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The bag hit Della’s legs and she stumbled, sliding on the fabric on the stone floor at the top of the stairs. She clutched wildly for the banister, but it only served to give her more momentum down the stairs. She was able to come to a crashing halt at the first landing, however, precariously holding on to the stone stair.
Beatrice ran down the stairs as fast as she could go, being careful not to tumble down them, herself. Della gave a snarling gasp as Beatrice passed her, snatching at her legs but getting only air.
By the time she’d reached the bottom of the stairs, though, Beatrice realized that Della was after her. What’s more, Della was quite a bit younger than she was. Beatrice sped up, panting, fumbling for her car keys in the pocket of her khaki capris.
Beatrice was nearly to her car when Della sped up and launched herself at Beatrice’s back with a wild cry, knocking the breath out of her.
Beatrice turned as much as she could under Della’s weight and jabbed the shears into Della’s side. Della hissed and backed off for a second.
Beatrice was about to try to wriggle free when she heard an icy voice splitting through the silence.
“Della, what on earth are you doing?”
It was Malcolm, and Beatrice had never been happier to hear another human being’s voice in her life.
Della seemed to melt. Her body went limp and Beatrice scrambled up, pushing Della off of her as she got to her feet. Della, looking warily at Malcolm, slowly rose to her feet, as well.
“Malcolm, you don’t understand. I was doing it for us!” Della’s eyes were pleading. “Let me just ... finish. I’ll put her at the bottom of the stairs and it will appear she’s tumbled. No one has to know! It’s better this way, believe me. Then we’ll have such a great life together. I’ll make you so happy.” She reached out a shaking hand to him.
Malcolm pushed it away.
“I don’t know exactly what you were doing, but I can take a guess. Suddenly, everything has become very clear to me,” he said coldly.
“Malcolm, I can tell that you’re angry. Of course you’re angry,” spluttered Della. “But you’ll understand when I explain it to you. I never did anything for myself. It was all about us, always.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong, Della. It was about you. Only you. You wanted to marry me because you saw dollar signs. You knew I was going to inherit Father’s money and you simply couldn’t wait, could you?” Malcolm sounded very detached, almost clinical, as he spoke to Della.
He turned to Beatrice. “You had a lucky escape. But you’ve also helped me have a lucky escape. Can you imagine, being married to a murderer? Father knew what he was talking about. He was starting to turn against Della, right before he died. I wonder if that had something to do with the timing of it all ... his death.”
Della stared at him. “We were going to be happy,” she repeated. Then she grabbed Malcolm’s hand, which lay limply in hers. “No one has to know about this. Right? Beatrice, I’m sorry ... you’ll accept my apology, won’t you? Can’t we just keep going as we were before, Malcolm?”
But Beatrice was already phoning Ramsay. The siren, just a few minutes later, broke into the tense silence.
Ramsay waited until the state police had taken Della away before asking Malcolm or Beatrice for their accounts. He did quickly phone Wyatt, who joined her in just minutes looking white-faced and shaken—until he saw with his own eyes that Beatrice was all right. He wordlessly took her in his arms and held her until she felt the stress melt away. Then they sat next to each other in the Nelms’s yard furniture, holding hands.
Ramsay spoke with Malcolm first. Malcolm hadn’t fallen apart as Hawkins had, but his usual confidence was gone and he looked more uncertain than Beatrice had ever seen him. It looked as if he’d had the rug yanked out from under him.
Ramsay finally came over to speak with Beatrice. He said grimly, “Malcolm confirmed that you were attacked and that Della had implicitly admitted to everything. I’m glad he did because otherwise, it would have been your word against Della’s.”
Beatrice said with a sigh, “And I know it makes it look like I was courting trouble by coming over here. But until one point in the visit, I didn’t realize that Della was the villain of the story. I’d come over to ask Hawkins about an offhanded remark he’d made about Sadie: that she was angry that their father had been murdered over money.”
Wyatt said quietly, “Which would have meant that Sadie had some idea who was behind his murder.”
“Exactly,” said Beatrice. “But Hawkins was about to run out the door to see Wynona—he still hasn’t returned, I guess. Malcolm was out and so Della was the only one home. She wanted to show me some sort of vintage quilt that she thought I might not have seen during the original tour of the house.” It seemed very important to Beatrice that neither Ramsay nor Wyatt thought she’d been reckless during her ill-fated visit to the Nelms house.
Ramsay nodded. He took a few notes. “And, clearly, at some point, things changed.”
“That’s right. Della was furious about how ‘nosy’ I was being. And she kept moving closer in a rather threatening manner. It was a good thing that Meadow had loaded that tote bag up with all kinds of quilting supplies—the shears came in handy.” Beatrice shivered.
Ramsay said, “So money was the motivating factor. Della was ready for Malcolm to receive his inheritance.”
“That’s part of it, yes. And I suppose Della knew that Hawkins, despite being the eldest child, wasn’t going to be receiving the lion’s share of the money since Caspian was so irritated already about loaning him money. Della knew that Malcolm would be receiving a good chunk of the estate. But that wasn’t the only reason,” said Beatrice.
Wyatt said in a thoughtful voice, “Was Caspian also turning against Della, as he’d turned against Wynona, earlier?”
Beatrice nodded. “That’s right. Apparently, he wasn’t liking what he saw in Della, or maybe Della’s true colors were showing the more time Caspian spent with her. Either way, he was starting to show his disapproval more frequently. Della was desperate to continue the relationship.”
“But Sadie and Della were friends,” said Ramsay. “Was greed the motivating factor in her death, too? With Sadie out of the way, the rest of the estate would have been divided up between Hawkins and Malcolm.”
“Maybe that was part of it, again. But I think the real problem was that Sadie either knew or had somehow figured out that Della was responsible for Caspian’s death. And she clearly wasn’t going to stay quiet about it. She hated the problems that money caused in a family—it was the main reason she’d become estranged from her father ... he’d withheld needed money from Sadie’s mother. The more Sadie thought about it, the more aggravated she’d become. Della must have been worried that Sadie was going to say something to Malcolm about her suspicions. She decided to ensure that wasn’t going to happen,” said Beatrice.
Ramsay sighed, “And Della had the extra incentive of the money, on top of it. For her, it must not have been a difficult decision to make.”
Beatrice said, “I didn’t think that Della and Sadie were all that close, anyway. I think, in some ways, that they each resented the other.”
Beatrice suddenly felt very tired. And a little sore on top of it all. Wyatt gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Is it all right if I take Beatrice back home now?”
Ramsay peered closer at Beatrice. “Of course! You look completely tapped out, Beatrice. Go home and rest. You probably could have used the rest even before someone made an attempt on your life today. When’s the big day? Coming up quickly, right?”
“A week from Saturday,” said Beatrice with a smile at Wyatt. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be recovered by then.”
“Well, one thing I can promise you,” said Ramsay fervently. “There won’t be any more crime in Dappled Hills to investigate in the interim. Not if I have to patrol the streets day and night. We’ll have a crime-free period in Dappled Hills, and you’ll focus only on the wedding!”