The Butler Didn't Do It - Maria Lima [3]
The candles made it worse than having no light at all. I suppose shuttering the chapel windows had been done out of respect, but I didn’t like it.
I made my way around the outside edge of the chapel and towards the back, where the main switchbox was, staying as far as possible from Clara. I knew I was being silly, but I just couldn’t go any closer. Not in this dark. From here, she looked as if she were sleeping. It didn’t look like her really, especially not in that high-neck, demure white nightgown. She’d been more likely to sleep in lurid purple sweats or in the nude.
I reached the back wall and found the array of light switches. Pressing one after the other, I realized that either a fuse had blown or that the electricity had been shut off to the chapel. That was enough. There was no way I’d stay here in this Hammer-film set.
“May I help you?”
I shrieked and jumped back against the wall.
“Jamison?” My voice shook, the word emerging in a small squeal.
“Yes, miss,” he replied, his voice as calm and soothing as ever. I’d always admired his beautiful voice. Always peaceful and quiet, he’d easily handled my volatile aunt.
“I thought...” I began, fumbling for words. How on earth was I going to say this?
“Thought that I’d been incarcerated, Miss Lindsay?” He seemed to be amused.
“Yes.”
“Constable Macdonald finished with his inquiries, Miss. So I came back.” He turned and gestured for me to walk ahead of him, effectively turning me toward the door. “I’m sure you wish to return to the main house. I’ll send for someone to see to the electricity. I’m sure there’s only a minor problem.” He deftly turned me in the direction of the door.
“Yes, thank you, Jamison.” I mumbled, and hurried out of the chapel. Funny, I really was sure he hadn’t killed Aunt Clara, but his being there in the dark chapel had really unnerved me. I’d almost gotten the feeling that he hadn’t wanted me to approach my aunt too closely. Not that I’d particularly wanted to, but still...
* * * *
I settled in for a short nap and by the time I woke up, it was already getting close to dark. The first of the neighbors would probably start arriving soon, in time for a quick pop into the chapel and then out for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. It wouldn’t do to arrive too early and miss the refreshments.
I wanted to go back to the chapel before anyone else got there. Not only did I want to make sure that the electricity was working, but I really thought I should at least make some semblance of prayer or something. I wasn’t much for religion or anything, but my aunt had been a fun and unusual relative, often the source of much of the material in my novels. No one could make up some of the stuff she’d done. She deserved more than a perfunctory visit.
My heart sank when I saw that Gerald was in the hallway outside the chapel. So much for a little privacy. He was standing still, staring at the closed doors.
“Going in, cuz?” I asked, a little sarcastically.
He whirled, eyes wide and mouth opening & shutting like a fish gasping for air. I’d never noticed how much Gerald reminded me of a guppy until now.
“Wha--?” he gasped, stumbling a little as he stepped away from me.
I grinned, enjoying this. “What’s wrong, Gerald? Scared to go in?” I wasn’t above mocking him for the same fears I had. At least I’d actually gone in before. Okay, so I hadn’t actually stayed very long.
He grimaced and tried to compose himself, straightening his jacket and smoothing what was left of his hair.
“I was just taking a moment of silence before entering,” he said, his voice icy and almost mean. “Aunt Clara deserves our utmost respect.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I said, and moved to step around him so I could reach the door handle. “Did Jamison get the lights working yet?