Wading Into Murder (8 page)

“Thanks,” she agreed. “I could do with some help and I’d be interested in your reactions to the story.” She began with the twins in the airport and mentioned everything she could think of that seemed relevant, right up to the conversation about babies she’d overheard in the pub.

“I also keep wondering if any of the tours members could be involved,” she finished.

“Why do you think that?” Richard asked.

“There’s nothing I can prove,” Laura admitted, “except that someone seems to want to get me out of the way, presumably because I found the baby. The tour members are the only people who know where I’ll be each day, although I really do think someone is following me. Then there’s the fact that the babies the pub man mentioned were taken from the two nurses’ hospital. That’s an odd coincidence, like the bomb scare and Joe, the old man who was run down.

“It’s also a feeling I have that some of the tour members are a bit
off,
not right for this particular tour. The Takaras, for instance, are interested in photography, so why didn’t they choose a tour with lots of different attractions to take pictures of instead of this one, which goes only to a few places?  The Bernsteins don’t fit that well, either. He’s a pompous ass who may be interested in the occult, but I doubt he cares about gardens and manor houses. I doubt Claudine does, either, although she probably did hide the clothes in the alley. Even Lady Longtree and William, who are very helpful, don’t make sense. Why are they so determined to be involved despite the possible dangers? And why take a bus tour when they already know so much about the sites we visit?”

“I see what you mean,” Richard replied thoughtfully. “If you will provide the names of the tour members, I’ll check them out on my computer, as well as checking out the tour itself. I still have good connections in the city, too, and people there might know more, especially about the criminal organization you mentioned.”

“That would be a great help,” Laura said gratefully.

“I kept both articles about babies being taken,” Richard told her. “There will be plenty more, too. The whole country is in an uproar about it. I’ll save them for you and see if there’s anything in today’s papers. I’m on my way to the newsagent anyway.”

“There’s another wrinkle you don’t know,” he added.

“What’s that?”

“There is a bag lady of sorts in Glastonbury, but she’s in hospital right now and her name isn’t Maisie. It’s Peg.” 

Laura stared. “No Maisie? But who was she then?”

“Maybe another bag lady but it seems unlikely - much more logical to think that Maisie is an imposter. I’ll try to find out.”

Richard paused for an appreciative sip of his coffee. “Do you have any other clues that might be helpful?”

“There’s the long red hair on the scarf I found that probably came from the woman I saw going into Alan Mansfield’s room,” Laura answered. “Violet is also a redhead but her hair is shorter, so I doubt it came from her. Then there’s the woman with dark hair I saw in the alley this morning. I forgot to tell you about her. She had been looking in the garbage can; I’m almost certain of it, and I scared her off.”

“Could that one be the Maisie imposter?” Richard asked.

Laura shook her head. “I doubt it. The woman I saw this morning was quite graceful. Maisie was very lively for an old lady but certainly not graceful.

 “None of it seems to help us much, or add up,” she added with a frown.

 “Every bit helps,” Richard assured her. “What one must do in these cases is to keep gathering evidence, about who these people really are, who might want you out of the way because you found a baby, and so forth. It’s a methodical process. A computer is a great help. I’ll get on it right away.”

“You’re very good to offer all this,” Laura replied gratefully. “I don’t want to be a nuisance, though, so please don’t let me interrupt your schedule.”

“It is my pleasure to help,” Richard assured her. “The stories I’m working on now are hardly exhilarating, and this sounds a good deal more interesting.”

Belatedly, Laura glanced at her watch. “I’d better get moving. I should be at Glastonbury Abbey right now. I’ll look for that red hair and then I’m off.”

She pulled out the silken scarf and discovered not one but two long red hairs. “Alan’s lady must have worn this at some point, that’s clear,” she said in satisfaction.

 “How about the wig?” Richard asked. “Have you checked that for hairs? They often get stuck to the lining.”

“Brilliant!” Laura answered, and pulled it out. “Something’s caught in there.” 

