The whole party made their way to the armoury, where Angus and Ewan MacKenzie had brought the relevant shoes.

While the ladies changed, Colin looked around.

Davis maintained his place near the door to the Library, behind Colin with a good view of the once (and future?) Laird's back.

Angus had moved to the far doorway, where he stood awaiting instructions. Ewen was by the door to the stairs.

The Armoury was, in fact, a small Castle Museum , with trestle tables set on three side, each covered with green baize clothes that reach to the floor. Various objects were displayed - on the walls were hung weapons; suits of armour were positioned in the spaces between the tables, and on the tables themselves were displayed various pieces of armour - such as several impressive helms - and also a variety of medieval utensils are artefacts.

The pestle and mortar, it appeared, had been among the latter.

The Rector stood at the far end of the room, awaiting the ladies when they crossed. He looked decidedly worried.

"Mary, my dear," he said, "would you like to start the ball rolling? Just walk across to me, my dear, your usual walk - but perhaps a little swifter."

Mary nodded, forcing her hands down to her side. She walked to him, chin up, feet moving a tad brisker than usual. She came to his side, rested her hand on his elbow, then gave him a small smile.

"Like that?"

"That was perfect, my dear," he said, with a fond smile at her.

"Now ... who will be next?"

"I'll go," Josette offered. "Just touch it?" she asked, still a little unsure of just what this exercise was about.

She walked quickly across the room, touching the helm, then moved away for the next person.

The green baize cloth on the table twitched a little. The Rector's smile was a little glassy. "If you could just wait here, my dear," he said to Josette.

"Who will be next?"

Selina nodded without speaking, and tripped daintily across the floor. The click of her heels was quite distinctive, difficult to mistake for any other sound.

The green baize cloth remained still.

Across the room, Lord Eversham called, "Will my sister be required for this performance? I'd hate to wake her, but she'd gladly participate, if it helps."

"Let us see what happens here first," said the Rector.

"Me now," said Lucinda.

She crossed the room with a light, quick tread, her heels tapping in a regular pattern on the stone flags.

The green baize cloth remained still.

"I suppose that's my cue," Sandra said calmly. She stepped into the armoury and walked across the room in measured strides, her heels making a crisp tapping sound.

The green baize cloth was agitated violently and then a small voice came from up the table.

"That's it, Uncle Andy! That's the lady!"

The Rector looked sadly at Dr Marsden.

"My nephew, you see, was under the table. He was looking for his rat ... "

"I see," Dr. Marsden said in a faint but calm voice. She slowly sat down on one of the benches. "Or rather... I didn't see," she said wryly.

It was a moment before anyone spoke.

Finally, Lord Eversham broke the silence, asking, "Did you kill him, Dr. Marsden?"

"Kill?" Dr. Marsden asked. Then she swallowed. "I was in the armoury last night... It's... not surprising that the lad would have seen me in here," she pointed out slowly.

"He didn't see you," said the Rector. "He heard you. That was why the test, you see. You can come out now, Brian."

Brian Shea emerged from beneath the table.

"But ... he heard more than that. He heard the mortar and pestle, grinding the berries. You hid it, Dr Marsden, and presumably thought there would be nothing to connect you with it when you were discovered - your gloves hid your fingerprints. But you weren't aware that Brian heard everything."

David relaxed visibly as the Rector spoke, as the implications of what the Rector was saying became abundantly clear. He exhaled once, but said nothing. His hand patted Patience's again, reassuringly, and he turned to listen further.

Patience relaxed as well, at ease against David's side, breathing more deeply.

Garreth looked sadly at woman before him. "Sandra, you need not say anything that might incriminate you."

"Incriminate..." Sandra said faintly. Then she started to silently laugh, her shouders shaking. "Oh... I rather think it's beyond that, don't you?" she asked the former barrister.

"I mean... it would be my word against that of a child, wouldn't it? A child who'd had his poor pet rat put to death by that imposter..."

Dr. Marsden looked at Brian for a long moment with a pained expression, then she shook her head. "No... enough."

She looked up at the rest of the room from where she sat. "Yes. I killed the man we thought was Douglas MacKenzie-Brown last night," she said in a firm, determined voice.

"And Mr. Rendell as well?" asked Davis .

"But..." Mary looked from the woman before them to her husband. "But what of the other murder? Did you do both of them?" There was a quaver in her voice, but something in her face looked sadly hopeful.

"What? Oh... yes I did," Sandra answered the pair of them. "Though... I wish I hadn't," she confessed, swallowing.

