Wading Into Murder (9 page)

Victoria took a deep breath. “This is the part I didn’t tell. One of the covered-up ladies was very tall, too tall for a lady, I think, almost as tall as William, and her face was covered too, so you couldn’t see her except for her eyes. They were a weird greenish color. She never said a word to the nurses. I think it was because she didn’t want them to know she was really a man.” 

 
Laura felt Lady Longtree’s eyes on hers.
The father?
Lady Longtree mouthed, and Laura nodded.

Victoria shivered. “I didn’t like him. Anyway, the two people came back down the hall, got into the elevator, and that’s the last anyone ever saw of them – except for me,” she finished dramatically.

William’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

Victoria sent him a triumphant look. “I got on the elevator with them. I wanted to see if I was right about her being a man, but I didn’t know they were kidnappers then.” She frowned. “I should have known, because they didn’t coo at the babies or slobber kisses on them. Parents always do that, especially mothers. Anyway, the tall one reached out to push the button for the lobby, and that’s when I saw his hand. It was hairy, really hairy, so I knew he was a man. We all got out in the lobby and I followed them to the front doors. A guard asked to see their identifications so they each showed him a bracelet that looked the same as the ones the babies had. The man used his other hand then, and it didn’t have any hair. I tried to follow them outside but the guard wouldn’t let me. So I watched from inside. I saw the kidnappers get in a car that was waiting in the hospital driveway. It turned left and vanished, never to be seen again!”

“Have you told this to anyone else?” Lady Longtree asked sharply.

“I told the guard in the lobby, but I don’t think he believed me, and he told me to go back to my own floor. After that, I only told the nurses and the children up here, and my mother. And the police. They came later that afternoon. They kept asking what the kidnappers looked like, and gave me photographs of some women to look at to see if it was them. I thought that was dumb because how can you see what they really look like with scarves all over their faces? So all I said was that one was small and the other was tall and had green eyes, but I haven’t told anyone but you that he was a man.”

“I think you should tell the police that, too,” Lady Longtree advised. “It might help them to find the babies faster. Men with green eyes are unusual.”

“Then I haven’t got a lead all my own, like Nancy Drew,” Victoria objected.

“And the babies stay kidnapped longer,” Lady Longtree argued firmly.

“I guess you’re right,” Victoria agreed half-heartedly.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the meal cart. “For all we know, the two babies aren’t being fed, and even babies don’t deserve that,” Laura added as she saw Victoria’s eyes fix on the tray of food.

Victoria looked shocked. “That would be cruel!”

“Kidnappers
are
cruel,” Lady Longtree said implacably.

“Better tell them everything,” William advised. Victoria looked at his face and nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I guess you’re right. I will the next time they come in.”

William pressed his advantage. “In the meantime, don’t talk about it to anyone else. If the criminals find out you saw them, you could be in great danger!”

Victoria looked delighted but nodded gravely and promised she wouldn’t talk to anyone. Laura didn’t believe her. For an eight year old to refrain from boasting about knowledge only she possessed was almost impossible.

“The nurses might get mad, too,” she said, hoping the more immediate threat of a scolding from the nurses might have at least some effect.

“I’ll just talk to you,” Victoria promised. “But you have to come back so I can tell you what I find next. I’m going back to the babies’ floor tonight.

“Don’t worry,” she added kindly, seeing Laura’s worried face. “I’ll be very careful. No one will ever know I’m around and anyway, no one pays much attention to kids. They think we’re dumb or something.”

Laura hoped that was the case.               

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

They separated after that, Lady Longtree to visit a friend in the administrative department, William to chat up the guard at the hospital entrance and Laura to pose as an American friend of Amy’s who wanted to say hello while she was in England and would be appropriately disappointed to hear that Amy was on vacation.

The nurse she spoke with was chatty and told Laura all about the recent theft of two babies and how the kidnappers had foiled the hospital’s security system by obtaining two extra bracelets that matched the ones issued to the baby and its parents. She was also very vocal on the subject of one of the fathers, who was furious about his baby daughter’s disappearance because he had promised her to an uncle in marriage.
Married before she’s out of her cradle,
the nurse had said disapprovingly.

William got a description of the getaway car and the perpetrators that matched Victoria’s; Lady Longtree was treated to a lengthy explanation of the new and up-graded security system the hospital was installing. While listening, she managed to scribble the names and addresses of the families whose babies were stolen by reading them upside down from a file on the administrator’s desk.

“Well done!” Laura congratulated her.

“Thank you my dear. Now,” Lady Longtree went on, “I propose that we stop by the two houses on our way back to the hotel. I can pose as a census-taker” – she waved the clipboard in her hand – “and you and William can do some sleuthing around the area. We will have the cab wait for us.”

