* * *
Gertrude stepped vigorously up the driveway to the front door. Before she could knock, the butler swung the door open. Handing her the mail, he said, “Your nephew, Darren, arrived, Miss St. Martin. He’s up in his room. And your lawyers, Mr. Tisdale and young Mr. Tisdale, are here, too. I gave them rooms in the north suite, as you requested.”
“Thank you, Chester.”
“Their luggage has been delivered to their rooms. The maids are unpacking it now. If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll see to parking their cars.”
“Fine.” Distracted, she waved him away and headed toward the stairs as she sorted through the mail. When she came to a familiar, plain white envelope, her heart stopped. She dropped the rest of the mail in her eagerness to open it. Envelopes and cards floated down, fluttering about her feet like dry leaves.
With trembling fingers she pulled the folded note from its envelope and read the carefully pasted words.
Your past has come back to haunt you. Some of your party guests may turn out to be much more than they appear. I think it’s time for us to discuss a fee for my silence. Watch for my next note. It will be most important.
“Oh, no.”
The words on the page blurred. The old woman felt a buzzing in her ears as if from a great swarm of bees. The letter fell from her hands. The stairs in front of her seemed to waver, then fall away from her. She crumpled to the floor.