Richard took the wig and brought it close to his eyes. “You’re right. There are a number of short dark hairs stuck to the lining, evenly distributed. Short and curly and coarse. Does that fit the head of anyone in the tour group?”

Laura shook her head. “Only Dr. Bernstein and the Takaras have dark hair. Hers is long and his is straight, and Dr. Bernstein only has a thin fringe. He’s pretty bald at the top.” She sighed. “That lets out my two favorite villains, I guess.”

“Unless one of them is wearing a wig that covers curly hair,” Richard pointed out. “Check the tour members to see if anyone might be wearing one. Even a bald wig,” he added. “They exist too.”

Laura nodded and stood. “Thanks for the coffee, and all the advice.”

 “How about day after tomorrow at the same time?” he asked. “By then, I should have some information for you.”

“I’m afraid we leave for Stourhead Gardens this afternoon,” Laura told him. “But I’ll give you the name of the hotel where we’re staying and you can contact me there.”

“I shall join you in Stourhead instead,” Richard replied imperturbably. “I’d like to see the gardens again anyway. They’re gorgeous at this time of year.”

“Excellent,” Laura agreed, and gave him the name of the hotel. She hurried off, eager to walk around the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey while the weather held. Bulbous clouds were forming, and she could smell rain in the air.

The group had gone through the entrance into the Abbey museum, but Alan Mansfield was waiting for her at the ticket counter. “I didn’t see you at breakfast, and I wanted to let you know what our plans are should the day turn rainy,” he explained. “In that case, we will postpone Stourhead Gardens until tomorrow, and visit various indoor attractions in the area this afternoon. So if it rains, please come to the bus in the parking lot. We’ll go to the lovely manor house where we’ll be staying for the next few nights first, and decide over lunch what comes next.”

“That sounds fine,” Laura agreed. “I just hope the rain holds off long enough for me to get a good look at the Abbey. I hear it’s a fascinating place.”

“Be sure to look at the displays in the museum first,” Alan replied. “They are very well done, and will help you to understand what you are seeing.

“Violet said you had a breakfast date,” he added with a smile. “Sounds enticing.”

“Oh, just a very nice man I happened to meet in a shop yesterday,” Laura lied glibly. “I enjoy the chance to talk to residents of the places I visit.”

“Most commendable,” Alan replied smoothly, but Laura had the strong sense that he wanted more information. Why
did
he seem so interested in her?

She was quickly distracted by the displays. Large panels, six feet long and just as high, chronicled the Abbey’s history of tenacious reconstruction after various disasters, man-made and otherwise, until its final destruction under the merciless hands of Henry the Eighth and his men. All that remained now was a tower on which the last two monks from the Abbey had been hanged, on Henry’s orders.

Low voices on the other side of the panel caught Laura’s attention. Amy and Margaret, she was sure. She was about to join them when Amy spoke again.

“I can’t help worrying about the two babies,” she said anxiously, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you sure they will be all right? I feel so responsible for them. After all, we arranged for them to be…”

Then, in an anguished tone: “Oh, Margaret, are you sure we did the right thing…”

“They aren’t our concern now that they’ve gone,” Margaret interrupted sharply. “We can’t do anything more for them than we already have, so for goodness sakes stop talking about it. Do you want to get us into…”

The rest was lost as the two women moved toward the door.

Laura frowned. It was perfectly natural for Amy to be distressed about the missing babies, but she made it sound as if she and Margaret were involved in their disappearance. What had the two nurses done?

Lady Longtree bore down upon her. She was wearing yet another hat, this one in a robust shade of purple.

“I bought it at a street stall,” she explained, noticing Laura’s stare. “Rather unusual, isn’t it? Marvelous exhibit,” she went on cheerfully, without giving Laura an opportunity to reply. “Do come see this next panel.”

Laura followed her, grateful for the reprieve. What did one say about purple hats?

“I just wanted to get you alone to see how you are,” Lady Longtree apologized in a stage whisper. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since your unfortunate… accident, I suppose it was. Hope it was.”