"No doubt, were he able, Rendell would share your regrets in this regard, Doctor," Lord Eversham observed drily.

"Umm..." Josette said uncomfortably, looking around the room, "Now that she's admitted to being a murderess maybe we should move out of the armoury?"

"Yes, perhaps back to the Grand Hall," Garreth suggested. He crossed to Sandra and helped her to her feet.

Davis looked at his two kinsman and said "I shouldn't think 'twould be necessary. This is a nice, wee room tae finish our conversation in, Ma'am."

"Actually... could we go back to the hall?" Sandra asked in a rather dazed voice. "I would like to sit next to the fire for a few moments," she told them.

Selina, of all people, came forward to take Sandra's arm. "Of course you would," she said. "I'll take you."

Davis looked at Sir Colin. "Captain? There are a few more servants if you'd like more MacKenzies t'hand."

Colin nodded. "Just a couple."

"It's a good idea, Sar' Major, but we don't need a mob here, nor Clan honour blinding some people," Garreth said, aware that he wasn't the Captain addressed.

"Let's go someplace a bit more warm and let the Doctor say her piece," the barrister suggested.

"Good idea," said Zap.

Colin looked up at Davis and his guards, and made a slight gesture with his head.

"We'll all go there, Dr Marsden," he said. "And then perhaps you can tell us what you did and - more importantly - why. Although some of us may have guessed already," he added grimly. "The Cross?"

"It's the only explanation that makes sense," Quinn said, "unless there's even more that we don't know about." He looked across the room. "Is there, Dr. Marsden?"

"In the Hall, Quinn," Garreth suggested, ushering people out while watching the guards flank the Doctor.

David led Patience out of the cramped and claustrophobic Armoury, and headed with the others toward the Great Hall for the denouement. He gave a wary look at the admitted murderess as they filed out.

Dr. Campbell fell in step on Sandra's other side, his expression grave. He wanted to keep an eye on her; no use in letting her harm anyone else - including herself!

Because he was youngest, Ewan knew the task of collecting more guards was his. He returned shortly with Gordon and his father. Again, the MacKenzies were conspicuous in their placement near the doors, rather than by the warmth of the fireplace.

Dr. Marsden didn't answer either of them until everyone was assembled back in the Great Hall. She was sitting again next to the fire, her hands held up to its warmth.

"The cross?" she asked as she looked at the fire. "Not... in the way you think, Sir Colin."

"You see, Dr. Campbell was correct in guessing my situation," Sandra explained in a louder tone. "But not quite its effect on my position. There was a death on my last dig. An accident. Snake bite..." She swallowed. "The young man died. His parents... were influential on the board of trustees of the Museum. They insisted... I be discharged."

Sandra's shoulders' slumped. "The museum suspended me. The chance of being brought back on... none. Until a collegue of mine told me about the Verrisay Cross. Showed me what he had. If... if I could discover it... that would be enough to impress the museum. To have my old position back."

"I studied everything I could find on Verrisay," Dr Marsden told them. "I even learn to speak and read Gallic. And then I came to the island. My last... possesions in my trunk. Everything staked on one last gamble."

"I searched Verrisay. Started to unravel the sites. The history here. But... many of the sites had already been disturbed." Sandra's hands briefly clenched into fists. "I couldn't tell if they were recent, or older."

"And then... that man... presents the cross to his wife." Dr. Marsden's voice went distant. "Admittedhe'd been having his men digging around the island. And... at that moment all my months... years of work were of no use. Even if I retrieved the cross, I'd not have found it. I'd... only be retrieving a stolen artifact from a common grave robber."

"I... was furious in a way I'd never been before. And then... I saw Oswald and Lucinda. And I remembered. Remembered the Christmas curse they had. Where people died around them on Christmas Eve. And it suddenly occured to me... I realized I could kill him. In front of everyone. And no one would be able to point the finger at me alone, since everyone there could have done it."

Dr. Mardsen looked around at the room. "And I did it. I crushed the yew. You see... I'd studied forensic pathology. I knew how yew affects the system. I poisoned my own drink and swapped the glasses in the confusion of the pudding. It was so simple. And he died."

"And then... in the middle of the night I remembered... Remembered the butler had seen me with my gloves. Had handed them to me." She shuddered. "I didn't know what to do. I was terrified of getting caught. So..." She shook her head. "I remembered he'd been dosed after the murder. I snuck into the servants wing just before sunrise, and.... and..." She shook her head and looked down at her hands.

