The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [111]
“A doctor! Help! A doctor,” a deep voice called out raggedly.
Annie turned and reached out to clutch Max’s arm.
Three balconies away, Neil Bledsoe wavered unsteadily, visible in the wash of lights from the courtyard. Blood streaked the thick mat of black hair on his heaving chest and the limp form he cradled in his arms.
Annie paced angrily up and down the living room. “Who do they think they are”—her hand waved toward the hall door—“the cops in Fletch?”
“Now, Annie.” Max yawned. “Crime scene,” he observed wearily, stretching his long legs out before him. “How can they investigate if frantic hotel guests are swarming around like lemmings?” He patted the couch beside him. “Come on, honey. Relax. Saulter’ll let us out as soon as they finish. Besides, what do you want out for?” he asked practically. He pointed at the shell clock over the wet bar. “It’s only a quarter to four.”
She plopped onto the couch and stared morosely at the door. “Oh, Max, it’s so dreadful. Poor Kathryn Honeycutt. She was so proud of looking like Miss Marple.” Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, God, if only she’d really been like Miss Marple, able to see and understand evil around her. And we tried, we all tried, didn’t we? But we lost. We should have known it wasn’t enough, just to have Billy Cameron guarding Bledsoe’s door. And, dammit,” the tears streaked her cheeks, “even if someone went after Bledsoe, why did they have to shoot her? Oh, Max.”
He pulled her close to him, and she buried her head in his shoulder.
Max poured the freshly brewed coffee into a thermos and glanced at the honey-blond head bent over a notebook. Dear Annie. She always tried so hard. And she was determined, somehow, someway, to find Kathryn Honeycutt’s killer. He poured out two cups of coffee, set one beside her. Without looking up, she nodded her thanks. Max took his cup and returned to the divan. The coffee gave him energy. He picked up his pen and began to write:
SUSPECTS/TIMETABLE
Persons on the island known to have some connection with Neil Bledsoe:
Kathryn Honeycutt
Fleur Calloway
Emma Clyde
Margo Wright
Nathan Hillman
Derek Davis
Victoria Shaw
Natalie Marlow.
SATURDAY NIGHT: Shots miss Neil Bledsoe outside Death on Demand.
Possible suspects: Emma Clyde
Margo Wright
Nathan Hillman
Derek Davis
Victoria Shaw
Natalie Marlow.
Alibied: Fleur Calloway
Kathryn Honeycutt.
TUESDAY MORNING: Vase topples from hotel roof, narrowly misses Bledsoe.
Possible suspects: Margo Wright, Nathan Hillman, Derek Davis, Emma Clyde, Fleur Calloway, Victoria Shaw, Kathryn Honeycutt.
TUESDAY NIGHT: John Border Stone (registered as James Bentley, character in Christie’s Mrs. McGinty’s Dead) struck down with sugar cutter in his hotel room. Lady Gwendolyn’s cape found in her room with blood on it. Tests show it is Stone’s blood. Blood smears on hotel walls between Lady Gwendolyn’s room and Stone’s. (Traces of roof tar found on tennis shoes in his room.)
Possible suspects: All of the above.
EARLY FRIDAY MORNING: Attack on Bledsoe; Honeycutt killed.
Possible suspects: All of the above, except for Honeycutt.
Max chewed thoughtfully on his pen. First, cross out the impossibles. Quickly, he marked through Kathryn Honeycutt and Fleur Calloway. That left Emma Clyde, Margo Wright, Nathan Hillman, Derek Davis, Victoria Shaw, and Natalie Marlow.
Okay, here were the suspects. Now to rank them in order of probability—
The phone rang.
Annie reached for it and glanced at the clock. It was shortly after four A.M.
“Outmaneuvered. Outflanked. Outfoxed,” Henny announced. “But not outdone.”
“Are you out of your room?” Annie demanded, ready to demand her rights.
“Everyone’s been sequestered,” Henny retorted.
At Max’s inquiring look, Annie put her hand over the receiver and mouthed, “Henny. Intrepid sleuth. Tuppence, I think.”
“It always helps to know people,” Henny continued rapidly. “Good thing I’m on the town council and also chairman of the hospital board.”
“Oh. Who did you wake up?” Annie was well acquainted with Henny’s methods.
“Vince Ellis. According