Henry Gamadge 07 Arrow Pointing Nowhere by Elizabeth Daly

Author:Elizabeth Daly [Daly, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781937384241
Publisher: Felony & Mayhem Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Second Arrow

“WHAT IN THE WORLD, Mr. Gamadge,” asked Caroline, “are you digging out of the wastebasket?”

Gamadge straightened, glanced at the paper ball, and dropped it into his pocket. “A memorandum I threw away this afternoon by accident. Lucky to find it again.”

“If our footman hadn’t gone to the wars you wouldn’t have found it; the basket would have been emptied before dinner.”

A well-dressed man with an air of cool authority came out of Mrs. Fenway’s bedroom. He was carrying a black bag. “Well, Caroline!” He stopped to look at her, professionally enough, but also with a manner at once friendly and paternal. “Do you want some of the sedatives I stuffed into my bag, or can you manage without them?”

“I can manage, Doctor.”

“I thought you could.” He put the bag on the table, and looked at Gamadge.

“This is Mr. Gamadge, Dr. Thurley.”

Gamadge nodded in response to Thurley’s nod. He liked the look of the Fenways’ family doctor; a graying, ruddy, muscular man.

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Gamadge,” said Thurley. “Craddock tells me that if you hadn’t happened along Blake Fenway would probably still be putting ideas into the heads of the press. I’ve put my official seal on the accident theory; Mott Fenway would have lived a hundred years, if he’d been able to manage it, and enjoyed every day of them. Wish there were more like him; wish some of the rest of us understood leisure. I shall miss him. Caroline, your father’s talking funeral arrangements with old Bedlow in the library; they’ll be at it half the night if you don’t go down and interfere. My orders, and he’s to take those pills I gave him. If he doesn’t he’ll lie awake.”

“I’ll go, Doctor.” She looked at Gamadge, who answered the look by saying that he would get himself out of the house.

“Then—tomorrow?”

“Sometime in the afternoon.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Miss Fenway.”

When she had gone he addressed Thurley, who was rearranging the contents of his bag. “I thought you might want a prescription filled, or something; I know what deliveries are now, especially at night.”

“Very thoughtful of you, but I had the presence of mind, as I told Caroline just now, to throw some old reliables into my bag before I rushed up here. I’ve dosed Belle Fenway, or at least I’ve left a dose to be taken. Mrs. Grove will get it down her if she’s restless.”

Gamadge walked across the room to the lamp, got the paper ball out of his pocket, and smoothed it out. It was another section of timetable, and there was another arrow in the margin; but this arrow pointed nowhere; away from Rockliffe Station into space.

He put the crumpled leaf in his pocket again. Thurley was talking:

“Shocking tragedy, and cruel hard on Blake Fenway. There’s bound to be a little publicity; dear old Mott was obscure personally, but he was a Fenway. The police are behaving very well; I saw Nordhall, competent man. He’ll have them make a routine examination of the body, and then he’ll give out a definite statement to the newspapers.

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