This Side of Murder Page 28

  “Sidney Kent, I presume,” she said in interest. “Well, well, this is a revelation I admit I didn’t see coming. And you are rather splendid, aren’t you? It’s only too bad we never had the chance to meet outside these circumstances.”

  Sidney’s expression did not waver from its hardened glare, even at this last insulting statement.

  Then her voice lost all of its mockery. “Kick the gun toward me. But not too hard now,” she warned.

  He glanced down at his feet and did as she instructed.

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope you didn’t take anyone else into your confidence about your being here?” she asked consideringly, and although Sidney didn’t react, her mind was still quick. “Ah, yes. Mabel. Of course. You would have needed someone to nurse you back to health after Walter shot you.”

  Sidney’s expression blanched in the light of the lantern Helen had dropped at our feet. After tonight’s events, I had presumed it was Felix, but then I realized that was too neat and tidy for the messiness of this entire affair. My heart squeezed, knowing how much it must pain Sidney to know his friend had pulled the trigger.

  If, in fact, he had. Maybe now that Helen’s plans had been foiled she intended to burn everyone’s bridges to the ground.

  “Well, I suppose we can’t kill everyone at this party,” she declared almost begrudgingly. “That would simply be too, too suspicious. So I guess that means we’ll have to resort to an alternative plan.”

  Releasing her grip on my hair, she slowly lowered herself to pick up Sidney’s gun, never removing her pistol’s muzzle from my temple. She pocketed the weapon.

  “Stand up,” she told me before addressing the men. “And you three, back up toward the village. Felix, make sure no one tries anything. I should so hate to ruin Verity’s very pretty head.”

  Once the men had moved several yards away, she ordered Felix to start the boat’s engine. Then gripping my upper arm, the gun still aimed at my head, she marched me forward, pausing only long enough to deliver one last parting quip. “Now, be good boys and stay off the pier until we’re safely away, or I shall have to do something rather drastic. And none of us wants that now, do we?”

  I ground my teeth together, wanting more than anything to silence her tart tongue, but I had no choice but to do as I was bid. We picked our way across the warped and splintered wood toward the motorboat. The sound of its engine roaring to life made my stomach dip. Felix hurried over to meet us, taking my hand roughly in his to pull me aboard before shoving me down onto the decking.

  Before I could recover myself, Helen was standing above me and Felix had thrown off the moorings and returned to the controls. As we sped off into the inky night, all I caught was a brief glimpse of Sidney, Max, and Sam standing at the far edge of the pier.

  I hoisted myself up into one of the seats lining the ship, but Helen demanded I move no farther. When I didn’t voice a protest, she carefully staggered forward to confer with Felix where he stood driving the boat.

  I glanced around me, unable to see much in the darkness, for there were few habitations on the western rim of Poole Harbor. All I could tell was that Felix had pointed the boat in the direction of the harbor opening. In the distance in front of me, I could see lights shining through the windows of one tall structure, which I decided must be Umbersea Castle. It was evident they intended to escape into the English Channel and then beyond to heavens knew where.

  I was no fool. I knew better than to trust that either of them would have much use for me once we reached the open water of the sea. As soon as they had fled far enough to avoid any pursuit, it would only be a matter of time before they decided their hostage was no longer needed. Which meant they would either kill me outright or simply dump me overboard to meet my inevitable demise in the icy, blustery waters of the English Channel.

  The waves within the harbor were choppy enough, stirred up by the recent storm and the lashing winds. The boat skimmed over them, jarring us with each rolling strike against the bow. How much worse they would be out on the open sea without the harbor’s breakwaters to minimize them.

  I slumped in my seat, hoping I appeared defeated, and waited for my opportunity to fight back. At the very least, I would pitch myself over the side of the boat before we reached the mouth of the harbor, to give myself a fighting chance of making it back to land. I only wished I had a better sense of exactly where we were. The night was so dark and the rough seas were making me slightly disoriented as the wind whipped my hair about my pounding head. Only the motorboat’s headlamps pierced the darkness.