"Sandra, that's quite enough," Garreth said crossing the room. "You are right, anyone could have done it, and that man stirred those sorts of thoughts in many people, I fear. If you'll have me, I'll defend you," he offered.

Turning to Colin, he caught him with an even gaze. "Of course it may mean I have to say good-bye, Laird. But I've been considering for some time going back to London and starting my practice again."

"If you'll allow, Laird MacKenzie, I'd like a few private words with my client before she says anything more."

Colin regarded him for a long minute.

"I'll miss you," he said finally. "But - you know what you're doing, don't you?"

He sighed. "Very well. You'd best go into the study."

Lord Eversham crossed the room to Warren 's side, and he said quietly, "Mr. Warren -- if you're going to take on Dr. Marsden's case, I should like to pay you on her behalf."

He took in both Warren and Marsden with a strangely sympathetic glance, and went on, saying, "I understand it may be tempting to accept no compensation, but although the doctor herself may not be able to afford it, I should hardly like to see you labour in vain. At the least, allow me to cover your expenses."

"We can discuss it later, but I'm sure that we're both thankful for the offer," Garreth answered, shaking the noble's hand.

Josette stared in wide eyed horror at Dr.Marsden, thinking how close she might or might not have come to feeling the woman's wrath over a pilfered cross.

"For what it's worth, Dr. Marsden," Mabel Tawney said soberly, "I ... almost understand. To have your life's work, what you've studied and slaved over, ruined and ... undermined by some ... some egoistic poseur ... And then you can't bring it back," she ended sadly.

Dr. Campbell shook his head in disapproval. The physician had devoted most of his life to saving lives, or bringing new ones into the world. To take another's life over an object ... inconceivable. He wondered if Professor Marsden was desperate enough to have killed Brian Shea if she had known he could identify her - and whether Captain Warren and the others would be as sympathetic if she had.

But that was a conversation better left to a late night sharing a bottle of scotch with his neighbor, the Reverend Andrew Roberts.

Assuming Mary ever let him in the rectory again after he questioned her about the ink stains!

Selina appeared out of nowhere with a full, unopened brandy bottle and a small glass. She set them down by Sandra without speaking, and retired to her husband.

As Dr. Marsden was being led away to be held until the mainland authorities could be taken into custody, Adrian walked determinedly over to the barrister.

"Mr. Warren, I owe you an apology. Between some questions you had asked me and the information present in Mr. Yohe's desk, I believed you to be the culprit, the suggestion of the tape to the contrary notwithstanding. We may not see each other again, but I hope that you'll not think the less of me for my suspicions." His voice was soft, not carrying past his immediate vicinity, but his tone was earnest.

Garreth shook his hand firmly, "Understandable, truly, Mr. Quinn."

"You'll excuse me for a moment."

As Garreth led Sandra away, Colin looked back at the assembled guests in the Great Hall.

"Murder's a terrible thing," he said quietly. "And so are the consequences.

"And I speak as the descendant of those who've often had blood on their hands or on their souls."

He moved away from them to the windows, and stood looking out. The snow had stopped falling by now, leaving a world of pristine whiteness.

As Garreth and Sandra moved into the study for their private consultation, Garreth thoughtfully picked up the brandy.

Then they went through the door, leaving the Great Hall behind.

Pulling the door closed behind him, Garreth held a finger to his lips. "As your council, I suggest you run, Sandra," he whispered. "My plane's in the bay below us," he explained.

He slowly walked her to the window, after quietly locking the door behind him.

"What?!" Sandra exclaimed in a loud whisper, looking astonished. "Garreth! I can't fly a plane," she hissed as she came over to the window.

"No, but I can."

Sandra's jaw dropped. "Garreth... I just confessed to killing two men!" she whispered tightly. "You can't be serious!" Her exclamation cut short by the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, his lips covering hers gently.

"Oh...."

When he pulled back, his roguish smile was evident. "Promise you won't kill me?"

She looked up at him with a stunned expression, then slowly nodded. "As long... as you don't rob any tombs or graves without me..." she added dazed. "Or.... steal... oh Garreth!" She reached up and clutched his arms.

"Alright then, follow me," he said releasing her. He quickly jimmied the window open and climbed onto the sill, offering her a hand. "And you don't blackmail anyone without me?" He winked just before chuckling again.

"So you ARE the blackmailer! I wondered!" Sandra exclaimed as she sat on the window ledge and swung her legs out.

"Actually, it's a longer story than that, but we can have this all out someplace warmer, say Cairo ?" Garreth urged.