“I’m sure it was,” Laura said heartily in the hopes of preventing her, and William, from going on with their investigation. Her hope was quickly dashed.

“William and I have been on patrol, so to speak,” the old lady assured her. “But you mustn’t worry, my dear,” she went on. “We just watch and listen for the most part.

“Now, this is what we have observed. First, William thinks someone is following you – a man in jeans and a tweed jacket, he says.”

Laura was amused. The trench coat man must have changed his clothes after noting that she had seen him last night. His effort to confuse her wasn’t going to be very successful with Lady Longtree and William on his heels.

Inexplicably, Lady Longtree lips began to twitch. “I get up now and again during the night – one of the problems of old age, I fear,” she began, “and last night I heard footsteps in the hall, so I cracked the door to see who might be coming in so late. The most remarkable creature was out there. She wore what appeared to be a harem costume and stage make-up. I expected her to go into some man’s room – none of my business of course, except that I don’t think it’s a very safe line of work for women these days, and rather demeaning, but aside from that, but no – she went in yours!”

Laura blushed furiously. “I hope you don’t think…” she stammered.

The old lady’s eyes twinkled. “No, my dear, I do not,” she said firmly. “A very convincing disguise and I congratulate you on your creativity with presumably limited resources. On the other hand, you might want to use the costume cautiously. People who don’t know you really might get the wrong idea.”

“So I discovered,” Laura admitted wryly. “I had quite a bit of masculine interest last evening. No harm done, though,” she added hastily.

 “Violet came in even later,” Lady Longtree remarked with a frown. “I wonder what she was up to. A very interesting person, don’t you think?”

“She’s delightful,” Laura agreed. “She does keep odd hours, though.”

“Yes. Quite interesting, isn’t it? Well, I must be off. I told Alan I’d walk through the Abbey grounds with him, an arm to lean on in the rough places, you know. He is a most accommodating man.”

With that stamp of approval, she limped off, thus emphasizing her need of a strong arm. That too was interesting, Laura reflected. Lady Longtree hadn’t been limping before. What was she up to? And how well did she know Alan?

Putting the unanswerable questions out of her mind, Laura pushed through the big doors into the Abbey grounds. It had begun to rain now, a light drizzle that enhanced the scents of flowering trees and freshly cut grass. Laura breathed it in deeply.

Most of the group had gathered around the Abbott’s kitchen, the only intact building in the complex, and were listening to a lively account of the monk’s daily lives. Laura wandered away, wanting to contemplate the fallen walls in peace. Oddly, the ruins of formerly glorious buildings were often more moving than the original edifice. The word haunting was overused but it still applied.

The word seemed even more apt when she came to the grave where Arthur and Guinevere had reputedly been buried. Laura was certain she could feel… feel what? She wasn’t sure, except that aura might be the right word. Could some part of the royal pair linger here even if their remains had vanished?

She walked slowly over to the Queen’s Chapel, which seemed to her the most poignant of the ruined buildings, and sat wondering how many deaths and tragedies had been mourned within its cold stone walls. Sighing, she followed signs to the basement of yet another ruined structure, where a small chapel called St. Mary’s, dating from 1186, remained intact. Services were still held at Christmas and Easter, she read.

Laura examined the small chapel and then turned to look at an old spiral stairway that must once have led up from the deep enclosure of the cellar to the rooms above. She slipped off her pack, weary of the weight, and wriggled her shoulders appreciatively as she ran her fingers over the old stones.

“Look out!” a voice cried. Laura turned to see who should look out and for what, but a hand pulled her backward before she could find out.

She heard a slithering sound and saw a large rock tumble down on the spot where she had been standing a moment ago. With a muted crash, it pinned her backpack neatly to the ground.

CHAPTER EIGHT

There was no time to be frightened. Instead, Laura was annoyed at the sudden intrusion into her dreamy state. She thanked the helpful tourist who had pulled her out of the way, and then climbed out of the cellar to see where the rock had come from.