Her plan backfired. Both houses were deserted, and they looked as if as if the occupants had left in a hurry. There were unwashed plates on the table and a few toys scattered on the floor, and an unmistakable air of being empty.

“Like the house where we saw the father,” William noted.

Two children on bicycles rode up as they left the second house. “They went away,” the boy said importantly. “Got into a big black motorcar with some men. I bet they were kidnapped too.”

“Were not,” the girl contradicted. “They went on holiday, stupid.” A woman’s voice called sharply and they rode off, still arguing.

The cabby, who had waited for them, beeped his horn impatiently. Laura was about to get into the cab behind William and Lady Longtree when a battered car drew up beside her. A tall man emerged. The father, she saw, too late. His fierce green eyes bored into hers, and the intensity of dislike in them was so strong that she flinched. Obviously, he didn’t think much of women who kept turning up in his vicinity.

Laura ducked hastily into the cab. Her first feeling was relief that the father hadn’t seen Lady Longtree or William – especially William. The second feeling was satisfaction. There was no doubt now that he was involved with this baby-stealing ring. He could even have sold his own daughter to them. She was his property, to do with as he wished, in his view at least.

Fast on their heels came a sinking sensation of fear. There was also no doubt that she was now on the father’s enemy list. The thought was terrifying. A man like him would have no compunction about getting rid of her for good.

CHAPTER NINE

Time to focus on the clues she already had, Laura decided as the cab bore them back to the manor. The best form of self-defense was to figure out what was going on before her growing list of enemies struck again – or struck someone else. That was the real worry.

She changed quickly and went down to dinner. Over an excellent meal, she allowed her eyes to drift from one head to another, looking for coarse dark hair. It was quickly obvious that no one on the tour group had hair like that, and that Dr. Bernstein was the only candidate for a bald wig. She needed to get closer to him to make sure. The thought was so repellent that Laura hastily abandoned it and tried to determine from a distance if he wore a wig. That too, was a mistake. When she glanced up at him, she discovered that he was already was staring at her with alarming intensity. His probing eyes were either analyzing her, or - even more appalling – mentally taking off her clothes. What a ghastly thought!

To her relief, Violet interrupted this line of thought. Ever independent, Violet had also spent the afternoon on some pursuit of her own. She plopped down beside Laura, where a place had been saved for her.

“Oh dear, has be been at that all evening?” she asked, noticing Dr. Bernstein’s stare. “What do you suppose he’s up to?”

“I think I know and that’s the trouble,” Laura whispered in reply. “He and Claudine aren’t on the best of terms just now and I suspect he is casting around for a substitute. I’m afraid I may be his candidate. Unless he really is trying to do me bodily harm as William thinks instead of another form of bodily attention.

“Maybe I’ll sic him on you,” she joked. “That should be interesting to watch.”

Violet didn’t laugh as she had expected. “I doubt you’d get very far,” she said instead. “The good doctor seems to have developed a distaste for me that is almost as strong as mine for him. I wonder why that is?”

That was no rhetorical question, Laura realized. Violet really did want to know.

Dr. Bernstein’s voice distracted them. He had begun to lecture on diabetes, a subject Lady Longtree had for some unaccountable reason introduced. Apparently his mother had suffered from the disease, and he considered himself an authority on the proper ways to treat it. His commanding tone was impossible to ignore.

If he went on like this all evening they would all be authorities, Laura grumbled to herself. Why had Lady Longtree brought it up?

She soon learned. As soon as Dr. Bernstein’s paused for breath, the old lady turned to Margaret and Amy. “I wonder what you think about the disease,” she asked pleasantly. “I know that diabetes is not your field,” she added apologetically, “but as nurses I expect you hear a good bit about it, or perhaps you were taught about it as part of your training.”

Both Margaret and Amy looked surprised, and Laura was struck again by how alike they were. “Uh, I guess so, I mean we probably did learn about it but you know how it is. The facts don’t stay unless you use them,” Amy mumbled vaguely, and turned to Margaret with a pleading look.

Margaret rose to the challenge. “I am not sure how well diabetes tests would work on infants because their systems are immature,” she said evenly. “I imagine Dr. Bernstein knows far more about the disease than we do, anyway.”  Her voice took on an edge of bitterness as she continued. “Even if we were experts, I fear that doctors believe nurses are incapable of mastering the complex knowledge that leads to decisions about treatment. I often think doctors give us as little information as they can get away with. We are less threatening that way.”

Amy flushed with embarrassment. “Now Margaret, I’m sure that’s not really true,” she muttered uneasily.

 “Quite so,” Lady Longtree inserted briskly. “There is certainly a modicum of truth in what Margaret says, is there not, Dr. Bernstein?”

