Strong Spirits by Alice Duncan

Author:Alice Duncan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2010-03-09T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

As soon as the door shut behind Mrs. Kincaid, Algie Pinkerton, and Father Frederick, Rotondo focused on me as if I were a criminal he was trying to nail. I sat up straighter. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I might have known it would come down to you,” said he in a nasty tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Darn it, none of this is my fault!”

“Never mind.”

“I don’t know a single thing about any of this,” I said coldly. “The only thing I might be able to help with is the reason Quincy Applewood and Mr. Kincaid were fighting. Er, arguing, I mean.” I glanced toward Harold, silently asking his permission to tell all. Not that I knew all. He nodded, bless him.

“Oh?” I could hear the sneer in Rotondo’s voice and took exception to it. There was no reason I could see why he should dislike me. Heck, he didn’t even know me. “And why do you think they were arguing, Mrs. Majesty?”

“Because Mr. Kincaid was always trying to trap Edie—Miss Marsh, I mean. That’s Quincy’s fiancé—with his wheelchair and—and touch her. I interrupted them once when he was trying to get her to kiss him.” I couldn’t repress a shudder.

One of Rotondo’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I snapped, sensing his disbelief. “It is.”

“Ah.” He tapped his notebook with his pencil. His brow was furrowed as he stared at me, making me uncomfortable. “You say Mr. Kincaid pursued Miss Marsh in his wheelchair?”

“Yes.” I didn’t like the way he’d asked the question, so I lifted my chin and dared him to doubt me. Not that he needed a dare. He seemed to doubt me no matter what.

Still tapping, he said, “Mr. Kincaid needed his wheelchair to get around?”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“And he used it in pursuit of housemaids?”

That tore it. Jumping up from the sofa, I fairly shouted, “Darn it, this isn’t my fault! I’m only telling you what Edie told me and what I saw with my own eyes!”

“Calm down, Mrs. Majesty. I’m not doubting your word.”

“Like heck.” I sat again, though, knowing I’d spoil my family’s fun if I left before I’d gleaned every tidbit I could about this latest Kincaid scandal.

“Out of curiosity, where were you last night, Mrs. Majesty?”

He already knew that, but I guess it was better that he didn’t let on, since I didn’t want everyone in the room to know I’d blabbed to the police. “Conducting a séance at Mr. Harold Kincaid’s house.”

“And where did you go after the séance concluded?”

“Home.”

“Did you make any stops on your way home?” Rotondo’s brow beetled.

Did this man honestly think I might have killed Kincaid? “No!”

“No need to shout, Mrs. Majesty.”

“The heck there’s not! If you think I killed that old goat, you’re crazy!”

“I accused you of no such thing,” Rotondo said.

“You thought it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nuts.”

“Where did you go after the séance at the younger Mr. Kincaid’s house?”

“Home. Without stopping anywhere else.”

Rotondo didn’t pursue my pique or his doubt about my complicity in a crime.

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