Restrike (26 page)

They peered through the crowd at the tall figure dressed as a black bird, with a big black beak and huge feathered wings. He was accompanied by two smaller figures, costumed as a white owl and a hawk.

“We should split up and take turns following them,” Coleman said. “I can’t get too near them. If Simon sees me up close he’ll know me. I should have worn a mask.” She glanced down at her blue and white flounces, at the beribboned basket holding Dolly, and at her shepherdess’s crook. She’d tried to think of something less girly, but it was hard to design a great costume for a person of her height. In the end, she’d run out of time and had remade an old evening dress. Her huge white hat with trailing blue ribbons over a wig with long dark curls disguised her, at least from a distance.

“It would help if you told us what you thought was going to happen,” Dinah said.

Coleman shrugged. “I don’t know. We just have to watch the cast of characters, and see what they do. Look for Heyward Bain. I expect he’ll wear a costume that plays to his size, since he can’t disguise it.” Coleman said.

“Like what?” Zeke asked.

“A toy soldier? Tom Thumb? He might get angry when he sees Simon with his lady friends, but he’s too controlled to make a scene. But I think Ellen will crack. By now she’s heard the tapes.” Coleman was scanning the room, trying to spot celebrities for the magazine, keeping an eye on Simon and his companions, hoping to see Bain and Ellen.

“Will Ellen wear a nanny costume?” Dinah said.

“What do you think, Rob? You haven’t said a word.”

“I don’t like any of this, and I don’t think you should be here. I think you’re in danger. We should leave,” Rob said.

“Well, stay close to me. That’s not so awful, is it?”

“Why don’t you and Dinah and Bethany go home? I’ll stay here with Jonathan and Zeke to see if anything happens,” Rob said.

“Not a chance,” Coleman said.

“Coleman, look at Debbi,” Dinah said.

Debbi was magnificent as a dragon. She wore a strapless green bodysuit covered in glitter, and spangled tights. She held a green sequined tail draped over one arm, and her half-mask had giraffe-like eyelashes.

“Did the fish bite?” Coleman said, after she’d complimented Debbi’s costume.

“Hook, line, and sinker. I took some papers to Heyward’s, and Ellen stopped by while I was there. I told them that Simon was going to the ball, and that he’d taken three tickets. I thought Heyward was going to pass out. As for Ellen—God, I’d sooner face a gorgon. They each took a ticket. I’m sure they’ll come, and I plan to avoid them.” Debbi pretended to shiver, and shed a few sequins.

“Any idea what either of them will be wearing?” Coleman said.

“Not a clue,” Debbi said.

“Let’s spread out, and look for Bain and Ellen,” Coleman said. “Jonathan, why don’t you and Dinah head directly opposite where we are? Over there, by that bar.”

Jonathan, with Dinah on his arm, was barely out of sight when Bethany called out, “Coleman, look! There’s a doctor! It’s my doctor! Look at the beard!” She was standing on tiptoe, jumping up and down, pointing across the room.

“Zeke, you and Bethany try to get near that doctor. See if you can find out who he is, or at least how much of that beard and hair is a disguise,” Coleman said. Zeke and Bethany pushed their way through the throngs of costumed figures towards the tall figure in white standing near the entrance.

“Damn it, I can’t see a thing. I
hate
being short,” Coleman said to Debbi. Setting Dolly’s basket on the bar, Coleman used her crook to help her climb up on it. From her new vantage point she had a great view of the ballroom. She ignored the staring bartenders, who were probably going to tell her to get down.

A disturbance at the door distracted them. The doctor had forced his way through the crowd towards the raven. When he closed in on the big black figure, he pulled a club from the bag he carried and without warning smashed it into the feathered head.

The raven’s mask disintegrated, leaving Simon’s blond head and startled face visible. The doctor struck Simon repeatedly. As if paralyzed, none of the shocked bystanders attempted to stop him. Blood covered Simon’s face and his hair and spattered all over costumed guests standing nearby. Simon staggered and collapsed to the floor, vanishing from view. The crowd struggled to get as far from the doctor and his blood-covered weapon as possible. Men shouted and women screamed for the police, for security, for help.

