. Inside were twenty or so small white tablets. “And these? What are they Pru? Where did you get them?”

Prudence covered her face and began to bawl.

Marjorie grabbed her wrists firmly and looked her in the eyes. “Prudence, I’m not angry with you. Just tell me what these are.”

“I don’t know,” she blubbered. “Gris …”

“You got them from Griselda?”

“To lose weight so that Edward—Edward would love me—love me again.”

“They’re Benzedrine,” Marjorie concluded aloud. “How many of each have you taken today?”

Prudence pointed to the bottle of Benzedrine, “Three.” She moved her finger to indicate the Seconal. “I—I can’t remember.”

“We need to get her to a doctor,” Marjorie asserted.

Jackson summoned the Inspector’s assistance yet again. “Nettles, are the boys from headquarters here yet?”

“Yes, sir. When I went to look for the note, they had just arrived.”

“Good. Have the Constable who was standing guard use one of the boats to take Mrs. Ashcroft to the hospital.”

Nettles helped Prudence from her chair and took the prescription bottles from Marjorie. As they made their exit, Edward appeared in the doorway of the study.

“What’s going on in here?” he demanded. What are you doing with my wife?”

“She’s going to the hospital,” Jackson said matter-of-factly.

“Is she sick?”

“Yes. And she may get sicker.”

“I’m going with her.”

“No you don’t!” Jackson grabbed Edward by the arm. “You’re staying here to answer a few questions.”

Nettles, having passed custody of Prudence on to the Constable, blocked the doorway.

Edward relented and made his way to one of the upholstered wing chairs. When he spotted Marjorie seated on the settee he stopped in his tracks. “What is she doing here?”

“She’s assisting us with our investigation,” answered Jackson.

“My brother’s wife is assisting you, the police?”

“The new Mrs. Ashcroft has been quite helpful.” Nettles replied.

“I’m sure she has,” Edward said sarcastically. “Probably defending my brother while simultaneously making the rest of us look as guilty as sin.”

“You don’t need any help in that area,” Marjorie stated sternly. “How long have you been feeding your wife Seconal?”

The color drained from Edward’s face, leaving it a gray-tinged hue. “How do you—? Is that why she—?”

“Is going to the hospital?” Marjorie completed. “Yes. That and the Benzedrine she’s been mixing with it.”

Edward lowered into the wing chair. “Benzedrine? I don’t know what that is …”

“It’s for weight loss,” she replied. “Which explains why both Pru’s evening gown last night and her dressing gown this morning were much too big for her.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know that she was trying to lose weight to make you happy? To make you love her again?” Marjorie shook her head. “You married Pru. You, of all people, should know that she’s impressionable. Sensitive. That’s why you made her take the Seconal.”

“The Seconal was prescribed by a doctor my father recommended; we took her to see him about two years ago. Pru didn’t like the number of hours I put in at the office. She didn’t like living with my father. When she … was going to have a baby … and then lost it, she became inconsolable. She’d go to cocktail parties and start crying for no reason. We couldn’t let her be seen like that—in that state. My position with the company is all I have; all I’ve ever had. Her outbursts were talked about for days afterward. They were bad for business and our family’s reputation.”

“So you asked your father for advice,” Marjorie deduced.

“I shouldn’t have. I know that now. My father was only looking out for his own interests.” Edward’s face grew hard. “Everything I’ve wanted all these years, everything I’ve believed in … it was all a lie. I did everything he asked—everything! I worked like a dog at his company, stayed on at the house—gave up so much—only to be cheated in the end.”

Marjorie gave a start.
Was it possible Edward knew the terms of his father’s new will?
“How do you know you’ve been cheated?” she asked. “Your father never told us who was going to inherit.”

“Come now,” Edward scoffed. “I’m not a fool. I know the game by now; fish of one brother, fowl of the other.”

“And now there’s a third brother in the mix,” Jackson introduced.

“Yes, poor George. He’s a good lad—too good to be mixed up with this lot.”

“Tell me, Mr. Ashcroft,” Jackson started, “when did this disillusionment start? Surely, the sentiments you’ve expressed did not sprout overnight.”

