Chapter Twenty-one #2
Charlie rubbed his palms against the arms of his chair. “I don’t like the sound of that. What can I tell you?”
This time I glanced at George before I spoke, and caught his eye. He started in surprise and tapped his chest. “Oh, shall I ask him?”
I folded my hands demurely in my lap.
At my nod, George turned to Charlie. “I understand you invited Dr. Penhollow to your home the morning he died.”
Charlie bobbed his head. “I did. I suppose you know Dr. Penhollow was treating my mum for some lung affliction when she died—which I keep hearing was a coincidence.” He emphasized the last phrase, which made Nancy lift her gaze upward and shake her head.
“Fine, fine.” Charlie made a placating gesture. “My dad and my sister say the doctor didn’t kill my mum. He just didn’t save her. I wasn’t so sure about that at the time, but they were right there with her through all of it. I have to believe them.”
His elbows rested on the arms of the chair, and he leaned his forehead against his fist for a moment, perhaps struggling for composure.
When he was ready, he turned back to George.
“My dad has been after me for the past couple of months to tell the doctor I had no hard feelings. And it’s been long enough that I reckon that’s true.
After the play a few nights ago, Nance and I went backstage to fuss over her nephew.
I saw Penhollow in the hallway, and I started to tell him, but it was too loud and busy there for making amends, so I asked him to drop by the house the next time he was in the village.
He told me that would be the next day. He said he’d stop in at nine.
“Nancy came home after the play,” he continued.
“I went to the pub for a pint. I was surprised when Penhollow showed up, but when he bought me another pint, I asked him to sit. That’s when I told him I realized he didn’t kill my mum, and apologized for calling him a murderer.
He talked about how hard it is to be a doctor and not be able to save a patient.
” Charlie sighed. “I felt like I owed him a listen, especially since he bought another pint, but after a time, I’d had enough.
I may have given up my grudge, but I still didn’t like the man. ”
“Yes, that was clear to a witness who saw you shake off his hand as you left together,” I said.
His eyes widened. “A witness? There was nothing to it. I’d had a few pints, and the man tried to steady me as we took the steps to the street.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want his help, but he walked with me to my house. I went in, and he walked up the hill to the church.”
“He never showed up the following morning?” George asked.
“There was no reason for it. Besides, the police constable came by here about eight o’clock, asking if I could lend a hand clearing the roads, and I left with him.” He opened his hands. “That’s all I know.”
I believed him. If he knew anything about his mother and Dr. Penhollow, I doubt he’d be willing to forgive the doctor.
Nor did I think he was that good of an actor.
On the other hand, Nancy looked as if she agonized over every word her husband uttered.
I couldn’t tell if she knew about the affair, but she knew something. She was holding back.
Charlie blew out a sigh and glanced at Nancy. “Could we have some tea, love?”
“Of course.” She headed to the kitchen.
“Perhaps I can help her,” I said and followed her down the hallway into the bright room.
Chintz curtains framed the window over a row of cabinets.
A basin, and a hob stood next to them. I was a few steps behind Nancy and found her fighting back tears as she stood beside the table in the center of the room.
She gave me a brave smile. “Please don’t trouble yourself. I can manage.”
“That you can manage the tea I have no doubt,” I said, “but something else is clearly troubling you.”
She turned around, poured water into the kettle, and placed it on the hob. Though her back was to me, I could see she was still struggling for composure.
“I believe what Charlie said was the truth,” I said, feeling my way along. “But I think there is something you know that maybe Charlie doesn’t. Something about Dr. Penhollow and his mother?”
Nancy jerked her head around, her eyes wide with shock. She stared at me until it occurred to her how I might have come by that information. Dropping a hand to her hip, she raised a questioning brow. “Dotty Digby?”
I nodded. “Did you know your mother-in-law confided in her?”
“I didn’t, but since you know about her and Penhollow, she must have.
I certainly didn’t tell you, and Martha is dead, so the only other person it could be is Dotty.
” She frowned. “I never thought Martha would share that with anyone, but I suppose they were best friends, after all. She needed to tell someone.”
“Are you saying Martha didn’t confide in you? How did you find out if she didn’t tell you?”
“Well, I walked in on them, didn’t I?” She held up a hand when she saw my look of horror.
“Not like that. I went to her house to bring some dinner for the family. No one was home but the two of them, and they didn’t hear me come in through the kitchen.
When I stuck my head through the doorway to the sitting room, they were side by side on the sofa.
He caressing her face. She telling him how she loved him. ”
That was almost worse than the original scene I assumed she’d walked in on. “Did they see you?”
“They were in another world,” she said with a note of resignation.
Holding up a finger, she moved to the doorway and took a peek down the hallway, likely to assure herself that we were alone, then returned to the hob.
“I put the pot on the table and left the same way I came in. But the next time I saw her, I asked what she thought she was doing. She told me she loved him and she knew she was dying, so why shouldn’t she spend a few stolen minutes with him when she had the chance? ”
I wrinkled my nose, then felt ashamed of myself. Just because I found Dr. Penhollow objectionable didn’t mean everyone else had to feel the same—even though most of them did. “Do you know if he returned her feelings?”
“Well, I didn’t then, did I?” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the sink.
“The next day, I marched over to his house. Told his wife I was sick so he’d see me, but once we were alone in his office, I gave him a piece of my mind.
” She snuck a look at the kettle to gauge its progress, then faced me again. “He cried,” she whispered.
“He cried?”
“Threw me right off my rant. He told me she didn’t have long. He’d already stopped treating her, but if they told everyone she was still taking the medicine, it gave him an excuse to go over to check on her every day. He told me he loved her.” Nancy lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I believed him.”
And I believed Nancy. “Are you certain Charlie or his father never knew about this?”
“Positive. Charlie’s dad was grateful to Dr. Penhollow for giving Martha hope even to the end.”
“And Charlie?”
“If Charlie knew, he wouldn’t have invited the man over to make amends, now would he?”
Probably not, even at the urging of his father.
“And that’s what is so sad,” Nancy continued. “Dr. Penhollow really tried to save Charlie’s mum. He loved her, but I daren’t risk telling Charlie that.”
“Perhaps sometime in the future,” I said, thinking I was now down one suspect.
If it wasn’t one of the Rallisons, that left only Dr. Penhollow’s wife or perhaps Beatrice, and I still couldn’t fathom how either of them could have managed it.
“Do you know if Ada Penhollow was aware that her husband was in love with Martha?”
Nancy looked skeptical. “Martha would never have told her. The only way Ada could have known was if Dr. Penhollow told her himself.”
Which might possibly have made her want to kill him.