Pippa was waiting for me as I pulled up outside the ruins of Bridge Cottage. In the full moon I caught sight of her clothing—a short skirt, a low-cut T-shirt. Not the usual clothing I ever saw her wear.
Violet’s Morris Minor had hit a tree at the bottom of the hill just before the bridge where the lane made a sharp curve.
It wasn’t the first time something awful had happened in this cursed part of the village.
“Thank you for coming,” Pippa said miserably. “Violet’s still in the front seat.”
“Did you call for an ambulance?”
Pippa nodded. “After I spoke to you. I had to walk up to the top of the hill to get a signal.”
“Is she alive?”
“I don’t know,” Pippa said miserably. “She’s slumped over the steering wheel. I didn’t want to touch her. She wasn’t moving.”
I hurried over to the car. Violet had a bloody gash across her forehead, but thankfully she was wearing a seat belt. Fortunately, I was able to open the door. I reached out for her neck. The pulse was there. Faint but, thankfully, still there.
“What on earth was she doing out driving so late?”
“We heard a car coming,” said Pippa. “It was coming so fast! She didn’t even attempt to brake; she just—” Pippa struggled to control her emotions. “It was horrible. I’ll never forget the sound of the crash or her screaming.”
I was deeply troubled. Was it Violet who had been creeping about the countryside at all hours of the night?
“You’ll have to tell the police,” I said.
“No! I can’t. I can’t do that.”
I had a sudden thought. “Where’s your car?”
Pippa couldn’t meet my eye. “I walked.”
“I’m not stupid!” I exclaimed. “Were you meeting someone here? Is that it?”
“I … I can’t tell you. Please, please don’t ask me,” she begged.
I was stunned. “So whoever it was just drove off and left you to deal with it?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she whispered. “His car was stolen.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were … distracted. He’d parked it a little far away and … someone stole it.”
I was speechless.
“Don’t judge me, Kat. Not you. You’ve had an affair with a married man.”
“Is this about Rupert Honeychurch?” I said coldly. Piers had been right all along. “And for the record, my relationship was out in the open, so it was not an affair. Pippa! Have you thought what that would do to Harry if he ever found out?”
A siren and flashing lights ended our conversation and within moments it pulled up alongside followed by Shawn in his panda car.
“Oh great,” I muttered.
The Cruickshank twins—Tony and John—leapt out. “We’ll take over from here, Kat,” said Tony or John. As they were identical twins, I could never tell one from the other.
Pippa and I and sat on the wall that bordered the stream.
The minute Shawn saw me he stopped in astonishment. I realized I was still wearing my pajamas.
Pippa, who was openly sobbing—although I felt quite certain it had nothing to do with poor Violet—haltingly told Shawn about the runaway car.
“And what were you doing down here at this time of night, Ms. Carmichael?” Shawn demanded, pencil poised above his notepad.
“I often take a late walk,” Pippa lied. “It’s only twenty minutes from the village. Suddenly Violet’s car came out of nowhere. I was upset and that’s when I called Kat.”
Shawn regarded Pippa with suspicion. “It’s no secret that you and Violet Green can’t stand each other.”
“It’s true. I don’t take kindly to blackmail—forget I said that. I’m in shock,” she said quickly.
“Blackmail is a serious accusation,” said Shawn.
“I told you!” she exclaimed. “I’m in shock, that’s all.”
Shawn switched on his flashlight and swept the beam up and down the lane. It was dry as a bone.
“No skid marks,” said Shawn thoughtfully. “What on earth was Violet doing out here so late?”
Tony or John strolled over. “She’ll survive. Though it’s a miracle. Those old cars don’t have air bags, but they do offer a lot more protection than some of the modern rubbish we have today.”
“We’ll talk more in the morning.” Shawn closed his notebook with a snap. “I suggest everyone go home and get some sleep.”
I drove Pippa back to the village. Neither of us spoke.
As we pulled up outside her cottage, I noticed a flurry of activity in the churchyard. A flashlight suddenly went out.
“Those boys shouldn’t be out alone at night,” I said.
Pippa got out. “Harry, Max, in. Now!” she yelled without any consideration for those villagers who were asleep. “And I mean now!”
The two boys peeped over the low wall. I left them to it and drove back to Jane’s Cottage.
I was far too upset to go to bed. Pippa had mentioned blackmail. Had Violet found out about Pippa’s affair? I could see Muriel trying to blackmail someone but never Violet. But then again, I had found from personal experience that people were rarely what they seemed. Wasn’t that the message Alfred channeled from my uninvited guest?
It had been such a strange twenty-four hours I hardly knew what to think. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of premonition that something awful was about to happen.
* * *
It was four in the morning when I heard a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass. I sat bolt upright in bed with my heart racing until I smelled the overwhelming scent of sweet honey mixed with the salt of the ocean in my bedroom. Once again the room was icy cold, but this time I felt as if cold fingers were creeping over my skin.
The room felt heavy and oppressive. I switched on the lamp and slowly became aware of a dark shadow standing at the top of the spiral staircase. It had no form, no real shape, just gazillions of molecules racing around like an old-fashioned television set that had been set to the wrong channel.
Was this what ghost hunters called an apparition? I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. All my senses refused to believe it.
But yes—there was the outline of a gown, a face, but whose features I could not see, and long curling ringlets. The specter hovered above the ground just watching me. I sat there, gripping the sheets, terrified beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
I found my voice.
“We know what happened to you, Eleanor,” I said aloud. “We’re going to reunite you with your husband, I promise.”
Suddenly the window blew open with such force that it whipped my hair away from my face. I scrambled out of bed, unsteady on my feet, and tried to close it. When I turned around the specter had gone. But instead of silence, I heard the sound of running water.
Downstairs, every tap was turned on full blast in the kitchen and the bathroom. All my birthday cards had been tossed about the room.
“What do you want from me?” I shouted. “Tell me what you want!”
And then it was over. The torrent of water abruptly ceased.
I knew she had gone. I just had to talk to Alfred. He would know what to do.