been set up. He stalked around the back of the house and scanned the garden, and surrounding outbuildings as he went. He was so busy studying the low stable block at the end of the driveway that he nearly didn’t see the man suddenly step out from behind the large chestnut tree in the middle of the garden and race toward him with his gun drawn.
Ben barely had time to brace himself before the man reached him. Somehow, he knew instinctively that this was Bernard Murray.
“Give me the plant,” the smaller man demanded.
“I don’t have the damned thing,” Ben growled. He deliberately ignored the wicked looking gun Murray pointed straight at his head, and bitterly cursed his own stupidity. He hadn’t stopped to think about the truth of the claims that his house had been on fire, and had barely given Beatrice a second glance before he had simply abandoned her; and left her vulnerable and alone.
Time was against him. He knew that with each passing moment he was away from Beatrice, the risk to her safety increased. It was difficult to concentrate on how best to get rid of Murray while the woman who mattered to him more than anyone else in the world was in such peril. However, he knew that if he did something foolish and reckless, and got hurt in the process, he was going to be absolutely no use to her whatsoever. He had to stay calm. He had to remain logical. He had to put all of his love for her to one side and focus on staying alive.
“I know you are lying,” Murray challenged as he waved the gun toward the house. “I have had a good look inside, see? I know it is in there. Get the door open. I want what is mine.”
“But it isn’t yours,” Ben replied conversationally and deliberately made no attempt to do as he was told. “I know you are lying because the plant isn’t in that house. I brought it here, but I killed it. The damned thing stinks to high heaven and I didn’t want it making my whole house smell, so threw it into the fire.”
For a moment he thought he saw fear in Murray’s eyes, and had to wonder what Browning had over him to make him so fearful of losing the damned foliage.
“I know that Browning is your employer,” he knew from the slight widening of Murray’s eyes that he had hit on the truth, and shook his head in disgust. “Unless you want to be accomplice to murder, I suggest that you get the hell out of here. Browning lied to you about me having that plant. He set you up on a wild goose chase too. I have no doubt that he is over at Miss Northolt’s house as we speak, trying to kill her. Unfortunately for you, you are in the area too, and have undoubtedly been seen by one of my neighbours. Browning is trying to pin the murders he has committed onto you.”
“Browning? I don’t know a Browning.” The lie was written in the depths of Murray’s eyes, and was betrayed further by the rather panicked way his gaze flicked randomly around the garden.
Ben rather suspected that the amateur botanist was not used to a life of crime because the gun in his hand either pointed at the sky, or the ground, but was rarely pointed straight at Ben. Unfortunately for Murray, Ben was determined that he was going to get back to Beatrice as quickly as possible and had no qualms about doing what was necessary to get Murray out of the way.
He sidled further along the garden until he reached the low wall that separated the lawn from the vegetable garden. Once there, he leaned casually against it. Although his heart was racing, he glared defiantly at Murray and didn’t move.
“I know that Browning has something on you that is forcing you to do this but, if you stop and think about it for a moment, are you really prepared to spend your life behind bars for him? Browning set you up, you see? The plant isn’t here. He has sent you on a wild goose chase. You will, however, be implicated in the murder of Beatrice Northolt, if you delay me from getting back there.” It was a random guess at what was actually going on, but he was positive that he was right.
“I am not going to be implicated in anything,” Murray snapped defiantly.
“You must be the killer then,” Ben replied, and silently prayed that he wasn’t.
Murray started to look doubtful, but then straightened his shoulders and glared back at Ben with such hatred in his eyes that Ben wondered if Murray was indeed the killer.
Determined not to be delayed a moment longer, Ben suddenly sidestepped and lifted a large rock off the top of the wall, which he hurled at the man before him. The movement was so swift that Murray barely had time to do anything other than pull the trigger. The loud retort of the gun spooked a flock of birds which flew out of the trees in a flurry of feathers and startled squawks, but Ben didn’t care about anything other than getting Murray out of the way so that he could get back to Beatrice.
The fist he threw at Murray’s face landed with such force that the man’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he immediately slumped onto the floor without a murmur. Ben kicked the gun out of the way and covered it over with a couple of rocks before he raced toward the woods for the second time that morning.
Beatrice fought against the hard hands that drew her backward. At first, she clung on to the door jamb and refused to let go. Size for size she was about the same as the man behind her. However, she was no match for his maniacal strength. When he suddenly lunged backward, her fingers clawed desperately at the wood, but she was eventually forced to let go.
Her scream was loud in the silence of the house but she knew that Maud wasn’t able to hear her. Tears streamed down her face. She wondered if this was it; this was the moment that she was going to die. She wished she had at least one chance to tell Ben how she truly felt about him.
“Let me go!” She screamed, and took a breath to scream again only for a large hand to slam cruelly over her mouth. It pressed so tightly against her lips that she could barely breathe. She tasted blood and began to claw desperately at the fingers. The painful jab of something against her side made her cry out, but she couldn’t twist her head, she couldn’t move enough to speak or breathe.
In a desperate attempt to do something to gain some air, she kicked her legs out wildly before her and began to squirm as she fought for breath. Stars began to dance behind her eyes and her stomach churned sickeningly. If she vomited now, she was certainly going to choke and, although she swallowed, she couldn’t draw in the air she was starved of.
With the last of her energies, she kicked back against the man and threw herself forward. Luckily, it was enough to dislodge the cruel hand from her mouth and she drew in several lungs full of air as she fell into a heap on the floor. The world swam alarmingly and she couldn’t get her thoughts together to focus on what to do.
“Where is it?” The man growled next to her ear. She glared over her shoulder into the once friendly eyes of the man she now knew was Richard Browning. To her consternation, he was several years younger than he had pretended to be, although must still be in his late sixties.
“I don’t have it. It was removed by the police,” she gasped. Right at that moment she hated him so much that she could have clawed his eyes out, but she was so scared that she could barely move. It was ridiculous really because right now she was in the middle of a fight for her life.
“I know it is still here. It was seen in the study,” he growled in a voice that was several notches deeper than it had been the other day.
“Go and see for yourself if you don’t believe me,” she spat defiantly and dropped her head to be able to draw in several more deep breaths.
Her scream was loud when her head was suddenly yanked back by the hair. She clutched at the ruthless fingers that drew her head backward in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. There was no choice but to scramble and crawl along as he dragged her by her hair toward the study.
He shoved her into the room before him and glanced around once they were inside. His curse was loud and she knew that he was going to reach out to her again, however this time she was determined that he wouldn’t touch her. She scrambled over the piles of papers and books, and threw a handful toward his head. They smacked him in the face and fluttered around him.
“You cannot get away from me, so I don’t know where you think you are going,” Browning snarled.