Propped against the side of the old wall was a ladder she hadn’t been able to see from below – and that she was sure hadn’t been there when she’d entered the chapel. She would have noticed because it looked so out of place. There were muddy foot prints on the treads, which meant someone had climbed up it very recently.

Belatedly, fear struck. The falling rock wasn’t an accident, any more than her fall in the street. Someone must have had put up a ladder, scrambled up it and sent a rock careening down at exactly the right moment.

An alarmed voice at her elbow confirmed her suspicions. “I’m so sorry, Madam. I can’t imagine how that happened.” Laura turned and saw a gardener. “We check for loose rocks constantly. I can’t think how the ladder got there, either. I keep it in that shed when tourists are in the Abbey grounds,” he told her, pointing to a nearby tool shed. “People always want to go up for a better view, and that can be dangerous.”

“No harm done,” Laura assured him, “though it did give me a shock.”

“I imagine so,” he agreed soberly. “I’ll see it doesn’t happen again.”

“Is the shed usually locked?” she asked. “And did you see anyone near the ladder a few minutes ago?”

“It’s only locked when we close up for the day,” he answered, “but I keep a close eye on it while I’m working.” He pointed to a group of laughing teenagers. “I’ll wager one of them snuck in and grabbed the ladder when my back was turned, and scrambled up it to impress his friends.” Shaking his head at the follies of young people, he shouldered the ladder and bore it back to the shed.

Laura was doubtful. One of the teenagers might have done it, but so could any of the more agile members of the tour group – or the man or men following her, or some other unknown enemy. Besides, two close calls in as many days was simply too much of a coincidence.

The rain began in earnest, and she headed for the parking lot. Amy came up behind her. “Oh, hi, Laura,” she said brightly. “Have you seen Margaret anywhere around? I seem to have lost her in there.”

“That’s easy to do,” Laura agreed. “There are so many old buildings and walls. Still, it’s a marvelous place, isn’t it?”

  “It really is remarkable, isn’t it?” Amy sounded abstracted and Laura gave her an encouraging smile, hoping she might talk about her worries.

Amy complied without hesitation, and Laura suspected she had been aching to talk to someone. “I can’t help being worried about those poor little babies,” she confided, “and that makes it hard for me to concentrate on other things. They were at our hospital, you know – the Children’s Hospital in Bristol; that’s where we work, so they were our responsibility. Margaret doesn’t want me to talk about it in case it gets us into trouble, but I really think we ought to tell someone.”

She moved closer to Laura. “You see, Margaret and I tested the babies and helped to take care of them, so we knew where they came from and what would probably happen to them. That horrible operation, you know.” She shuddered. “It’s so awful I don’t want to think about it, or even say it.”

Laura said it for her. “You mean female circumcision. Or, as some people call it, genital mutilation.”

Amy nodded gratefully. “Yes, that’s it. The fathers insist, sometimes even the mothers. Naturally, we wanted to help the babies, so that was why we arranged for then to be…”

Amy broke off abruptly when Mrs. Takara burst out of an intersecting path they had just crossed, camera held high. She smiled gleefully. “Now I have just the picture I wanted,” she crowed. “My husband tells me my pictures are too stiff and too bright, but this one will not be, not in the rain. You were so serious and absorbed, too. It was natural, just what he said I must do.

“He is not a very good photographer either,” she confided, “but of course I do not tell him that. He likes to think he is expert. He is a man, is he not?”

This bit of homespun wisdom made Mrs. Takara seem less of a victim – as well as explaining the poor quality of her husband’s pictures – but Laura felt an uncharitable desire to tell the little woman to get lost. What ghastly timing! Why did she have to appear with that dratted camera just as Amy seemed ready to talk?

She would get Amy alone again as soon as it was possible without looking too contrived, Laura vowed as she boarded the bus. In the meantime, a trip to the Bristol Children’s Hospital might be a more productive way to spend the afternoon than touring whatever attractions Alan had in mind for them. She would get directions and a list of phone numbers for cabs from the desk, and leave after a brief stop in her room.