The doctor apparently noticed the owl and the hawk for the first time, both covered in blood, both staring down at the floor where Simon must lie. The doctor struck out at them, and when they collapsed, he turned and tried to force his way through the crowd towards the entrance.

Rob looked up at Coleman. “Get down. I’ll take you home.”

“No way,” she shouted, struggling to make herself heard above the din. “I’m okay. The danger’s near the door. Catch the doctor if you can.”

“Go on,” Debbi yelled. “I’ll stay with Coleman.”

Rob hesitated, then, holding his courtesy police badge above his head, he bellowed, “Security. Coming through.” The crowd parted, and he disappeared into the swarm of people struggling to get away from the assailant and his victims.

The doctor was making little headway. New arrivals, unaware of the attacks, pushed their way into the room. The doctor was trying to move against the tide. Those who’d seen the white-clad figure’s vicious attack struggled to reach an exit. A fire alarm clamored, and sirens shrieked in the street below.

Coleman began to fear a crowd catastrophe where people were crushed, even killed, trying to escape. But so far, costumed guests were exiting freely through three of the four formal exits, and the crowd was shrinking. Only the main entrance remained blocked with people. No one had tried the two emergency exits.

Heyward Bain appeared, dressed as Lautrec’s
Midget
—top hat, white tie, and tails. He climbed up on the bar beside Coleman. She nodded, but didn’t turn her head to look at him. She was concentrating on the group clustered around the area where Simon had fallen.

“Who are the people in the bird costumes with Simon?” Bain asked.

“Judy Nelson and Delia Swain. We think they’re both involved with Ellen and Simon in the schemes to cheat you,” Coleman said, still staring at the spot where Simon and his companions had fallen to the floor. The noise level had dropped as the crowd diminished. It was no longer necessary to shout.

“Did you see it from the beginning? What happened”

“The doctor—there, near the entrance door, in the whites, with the black beard—came up and started hitting Simon with a club. The first blow got him in the mouth. It was horrible—teeth and blood flew everywhere—and the doctor kept hitting him till Simon fell down. Then the doctor struck out at the women—the birds—and they fell, too, but I don’t think they were hurt. They probably realized it was the only way to escape the blows.”

A group of uniformed police, followed by a cluster of medical technicians, shoved their way into the ballroom. Seeing them, the doctor changed direction and headed toward the rear exit. Coleman couldn’t make out his features—he wore a black stocking cap, black hair fell to his shoulders and covered his brow, and a heavy beard disguised his mouth and chin.

“Who do you think it is?” Bain said.

“I don’t know. We never found a tall man connected to Simon. Could it be Maxwell Arnold?”

“Maxwell’s tall enough, and rotten through and through, but I can’t see him making a public attack like this. He’d creep up behind his victim in a dark alley. I’m going to see how badly Simon’s hurt, and where they’re taking him.” Bain signaled with his hand, and one of his musclemen appeared. Bain jumped down from the bar, and the two of them pushed through the crowd, the huge guard forcing an opening.

Debbi looked up at Coleman. “You’re safe here—the action’s across the room. I’d better go with Heyward. I’m going to have work to do.” She followed in their wake.

The figure in bloodstained white continued to force his way through the crowd. The shrinking crowd, frightened or repelled, struggled to keep their distance from him. The doctor twisted and turned, moving like an eel, until, as if by magic, he disappeared. Coleman stared at the spot where she’d last seen the white coat. The doctor had covered the bloody white jacket that drew every eye with a long black raincoat—an incredible feat of
trompe l’oeil
. His pursuers, bewildered, looked around them. Their quarry had inexplicably disappeared. Coleman tried to catch Rob’s eye, but he, as puzzled as the others, scanned the room for the white coat.

Oh God, the doctor was coming straight towards her. The bartenders who’d been on duty at the bar where she stood had deserted their posts, and she couldn’t see anyone she knew. If the doctor attacked her, how would she protect herself? The shepherdess’s crook was a toy and would break instantly. Maybe a bottle?

Coleman grabbed a bottle of red wine, prepared to make a stand. But the figure in the black raincoat ignored her and veered towards the emergency exit behind Coleman’s perch. In seconds, he’d be out of the ballroom and down the stairs. “Speak, Dolly,” she commanded.

