Walking Into Murder Read Online Free Page A

to do the mask by yourself. That’s one hell of a trick to pull off! I ought to know!”
    Laura frowned. Was Nigel the mask maker? It sounded that way. Maybe he had created the grande dame mannequin, too. But who had put the cat mask on Lottie’s face? She certainly couldn’t have done it. Nigel might not realize it yet, but Lottie really was dead, at least she thought so.
    Nigel’s voice continued, cajoling, jocular. “Did somebody help you get it on and off? Come clean, Lottie darling. Come clean for Nigel.” There was no answer.
    Nigel went closer. “Come on, Lottie old thing, time to get up,” he went on, a tinge of worry in his voice. “The game is over. We’ve found you, so it’s all right to get up.”
    The woman on the bed didn’t stir. “I say, old thing, this is carrying the joke too far,” Nigel objected, sounding alarmed now. “No need to lie there all day!” He reached out and shook her limp arm. His hand, as Angelina’s had, shot back quickly.
    “Lottie!” he said urgently, and now there was real fear in his face. “Lottie!” he repeated. “Get up!”
    Nigel turned to his grandmother, his eyes filled with horror and a kind of desperate appeal. “We were just practicing,” he told her weakly. His skin had turned a greenish hue, and Laura saw that he was close to tears. “We were practicing for the mystery game. It was just a game. Lottie said she would be the victim, would be in the green room. I meant to tell you…” He closed his eyes suddenly and rushed into the bathroom. They heard the sound of retching.
    His grandmother went slowly to the bed and looked down at the woman lying there. Gently, she reached out and touched the cold hand. Her erect posture sagged. Even her face seemed to lose its taut structure. Laura felt very sorry for her.
    Angelina’s scream cut into the silence. “It’s wrong,” she howled. “It’s wrong again, and I don’t like it this way. I want the game to be right…”
    Laura put an arm gently around the girl’s heaving shoulders and touched Antonia’s arm to rouse her. The woman looked numb with shock. She also looked terrified. “Take Angelina away,” Laura told her quietly.
    After a horrified glance at the bed, Antonia obeyed. For once, Angelina didn’t resist. Sobbing violently, she ran out of the room.
    Laura looked at the grande dame. Her back was straight again, but her face looked older, and very weary. She stood perfectly still, head bowed, as if gathering her strength.
    “Thank you,” she said quietly, raising her eyes to Laura’s. “I fear this is not the welcome you deserve. I shall try to place you elsewhere.”
    “There is no need,” Laura told her gently. “I’ll be fine. You have enough on your hands without worrying about me. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”
    The old lady nodded. She turned back to the bed to look once more at the still figure, and a terrible sadness came into her face, as if something greater than a single life had been lost. Laura wondered what it was.
    When the grande dame had left, she turned to face Tom Smith. He had to be involved in all this somehow, and it was past time she got answers from him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demanded.
    Tom Smith paid no attention. He was bending over Lottie, examining her with careful fingers. There was no sign of faintness in him now, only intense concentration and a kind of clinical detachment.
    Anger suddenly suffused Laura. She welcomed it, felt it shove aside the confusion and shocks of the last few hours. “Who are you and why are you here?” she repeated. “I’m in no mood for more lies, either. I want the truth, and I want it now. Otherwise you can forget this ridiculous farce.”
    “I want the truth, too,” Tom Smith answered grimly as he straightened up. “Believe me, I want it as badly as you.”
    He stared into space, thinking, but when he looked at her again, the inscrutable look had vanished. Once again, he