  That is, until two dim lights appeared over the water in the distance behind us. At first, I thought I was imagining them, but they continued to grow brighter and closer. It was then that I realized it was another boat, and it was gaining on us. I bit my lip, hoping Felix and Helen would remain too distracted to notice, but the sound of the other boat’s motor, its throttle fully opened, put paid to that wish.

  Helen glanced behind her and shrieked, striking Felix on the shoulder. “Go faster, you fool!”

  “I can’t,” he howled. “Not unless you want me to run aground on one of the sunken sand banks and tiny islands and kill us all!”

  My heart surged in my chest. There was only one man I knew of who would drive that recklessly, one man whose single-mindedness could push him to behave so rashly.

  Sidney.

  I stared across the dark water trying to see beyond the lights that continued to grow nearer into the boat behind them, but it was impossible. I only hoped he could see us.

  “I don’t care how dangerous it is!” Helen snapped. “If that boat catches us and rams us, we might already be sunk.” With two angry strides, she moved to stand before me at the back of the boat, raising her pistol to fire at the boat following us.

  Fortunately for me, Felix chose that moment to oblige her, increasing the boat’s speed with a sudden jolt from the engine. Helen lost her balance and I seized my chance, diving forward to knock her into the opposite bench. This time I was not going to let her best me, whatever it took.

  We grappled for the gun, and I slid my finger into the trigger alongside hers, pulling down on her digit to fire it. Felix cursed, screaming at us to stop, but I could spare none of my attention for him. Helen was determined to play dirty, struggling against me with all her might, and even going so far as to release one hand’s grip on the gun to reach down and choke me as she rolled us over to straddle me. I bucked beneath her, trying to throw her off me, but she was too heavy; the angle was too great.

  Just when I was starting to worry I would black out before I could escape, Felix unwittingly aided me a second time by making a sharp turn. Allowing the momentum of the vessel to assist me, I managed to roll her off me, wrenching the gun from her grasp in the process. However, the force was too great for my slackened grip, sending the pistol skittering down the deck and out of sight.

  I gulped the sweet air, filling my lungs, and then elected to use what advantage I had while I still could. Pulling myself up, I toppled overboard into the glacially cold water.

  CHAPTER 24

  I surfaced with a gasp. Icy needles pricked every inch of my skin as I treaded the dark water, trying to keep my head above the waves. I could hear the sounds of the boats receding into the distance toward my left, leaving me alone in the black of night. So I turned to search for any indication of land.

  Having no way of knowing how close we were to the harbor entrance, I nonetheless decided to strike out in the direction in front of me, hoping it was approximately south-southeast. At the speed we’d been traveling, I could only surmise we were closer to the Studland Peninsula at the south of the harbor than Umbersea Island. In any case, I could no longer see the lights of the castle, and if I was to have any chance of surviving this frigid dip and these pummeling waves I needed to reach land soon, even if all I could do was float there.

  It was then that I heard at least one of the boats returning. Its motor had slowed, and I could s
ee its headlamps cutting across the water. At first, I worried it might be Helen and Felix circling back to make sure they’d finished me off. Perhaps that made little sense with Sidney in hot pursuit, but the idea of my husband giving up his quarry when he was so close to catching them was almost as unfathomable. Until I could be sure, I elected to remain quiet and still, avoiding the glow of the boat’s lights.

  But then Sidney called my name, his frantic voice barely carrying over the sound of the wind.

  I almost choked on the sob of my own reply. “Here! I’m here!” Drawing on my last reserves of energy, I swam toward the boat, repeating his name over and over as loudly as I could manage.

  He gave a shout as he caught sight of me. The boat turned in my direction, pulling up alongside me, and soon strong arms were lifting me into the vessel.