Dolly jumped out of her basket and began to bark at the top of her lungs. Faces turned toward Dolly and Coleman, and should have spotted the doctor, but the black coat was like Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility. No one recognized the figure as Simon’s attacker.

It was up to her. Given their relative size, Coleman felt like Dolly attacking a Weimaraner, but she had no choice. She took a deep breath and launched herself into the air, tackling the tall black-coated figure, who tumbled to the floor beneath her.

Coleman was on top, but her right side hit the hard wood of the ballroom. The little dog jumped to the floor, and followed Coleman, still barking shrilly. The wine bottle lay in shards around Coleman, and red wine stained her ruffles and Dolly’s white fur.

Coleman was in agony. She was sure she’d broken her shoulder. Her right arm was useless, and she’d hit her head. She felt dizzy and faint, but the killer was struggling to turn over and grab her. If she was going to be killed, she’d damned well see her killer. She pulled at the beard with her good left hand, but the whiskers wouldn’t come off. She grabbed at the stocking cap, and it came away, bringing with it the black wig. A mass of red curls tumbled out.

Good God, the doctor was Ellen Carswell.

Ellen managed to turn, making a horrible hissing noise as she reached for Coleman, but Dolly sunk her sharp little teeth into the arm that was trying to snake itself around Coleman’s neck. Ellen screamed, and the crowd closed in. Coleman heard Dinah say something she couldn’t understand, and Rob’s voice shouting, “Out of the way! Police!” He pulled Coleman to her feet, and she nearly fainted with pain. Someone picked up Dolly and held her out to Coleman.

Coleman, holding the dog with her left arm, watched Rob handcuff Ellen Carswell.

Ellen was almost unrecognizable. Her eyes bulged, and the black beard covered her mouth and chin. She was still making that horrible hissing noise.

“Get Coleman out of here,” Rob told someone. “She’ll have to talk to the police, but not tonight. I’ll deal with that. She should see a doctor. Maybe one of the emergency people can help.” His voice faded, and the room went dark.

Coleman, frustrated, helpless, and fuzzy-headed with painkillers, sat in Dinah and Jonathan’s living room in front of a blazing fire. Her right shoulder was broken, and her useless arm was in a sling. Despite all the pills, she felt excruciating pain. She had three cracked ribs—her sides hurt every time she breathed—and she was black and blue all over. Her head ached from a slight concussion, and with her two black eyes, she looked like a bedraggled panda.

When she’d spent a night and a day in the hospital, and the doctor had said she could leave, she’d planned to go to her own apartment. But when she realized she couldn’t hook her bras, or pull on tights, or wash her hair, or even hold a pencil, let alone walk and feed Dolly, she’d agreed to stay in Dinah’s guestroom until she was better able to take care of herself and her dog.

Dolly, who’d been to the groomer to have the blood and red wine washed away, was sparkling white, and snuggled beside her on the sofa. Coleman envied Dolly her clean fur. Her own hair was a rat’s nest of blood, tangles, wine, who knew what.

“Tell me everything,” she commanded Rob, who’d come by to cheer her up.

“You know everything I know,” Rob said. “Try to get your mind on something else. You shouldn’t keep dwelling on Tuesday night.”

Coleman groaned. Bossy and patronizing again. “Rob, I’ve had so many painkillers I hardly know my own name. Pretend I know nothing, and talk. I can’t remember much since the ball, except pain and doctors. I’ll never see a white coat again without feeling nauseated.”

Rob nodded. “All right, here goes: Ellen was the master criminal. She says she killed Jimmy because he was threatening Simon, wanted more money, and said he’d talk if he didn’t get it. She was your mugger, and your would-be poisoner. She tried to kill Baker and Dolly. She says Simon doesn’t like ugly dogs. They’re ‘nasty and they bite,’ and ‘Nanny didn’t want little Simon hurt.’ She says you’re nosy, and you ‘chased after Simon.’ Chick was nosy, too, and like Jimmy, you both threatened Simon.

