Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mr Havelock had his ear pressed to the phone’s receiver. The person on the other end was speaking quietly for fear of being overheard.

He mightn’t have caught everything, but Mr Havelock had heard enough.

Without saying a word to his informer, he hung up.

A smile spread across his face.

At last! At long bloody last! He was nearly free.

Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.

It had certainly been slow – but he was on the verge of catching that monkey. And not only catching but killing the damn thing into the bargain.

He leant forward and flicked open his box of cigars.

‘Eddy!’ he bellowed.

He snipped the end of his cigar and slowly lit it. By the time he was turning it around and puffing on it gently, the door opened.

‘Yes, Mr Havelock?’

‘Have we still got a bottle or two of champagne in the cellar?’

Eddy nodded. ‘We have indeed, sir.’

‘Well, bring it up and get it chilled,’ Mr Havelock said. ‘We may well have something to celebrate soon. Very soon.’

Eddy was in no doubt as to what it was they might soon be celebrating. His eyes flickered to the safe behind Mr Havelock.

Catching the look, Mr Havelock laughed loudly. ‘Yes, don’t worry, Eddy. We’ll have a little bonfire too.’

Eddy nodded, knowing his face would be evidence of his relief.

‘Very good, sir. I shall go down to the cellar now.’

Agatha’s hunched figure stood immobile by the little side table next to the sofa in the front reception room. She had the receiver of the black Bakelite phone pressed firmly against her ear and she was earwigging in on the conversation the master was having with an unknown man who clearly did not want to be overheard as he was speaking quietly and furtively. Judging by the information he was relaying, she guessed he worked at the hospital and was probably ringing from there.

The phone on which Agatha was listening in to the conversation was rarely used, rather like the room she was in. Mr Havelock seemed to prefer to have visitors in his study, which she had always put down to the fact that he needed to feel in charge and superior at all times, even with his family and friends.

Hearing the words of the whispering man, Agatha felt a wave of nausea rise up and, fearing she might actually throw up, she covered the receiver and swallowed hard.

No, no, no! How had this happened! Her mind whirred. She’d made sure she had only added enough to cause a bad bout of sickness – not enough to kill her.

Hearing the click of the phone as it was hung up, Agatha waited a moment to make sure the line had gone dead before she gently rested the receiver back in its hold. Her hand was shaking. She could feel the trickle of cold sweat under her arms. This was her fault. If Henrietta died, she would be a murderer. She had been the one to prepare the poison, to add it to the eggnog and biscuits, knowingly giving them to Miriam to transport to her mother.

Poor Henrietta. She had never hurt anyone. She did not deserve this.

Straightening herself up, Agatha tiptoed to the door, which she had pulled ajar. She heard Mr Havelock shouting for Eddy, followed by hurried footsteps along the corridor and across the hallway. Agatha strained to hear what was being said – something about champagne.

My God – he was going to celebrate! The man was going to dance on his wife’s grave before they’d even had a chance to bury her.

Well, Henrietta wasn’t dead yet.

Agatha watched through the crack in the door as Eddy hurried back out, no doubt going to the cellar to do as he was told. As he always did.

Checking the coast was clear, she quietly pulled open the door a fraction and slipped out into the hallway. Breathing a sigh of relief that Eddy had shut the door to the study, she hurried over to the tallboy and grabbed her winter coat and handbag. Tiptoeing the short distance to the front door, she carefully pulled the door handle down and as quietly as possible opened it just enough to squeeze through before shutting it without making a sound.

As she hurried down the stone steps, she was glad of the darkness and that all the curtains in the house had been drawn, in particular the ones in the study. She was sure no one would have seen her leave.

Turning right at the end of the gravelled driveway, Agatha pulled on her coat, hooked her handbag over her shoulder and hurried as fast as she could along The Cedars towards the Ryhope Road. She had no idea what she was going to do – only that she had to do something.