  I crumpled to the floor, shivering and too exhausted to speak. I lay panting for breath while he scrambled about me. Then urgent hands peeled my sodden coat off my shoulders and wrapped a blanket around me.

  Inhaling the familiar scent of Sidney’s skin, I burrowed into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he pulled me close. His hands rubbed vigorously up and down my arms and back to warm me, while he seemed to completely ignore the fact that some of the chill water from my hair and clothing must be soaking through into his own clothing. Some minutes passed before I could find my voice, and even then it was not much louder than a whisper.

  “You came back.”

  Sidney craned his neck, trying to see my face, and I lifted my head to look up at him.

  “You . . . you let Helen and Felix get away, and you came back for me.”

  He lifted his hand, smoothing my damp hair back from my brow. “Yes, well, I can always pick up their trail later.” His deep blue eyes met mine. “But I can never replace you.”

  I arched up to kiss him, tasting the salt of the sea that had dried on my lips and the heat of his mouth. I’m not certain how long we drifted along that way, locked in each other’s embrace, but in due course I pulled back, recalling I had more to tell him.

  “Well, I don’t think their trail will be hard to find.”

  Sidney’s eyes gleamed quizzically. “Oh?”

  “When Helen and I were fighting for the gun, I managed to shoot the petrol tank.” I smiled at the surprise radiating across his features. “I suspect they’ll be running out of fuel soon.”

  I laughed as he planted another emphatic kiss to my mouth and then proceeded to rain kisses down over my cheeks.

  “Well, then, my darling girl, what do you say we fetch the authorities? It’s high time we dragged them into this scandalous muddle.”

  I rose to my feet, clutching the blanket around me, and followed him toward the ship’s wheel. Pulling me close to his side, he turned us toward the direction I trusted we needed to go to reach Poole.

  “By the way, where on earth did you get a boat?” I asked. “I was astonished enough to discover Helen and Felix had one waiting for them after the men had already searched the island for a working craft.”

  His eyes twinkled down at me. “You didn’t think I would strand myself on that island under an assumed identity without having some means of escape if I needed to, now did you?”

  “Yes, but . . .” I began to argue and then stopped. It was useless to point out how we could have used his boat earlier today to leave the island and reach the authorities. He must have known this, and not wanted it to happen. Not until he’d gotten his answers.

  I only hoped Sam hadn’t paid dearly for his delay. I was too vexed with Walter after learning he’d been the one who attempted to kill my husband to spare him much sympathy.

  * * *

  It was early the following afternoon before all the necessary players could be gathered at Walter’s bedside to hear his confession. Though the policemen from Poole had done their best to deal with the strange and alarming situation that greeted them when they arrived on Umbersea Island, it had become necessary to call in the more experienced Scotland Yard. A Detective Inspector Furnam had been summoned from his bed in London to take the earliest train down to Poole, crossing over to the island by boat around midmorning. He was a neat and tidy man with salt and pepper hair and a well-moderated voice. Had his origins been of a higher social standing I suspected he would have made an excellent barrister.

  He had listened to the tales Sidney, Max, and I had to tell with a minimum of fuss, but there were still a number of holes to fill in, and only Walter could do that. Fortunately, Mabel’s ministrations and Walter’s own hearty disposition had saved him from what at one point had seemed certain death. He lounged in his bed, propped up by pillows, with his covers folded over his lap. His face was still puffy and his skin red, but his eyes were bright and open, and his tongue only slightly clumsy in his speech, telling me the swelling had not entirely gone down.

  I settled on the settee between Sidney and Max—the place only a short time ago where I had coddled and comforted a murderess. Meanwhile, the detective inspector took the chair nearest Walter’s bed, pulling out his notebook to record the facts and his observations. By all rights, Mabel and Sam should have also been present, but she had gone with him to the hospital when he was transferred there in the early morning hours. We had since received the heartening news that, thanks to Max’s swift actions in returning him to Mabel’s competent care at the castle the night before, he would soon make a full recovery.