“She used the club she was carrying Tuesday night to kill both Jimmy and Chick. She wore the doctor outfit when she killed Jimmy, and was a bearded man in jeans and a sweatshirt when she killed Chick. She says she did it all without Simon’s knowledge. Simon never did anything ‘bad.’ By giving Simon a false alibi for La Grange’s death, she alibied herself, but I don’t think anyone ever suspected her of the violent crimes. I certainly didn’t.”

“And the thefts?” Coleman said.

“She stole the Dürers, and she borrowed Delia’s car to do it. Delia knew Ellen took her car, but Ellen says Delia didn’t know how it was being used until later. Ellen went to London with a driver when she said she did, but she came back to Oxford in a rental car, parked it outside of town, and took a taxi to the Randolph. She drove to the Baldorean and back to the Randolph in Delia’s car, returned to London in her rental car, and finally came back to Oxford with the driver. Ellen planned the Rembrandt plate theft, Delia set it up, Judy took them, and Ellen managed the restrike. She said an ordinary commercial printer in Chicago made it, on paper she obtained from an antique book dealer. She isn’t naming names, but I’m not sure any crime was committed until the print was sold.”

“Is Ellen insane?” Coleman asked.

“Maybe she is now. Who knows? But I don’t think she was crazy during most of her criminal activities. It was more about money and power than she’s admitting.”

“How about Simon’s girlfriends? How are they?” Coleman asked.

“Neither Delia nor Judy was hurt at the ball. They had the presence of mind to fall to the floor as soon as the doctor took a swing at them. They say the theft of the Rembrandt plates was a ‘prank,’ they ‘borrowed’ the plates, and Delia planned to return them before they were missed, but they were missed sooner than they expected. They swear they knew nothing about any restrikes. The police have searched Ellen’s apartment, and the plates were there, with two more restrikes of
Kitten.
The plates will go back to the museum, and the restrikes will be destroyed.”

“What about Maxwell? Did he have any part in this?” Coleman said.

“None. His harassment of you and Dinah is totally unconnected to Ellen’s activities. He’s been warned, and I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

“And Simon isn’t guilty of anything?”

“I’m sure he knew about the theft of the Rembrandt plates, and he must have set up the theft of the Dürers—he was the only one who knew about them—but he won’t admit anything, and Ellen won’t testify against him. The British won’t prosecute him, and neither will Bain. I doubt if the Harnett Museum will prosecute anyone, not with Chairman Daddy’s little Delia involved and the plates back where they belong.

“I’m guessing Delia and Judy will have their hands slapped, but as far as I can tell, the police have absolutely nothing on Simon. He’ll walk away with a pretty new face and beautiful new teeth, courtesy of Heyward Bain. Bain’s been at the hospital with Simon, dealing with police and bad publicity, lawyers and who knows what—but Dinah says Bain found the time to send you flowers?”

“Yes,” Coleman said. “Nice of him, especially with all he had going on. But since we can’t prove Simon guilty of anything, does that mean poor Rachel is stuck with him?”

“Afraid so, but Simon is co-owner of everything Ellen owned. She’s going to be out of the picture for a long time. When everything’s settled, Simon could end up rich. He might lose interest in Rachel.”

“I doubt it. He’s tied to the past and to Rachel by hate and envy,” Coleman said.

“If you had it to do over, would you still put on the act for the bug and set them all up?” Rob asked. “I can’t forget I suggested it, but I didn’t expect Ellen to try to kill Simon right in front of us.”

Coleman shuddered. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since I saw Ellen bash Simon in the face. It was horrifying. But I’d do it again. Someone who’d killed twice wasn’t going to stop, and I was on the hit list. Self-preservation was part of my motivation, I’m sure. I didn’t enjoy throwing myself off that bar and tackling her, but I’d do that again, too. Someone had to stop her.

“But there won’t be a next time. You were right— detecting is too dangerous.” She stroked Dolly, who snuggled closer and licked her hand.

“I hope you never run into anything like this again,” Rob said.

“I’m sure I won’t. I’m going to be too busy. As soon as I’m able to get around, I’m going to buy another magazine. I’ve always wanted to run more than one, and now I have the money.”

He stared. “Not the
Artful Californian
?”

Coleman laughed. “Oh, no. Something in an entirely different field—the art world can be soooo quiet and boring. I need a little excitement.”