“No,” Edward confessed, “they’ve been brewing for several months now. I thought things would be different after Creighton left the company and moved to Connecticut. Between Father and me, I mean. But things were exactly the same as they had been.”

“Then why did you come on this trip?”

“Because my Father was scheduled to meet with the head of the English Steel Corporation. If we, an airplane parts manufacturer, could have formed a partnership with them, it would have been the most important business deal we’d ever made.”

“English Steel? You mean the appointment that fell through?” Marjorie clarified.

“Yes. I’m still baffled by that whole incident. The man went through the trouble of sending a telegram and then he doesn’t show up.”

“What? Who, Morrison?”

“Yes. Pru and I and … Cassandra … arrived a day ahead of my father. When we got here, there was a telegram waiting for us, confirming the time and place of the meeting.” Edward shrugged. “The only explanation I can think of is that Morrison was detained by a family emergency or a last-minute illness. I suppose we’ll find out more when we get back to New York.”

“Mmm,” Jackson noted absently. “Tell us your movements yesterday evening.”

“Well, following dinner—or what should have been dinner—I went to the drawing room. After my outburst, I wanted to get away from everyone. My solitude was short lived; George joined me a few minutes later. He was stewing, and I can’t say I blame him.”

“Did you happen to notice the time?” Marjorie asked.

Edward shook his head. “No. But if it helps, shortly after George came in, we heard you leave the dining room and go out the back door.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“We saw you through the drawing room window. You took the gravel path that leads to the stables and Selina’s cottage.”

Marjorie nodded. “That’s right.”

“So, your conversation with George,” Jackson changed track. “What did you say to each other?”

“Conversation?” Edward repeated with a wry smile. “Commiseration was more like it. We both had our reasons for despising our father, and we discussed them in detail.”

“Is that all you discussed?”

“If you mean, did we decide to team up and murder the old man? No. However, we did discuss Selina. George was disappointed that his mother hadn’t confided in him. So disappointed in fact that he was considering leaving the island right there and then and never returning.”

“Apparently you talked him out of it,” Nettles noted.

“I had to. You see, after my mother died, my father erased all traces of her existence. Creighton and I were forbidden to talk about her or ask questions.” Edward drew a deep breath. “I didn’t want my father to come between George and his mother, too. So I advised him to go talk to her.”

“Did he?”

“I believe so. At least that’s where he said he was going. When he left the drawing room, he went up the path to the cottage.”

“And where did you go when you left the drawing room?” Jackson asked.

“Upstairs to the bedroom. To check on Pru.”

“And then where?”

“Nowhere, except the verandah for a breath of fresh air. Then I got ready for bed and turned in for the night.”

“And your wife?”

“She had been terribly upset by the evening’s events, but she took a Seconal and went to bed as well.”

“Really? That’s strange.” Jackson scratched his head in mock confusion. “Because if you were both sleeping you two couldn’t have had a conversation wherein you promised to ‘take care’ of your father.”

Edward’s eyes shot tiny daggers at Marjorie. “I misspoke, Sergeant. I did have the conversation your informant described, but I didn’t think it was important.”

“Your father’s been murdered and you didn’t think it was important?”

“I didn’t think it was important because I was simply trying to calm my wife. If I didn’t say I would do something she might have—” Edward stopped as he realized the gravity of his words.

Jackson grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Thank you, Mr. Ashcroft. That will be all.”

“No, wait,” Edward pleaded. “There’s something else. Something, I didn’t tell you. I don’t know if it’s significant or not but …”

“Go ahead,” instructed the sergeant.

“Pru woke me up in the middle of the night claiming she heard noises as if someone were breaking in.”

“This house is on a private island. Who could possibly be breaking in?” Jackson asked rhetorically.

“That’s precisely why I dismissed it at the time but now …”

“Did she describe to you what she had heard?”

“I wasn’t really listening—”

“Shocking,” Marjorie remarked.

“—so I don’t remember her exact words, but she said something about a loud thump that came from downstairs.”

“At what time was this?” Jackson asked.

“I honestly don’t remember.”

“Again, shocking.” Marjorie quipped.

“We’ll be certain to speak with your wife about the sounds she heard. That is, if she’s well enough,” Jackson jibed. “Good day, Mr. Ashcroft.”