No
body. No hooded figure. No nothing. How horribly disappointing,
thought Bertha.
“Shall we return to the fire?” Augustin said as he
took her arm. She could imagine him smiling as he spoke, thinking
her a silly imagination prone person.
“Perhaps a little sherry?” Augustin said as he hung
up his coat.
“That would be very sweet,” Bertha answered, trying
to get her disappointment under control.
The sherry was a Golden Cypress and was medium sweet yet, Bertha
thought, a mite bitter. How fortunate and yet strange that Augustin
had her favorite liquor on hand.
“Don’t think me hallucinatory,” she said, trying
not to tremble.
“I do not, dear lady. I know that you saw someone there
in the alley.”
“You do?” Bertha asked as she sipped more of her sherry.
“Oh, yes. You see, that person is in my employ. He was
in the process of securing some of the items you require for your
annual dinner.”
Bertha’s face must have fallen, for Augustin jumped up from
his chair and came to her side. He picked up one of her hands
and stroking it softly, he said, “I really wanted you with
me outside. I could see that you were experiencing a modicum of
excitement with respect to the gutting. I had hoped that my associate
had not finished by the time we got there, but alas, he wastes
no time. I did so want you to have one last thrill.”
Bertha’s mind was suddenly racing with fear.
“One last thrill?”
His grip on her hand tightened, sending a stabbing sensation of
pain up her arm, and a strange dazed feeling began to engulf her.
“Relax, dear lady.” Augustin stroked her arm with
his huge hairy hands. “The sherry will make things easier
for you.”
The terror that deluged Bertha was overpowering. She began to
feel numb all over. The light from the dancing flames in the fireplace
mixed with the darkness in the corners of the room and produced
shadows that seemed to be whirling
slowly toward her. Shadows with knives?
“Oh, no.”
Augustine patted her hand and in a bedside manner a doctor would
covet, he said softly, “You realize now, of course, that
your name was the last item on the list of things Mrs. Crane needed
for the dinner.”
Then from the hallway, a familiar voice came to her ears in what
Bertha sadly knew to be the last time she would ever hear it.
“Dear, sweet Bertha,” said Aggie Crane softly. “You
have always been so very willing to give your all for us. We all
agreed that you were to be our very special guest for the annual
dinner. Literally, of course. We’ll always love you, darling.
And we shall indeed miss you.”
**************
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