Wading Into Murder (11 page)

“How about Claudine?” she asked. “Which one is she?”

“Oh, she’s a tiger,” William answered without hesitation. “Not the one who does the killing, though. She watches and waits, and she does her damndest to get her share. She’s good at it, too.” 

Laura shook her head in admiration. William had a lot to teach her. “Who are the dominant wolves?” she asked, aware that she would really like an answer.

“My grandmother is the dominant female, definitely, and I think…” William hesitated but then seemed to make up his mind. “Actually, I don’t think we have a dominant male right now. He might turn up, though,” he added mischievously.

“What do you mean by that?” Laura asked, intrigued.

“I’ll explain later,” William promised as Alan stopped them to give instructions.

“This way to the Manor House, that way to the maze,” Alan said, pointing. “We’ll meet at the bus again at about five-thirty.”

“I said I’d find my grandmother at the house,” William told her. “Join us if you want.” Laura was about to go with him when she saw Violet heading for the maze and decided to follow her instead. Surely there was a private spot somewhere among all those hedges where they could talk.

William was already loping away. “I’ll give the maze a try,” she called to him, and hurried after Violet. Her effort was useless. Violet had already vanished, and even if she turned up again, there were no private spots for talking. The hedges were over seven feet tall and two feet thick, which meant that anyone could lurk unseen on the other side, listening avidly.

Laura sneezed, an explosive sneeze that suggested she was allergic to every one of the 16,000 British yews the maze was reputed to contain. More sneezes followed, each more violent than the last. No one would have any trouble finding her, Laura reflected dispiritedly, even if she couldn’t find them.

Where was everyone, anyway? It was eerily silent in here. Maybe the shrubbery absorbed all the usual shrieks and giggles. Or maybe she was the only person who had been dumb enough to come into this ghastly place.

Violet had come in, she reminded herself, but who was Violet really?

Laura shivered convulsively. She had never liked confined places, and the maze was positively claustrophobic. Dense walls of greenery hemmed her in on all sides, even above her, curving high above her head like menacing giants. She couldn’t see over them, through them or even along them, so there was no way to tell where she was going. She couldn’t see anyway. The fog had come back and competed with occasional flashes of sun, making oddly shifting shadows that blinded her. Nothing she looked at was clear, nor did anything seem to stay where it was.

She’d better get out of here before a full-fledged attack of claustrophobia set in. But where was out? 

Just retrace your steps and go back to the entrance
, Laura lectured herself, but she was wrong about that, too. The entrance wasn’t where it should have been. She felt the first stirrings of panic. The maze went on for more than two miles, she remembered reading. She might never get out of something that long!

Taking a deep, calming breath, she dredged her memory for everything she had ever read or heard about mazes. All she could come up with was a long-ago friend’s remark that turning only to the left was supposed to work. She decided to try but found only repeated dead ends. Turning to the right didn’t work either. Laura plodded on, her steps dragging. Surely, if she just kept walking, she would come out eventually. She wasn’t sure she believed it.

Two kids wearing baggy pants passed her. Laura opened her mouth to ask if they knew the way out, but they were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t even see her.  She followed them anyway. At least they were company. They went around one bend, then another, and then she lost them in the thickening fog.

There was someone behind her, too. She could hear the footsteps clearly. She turned to look but no one was visible. She would just stay where she was until the person caught up, Laura decided.

The footsteps stopped when she stopped. She waited for them to start up again; then she gave up and kept going. The footsteps resumed. Laura frowned. Was it possible she was being followed even in here?

Probably it was just another befuddled tourist trying to find the way out, she reassured herself. But why then, did the footsteps stop and start when she did?

She decided to test them. First she sped up, then she slowed down, and then she stopped. The footsteps mimicked her pattern.

Someone really was following her! Fear shot through Laura, and her heart began to beat wildly. How could she escape her pursuer in this impenetrable labyrinth of paths that went nowhere? She couldn’t even hide. The hedges were much too thick and prickly for her to squeeze into them. She sneezed again, reminding her that she couldn’t even be quiet. All she could do was walk in meaningless patterns, sneezing uncontrollably, until whoever it was back there caught up with her and… and what? Stuck a knife in her back?

