Raynor helped me onto the back seat of Benjie’s car, and covered me with a motoring blanket. “I cast your astrological chart for you, Mrs. Shackleton. It alerted me to the fact that today was not propitious. Also, you are advised not to take on any new ventures at present, or to make hasty investments.”

Well that was good to know.

Chapter 57

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Raynor drove me straight to the hospital where I was treated by the most gentle of doctors who assured me that I had been fortunate. I was fit, and had “fallen well”.

That might be thanks to listening to Harriet, and assisting when she practised her ju-jitsu. Some instinct must have taken over during that terrible tumble down the stone steps.

I did not feel that I had fallen well. My whole body ached. Bruises mapped my arms. My right elbow was swollen.

“You got away with a fractured wrist, Mrs. Shackleton.”

I had got away with my life, but did not say so.

“What happened?”

“I was pushed down cellar steps by two former friends.”

“I say, that’s a bit rich.” He glanced at the nurse, giving her a nod. “It’s the kind of thing we must report.”

For once, I did not have to go to the police. The police came to me, in the form of the silent CID chief inspector, Mr. Emsley. So much had happened since he sat with me and Dad two evenings ago that it felt like a lifetime.

Mr. Emsley took my statement. When I told him that Gertrude Brockman and Eliot Dell had admitted murdering Harry Aspinall and Helen Farrar, he paused in his writing. “Did anyone else witness this admission?”

“No. But the gentleman who brought me here, Mr. Raynor, he –” I had a terrible reluctance to say the words “rescued me”. Mr. Emsley kindly filled in my blank.

“He came to your assistance?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Mr. Raynor has given us a statement. Now are you able to sign yours?”

“Yes. I’m right-handed.”

Chief Inspector Emsley made no comment about my statement. He had the evidence of his eyes as to the treatment I had received at the hands of Gertrude and Eliot. What I described as an attempt on my life, they would brush off as the ramblings of a woman who found her way into an empty house.

He watched me sign. “Now can I take you anywhere, Mrs. Shackleton? Mr. Sykes is waiting along the corridor and Mr. Raynor is still here, but if you wish me to take you somewhere, or to telephone –”

“Thank you. I’ll speak to Mr. Raynor, and Mr. Sykes will take me home.”

Sykes had been full of annoyance with himself for chasing off after Eliot Dell’s car, and then losing it. He was only too eager to make amends.

*   *   *