Moving Target (21 page)

Without the seat belt tight around her, Ali could breathe again, but she was shaking all over. Gratefully, she allowed herself to be led to an idling Volvo, parked on the shoulder with its emergency lights flashing.

“I saw the whole thing,” the man said, opening the back door and helping her inside. He was mid-thirties, maybe. Dressed in jeans, hiking boots, a ski parka, and a pair of leather driving gloves, he, at least, was properly dressed for the weather. “Lie down here, rest for a moment, and stay warm,” he said. “There’s a blanket on the floor.”

Ali looked down. The blanket was old and ragged and smelled of dog, but her teeth were chattering with a combination of fright and cold, and she was grateful when he spread it out over her.

“That guy was coming straight at you in the wrong lane,” he said. “It’s a wonder he didn’t hit you head-on.”

“I know,” Ali agreed. She was still shaken by what might have been a very serious accident. “Did you see what kind of car it was?”

The man shook his head. “Something dark and fast. Never had a chance to see the license. I was too worried about you.”

“Speaking of license,” Ali said, automatically reaching for her purse, “I’m going to need my own. It’s back in the Land Rover somewhere.”

“You stay put and stay warm,” the man told her. “I’ll go find your purse.”

“And my phone, too, please,” Ali said. “It was loose on the seat. And see if you can find the rental papers,” she added. “They were in the glove box.”

While the man trudged away, Ali lay on the bench seat and shivered. She felt bruised and battered. Her collarbone hurt where the seat belt had grabbed her, but nothing seemed to be broken, which meant she was very lucky. By the time the man came back with her goods, Ali could hear the distant sound of approaching emergency vehicles.

Her iPhone was the last item he handed to her. “It took a while to find the phone,” he said. “It had fallen out into the snow. It got wet, but I hope it’s all right.”

Ali tapped the button to switch it on. To her immense relief, the device lit right up. She wanted to call B. and let him know what had happened and that she was all right, but if he was dealing with some kind of major Internet crisis, he didn’t need to hear that she’d been involved in a minor motor vehicle accident. The question of calling him was suddenly rendered moot by the arrival of emergency vehicles with pulsing red lights. A uniformed patrol officer opened the Volvo’s door and then stood there, shining the beam of a flashlight in her eyes. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Not really,” she answered. “Just a little shaken up is all. Shaken up but lucky.”

“Mind telling me what happened here, miss?”

“I was driving along when an approaching vehicle veered into my lane,” she explained. “When I tried to get out of his way, I overcorrected and crashed.”

“You were in that one, then?” he asked, nodding toward the wrecked Land Rover.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a rental. I picked it up in London when I flew in from the States.” Putting the phone away, Ali fumbled with the rental agreement as she spoke, but the cop seemed less than interested in it.

“This wrong-way driver—what kind of vehicle was he in?”

“I don’t know. It happened too fast, and it was snowing like crazy. All I saw was a pair of headlights coming straight at me.”

“How exactly did you come to be sitting in this one?” he asked, tapping the roof of the Volvo.

“The driver must have been right behind me when it happened. He saw the whole thing, but he didn’t see what kind of car almost hit me. He was the one who helped me out of the Land Rover, and he let me sit here while he went back to get my stuff for me.”

“Any idea where this Good Samaritan is at the moment?” the cop asked. He peered around at the snowy landscape before finally accepting Ali’s proffered paperwork.

“He was right here a minute ago,” she answered. “The last thing he did was hand me my phone. He must be here somewhere.”

“You have no idea who he is?”

“No, none at all. I never saw him before. He was right behind me when it happened, and he stopped to help.”

“Strange,” the cop said.

“What do you mean ‘strange’?” Ali asked. “Isn’t that what most people would do—stop to help?”

“Most people,” the cop said. “But not most car thieves.”

“What do you mean?”

“This Volvo was reported stolen from a car park in Oxford earlier this afternoon.”

An EMT appeared behind the officer. “Sorry it took so long,” she said. “The roads are a nightmare tonight.”

The officer ceded his place beside the car, and the medic took over. In a matter of minutes the medic pronounced Ali fit. What followed were
three hours of dealing with official matters, including filling out and signing countless forms, then contacting the rental company to get the right towing company to collect the wreckage. She still hadn’t managed to place a call to B. Instead, when she called the hotel to let Leland know that she’d been delayed, he took it upon himself to notify B. The tow truck driver was dropping her off at the hotel when B., none too happy, called her. “You should have called me first,” he grumbled.

She laughed at that, which made her chest hurt. There were evidently more bruises than just the one on her collarbone.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re in Zurich dealing with the world’s Internet problems. What could you do about me being run off the road?”

“I could at least worry,” B. said. “Tell me what happened.”

She sat downstairs in the hotel lobby long enough to tell him.

“So the Volvo was stolen from Oxford where you were earlier, but they never found the Good Samaritan car thief?” B. asked when she’d finished.

“Never. He seemingly disappeared into thin air.”

“The cop is right,” B. said. “An ordinary car thief wouldn’t have stopped to help anyone.”

“Are you saying I was deliberately targeted?”

“Maybe,” B. replied.

“But why? By whom?”

“My guess is this has something to do with the Lance Tucker situation, unless your messing around in the cold case there in Bournemouth has raised someone’s hackles.”

“That’s not possible,” Ali said. “I’m looking into a murder that happened sixty-odd years ago. The two most likely suspects, Leland’s brothers, are both dead.”

“Are you still on the good side of that lady detective in Bournemouth?” B. asked.

“As far as I know,” Ali said. “And I hit it off with Marjorie’s childhood friend, Kate Benchley, in a big way. Why?”

“Get back to her and see what she can tell you about this stolen Volvo: where it was stolen and when.”