  I was furious at Walter and wanted to lash out at him. But seeing him in such a poor state, his brow heavy with the knowledge of all his misdeeds, cooled some of my temper and allowed me to sit calmly through our interview.

  “Now, Mr. Ponsonby, if you would, please,” Furnam said. “Tell us how all of this began.”

  “Well, I can’t tell you exactly how it began, but I can tell you straight that the entire affair was Helen’s invention.” His eyes lowered to where his hands rested against the royal blue counterpane, looking ruddy and distended. “She was heartbroken and angry that her father, Sir Randolph Crawford, had arranged to have her stepfather, a German citizen living in London, arrested under suspicion of espionage at the beginning of the war. I’m not aware of all the specifics, but I gather her parents’ marriage was not a pleasant one, and their divorce proceedings even nastier. When her mother then chose to marry a German, Sir Randolph was livid and tried to keep Helen away from them. However, Helen adored her mother, and grew to love her stepfather equally.” His lips quirked humorlessly. “Said he was the only real father she ever had.

  “So when Sir Randolph had her stepfather accused of espionage, you can imagine how distressed she was. She begged her father to get him set free, insisting he was innocent, but whatever the charges were exactly, they stuck. And he was executed.” He inhaled a breath to steady himself. “And if all that wasn’t bad enough, her mother was soon after declared insane and institutionalized. Helen says, to keep her quiet about what she knew, how Sir Randolph had arranged the entire matter.”

  “I’ve never heard any of this,” I said, thinking of all the time I’d spent in London and even inside the enigmatic walls of the Secret Service, and yet I’d never caught a whiff of any such thing.

  “Well, given Sir Randolph’s position in the government, the matter was, of course, kept hush-hush.” Walter tugged his covers higher, a nervous gesture. “I do know for a fact Helen’s stepfather was executed and that her mother was institutionalized. I looked into it. But I can’t tell you whether any of the rest of it is true.”

  “It’s possible,” Max admitted.

  I glanced over to meet his eyes, seeing the weight of all his memories of his own father, and the manipulations he was capable of, reflected there. If anyone knew what a politician might or might not be able to arrange, it was Max.

  “In the end, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Walter persisted. “Helen believed it was the truth, and so she decided she would undermine and injure her father however she could. Namely by doing everything her beloved stepf
ather had been framed for—sharing secrets with the enemy.”

  “And how did she obtain these secrets?” Furnam asked doubtfully.

  His mouth twisted as if the detective inspector’s skepticism proved his next point. “She said it was all too easy. That her father never worried about concealing sensitive documents from his silly daughter, so it was simple to learn the names of suspected German spies and collude with them to share information, as well as assist them in evading the authorities.” He lifted his gaze to meet Max’s. “She also used her father’s political friends to the same ends, flirting and offering favors to them.” He paused before choking out the last. “I suspect she slept with a number of them as well.”

  The detective inspector tilted his head, studying Walter with his keen, dark eyes. “And how did she bring you into all of this?”

  He nodded at us. “I suspect they’ve already told you about the Lonely Soldier columns I posted in the periodicals as a sort of a lark. She responded to one with her picture and a rather . . . provocative letter.” His eyes dipped to the coverlet. “I admit I became rather fascinated with her, and we exchanged a number of letters and packages.” He cleared his throat. “And then when I returned to London for my next leave, I . . . I visited her.”

  The rest he could leave to our imaginations, as Helen had already implied what those visitations had been about when she first told us the story at dinner that first night. Though Sidney and Furnam had not been present, I didn’t think they needed us to spell it out for them.

  “I discovered later, she had done her research, long before she ever contacted me,” Walter said. “She knew how deeply I was in debt, how I was in danger of losing everything my father and grandfather had built.” His mouth flattened in chagrin. “It was all too easy for her to convince me to deliver a few messages for her. Especially after she’d coerced some of my creditors into sending my bills to her father’s solicitor in her name.”