Murder At Midnight

to my chest of drawers and … I…”she suddenlyclamped her hand over her mouth.
“What is it?” Iasked.
Shelooked frightened. “I don’t think that I should tell you any ofthis, Mr. Simpson. I think I should go now.” She stood up andadjusted her skirt.
Ireached out and held her left hand. She seemed so confused andscared.
“You canconfide in me, Maria.” I stood up. She looked at me with thosebewitching eyes. We stood in close proximity and maybe that waswhat made touching her, a bad idea. A pulsating stream of electricity ran through me aswe held hands. I think she felt it too. I could not tell if I drewher into my arms, orif she walked into them. We were suddenly in each other’sarms,and in her eyes Igleaned a need to be comforted. I didn’t know what was troublingher but it had her completely unsettled. I yielded to a suddenimpulse. I lowered my head and kissed her waiting lips. Her lipsparted, asmine met them.
It appeared she hadanticipated, almost like she expected that move. She melted softlyinto my arms and crushed herself against my chest. Shenestled into me like she had found a place of rest and comfort after anemotional upheaval. It was an exhilarating experience. The kiss wasbrief, but it felt like a taste of paradise.
She abruptly drewaway,with a little gasp.Flustered and avoiding eye contact, her fingers touched herlips.
“Well, if you change your mindand want to talk it over with me, I am always around,” I saidself-consciously. She nodded her pretty head, opened the door andwas gone.
I was quite puzzled. What wasshe hiding? Why did she use Ayuba and Amina in her hypotheticalstory? It was clear to me that she knew something, which she was refusing to tell. Or wasshe afraid to tell it? I hoped she would not make the wrongdecision and get herself into trouble.
Sometimes, we believe we are unable to come to a decisionwhen actually it is doing what we know deep down to be the rightthing, that is the difficulty. I was certain that Maria knew theright thing to do, but emotions rather than reason, were guidingher.
Later that evening, as I sat inmy room determined to finish reading the novel I had been carryingaround for some days, I noticed an increased frequency in the foot traffic along the corridor. My eyes,just as frequently, went to the wall clock, which would later assist me in keeping a methodical sequence ofevents.
At about 10:00pm, I heard very lightbutsharp footsteps –like those of a lady wearing high heels. The footsteps stopped andthere was a light knock on one of the doors. The door opened, theowner of the footsteps walked in and the door was shut. This wasfollowed by two other doors opening in quick succession. After ashort interval, both doors were shut almost simultaneously. One ofthe doors was that of Nagoth.
The next time that a dooropened, I looked at the clock; it was twenty minutes before11:00pm. The light footsteps clicked their way out, the door slammed shut,and Iheard the sound offootsteps hurrying away.
I openedmy door to see who it was, just at the same time as Nagoth openedhis. We stared at each other without a word, then both looked downthe corridor. I caught a fleeting glance of a red dress, justbefore it disappeared around the corner. The head of the personseemed to have been covered with a yellow shawl. Could it have beenMaria? I was not sure. But who else? Amina only came around in themorning, to clean up. Mrs. Marshall walked withcrutches.
Nagothcame out of his room and locked his door, before going after theperson. I went back into my room and shut my door. Some minuteslater, I heard Nagoth come back and enter his room.
At exactly11:00pm, another door opened. I heard footsteps and whistlingof a popular tune, as the owner walked down the corridor and confirmed hisidentity.
Some minutes later, Philipreturned. Although he was no longer whistling, I knew his jauntysteps.
It was about1:00am, when someone came up the stairs and down thecorridor. A door opened and shut. Those were the last steps I heard before fallingasleep, with my novel still unfinished.

CHAPTERFIVE
DEATH IN THE LODGE
The next morning, Maria was not present forbreakfast.
“Has anyone seen Maria?” askedher mother.
“Her door is still locked,” saidAmina, as she served the food.
“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall,as she struggled to her feet. “Why isn’t she up? That’s unusual ofher.” She left the dining room and returned, lookingworried.
“Please,comewithme, Mr.Simpson,” she said to me.
I leftmy place at the table and walked with her to Maria’sroom.
“Something is wrong,” said Mrs.Marshall, her eyes wider than usual. “Her door is locked frominside, but she isn't responding to my knock.”
“Perhaps, she is outside?” I asked.
“No,” said Mrs. Marshal. “Ipeeped through the keyhole and I could see her legs on the bed.” Irestrained myself from telling Mrs. Marshall that it was wrong topeep into somebody’s room.
“Then, she must be sleeping,” Isuggested.
“What kind ofsleep can that be?” asked Mrs. Marshall, and she hit the door several timeswith oneof hercrutches. There was no response. I becamealarmed, myself.
“Break down the door!” orderedMrs. Marshall.
“Is anythingthe matter?” asked Ayuba, as he came over. His face was partiallycovered by a huge plaster but rather than look concerning,itlookedcomical.However, Iwondered what hadhappened to him.
“Yes, something seems to bewrong with Maria,” I sad. “She refuses to open her door. Have you aspare key to the room?” I asked.
Breakingdown the door seemed so drastic.
“Yes, of course now,” saidAyuba. “Let me get it now.” And he hurried away.
All kinds of thought racedthrough my mind, as we waited for Ayuba for what seemed like aneternity.Worry lines had appeared on Mrs. Marshall's brow.
“I can’t find it!” Ayuba saidwith a tremor in his voice. “It’s missing … it's not where I keptit.”
“Break down the door, Mr.Simpson!” ordered Mrs. Marshall.
I looked at Ayuba, who shruggedhis shoulders. So, I put my shoulder to the door. The door wasquite good, but my shoulder was better. The door flew off thehinges