“All right,” Ali said. “I’ll get in touch with her first thing in the morning.”

She looked up in time to see Leland Brooks step out of the elevator. He was wearing a coat, scarf, and gloves and looked ready to brave the weather.

“There you are,” he said. “I was about to hire a taxi and come looking for you.”

“Is that Leland?” B. asked.

“Yes, and he looks like he’s ready to do battle for me again.”

“Great,” B. said. “Have him take you into the bar and buy you a hot toddy. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes, sir,” Ali said, laughing again and enjoying the fact that her phone conversation with B., which dealt with serious issues, had begun and ended with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Leland wanted to know.

She ended the call and then stood up to hug Leland. “The men in my life,” she said. “They’re all busy looking after me. B. thinks you should take me into the bar and order me a stiff drink.”

“I’ll be happy to do so,” Leland said with a dignified bow, “but it might be helpful, madam, if you’d consider living in a fashion that doesn’t require quite so much looking after.”

O
nce inside the wood-paneled bar, they settled on a corner table. Leland ordered a Guinness while Ali had a Scotch on the rocks. She had yet to learn to drink her Scotch neat and doubted she ever would.

She had to repeat the story for Leland’s benefit. He listened to every word with concern lining his face.

“Luckily, I signed on for all the insurance options. That means Hertz is arranging for another car from the local branch to be delivered to the hotel in the morning. Unfortunately, they don’t have a Land Rover available. Not that having four-wheel drive did me any good when that guy ran me off the road.”

“You’re sure it was a guy?” Leland asked.

Ali shrugged. “Sorry,” she said. “I just assumed it was a guy. Probably someone who’d had one too many and was trying to get home from the pub. B. is under the impression that it may turn out to be some kind of deliberate attack, but since he spends all his time battling conspiracies of one kind or another, he may be jumping to conclusions.”

Leland observed with a frown, “But the guy who tried to run you off the road was coming from the other direction.”

“And the one who helped me was driving a stolen vehicle. He had left the scene without a trace by the time the cops got there.”

“It was snowing,” Leland said. “Wouldn’t he have left footprints if nothing else?”

“There were first responders there along with the tow truck driver. I’m sure there were plenty of footprints, so maybe they couldn’t sort out his. Or else he called someone to pick him up, and in all the confusion, no one noticed. I told B. that I’ll check with Inspector Elkins tomorrow and see if she can tell us anything about the stolen Volvo.”

Nodding, as if that settled the subject, Leland leaned back in his chair. “What did you learn about the DNA testing?” he asked. It was typical of Leland that he would wait to address his own concerns until after he had ascertained that Ali was all right.

“Kate Benchley handed our samples over to her best technician,” Ali said. “They’re so degraded that there’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to develop a profile.”

“How long before we hear?”

“I wasn’t given a timetable, but Donna, the technician, said she’d get right on it.”

An elderly gentleman, leaning on a cane, appeared in the doorway of the bar. For a moment, he stood peering around the room. Ali noticed that once his eyes settled on their corner table, he squared his shoulders and came purposefully in their direction. Before Ali had a chance to connect the dots in her head, or give Leland a word of warning, the man was standing beside them.

“Good evening,” he said to Leland. “I believe the applicable American phrase is ‘long time no see.’ ” He turned to Ali. “How do you do. My name is Thomas Blackfield. Lee and I were friends once a long time ago. Do you mind if I join you?”

Struggling to master her surprise, Ali did her best to be gracious. “Please do,” she said.

With a combination of consternation and astonishment on his face,
Leland rose to his feet. Thomas held out his hand. Leland hesitated before he returned the gesture and the two men shook.

“Please sit,” Thomas said. “We’re too old to be jumping up and down like a pair of broken jack-in-the-boxes.”

Once they had taken their seats, Thomas turned to Ali. “I presume you would be the lovely Ms. Reynolds whom Daisy Phipps told me about?”

“I’m not sure what my cousin may have told you, but Ms. Reynolds is my employer,” Leland said shortly. There was nothing at all welcoming in his demeanor.

The barmaid showed up. Thomas ordered a glass of chardonnay before he spoke again. “Daisy called and reported that you were in town,” he said. “I hoped you would call me, but since you didn’t, I decided to take the bull by the horns, as it were, and here I am. How long has it been?”

“Almost sixty years,” Leland said. His voice was tight.

“Did you ever marry?” Thomas asked. “Daisy implied that you had.”

“My marital history is none of Daisy Phipps’s business,” Leland said, “and it’s none of yours, either, but no, I did not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go up to my room.”

With that, Leland stood and left the room. Thomas watched him go, shaking his head. “I had hoped that after all this time, we’d be able to put the past behind us and be friends,” he said regretfully. “Lee wrote to me after he left town, you know, but I returned his letters unopened. I’m very sorry about that now. I tried writing back to him much later, but my letters came back unopened as well, and I couldn’t very well go to his family asking for information.”

“He’s not exactly himself at the moment,” Ali said. “He’s had a few shocks to the system since we’ve been here.”

“What kind of shocks?” Thomas asked.

You for one, Ali thought. On the one hand she didn’t want to betray any of Leland’s confidences. On the other hand, Thomas, Maisie, and
Daisy were the only people still standing who had been around at the time of Jonah Brooks’s death. Since Leland had charged Ali with getting to the bottom of it, this might be her only chance to ask questions.

“Leland knew that his father had died,” Ali said, “but until this week, no one had ever specified that he was murdered.”

“What did they tell him?”

“That Jonah Brooks was dead, that Leland had been disowned, and that his mother wanted nothing to do with him ever again.”

“I suppose Langston told him all that?” Thomas asked.

Ali nodded, “And Leland took Langston at his word.”