She was the first to enter the manor house except for William and Lady Longtree, who had come back on their own earlier. Laura went through the front door and stopped. Music – a magnificent piano concerto, floated down the long hall. She tiptoed closer to see who was playing, and on what.

At the far end of the hall was a glass door; behind it was a music room with a grand piano and chairs for listeners. Seated at the piano, his head bent over the keyboard in an ecstasy of concentration, was William.

Laura felt a rush of tears in her throat. Never had she heard such wonderfully spontaneous music emanating from a piano. And from William, the gangly teen-ager. He was incredible!

A niggling memory returned, of a photograph she’d seen of a young English prodigy, with an admiring article about his virtuosity. He had a long dark blond ponytail, she remembered. Could he be William? The face, the skinny frame, those were the same. And hair could be cut, dyed…

She looked again at William’s profile and knew she was right. No wonder he had looked so familiar in his good clothes! She also understood why he’d become good at making himself invisible. He must need to be. Personable young celebrities attracted a great deal of unwanted attention.

The others burst through the door. In an instant William was up, the lid closed over the keys, and he looked as he always did, slouched and casual in his present costume of jeans and t-shirt. Laura crept away, feeling privileged to have heard him play.

Her knowledge of his real identity, however, raised her earlier worries with renewed force. What on earth possessed Lady Longtree to expose her talented grandson to danger by letting him – almost encouraging him – become involved in a mystery in which one person had already been knocked down by a hit-and-run-driver and she herself had almost been killed? Their involvement would also expose them to publicity and police attention, neither welcome. It made no sense at all.

Laura got an answer of sorts when William knocked on her door a few minutes later. “I went back to the house where we saw the father,” he reported with a grin. “I was a mechanic again, to fix the heating system. I’m actually pretty good at it. I couldn’t find you, or you could have come as my assistant.”

His face fell comically. “It didn’t do much good, though. The place was deserted. I thought maybe they just weren’t answering the door, but I peeked in all the windows and couldn’t see anyone.”

Laura blanched. “Oh William, I do wish you would stop investigating,” she burst out. “I’m convinced now that there’s some kind of criminal activity going on, and I can’t bear the thought that you might get hurt. It’s just too dangerous.”

William looked down at the floor. “I know,” he muttered, his face twisting with emotion. “I have to do it anyway.” Laura thought he was fighting back tears.

“Can you tell me why?” she asked gently.

William looked up again, and now his eyes were pleading. “I wish I could but I can’t, not right now, anyway. My… grandmother and I… we have to know but we can’t talk because…”

He looked at her helplessly, and Laura relented. “It’s all right, William. I’ll take your word for it that you can’t explain. I’ll wait until you can talk. But if you do have to keep detecting, I want to be with you. That way I can keep an eye on you at least.”

William sent her a heart-rending smile that made Laura want to hug him. “I keep an eye on you, too,” he told her. “You’re the one who almost got run over.

“That rock came pretty close to your head,” he added slyly. “I wasn’t there, but my grandmother was walking nearby.”

Laura sighed. So Lady Longtree had seen. So far, no one else in the group seemed to know, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“I think your grandmother has eyes in the back of her head,” she said, only partly in jest. “You’re right, though. I do seem to be the target so far. But please don’t mention the rock to anyone. I don’t want the others in the tour to know.”

Lady Longtree’s head appeared in the doorway, causing Laura to wonder if she had a few extra sets of ears too, or a set of psychic antenna. Her blue eyes moved back and forth between William’s face and her own, and Laura was certain she had either overhead or intuited the conversation that had passed between them.

She didn’t refer to it, however. Instead she said: “Ah, there you are, William. Good. I came to ask if Laura would like to join us. I’ve called for a cab.”

“A cab to where?” Laura asked, bemused by this indirect approach.

Lady Longtree looked up and down the hall and then closed the door. “To the Bristol Children’s Hospital,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought you would agree that it is the best place to start. I have already explained to Alan that we intend to go our own way this afternoon.

