AARP Hearing Center
Illustration by Dongkyu Lim
Chapter 21
SOMEHOW I PERSUADED Inspector Jones to allow me to accompany him to the hospital. His mood was not at all agreeable, but he had not protested when I asked to ride with him.
Mrs. Hamilton had not yet regained consciousness. Though I knew it would likely be some time before I was allowed to see her, I wanted to be there when she awakened. She had no close friends here to comfort her, and I thought someone should be with her. Though Mr. Hamilton had not treated her well, I knew she would take the news hard.
The atmosphere in the inspector’s car was chilly in the extreme. Disapproval rolled off him in waves larger than the ones that pounded against the shore at the base of the cliff. I had the vague suspicion that had we not developed a somewhat amiable rapport early on, he would not have been entirely opposed to arresting me for trespassing.
I glanced out the window. The wind seemed to have picked up, and there were dark clouds on the edge of the horizon.
“It seems a storm might be looming,” I said.
“Indeed,” he replied, and I thought that he did not mean the weather.
I felt instinctively that it would not be beneficial to allow the inspector to brood for too long. Perhaps there was still a chance to repair at least some of the damage. I adopted a soft, semirepentant tone. “I do hope you are not too angry, Inspector Jones. I understand that it was, perhaps, imprudent for me to search Mr. Hamilton’s room. However, if I had come across the weapon ...”
“You have no business assuming the duties of the police,” he interrupted, his tone clipped.
“I didn’t mean any harm by it,” I replied, allowing a bit more contrition to seep into my tone. I was not really as abashed as I hoped I sounded, but I knew that it would do no good to make him angrier.
“Perhaps not,” he replied, and I was pleased to note that his voice was not quite as steely as it had been a moment before. “Nevertheless, what you did was not only injudicious, it was very dangerous. Do you realize you might have been hurt yourself? What if the killer had discovered your hiding place?”
I didn’t care to think about that. Then I realized the term that the inspector had chosen to employ.
“Killer,” I repeated. “You think he was murdered, then?”
“I think we can safely assume Mr. Hamilton did not slip and fall while getting into his bath.”
“That is, in essence, the same thing my husband said.”
He glanced at me. “You seem to have patched things up with Mr. Ames.”
I hesitated. Despite our recent collaborative endeavors, I was still not at all certain where things stood between Milo and me. “He is having one of his agreeable phases,” I said at last. “There is no guarantee that it will last.”
“I see. And where does that leave Mr. Trent?”
I was surprised by the sudden turn our conversation had taken. The confusion I still felt regarding Milo and Gil was not something I wished to discuss with a policeman with whom I was barely acquainted. I had learned, however, that Inspector Jones always had very good reasons for the questions that he asked.
“These questions are getting rather personal, aren’t they, Inspector?” I replied lightly.
“Yes, Mrs. Ames. I suppose they are.” Something in his tone said that he still expected me to answer them.
I looked out the window. “I am ... very fond of Gil. I always have been. But in the end, I married Milo. That’s really all there is to it.” Was it really that simple? I wasn’t sure.
Inspector Jones was a very perceptive man. He must have picked up on my uncertainty. “I think, perhaps, the gentlemen in question might not find it so straightforward.”
I looked at him. “Perhaps you’re right. You see, I came to the seaside with Gil, in part because I have always wondered how things might have been different if ... Gil is so very steady; with Milo it is either bliss or misery, nothing in between. So there you have it.” I managed a flat smile. “You must think me a very fickle sort of woman.”
“On the contrary. As evidenced by your marked proclivity for intruding where you don’t belong, I find you to be a very decisive woman, and an intelligent one.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” I replied, pleased by the compliment despite the terms in which it had been couched.
“If I may venture a word of caution,” he said, his tone still pleasant. “I should choose my allies carefully, were I you.”
I looked at him sharply, surprised by the sudden warning. “That is rather a cryptic remark.”
“It was not intended to be. I only mean that things are uncertain right now; watch yourself carefully.”
I frowned. There was something he was not saying, and I could tell that he did not intend to explain further, at least not now.
I intended to take his advice. The danger had become all too clear today. If someone had killed Mr. Hamilton and drugged his wife ...
I drew in a breath. I could not believe that I had not thought of it before now. It was just possible I may have had my own very narrow escape. Mr. Hamilton had been drugged and murdered. If someone had substituted my aspirin for sleeping tablets, perhaps they had meant to kill me, too.
“Inspector, there’s something else ...” I reached into my handbag and pulled out the bottle of aspirin that had been in my room. “I think someone may have tried to drug me as well.”
He glanced at me sharply before returning his eyes to the road. “What do you mean?”
“It was the night Gil was arrested. I took two aspirin from this bottle, and I fell asleep almost immediately. In the morning, I was exceptionally muzzy. I’m quite certain they aren’t aspirin. I know it may sound far-fetched, but ...”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier, Mrs. Ames?” he interrupted. His voice had not lost its edge, and I rather felt like a poor pupil being reprimanded by a stern headmaster.
“Truthfully, I forgot about it. It seemed highly unlikely at the time. Really, it was only a vague suspicion on my part, but now ...”
“Are there any tablets left?”
“Yes. There are several still in the bottle.”
He held out his hand, and I gave it to him. He slipped it inside his jacket.
“I shall have them tested,” he said. “It may not be as far-fetched as you think.”
“But why should someone want to drug me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“There are a great many things that don’t make sense at the moment, Mrs. Ames, but they are beginning to.”
We said nothing further until we reached the hospital. I started to get out, but the inspector’s hand on my arm stopped me. “A final word, Mrs. Ames.” His expression was still pleasant, but I could tell by the firmness of his gaze and the officious tone of his voice that he was about to give instructions he expected to be followed.