"When you hit the snow, try to roll, like I do, OK?" he said, squeezing her hand.

"Ready?"

Sandra nodded quickly. " Cairo ? Oh yes... Ready!"

Garreth jumped into the snow, rolling over his shoulder as they showed him in the RAF, and then turned to help Sandra if she needed it.

Sandra gripped the window ledge and dropped, letting herself hang for a moment before dropping down to the snow. She took the fall well, letting herself roll backwards as she came down.

"Not too hard... much like sand," she said wryly as she nodded to Garreth, then started to move as quickly through the drifts of snow. "Except... much colder..."

As Sandra took Garreth's hand and they forced their way through the drifts she asked "How do we get down to your plane? Aren't we on a cliff?" She glanced up at the windows of the castle and prayed no one was looking out.

"It's right over there," Garreth pointed. "Stay low to the snow and we can make it without being seen from the windows," he assured her, not totally sure himself.

"There's a stair on the cliff that was once used for moving goods from the bay. It'll be a bit treacherous, but we'll make it."

"I'm right behind you," Sandra told him.

Willie came up on Selina, who was standing quietly by a window in the now-deserted Library. He paused a few feet behind her to light a cigarette. After a moment, he said, "Seelie...?"

"Yes, Willie?" she answered tiredly, looking sallower than ever in the wan light from the cloudy outdoors.

"Hell of a Christmas, hm?"

"No kidding. I hope it's the worst one I ever have."

"Yeah..." Another pause. "I was really proud of you tonight."

"Yeah? I wasn't. I guess I didn't realize how -- sordid, somebody said -- all this really was."

"No... I meant the way you handled yourself. You were... amazing, very classy. You could have been a great lady of the manor."

"Well, thanks and all, but it's no help now." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Willie, I know you meant well -- but I just can't help wishing we'd never done this."

"Yeah. So much for my gift for improvisation." He came closer, standing by her at the window. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but... nothing's ever gotten so far away from me, so badly. And then, finding out that he was a player, too..." He shook his head.

"It's not just that, Willie. I don't know if I'd feel any better if it had all worked. I feel -- I feel dirty, Willie. Dirty and ugly and wrong."

"You're far from ugly and, well, if we were wrong, it was pretty minor-league wrong compared with some of the other stuff that went on here. I'll be glad to say goodbye to Verrisay Island , that's for sure."

Selina stamped her foot. "You're not listening to me, Willie! You're not listening! What we did -- well, I don't know what they call it where you come from, but" -- her voice lowered abruptly -- "it's an awful lot like what folks I knew called procuring. When they were being polite about it."

He stepped back slightly, clearly taken aback. After a minute he said, "Okay, you're right. I never saw it that way, because... because I don't think along those lines. I saw a chance - I took it. That's all it seemed to me. I didn't realize... I didn't know he was going to be such a beast, but... I know that's not what you're talking about either. If it's any comfort, Seelie... if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't. And not just because of how it fell. I hated what it did to you, how it made you feel."

Selina nodded, somewhat mollified. She let the window-curtain fall, and took the two steps that led her into his arms. Her head came to rest in just the right place on his shoulder. "So. That's that. What do we do now, Willie?"

"With everything else that happened, I don't think they're very interested in telling the local cops about us. If we keep quiet and watch ourselves, I think they'll be just as happy if we just quietly slip away and never darken Verrisay again. And I'm for that..."

"So am I. But -- what then? I can't go back on stage."

"You can't?"

"I don't see how. I daren't set foot on a New York stage now that the word is out -- and no, Zap wouldn't tell, but Josette would, spiteful little cat. And everything starts in New York."

"We could try San Francisco ... or Los Angeles . You could go into the movies. With your face and voice..." He smiled at her.

She shook her head against his shoulder. "I don't want to get Zap in any trouble."

"I don't see how it would, but... I understand. He's been a good friend to you... to us, really." He patted her gently. "We'll work something out. I can always go back to my games..."

"Oh, Willie. That's just as bad. Is it really that hard to do something honest?"

He tipped up her chin so they were looking at each other. "I've got no philosophical objections, but... I don't have the training."

"I don't either. But -- I'd like to try. Somewhere in the Southwest, maybe. Not a city. You know what I mean? Someplace quiet."

"I've always been a city guy... but I'd be willing to give it a try."

She tightened her arms around him. "And I can finally say you're my husband, as loud as I want to. I like that, Willie. I really do."