Panic-stricken now, Laura started to run. She heard her pursuer running after her; then, unaccountably, the footsteps stopped. She blundered on. Maybe he had given up.

As she rounded the next corner, a foot shot through the bush in front of her. Laura saw it too late, tripped over it and crashed to the ground. Her palms scraped painfully against the hard ground and the wind whooshed out of her lungs. Gasping, she fought for air.

A large form loomed over her, arm raised to strike. Laura scrabbled away from it, but was brought to a halt by the hedges. Cowering, she covered her head with her hands and waited for the blow to fall. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Running feet pounded toward Laura. Abruptly, the looming figure disappeared. Then she heard Violet’s voice. “Laura, are you all right?”

Could it have been Violet who had tripped her, Violet who had stood over her? But who then had run? Laura wanted to weep with the futility of trying to figure it all out. Someone was turning her life into a nightmare, but who?

“Just leave me alone,” she moaned, unaware that she had spoken aloud. Violet knelt beside her and took her hands from her face. Her fingers were busy exploring for… for what? Broken bones?

“Laura,” Violet said firmly. “I need you to answer me and tell me if you are all right. Does anything hurt? Or are you just winded?”

Laura didn’t answer the question, Instead, to her surprise, she raised herself on one elbow and whispered: “Oh Violet, who are you anyway?”

Violet swore under her breath. “Damn, I was afraid of that.” Laura saw her look around carefully, checking for listeners, but it was impossible to see much in the fog. When she spoke again her voice was very low.

“I really am Violet,” she said into Laura’s ear. “If I could, I would tell you more about who I am but I cannot, at least not in here. Laura, can you trust me enough to get you out of here? Then I will tell you what I can. This is not the right spot for private conversations.”

“So I concluded earlier when I decided to confront you,” Laura agreed, trying not to sob with relief. Maybe after all, Violet was still her friend.

“Just get me out of this beastly place and you’ll be my hero for life,” she added fervently, glad that she sounded more like herself. “And no, I’m not hurt. Just furious – at you, at everybody, and the whole world.” 

She sneezed again, and Violet rolled her eyes. “If you want to keep on playing detective, which I wish you would not, you’d better get allergy shots,” she advised. “No one has any trouble following you.”

“Everyone seems to be doing that,” Laura replied crossly. “Three of them at least, I think. You’re the only one who ran the other way.”

Violet sighed heavily. “So that was it. But not here, outside.”

In a shorter time than Laura had believed possible, they were out of the maze. She felt like cheering. Even better, the fog wasn’t nearly as thick out here. To be able to see what was around her again was sheer joy.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, Laura vowed, would she try that or any other maze again. She was not cut out for that kind of exploration.  

“Now for one of those infamous cups of tea,” Violet said, after a glance at Laura’s strained face. “There’s an outdoor café we can try. It’s relatively private, at least.”

“Tea sounds magnificent,” Laura agreed. “So does sitting down - especially in a place where there aren’t any yews.”

“No bushes at all,” Violet concurred. “We don’t want listening ears.”

They took their trays to an isolated table that was open on all sides so they could see anyone coming before he or she got too close. Still, Violet looked around carefully to make sure no one was in earshot before she spoke.

“I am sorry I’ve had to deceive you,” she said quietly. “I had no choice. I still have no choice. I can only ask you to believe that although I am not quite who I said I was, I am Violet, and I am female to boot, and I hope I am still your friend. Other than that I can’t say much except that I am on your side. I have the same objective, to find out what is wrong on this tour. That is my job. And something
is
wrong, something that involves a very sophisticated criminal organization.”

Violet’s eyes scanned the area again, and Laura had to lean close to hear her next words. “We believe one or more of the tour members are in league with the organization but we don’t yet know who they are. We are getting close, though, very close, and to say too much now could spoil everything.”

“We?” Laura was intrigued. So much about the way Violet had acted made sense if she really was a kind of private detective. But could she be believed? Laura decided she could. Otherwise, that blow would have fallen and she might not be here at all.

Violet nodded. “I can’t tell you much about the people I work for, except that they are legitimate and experienced. One of them was keeping an eye on you – or trying,” she added in a lighter tone. “He was becoming quite frustrated with your tendency to sneak about at night and vanish into alleys and other unlikely spots.”