“Thus far, I have been ... lenient, shall we say, because I like you and, quite frankly, the frivolous prosecution of the wealthy and well connected does not sit well with my superiors. But let me warn you: if either you or your husband interferes again, I shall not hesitate to take what ever measures necessary to ensure both your safety and the success of my investigation. No more independent enquiries. Do I make myself clear?”
“As clear as crystal, Inspector,” I replied.
***
Inspector Jones went to look in on Mrs. Hamilton, telling me I should wait. I knew it would perhaps be a while before I could see her, so I took a seat in the area designated for waiting. I’m afraid patience is not one of my more dominant virtues, so it was not long before I rose from my seat and began to take stock of the building.
The hospital was a clean, quiet facility with long white walls. The scent of the sea mingled with the more astringent smell of disinfectant, and there was a relaxed sort of air to the place, as though people did not often get sick at the seaside. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case at the Brightwell Hotel. “Dropping like flies” had been Milo’s succinctly inappropriate, if accurate, pronouncement.
Though it seemed impossible now that she could have had anything to do with the murders, I had intended to talk to Olive Henderson, and this seemed the ideal time to do so. I approached the solid, humorless-looking woman that sat behind the desk. “Might I see Miss Olive Henderson?” I asked.
She looked up at me with a flat expression. “Miss Henderson is no longer receiving visitors today, by the doctor’s orders,” she said crisply.
“Surely she’s well enough for me to drop in for just a moment.”
“Miss Henderson was upset by an early visitor, and the doctor specifically instructed that she receive no more visitors today.”
I frowned, suddenly alert. “What visitor?”
“I’m not at liberty to divulge information. I can only tell you that Miss Henderson is currently under close observation and is not allowed to receive visitors.” She began sorting papers on her desk, and I knew that I had been dismissed.
I turned from the woman, lost in thought. Who might have visited Olive Henderson today? In all likelihood, it was one of the guests from the hotel. What had upset her? It was all very mysterious.
I briefly considered sneaking into her room, but the inspector’s warning was still fresh in my mind. I did not believe for an instant that his had been an idle threat, and I did not relish the thought of being locked up in some dank, dark cell.
The air in the waiting area seemed to grow more oppressive by the moment, and I stepped outside. The wind had picked up, but the sky above me was still a bright blue, dotted with wispy white clouds. Though dark clouds still showed in the distance, they did not seem to be approaching very rapidly. If rain was coming, it would likely not arrive until evening.
The hospital overlooked the sea, and I enjoyed a few moments of quiet as I gazed out at the view. Then I looked toward the village. It was not a great distance off, and it looked inviting. Inspector Jones would likely tell me when Mrs. Hamilton awakened. In the meantime, I might try a walk to calm my nerves.
I reached the village a few minutes later. I wandered around for a while, looking in the windows of various shops. Among the villagers and holiday goers, I could almost forget all the terrible things that had occurred in the past week. Almost.
A lovely little antique shop caught my attention, and I spent a few moments browsing through the crowded rows of knickknacks, ranging from cheap plaster busts to very good china. I found a set of gold cufflinks engraved with the letter A and purchased them on a whim. I thought Milo would like them.
I had just left the shop when I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers exiting a shop at the end of the street. They were walking quickly, their backs to me. I called out to them, but they appeared to be deep in conversation and didn’t hear. A moment later, they got in a car and drove away.
I decided to head back to the hospital, but as I walked down the street, I noticed the building that the Rodgerses had exited. It was the apothecary shop. A thought occurred to me suddenly, and I stopped outside the door, hesitating for just a moment before charging ahead.
I entered the shop, and the little bell above the door jingled a greeting. A single woman stood behind the counter. She had a round, pleasant face framed with flame-colored hair. She smiled brightly as I came in. “Good day, miss. Is there something I could help you with?”
“I just saw my friends leaving,” I said, “but I didn’t catch them in time and they’ve driven off . We’re all staying up at the Brightwell. I don’t suppose they purchased a bottle of aspirin for me? They may have forgotten.”
“No, miss. They didn’t purchase any aspirin,” the woman said.
Almost before I knew what I was saying, I nodded and spoke casually. “I suppose they were picking up the sleeping tablets.”
“Yes, miss. The lady said she had misplaced hers.”
I kept my expression studiously neutral, but my thoughts were racing. Why should Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers come to purchase sleeping tablets immediately after Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had been drugged? Surely they knew about Mr. Hamilton’s death by now. It seemed a very odd time to make a trip to the apothecary.
I purchased a bottle of aspirin to replace the one I had given the inspector. Instead of falling into place, things only seemed to be getting more and more complicated. One thing was certain: there were enough sleeping tablets floating around the Brightwell Hotel to do away with all of us. As the woman at the counter chatted on amiably, I resolved that I would be very careful of what I ate or drank at the Brightwell from this time forward.
***
Lost in thought, I arrived back at the hospital. The unhelpful woman at the desk informed me that the inspector had not yet emerged, so I took a seat. Unwelcome thoughts continued to race through my head. If someone had meant to kill me in my room after drugging me, it had been a lucky thing that Milo had decided to spend the night in my room. Yet I could think of no reason why someone should wish to murder me. I had very little to do with the whole affair. If indeed Mr. or Mrs. Rodgers had something to do with it, I could think of no conceivable reason why I should pose an impediment to them. None of it seemed to make any sense.
By the time I saw Inspector Jones coming toward me, my nerves were quite on edge. Despite my distraction, I noticed immediately that his expression was grim.
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