The doctor turned an unpleasant shade of dusky pink. “I should say not!” he sputtered indignantly. “That is an absurd accusation against a noble profession.”

Violet gazed dreamily at the ceiling. “I’ve always heard that nursing was the noblest profession. Florence Nightingale and all that,” she murmured. Her yellow-brown eyes rested on Dr. Bernstein’s face and Laura saw that they weren’t at all dreamy. They were as focused as a hawk’s on its prey.

“A few misguided people subscribe to that notion,” he said, raising a disdainful eyebrow. Violet only smiled indulgently.

Laura tried not to laugh. Every person at the table was swiveling his or her head from one verbal contestant to the next like spectators at a tennis match.

Lady Longtree cleared her throat. “I understand that you are a medical doctor as well as a psychiatrist, Dr. Bernstein,” she persisted.

“One cannot be a psychiatrist otherwise,” Dr. Bernstein replied with pride. “Mind and body are interconnected in so many ways that it is necessary.”

“Yes, I am certain it is,” Lady Longtree agreed placidly. “And perhaps treatment also has to do with why one wished to become a psychiatrist to begin with,” she went on, as if thinking the matter through. “Rather a discouraging profession I should think, unless one had some kind of personal interest in it. Concern with one’s own impulses or fears, perhaps? But of course, I know so very little of the field.”

“Bravo!” Violet said under her breath, just loudly enough for Dr. Bernstein to hear. What
had
the man done to arouse such antipathy from Violet? Could he have made a pass at her already? Laura smothered a laugh.

Still, she had to agree with Violet’s one word assessment. Lady Longtree’s expert though seemingly innocent questions had uncovered a number of insights: that Amy was surprisingly ignorant on medical matters and that Margaret, while intelligent, had a chip on her shoulder the size of a baseball bat. Dr. Bernstein, on the other hand, might be unbearably self-important and have questionable reasons for becoming a psychiatrist, but he did sound as if he really was one, not just a well-educated fake. Laura sighed. That was too bad. She had liked the idea.

Margaret rose abruptly, presumably to visit the ladies room before they left for the cathedral. Her face was strained and unhappy. Laura followed her. Margaret should know that one person at least admired her effort to stand up to Dr. Bernstein.

As she went down the hall, however, she almost ran into Dr. Bernstein himself.  “Over here,” he hissed. “Come quickly. I must speak to you!” 

Baffled, Laura followed him. Dr Bernstein grabbed her arm and pulled her into a recessed area behind some telephone booths. With a forceful shove, he pinned her body against the wall. Laura gasped. Was this lust or something more ominous?

She tried to push him away, but he outweighed her by fifty pounds or more, and he was unexpectedly strong. Twisting her arms behind her, he pressed his shiny round head into her windpipe, cutting off most of her air. His pudgy belly squirmed against her hips with the unbridled enthusiasm of a teenager, while his damp palms slid up and down her body in a travesty of an intimate caress, ranging like a demented massage machine from breast to belly to upper thighs and back again. Perspiration dripped from his face, and his eyes were glazed, almost manic. He reeked of garlic.

A choking sound came from Laura’s throat as he nibbled her neck with moist pink lips that crept ever closer to her mouth. If he got there she would throw up all over him…

At just that moment Lady Longtree came into the hall. Peering helplessly over Dr. Bernstein’s shoulder, Laura flashed a desperate appeal for help with her eyes.

To her dismay, Lady Longtree took one look and dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. Leaning heavily on her ever-present umbrella, she heaved and writhed with mirth, all without making a sound.

Furious, Laura kicked savagely in the direction of Dr. Bernstein’s shins. Her foot missed its mark, but her effort seemed to rouse Lady Longtree.

Uttering a discreet cough to disguise a chortle, she wandered toward the coat rack, tossing her umbrella to the ground with a thump as she went. “Now I wonder where I left those gloves,” she murmured absent-mindedly and rummaged in the pocket of her coat.

Dr. Bernstein froze; then he leaped away from Laura and headed for the men’s room at a trot, his backside bouncing with each step.

“Thanks a lot!” Laura exploded, picking up the fallen umbrella and handing it back to its owner.

“I did provide help eventually,” Lady Longtree protested mildly. “But I am sorry, my dear. Still, if you could have seen your face, and his very round bottom grinding away. It positively quivered…” She leaned on her umbrella, once again helpless with laughter.

“I suppose it was funny,” Laura conceded, and managed a smile. “If you’ll keep watch so he doesn’t waylay me again, I’ll go wash my hands - maybe even my neck,” she added. She shivered. “He really was pretty awful,” she confessed.

Lady Longtree sobered. “Yes, I imagine he was,” she agreed. “Actually, now that I’ve had time to consider the incident sensibly, Dr. Bernstein looked almost as if he were frisking you, if that’s the right word,” she mused unexpectedly.

