Page 93 of Lies in Little Sutherland
He nodded.“And what did you discover?”
“Someone else doing the same thing.Or doing something else.I have no idea.I stepped inside and turned on my torch, and he—or she—threw the bicycle pump at me.And then he threw a blanket on top of me before he ran away.”
Crispin’s lips twitched.
“It’s not funny,” I said defensively.“I think my arm is broken.”
It wasn’t, of course.I would likely have a nasty bruise tomorrow, but I felt none of the greasy nausea that I associated with broken bones, so I was likely good in that respect.
But of course Crispin didn’t know that, so he gave it a concerned look.“Would you like me to help you splint it?There’s no doctor in the village anymore, that I can take you to see.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said.“I’ll let Francis take a look tomorrow.Or Tom.Someone with some experience.Perhaps it’s only bruised.”
“And who was it who threw the pump at you?”
“No idea,” I said cheerfully.“He knocked the torch out of my hand first, so I couldn’t see much, and then he threw the blanket on top of me so I could see even less.Clearly he knew I would recognize him, if I got a good look.”
Crispin hummed, and I added, “It could have been you, for all I know.Your story is highly suspicious, you know.It’s very late, and I was quiet leaving the house.You oughtn’t to have noticed me come outside.”
He rolled his eyes.“I’m not sure what to tell you, Darling.”
“The truth would be nice.”
“That is the truth.”
Fine.“Did you see anyone when you came in this direction, then?Whoever it was ran out of here just a minute or two before you showed up?You must have seen him.”
To be honest, I didn’t know whether that was true or not.If Crispin had gone out through the front door, or the boot room door, the person who had been here, might have had time to cross the lawn and the terrasse before Crispin came around the corner.
“I’m afraid I didn’t,” Crispin said, and I couldn’t tell whether he was telling the truth or not.He might have seen someone, or he might not.He might have been here himself, maiming me, or he might not.“Just out of curiosity, does one of the motorcars leak?”
“Funny you should ask.Yours does.”
He got a strange look on his face.“Mine?”
“The Hispano-Suiza.Feel free to take a look.”
I handed him the broken torch.He hesitated a second before he took it.“Wait here.”
I had no intention of going anywhere, and told him so.He ducked inside the carriage house and left me standing outside the door.I put my back against the wall and peered up at the Hall while I waited.It was still silent and dark.Whoever had been out here, clearly hadn’t been stupid enough to turn on any lights when he or she got back inside.
Or had it been Crispin?
I didn’t like to think so, obviously.But the fact that he had shown up here, fully dressed, a few minutes after my attacker had absconded, was suggestive, to say the least.He might have wanted to check out the oil slick situation for himself, and I had caught him at it.And now he was inside the garage, looking at something he had already looked at, so I wouldn’t think he’d already been inside.
Although there had been no need for all that.When I introduced myself earlier, he could have simply stood up and told me what he was doing—the same thing I was—and I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.Why maim me and run away to avoid being recognized, only to come back as himself five minutes later?
Or perhaps he really had been drinking alone in his room when I came out through the boot room door, and he had decided to follow me.We all had a lot on our minds lately, and Crispin had more than most.
If he had done, and had decided to follow me, he ought to have seen my attacker, however.
And if he had done, but wouldn’t admit it, perhaps it was someone he wanted to protect, like Laetitia.Her room had been silent earlier, so it was at least possible that she was the one out of bed.
There were all the other Astleys, too, but I wasn’t any more likely than Crispin was to want to get Christopher or Francis in trouble, and as for the Marsdens, it was nigh on impossible to imagine either Lady Euphemia or Lord Maury creeping out of bed and down the drive under cover of darkness.Why would they?
Beside me, the door squealed again, and broke my train of thought.Crispin came through, his face grim.
“Well?”I said when he didn’t speak.
