Aunt Dimity Takes a Holiday by Nancy Atherton

Author:Nancy Atherton [Atherton, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Suspense, Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction, Women detectives, Women Sleuths, Inheritance and succession, Dimity; Aunt (Fictitious Character), Cotswold Hills (England), Country homes
ISBN: 9780142003930
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2003-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

I stopped in my bedroom and called Annelise on my cell phone, to thank her for sending my shoes and to make sure that peace reigned on the home front. Will and Rob got into the act with a breathless account of a goat that had strayed into our back meadow, and though Annelise assured me that the animal’s owner had retrieved it, I had a sneaking suspicion that goats would reappear when it came time for the boys to compose their Christmas wish lists.

I returned the cell phone to my shoulder bag and changed into a pair of soft wool trousers with roomy pockets so I wouldn’t have to carry Simon’s poison-pen note in my skirt’s waistband anymore. I was retying my shoes when I heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor.

I went to my door and listened. The footsteps paused outside my room, then moved on to Simon’s. A moment later I heard his door open and close.

Was someone playing post office again?

I slipped into the hallway, tiptoed to Simon’s room, and pressed my ear to his door. At first I heard nothing, then, faintly, came a distinct moan, as if someone was in pain. I recognized the voice.

“Simon?” I called. “Are you all right?”

A moment later the door opened and Simon appeared. His face was pale and drawn, and his black sweater was no longer tucked neatly into his gray trousers.

“It’s kind of you to look in on me, Lori,” he said, “but there’s no need.”

“Uh-huh,” I said doubtfully, eyeing the beads of perspiration on his forehead.

He put a hand on the door frame, as if to steady himself. “I’m indulging in a bit of a lie-down, that’s all. It’s been a rather taxing morning.”

As he turned to go, I grasped the hem of his sweater, lifted it, and gasped. An ugly, misshapen bruise splashed his fair skin, as if he’d been struck in the side with a sledgehammer.

“Dear Lord,” I said, aghast. “What have you done to yourself ?”

“I landed badly when Deacon tossed me,” he confessed. “It’ll be all right. I just need to rest.”

He pulled his sweater down, took a step into his room, and swayed, as if his legs were about to give way. I came in behind him, closed the door, and helped him to sit on a divan at the foot of his bed.

“You’ve been in that stupid meeting for nearly four hours,” I fumed. “Didn’t Gina notice that you weren’t your usual bubbly self? Didn’t your uncle? As for Bill, I’ll give him such a clout—”

“Bill sensed that something was wrong,” Simon broke in. “He tried to cut the meeting short, for my sake, but Gina insisted that we carry on, and I didn’t object. I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I was injured because . . . It’s happened again, Lori.” He motioned toward his dressing table.

I crossed to the table and saw a half-sheet of white paper that resembled the death threat in every way except

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