“You mean one of them was protecting me and not just following me?” Laura was astonished. “But which one? And why?”

“You already know why,” Violet replied tartly. “Someone doesn’t like you because you found a baby and insist on snooping and foiling their best-laid plans. My advice is for you to stop, but I fear that even if you agreed it might be too late. These are not trusting people, and their instinct is to get rid of anyone who gets in their way.

“As for which person was protecting you, you have already bumped into him once before, I believe.”

Laura stared at her, dumbfounded. “The elegant trench coat man!” she breathed. And she had been so mad at him, poor man.

“You said
was
, not
is
,” she pointed out. “I haven’t seen him recently.”

Violet hesitated. “He is temporarily out of commission,” she answered finally. Laura waited for more but nothing was forthcoming. 

“I wonder who the blue jean man is then,” she mused aloud.

Violet did answer that one. “Someone less nice,” she said, and her voice was very serious again. She leaned closer and her hawk-like eyes were intent on Laura’s face. “I need to impress two things on you. First, these people are dangerous. Do not forget that. Second, what I have told you must be kept in strict confidence, and I mean really strict. I don’t want my cover blown, not right now. So for goodness sake, don’t start treating me any differently than before. If anyone knows you suspected me or were mad at me, don’t let it be known if it is no longer so. I wish I could keep you out of it altogether, but short of gagging and binding you I don’t see how it can be done.”

This was a very different Violet, Laura thought, almost regretfully. She had liked the delightful, less complicated one. No doubt, though, Violet was both.

“No one knows I suspected you,” she assured Violet. “I haven’t told anybody on the tour anything because I didn’t know who to trust. Everyone seems to have some kind of hidden agenda.”

“Good. Now, that’s all I can tell you at the moment, but I would like to hear anything you have found out. Whatever you can tell us will be appreciated, and will be kept confidential. I am particularly interested in the hospital visit I understand you and Olivia and William made.”

“Did Lady Longtree tell you about it?” Laura asked.

“I tackled her about it,” Violet answered. “Like you, I was concerned for her safety and for William’s.” She sighed. “There seems no way to stop those two from getting involved, as I gather you are aware – or the dynamo in the wheelchair.

“In case you’re worried about Victoria, a highly competent policewoman cum nurse has been posted at her door,” Violet added. “Where Victoria goes, she goes.

“And now I would like your version of the hospital visit and everything else you can tell me.”

Obediently, Laura described the hospital visit and her unexpected encounter with the father. Then she recounted everything she could think of that seemed to involve the case, from the time after her near-accident on the street, which Violet had witnessed, to her adventures of the night before, including seeing the Takaras and the man from the teashop, and her doubts about Hans. Violet listened with grave attention, but her lips twitched suspiciously when Laura described her encounter with Maisie.

Laura had a sudden inspiration. “That was you!” she exclaimed.

“Possibly,” Violet answered with a grin. “What exactly did you find in that alley? And who is the man who came to your rescue?”

“I found, as you probably know, a bunch of clothes and a wig that could have been worn by the person who pushed me into the street, if anyone did, the one William thinks was Dr. Bernstein in drag. I also found some dark hairs in the wig, short and curly and coarse. No one in the tour group has that kind of hair. 

“And I found two long red hairs on a silk scarf that probably came from the lady who went into Alan’s room with the babies,” she added. “I saw her go into his room in Glastonbury, too, by the way,” she added. “I forgot that bit.”

“And the man who escorted you home? Violet prompted.

“Oh, that’s Richard,” Laura answered casually, and hoped she wasn’t blushing.  “He walked me home and then we agreed to meet for coffee the next morning. He was very helpful,” she added defensively.

Violet’s eyebrows went up. “I’m surprised he didn’t proposition you in that get-up,” she commented, “instead of settling for coffee.”

Laura laughed.  She had underestimated Violet. “He almost did, but I asked him for coffee instead. It worked quite well, since he turned out to be a journalist. He’s checking out the tour and the people on it for me.”

 “I hope it’s all right that I talked to him,” she added ruefully. “I really needed to talk to someone who wasn’t involved in the tour.”

“We’re running some checks on him,” Violet answered. 