He smiled. "Yeah. That part... I like. A lot. But it won't be easy, Seelie. There won't be fancy clothes and jewels. I might end up washing dishes or sweeping floors somewhere..."

"That's all stage trappings. I'm tired of them." Her voice held a heavy, weary note. "I'm tired of playing dumb. I'm tired of high heels. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of being found out. You're real, Willie. I want you because you're real. Whatever you and I have to do to stay real -- I want to do it."

He looked at her closely, something like amazement on his face. "You... you think I'm real?"

She gave him a soft little mock punch on the chin. "I know you are." And she smiled Selina St. Pierre's bright, bewitching smile.

"We're a team, Seelie. Whatever we do. Whatever happens... we face it together."

"You're on."

"The Southwest, hm?" He chuckled. "Wonder how they'll take to a guy from the barrio..."

"Quit worrying, you big silly. Come on, let's pack."

He nodded. "The sooner we're out of here, the better..." He took her by the arm and they started out together. "Selina...?"

"Yes, Willie?" A happier sound, now.

"Te amo..."

Mary looked back from the library as the now confirmed innocent collected in quietly talking clusters and solitary stands against the horrors of the holiday. She looked over at a sidetable, sporting a tray for cigars and a rendition of the laird, not so long ago, hunting in the fall. He held his game aloft, a smirk on his face, a gun in his hand.

Imposter.

She almost said it, but managed to keep her lips clamped shut. He had come from corruption and evil in America to here, to what? To start his ways up again, to corrupt the people of this simple little villiage?

Monster.

His treating the cross as something to ply a new and pretty wife with was perfectly fitting now, and perfectly horrible. An ancient cross, as well, something that should have been in a church, revered and treasured. Even a museam would have been better.

Her eyes rose to the window, and her eyes trailed over the perfection of the snow. A new snow... For a new year, and a new beginning. Then her eyes narrowed. Two trails of footprints... and two figures running away from the study...

Her hand rose to the window, and without thinking, she pulled the blinds shut. "Draft," she said over her shoulder, then shivered.

The Lord works his vengence in mysterious ways... She almost smiled.

She would have to ask her publisher how mysteries were faring these days...

Down the snow covered steps they climbed, moving as fast as the slippery footing allowed.

Sandra pressed against the sea wall as they climbed through the snow. "I...really wish... I had brought... other shoes with me..." she said shivering as she slowly moved with her heels on.

"Dear, no matter what a Scotsman says, it's cold for me, too," Garreth chuckled. The wind whipped his kilt about and suggested that he knew the local customs.

"Oh... I see," Sandra said. Then chuckled as the full realization of the statement hit. "I take that as a hint getting inside sooner than later would be good?" she half laughed. She forced herself to hurry faster down the snow covered steps.

As they passed a landing and turned back toward the village, he pointed out his plane. It was covered by an oiled tarp, but its snow covered bulk could still be made out.

"Not much further now," Garreth said when they made the bottom. He looked back at the Castle atop the cliff, willing no faces to appear, especially ones he cared for.

Much to Garreth's relief there seemed to be no pursuit. The top of the stairs, even the cliff top was devoid of anyone. The only sounds were the wind and their footsteps on the icy ground.

The knots of the tarp were frozen, impossible to untie with any quickness. The dirk from Garreth's sock made quick work of them, once he remembered he still had it.

Finally the plane was free of its tethers and between them managed to get the plane turned around and facing seaward. Sandra climbed in the passenger side. Garreth was a moment longer getting in. He gave her his rougish grin as he started up the engine, but Sandra rather fancied she saw a shadow of ... resignation? regret? cross his features as he prepared to leave his home. She gave him a smile in return, then she looked out over the water in front of them as the plane started up.

"I think we can make the mainland without any problem, perhaps the Channel. We'll refuel, buy some clothes and make our way from this bloody cold as fast as we can, eh?" he asked squeezing her hand gently. "Find someplace where I can buy you some silk stockings of your own."

The sea plane was audible to those in the castle above them as it gathered speed and lifted off. And to those that made it to the windows in time, the small plane could be seen heading towards the mainland before it vanished up into the grey clouds lining the sky.

Garreth's eyes never turned back. Perhaps he was concerned who might be standing on the cliff, or behind the windows of Laird Colin's castle. Davis wouldn't understand, and was probably the better man for it. Or perhaps, he didn't need to look back. Perhaps he wanted to look forward, to the future. To see that he needed but to look beside him.

 

End of Chapter 18

Chapter 17 | Top | Appendix 1