Dorothy Cannell - She Shoots to Conquer

“I’m sure she didn’t.” I edged over to put an arm around Livonia while Thumper sat looking on with the soft light of sympathy in his eyes.

“No, of course not, that was awful of me to say. She does seem nice, doesn’t she? Oh, I do hope this competition isn’t making me paranoid already. You don’t think that’s the object, do you-to turn each of the contestants against one another?”

“Well,” I hesitated, “it would make for more interesting television.”

Livonia stared at me bleakly. “I’ve never watched a reality show, but I’ve heard the girls at the bank say the contestants can turn hostile… even bloodthirsty.”

“That’ll be Georges LeBois’s aim,” I conceded. “By the way, why did you and Judy go looking for the study down that hallway?”

“We decided it would be the best place to start after checking out here without any luck. The only door we didn’t knock on and open was the one down there to our left,” she pointed, “behind that huge jardinière with the dead plant. There was a sign taped to it with ENTER AT YOUR PERIL printed on it in great big black letters.”

“That will be the study. Trust Georges LeBois to set you and Judy running in circles looking for the room that he’d designated off-limits. Beastly man! Perhaps,” looking down at my faithful hound, “I can train Thumper to take a bite out of him that will cut him down to size. But Livonia, being forewarned is your weapon against the man and his tricks. I think you should march over to that room this minute and see if Lord Belfrey is in there and have a talk with him as instructed. Point one scored against Georges. If Judy comes along within the next few minutes, I’ll send her in after you. Livonia, you can do this!”

She shook her head. “I was right earlier about wanting to leave. I’m not cut out for this sort of thing; I’ve no stamina for conflict… Harold was correct and so was Mrs. Knox about letting wiser heads than mine prevail. He may not be perfect but…”

“Listen,” I said, “I’ll be here the whole week. Georges LeBois has persuaded my husband to stay on as his chef.”

She brushed at her teary blue eyes. Hope faded from them as soon as it appeared. “But you can’t be with me all the time, and you’ll have your friend who’ll expect you to be on her side exclusively… and rightly so.”

“Roxie Malloy can fend for herself.” This wasn’t entirely true, of course. Mrs. M proclaimed herself capable of living her life without any help from me, especially when she was on her high horse, but over the years we had each come to depend on the other, though never before in matters of the heart. She might well resent my support of a rival… unless I could persuade her that Livonia merely wished to stay in the game as a boost to her self-confidence. I came out of my mulling to note the change of expression on Livonia’s face. It was one of sharp surprise as if a penny had finally dropped with a clang.

“I’ve just remembered why Judy’s name sounded familiar when she told us what it was and she said, didn’t she?, that mine sounded familiar to her, too.”

“Go on!” I urged, while Thumper showed interest by cocking his head.

“It was thinking about your friend that jogged my memory. Judy Nunn was the name of Suzanne Varney’s friend-the one who told her about Here Comes the Bride .”

“Which means,” I said thoughtfully, “that were Suzanne here, it would make for three people with connections to each other in the competition. What are the odds of that happening by chance, if we suppose there were dozens, possibly hundreds of applicants?”

Livonia shivered. “Not strangers then… but people who are in some way woven together being set against each other. It sounds diabolical, doesn’t it?”

“Or a shrewd move in grabbing the viewers’ interest. In the case of Here Comes the Bride , Judy knew Suzanne and Suzanne knew you, so-if we are to follow a pattern of progression-you will know one of the other three contestants.”

“Oh, I see! I see!” Her eyes now widened in horror. “Who could it be? But wait!” She held up a trembling hand. “Unlike Judy and Suzanne, I never told anyone except for Harold what I was planning… certainly not any of the girls at the bank. And Harold wouldn’t have spread it around, would he?”

“Mrs. Knox,” I reminded her.

“Yes, of course! I’d forgotten! I did tell her, but she’s not looking for a husband. She’s got one already. Oh, she wouldn’t have said anything to anyone. It would have been so unkind! But if she did… and we call the person she told Contestant Number Four… then Four would have told Five and Five would have told Six.”

“That’s my assumption, Livonia,” I was saying, and getting a look from Thumper that declared whatever I thought was bound to be right, when the front door creaked mightily before groaning inward, bringing the not unwelcome sight of Dr. Rowley. The tablets he had given me had certainly put paid to my headache and allowed me to get a few hours of sleep.

“Hello.” I smiled while heading toward him with Thumper displaying a welcome in his springing steps and Livonia half hiding behind me. “I hoped I would have the chance to tell you that I am completely recovered.”

“What great news!” He beamed his schoolboy smile on me. “Nothing could be nicer to hear after last night’s tragedy.” The radiant cheer vanished and his voice sank in sorrow. “I have just been down in the ravine laying a bunch of flowers from my garden at the place where it happened. So young a life cut short. I was in shock afterwards and it wasn’t until I woke this morning that the full awfulness hit me! For the first time in years, I felt an overwhelming need for my old cat Blackie. Nothing like sitting with a cat on one’s lap to make the world seem a better, kinder place.” He reached into the pocket of the tweed jacket that fitted snuggly around his tummy and drew out a handkerchief, which he scrunched into a ball and rolled around in his hands. I pictured him doing the same as a stout, round-faced schoolboy endeavoring to appear manly when battling the urge to tear up.

I was wondering what I could say to him when I felt Livonia shift around me and heard her say with markedly less alarm than when she had made the assumption with Mr. Plunket, Boris, and Georges: “Lord Belfrey?”

“His cousin, Dr. Rowley,” I explained.

“Oh, I see!” She continued moving forward until well out in front of me.

Tommy stepped sideways, stumbling to a halt when fully face-to-face with her.

“I’m Livonia Mayberry.”

Why hadn’t I noticed what a sweet voice she had? I waited for her to add that she was one of the contestants, but naturally she would assume he had already guessed.

“Tommy Rowley. I live in the village.”

“Do you really?”

“Just a walk away.”

“So close!”

“Mine isn’t a large house, but it suits my needs. Or would do completely,” Tommy returned the handkerchief with much fumbling to his jacket pocket, “if I could come home to someone… a cat… yes, a sweet-faced cat, waiting for me curled up in the armchair by the fireplace, with the lamplight shining on her glossy dark hair… I mean fur.”

“You mentioned Blackie.” Livonia cut down the distance between them by a couple of footsteps. “That sounds like a male sort of name to my ears, but then,” she was blushing rosily, “it’s so easy for me to be wrong about… everything really.”

“Not in this case, Miss Mayberry.” Tommy’s voice took on a deeper timbre, “Blackie was a boy until his little operation-which we both regretted but I thought necessary.”

“Perhaps next time a female would make a nice change.”