Laura was confused. “But if you’re already running checks on him, you must know who he is, so why did you ask me?”

“I need to get all the perspectives,” Violet answered carefully.

“Which is code for checking every person’s story with everyone else’s,” Laura translated. Which meant, she realized, that she too had been a potential suspect, not just to the police but also to Violet. How astonishing!

Or maybe she still was. “Am I a suspect?” she asked bluntly.

Violet tried not to smile. “Not that I know of at the moment,” she offered. “I’ll admit we were baffled by you at first. We’d expected a staid professorial type and you didn’t exactly match. You’ve been well checked out, however. Of course,” she added mischievously, “our information could be wrong.”

Laura laughed. “I’m really who I say I am, too,” she said.

She frowned. “How did you know someone tripped me?” she asked. “You couldn’t have shown up at the right moment just by chance.”

“I was keeping an eye on you and everyone else from a raised platform in the maze with the help of these,” Violet told her, pointing to the binoculars hanging around her neck. “At least I was until fog made it impossible. Then I settled for prowling around the maze, listening for sneezes. I’ve studied the plan, too, but that’s confidential.

“One more thing,” she said, looking straight at Laura. “We cannot be seen having a private talk like this again. So please don’t try. And do try not to be alone.”

Reluctantly, Laura nodded. “I wish I knew who to trust and who not to,” she said mournfully. “It’s horrid to go around suspecting everyone, and I don’t know who to stay with so I’m not alone, either.”

“Trust your instincts,” Violet advised. “Your judgment is better than you think. But watch your back, Laura, please. These people are ruthless.”

Her face was so serious that Laura was shocked. This was most definitely a different Violet. “I will,” she promised. “I intend to be very careful indeed. Especially of the father. He really seems to hate me.”

Tour members began to straggle out of the Manor House and the maze, and they all piled into the bus. Violet slid into the seat behind the driver, Abdul, and Laura sat beside her. That shouldn’t arouse suspicion; she had to sit beside someone.

Abdul turned his head to look into the rear-view mirror and Laura stifled a gasp. Under the driver’s cap he always wore, Abdul had dark curly coarse hair. He didn’t have a beard, either. How idiotic of her not to think of him before!

She glanced at Violet and wondered if she had chosen the seat for that purpose. Even if
she
hadn’t been smart enough to consider Abdul as a possible suspect, Violet probably had. Her friend’s next remark confirmed the thought.

“A very useful discovery, those hairs,” she murmured, too low for anyone else to hear over the noise of the motor. “Odd, isn’t it, how one tends to ignore what is out of context. We don’t see what we don’t expect to see.”

“Glad it was helpful,” Laura muttered, furious at herself for being so blind. She had hardly looked at Abdul until now. What else hadn’t she seen?

When she left the bus she turned, as if looking back to see if she had left anything on the seat, and glanced casually at Abdul. Her eyes opened wide in shock. Abdul wasn’t just the bus driver she had failed to suspect. He was also the man with the racing form, the man who had followed her after the rehearsal, and the man she had seen talking to the Takaras on the bridge.

***************

No wonder she hadn’t been satisfied with her identification of the man following her in Vicar’s Close, Laura thought glumly. She had been looking at Abdul for days without seeing him because one didn’t pay attention to bus drivers. She had even felt sorry for him because he had to wait for long hours while the tour group disported themselves in gardens and museums, and all the while he had been following her, intent on his deadly purposes. There had been plenty of time for him to dress up as a woman and shove her into the street, and the next day to grab a ladder and drop a rock on her head.

There was nothing suspicious about the fact that the Takaras had been talking to him either, Laura thought glumly. All that showed was that they were friendlier and more observant than she was, and knew their bus driver well enough to recognize him out of context and to hold a conversation with him. Nor was she surprised that William had mistaken him for Dr. Bernstein. The two men had similar coloring and features, and would look even more alike with a wig.

The question now was how to convey the new information to Violet, who had perversely disappeared the moment they had left the bus. How was she to do that when they couldn’t be seen talking privately together?

Pondering this dilemma, Laura went up to her room. She found Violet already there, waiting patiently on the window seat. “Thought I’d leap on up as I wanted a look at that doll,” Violet explained. “No one saw me, but I can’t stay long.”