“The rest of you, move,” I ordered. “Now! Into the living room.” I turned and ran down the hallway to find Max in the act of opening the front door.
“You need to stay here,” I said to him.
“I don’t know or care who you are, but I don’t take orders from you.” Max threw the door open and started out. A bucket of rain hit him full in the face. Lightning flashed, but thunder was slow to follow. The storm was moving away.
“The police have been called,” I said.
Larissa turned her pale face and wide frightened eyes toward me. “The police?”
“Look, lady, I don’t know why you did that,” her husband said, “but if that crazy woman took sick, that’s nothing to do with us. We’re only going to be in the way.”
“The police will want to talk to you,” I said. “It will be better if you’re here when they arrive.”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked at me. “Better for who?”
“You. The police don’t like having to go in search of witnesses. They will ask, and it will save them some time if I have your last name.”
Max hesitated before spitting out, “Greenwood.”
“Thanks. Suit yourself.” I turned and walked away. I had no more time to waste on them.
I found the rest of the group, aside from Jayne and Rebecca, in the living room, collapsed into chairs or pacing the room. Ashleigh stood at the window, staring into the night. Lights in the garden tastefully illuminated statuary and bushes. Donald gave me a quick nod and indicated the phone he held to his ear, telling me help had been summoned. The calm voice of the 911 operator leaked out. Someone had turned the music back on, and Mozart’s Requiem emerged softly from the Bose speakers. Not, I thought, a tasteful choice, considering the circumstances.
“The emergency services have been called,” I said to the group. “We need to stay here and stay together until they arrive. All of us.”
The Greenwoods slipped in behind me. Max gave me a poisonous look while he said to his wife, “Nothing to worry about. I know the type; she’s trying to make herself seem important. Easier to go along with it, for now.”
I ignored him and went back to the library. Jayne and Rebecca hovered over the unmoving form of Madame Lavalier, unsure of what to do.
The medium was slumped in her chair, arms thrown out, head back, eyes open wide, staring straight at us. The object I’d seen in her neck lay on the table. “I took it out,” Jayne said. “I … thought it might help, but … it didn’t.”
“It was the right thing to do.” The object looked to be made of silver, thin and about seven inches long. One end came to a sharp point, the other topped by a silver filigree cup cradling a large luminous pearl. A hat pin, possibly antique or a good imitation. Hat pins had been widely available in the days when elegant women wore enormous hats over elaborate hairstyles, and something had to keep the whole construction fastened firmly in place. But they weren’t used at all these days, apart from on theatrical or movie sets. No one in this house had been wearing a hat tonight, not even Madame Lavalier or her assistant.
There should be no reason anyone would be carrying such a thing around in their pocket.
The sounds of sirens could be heard coming down the driveway. “Can you get the door, please, Rebecca?” I said. She lifted her head and looked at me. She nodded and then slipped away.
“Are you okay?” I put my hand lightly on Jayne’s arm and stared into her face, giving her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
She swallowed. “I will be. What do you think happened here, Gemma?”
“That’s for the police to find out.” I heard voices and footsteps, and two medics ran into the library. I pointed out the hat pin to them, and then I took my friend’s arm, and we left them to do their jobs.