“Frisking me?” Laura repeated in disbelief. “But why would he do that?”

“Presumably to find out if you have any weapons concealed beneath your girdle, which I strongly suspect he still thinks women wear since he hasn’t looked for himself for a very long time,” Lady Longtree replied.

“He wasn’t wearing a wig,” Laura said suddenly, as an image of Dr. Bernstein’s bald pate snuggling against her neck flashed into her mind. It had been damp with sweat, and surely no one could sweat right thorough a wig. “I mean a bald wig,” she explained.

“No, I don’t think he wears one,” Lady Longtree agreed. “It is too bad, don’t you think? He makes such a good villain.”

“Very much too bad,” Laura agreed, heading for the ladies room to wash off what she could of Dr. Bernstein’s amorous predations. Had he really been frisking her instead of
feeling her up
, as her daughter had called similar efforts on the part of teen-aged boys? Now that she thought about it, his hands had made a thorough survey of her body.

Preoccupied with these speculations, she almost collided with Mrs. Takara in front of the ladies room. Apologizing profusely, Mrs. Takara scuttled into a booth.

Margaret was still in there, and Violet was just leaving. Better not to mention her recent encounter with Dr. Bernstein to either of them, Laura decided. Both disliked the man sufficiently as it was. Instead, she told Margaret she agreed with her about nurses and admired her courage in speaking out.

“Thank you.” Margaret blushed, almost painfully, and Laura wondered if anyone had ever praised her before. To relieve her from saying anything further, Laura turned to Violet and asked if she was coming to the Cathedral.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Violet replied, rummaging through the huge bag she always carried on one shoulder. It was almost the size of a small suitcase, and Laura wondered what on earth Violet kept in its depths. “But don’t be surprised if I leave early,” Violet added as she closed the bag and went toward the door. “I’m a bit allergic to long stays in Cathedrals, and I like choral music, but only so much of it.”

Laura smiled sympathetically. “I feel that way about sermons and lengthy services, but I love choral music, so I’ll probably stay for all of that.”

Violet flashed a grin and sauntered out, her long legs taking the sort of elastic strides Laura could only dream of. Shoving her envy aside, she tackled her neck with soggy paper towels that dribbled cooling water down her unprotected back. She tossed the towels into the wastebasket and wished she could toss them straight into Dr. Bernstein’s perspiring face instead.

When she emerged Lady Longtree was still there as promised, and so was Alan, ready to escort them to the Cathedral. There was no sign of Dr. Bernstein.

Laura forced herself to focus on her surroundings. Wells was the smallest city in England, she remembered the guidebook telling her, and was renowned for its medieval walled precinct which enclosed the twelfth century Cathedral and the Bishop’s Palace. A moat with a small curved bridge led to Vicar’s Close, which was the last known home of a famous cross found in Arthur’s grave, as well as being the oldest continuously used street in the country. Laura decided to look for it after the performance.

The Wells Cathedral stood in glorious isolation on an expanse of lawn, and the sight of its magnificent statue-covered façade erased any lingering revulsion left by her encounter with Dr. Bernstein. The inside of the building was equally impressive. Alan pointed out its most salient characteristics: the ancient clock that struck each quarter hour as jousting knights paraded in and out, and the unique “scissor arches” that had saved the building from collapse. The arch above the nave came together in the center, and then curved out again in another longer arch that rested on the floor. One arch right side up, the other upside down, Laura thought, in layman’s terms. It was a simple and beautiful design, as well as a practical one.

The clock struck and they watched in delight as the knights jousted on schedule, then an usher told them they should take seats. Laura noticed that when Amy entered a pew she dropped to her knees, looking troubled and uncertain. Margaret sat stiffly beside her, but she didn’t look at Amy or touch her. Actually, Laura thought, she had never seen Margaret touch anyone, except to shake hands. How very sad.

The singing began, transporting Laura into a realm of pure pleasure. The voices were rich and strong; they rose into the arched spaces of the Cathedral, seeming to linger around the listeners like invisible clouds. Laura sat entranced until the rehearsal was over. Then, with a deep sigh of repletion, she headed for the doors. The others were still sitting, digesting the music, except for the Takaras, who hurried toward the altar, cameras at the ready, probably hoping for photos of the choristers. Violet had left too.

Laura’s attention was riveted by Dr. Bernstein. He rose from his seat and seemed poised to intercept her. Ducking across a pew, she darted out the other end and hurried to the door at the fastest pace she could manage without breaking into an undignified run. Outside, she sprinted for the nearest refuge, a large pedestal with a statue, and hid behind it. Dr. Bernstein stepped outside, looking perplexed by her sudden disappearance. Then he shrugged his shoulders and went in again.