“The daughter of a friend happens to be there,” she added. “A broken leg after a fall from a horse, I believe. At any rate, I am certain she would like visitors.”

Laura laughed. “I was just about to go there myself, as I believe you suspected, and your friend’s daughter will provide excellent cover.”

They were an unlikely group of sleuths, she mused as a cab bore them away: a visiting American professor, an incognito young celebrity and a titled member of the aristocracy – and a promising equestrienne and champion wheelchair racer through a self-made obstacle course down the hospital halls, Laura discovered when they arrived at the children’s floor.

The race was just about to start, and every child was either leaning out of bed watching avidly, or, if mobile, standing in the doorway.

“Ready, get set, go!” declared a shrill voice from a wheelchair. Disregarding nurses, meal trays, visitors and all else, the contenders weaved with varying degrees of expertise through a series of cardboard boxes and emerged triumphantly at the other end of the hall. Laura and William flattened themselves against the wall, which failed to protect them from a few out-of-control chairs. Lady Longtree prudently retreated into the elevator, with a finger on the
do not close
button.

“Bravo, Bravo, Victoria!” she cried to the winner.

The child who had won – who was also the announcer – looked up and grinned. “Hi, Aunt Olivia. Hi, William. Helps to pass the time. Want to watch some more?”

Laura regarded her with interest. Her blond hair stuck up in all directions and her nose already showed a distinctly patrician hump. She looked to be about eight or nine. A determined character, Laura decided, probably a curious and observant one as well.

“One more go, and that’s it,” a nurse ordered. “The visitors are arriving and we don’t want to knock down your mums and dads, do we?”

“Yes.” Victoria’s answer was unequivocal. The other children giggled and lined up once more. To no one’s surprise, Victoria won again.

“Some of the other kids are pretty good, too,” she conceded when Laura admired her skill in a wheelchair. “They’ve been in them for longer.”

“But they haven’t been racing horses the way you have,” William countered. “I hear you’re a champion jumper.” Victoria looked gratified.

William touched the wheelchair. “Can you go all over the hospital in that thing?”

“Not supposed to but I do,” Victoria answered laconically. “I like to keep track of what goes on around here.”

“I bet you see a lot.” Laura observed, hoping that Victoria’s inquisitive nature had led her to listen in on conversations about the stolen babies.

Victoria had done better than that. “I was on the infant’s floor, hiding around the corner, when the two babies were taken, and I saw everything!” she said, her button blue eyes glittering with excitement. “The kidnappers didn’t pay any attention to me, though, so I don’t think they’ll come back and kidnap me.” She sounded almost disappointed.

“Can you tell us about it?” William asked eagerly.

“Close the door first,” Victoria ordered. “The nurses don’t like me to talk about it, but that’s silly. It’s a crime and it has to be solved. I told the police some stuff I saw but not all of it because I want to solve it myself, like Nancy Drew.”

“I read all her books when I was younger,” Laura told her. “She’s great.”

‘Well, I’m going to be the English Nancy Drew,” Victoria announced. “Will you send me some copies if I tell you everything? They’re hard to get here.”

“I certainly will,” Laura agreed. “As soon as I get home I’ll look for them.”

“All right. But I get to write the book about it because I was in on it from the very beginning,” Victoria bargained. They all nodded, and she seemed satisfied.

“I was down on that floor, watching the tiny babies,” she began. “They look like monkeys, and I like to see their faces go all red and scrunched up when they scream. Two nurses came down the hall. One of them had yellowish hair and the other was ancient-looking. That one told me I should go back to my own floor because I might infect the babies, which is nonsense since all I have is a broken leg, but I pretended to anyway, so that’s why I was hiding around the corner.

“Then two of those ladies who wear black scarves over their heads and faces came out of the elevator. They went up to the nurses and one of them asked which door was right for the women they wanted to visit. The nurses told them, but then a loud bell rang and they left. The two covered up ladies went down the hall. One of them went into one room, the other into another, and when they came out they were each holding a baby.”