The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

Maisie’s secretary looked up from her desk, her smile broad as Maisie and Billy entered the office. “Hello, Miss Dobbs. I’vebeen doing the books at my house and keeping the files, and it’s all very nice being down in Kent—don’t get me wrong, I’mreally grateful to you for finding us that cottage—but as I said to Lawrence, ‘I’d like to get up to London,’ and he said,‘Why don’t you go up there on the train, and I’ll look after Martin. I’ll take him fishing.’ He’s still a bit young for that,but I’m sure they’ll do something together. Anyway, I’m here—and if you don’t mind my saying, it’s just as well.”

“Are you suggesting Miss Dobbs and me are not very good at filing, Sandra?” After their meeting with the volatile Arthur Hackett,Maisie thought Billy’s laughter was a relief. As she joined in, the anxiety she had been holding in her body began to ebbaway. Billy could always be depended upon to bring humor to the proceedings at just the right time.

“I think that’s exactly what Sandra is alluding to, Billy. And probably with good reason. We’ve let things go a bit.”

“And I’m sorting it all out. Almost done. I’ll put the kettle on.” Sandra picked up the tea tray, adding, “Oh, and a Mrs. Towner called—she asked for Lady Margaret at first, but I told her you use your maiden name for your work, so it’s Miss Dobbs. Just as well I was here—you never know how many telephone calls you might have missed, what with me not being in the office very often. Could you telephone her back, miss? She said it’s important.”

“Thank you, Sandra—and we would love a cup of tea. I’ll telephone her now.” Maisie watched the young woman leave the room,and thought how she had become less strained since becoming a mother—still competent, but with more ease in the way she metthe world. Though Sandra had known tragedy in her life, she appeared to take everything in her stride, the days of sadnesswell behind her.

Billy stepped across to his desk, where Sandra had left a series of notes, each one with a question. “It’s nice having Sandraback, but she is the only person I know who can nag on paper.”

Maisie laughed. “Put your head down and get on with it, Billy—it’ll only get worse if you don’t answer her questions.”

Once in her office, Maisie dialed Gabriella Hunter’s number. No one picked up. As the ringing continued, Maisie felt a knotin her stomach.

When at last the housekeeper answered, Maisie was alert to the crack in her voice as she recited the number.

“Hello—it’s Maisie Dobbs here. Are you all right? Hello!”

“Oh, Miss Dobbs. Miss Dobbs—I mean, Lady Margaret—oh dear—”

“What is it? What’s happened?”

Maisie heard the housekeeper’s gulps, as if she were being deprived of air.

“It’s Miss Hunter. She’s been rushed to University College Hospital. I was only meant to be out for a little while, runningsome errands and getting a few groceries. But you have to queue for such a long time, so I wasn’t back when I said I wouldbe. And when I got here, the lock was broken.” She gulped again.

“Breathe slowly through your nose,” said Maisie, her voice slow, calm. “Do you have a paper bag? Perhaps one the grocer put something in?”

“Right at my feet—”

Maisie could hear more rasping as the housekeeper fought for air. “Good. Take a bag now—never mind what drops out onto thefloor—take the bag and put the opening over your nose and mouth and breathe as calmly as you can.”

She could hear the sound of rustling paper and the woman’s breathing, fast and shallow at first, then becoming steady.

“Are you still there?” asked Maisie.

Paper crackled again before the housekeeper replied. “Yes, I’m feeling better.”

“Good—do that whenever you feel the panic coming on. Now, what’s happened?”

Maisie heard the woman breathing into the paper bag again.

“Hello . . .”

“Sorry, Miss Dobbs.” She coughed once more, then went on. “What happened was that I came home and the door was closed, butI could see the lock had been tampered with. I rushed in, dropped my groceries, and went straight to the study, where MissHunter was lying on the floor. Blood all over her face. Someone had hit her and left her for dead. Her papers were all overthe place. Drawers open, books strewn around.”

Maisie placed her hand on the buckle at her waist.

“I knelt down, listened to her heart,” continued Towner. “Then I got a hand mirror and put it in front of her mouth—I knewshe was alive, so I telephoned for the police and an ambulance straightaway.”

“You’ve been remarkable, Mrs. Towner.”

“I just tried to do the right thing.”

“Can you remember the name of the policeman who came to the house?”

There was the sound of crinkling paper on the line and the housekeeper breathing into the bag.

“Hello?”

“Sorry—it was a Mr. Caldwell. Yes, that’s it—in fact, no, sorry, he was a Detective Chief something-or-other.”

“That’s all right—I know who you mean.”

“He said . . . he said . . .”

“Mrs. Towner?”

“He said it was attempted murder and he made me tell him everything.”

“Yes, that’s his job.”

“He wanted to know everyone who had been to the house over the past few weeks.”

“That’s perfectly normal—that’s what he has to do.”

“I gave him your name.”

“As I would expect you to, Mrs. Towner. Now then, I’m going to go straight to the hospital, and then I’ll come to see you.Is the lock mended?”

“No. The door won’t shut. I’m scared.”

“Right you are. I’m sending someone round right now.” Maisie looked at Billy, who, along with Sandra, was standing at the open doors into Maisie’s office and had been following the conversation. “In fact, I’m sending two people.” She turned to Sandra, who nodded. “They’re my assistants. Mr. Beale is a tall man, grayish blond hair, and he’ll be wearing a cap. Mrs. Sandra Pickering is about my height, dark hair, and she’s wearing a pale blue day dress and a navy jacket.” Sandra reached to one side, picked up her hat from her desk, and held it up for Maisie