Murder at Rough Point by Alyssa Maxwell

Author:Alyssa Maxwell [Maxwell, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Thank you for coming with me, Mrs. Wharton.” I spoke loudly to be heard over the rain. Though no longer torrential, a steady shower continued while intermittent gusts had us angling our umbrellas to prevent them from being shoved inside out. In the servants’ porch we had borrowed ill-fitting mackintoshes, buttoning them to our chins and tying the hoods tight around our faces, and we each found a pair of tolerably fitting galoshes.

Sensing an adventure, Patch had begged to come along, but after taking him out to the service courtyard to accomplish his business, I returned him to Mrs. Harris’s watchful eye in the kitchen. He would only ramble about and bring attention to Mrs. Wharton and myself as we went about our task.

“I’m willing to endure a dousing for you, Miss Cross,” she said in response to my thanks, putting emphasis on you.

I knew she referred to the argument she’d had at breakfast with her husband, concerning the wisdom of attempting to drive home on potentially flooded Ledge Road. Living on Ocean Avenue as I did, I fully understood the dangers of deluged roads and had seen firsthand that what appeared to be a shallow puddle could in fact be a rushing stream waiting to drag an unsuspecting traveler into the thrashing tide. Yet while I had sided with Mrs. Wharton at the time, I had no desire to revisit the awkwardness of the rift between husband and wife.

When I gave no answer she walked ahead of me to open the garden gate. She placed a hand on my arm to still me before I could walk through. “I know you found Teddy’s and my behavior abominable this morning. I apologize for that.”

“It is none of my business.” And yet curiosity rose up inside me. This morning wasn’t the first time I’d found Teddy Wharton’s behavior bordering on abominable.

“We had the bad taste to make it everyone’s business, unfortunately. I regret that. But you see, he often drives me to my wits’ end, and you’ve seen only a small bit of it. It isn’t his fault, really. My husband suffers from acute melancholia, as his physician calls it, and I try to be tolerant. If only I’d been blessed with a more patient nature.”

I bit my tongue to keep from questioning her. If this melancholy caused her husband to lash out verbally, what about physically? Was he prone to sudden acts of violence? I needed to learn more about this, but not here in the rain, when we had other matters to attend to. “You don’t need to apologize, Mrs. Wharton.”

“Perhaps not, but I wished you to understand. Now then . . .” She followed me into the garden and latched the gate behind us. “What are we looking for?”

“First, whether or not we would be visible from the house as we traverse the main garden paths.” I scrubbed droplets from my eyes and held my umbrella to shield me as much as possible. Head down, I moved to the outer path on the right side.

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