Wading Into Murder (22 page)

“He didn’t slash me if that’s what you mean, but I’m not all right,” Laura answered testily. “It’s horrible in here.”

“That’s a relief.” Violet examined the grating. “We might need an ironmonger, though - a locksmith that is, to get you out. We can’t seem to find the person who has the key. How did you manage to get padlocked into a hole anyway?”

“The mother,” Laura said, fighting tears. “She locked it, but I don’t know if she did it so he couldn’t get at me or so he could…”

“Couldn’t I expect,” Lady Longtree’s voice interrupted. “But then she became frightened and ran away. With the key. Not the mother though, her sister I believe.”

“I don’t care who she was. Just get me out of here!” Laura yelped.

“No problem.” It was William this time. “I know where the tunnel you’re in goes. I’ll come in and fetch you. It’ll take a few minutes, though.”

“I want to get out now!” Laura wailed. “I hate places like this. There are rats down here, I know there are. I can hear them…”

She could too. Now that all the noises above her had ceased she could hear them, rustling sounds, or was it chewing? They might come and start to chew on her….

“Rats don’t bother people who aren’t dead yet,” William offered by way of comfort. “There’s probably plenty of food for them in the crypts anyway.”

Laura started to laugh then, a hysterical sobbing laugh that brought first Violet and then Rachel to the grating. She heard a murmured conversation between her gasps, and then one pair of feet moved away.

“All right, Laura.” Rachel’s voice now, cheerful and calm. “I’m sure it’s dreadful down there, but we really will get you out soon, William’s jokes notwithstanding. I’d hand you a cup of tea if I could, but water from a flask will have to do. Here, I’ll drip it down if you’ll put your mouth up.”

Momentarily soothed by her calmness and certainty, Laura obeyed. A few dribbles of water, laced with something stronger she suspected, went down her parched throat. It burned pleasantly. She took a deep breath and asked for another dribble. After about four of them, she felt steadier.

“Brandied water?” she asked shakily.

“Just a drop or two,” Rachel answered. “I keep it handy for situations like this. If I could, I’d bring one of those dogs, the St. Bernard types they have in all the pictures of Switzerland with a cask around their necks.”

That made Laura laugh, a more normal sound this time, and she began to feel marginally better – until she remembered Mrs. Takara.

“Mrs. Takara!” she exclaimed. “How could I forget? She’s being held hostage too. He knocked her over just before he grabbed me and said she would be killed if I didn’t come. Just outside the hotel. You’ve got to rescue her.”

Startled, Rachel dialed some numbers. “Have to go to the door, just for a minute,” she called to Laura as she ran. “No signal in here.”

    The silence after she left was unnerving. Laura could hear the rats chewing again, closer now she thought. Maybe there were snakes, too. “Where are Violet and Lady Longtree?” she yelped, unable to bear the noises.

 “Violet had to go to the station to book your assailant, but I’m right here,” Lady Longtree replied calmly as she settled herself near the grating. “You are playing your part extremely well, my dear,” she added.

“I’m not playing a part. I’m terrified,” Laura objected, wiping off the dust and dirt that fell into her face every time anyone moved above her.

Rachel returned and leaned over the grating. “Mrs. Takara was found pounding on the door of an old shed outside the hotel,” she said with a barely restrained grin. “Apparently, someone locked her in. She isn’t harmed, just having hysterics.”

“I’m going to have hysterics too, unless you get me out of here,” Laura shot back.

“You already are,” Rachel replied calmly. “Now, what we’re going to do is sit here, you and me and Lady Longtree, our virtuoso with the umbrella, and have a cozy chat while we wait for William to reach you or the ironmonger to arrive, whichever comes first. In the meantime, I want to hear how the… how you ended up in there.”

“Bait,” Lady Longtree murmured. “The proverbial tethered goat.”

“But I didn’t try to be bait!” Laura protested indignantly. “I admit I had talked about it, but I would never do it this early in the morning. I’m not at my best then. All I did was come down to the lobby to meet Rachel and Violet for breakfast, or at least I thought that’s why Rachel told me to come down at that hour.”

Rachel was startled. “
I
told you to come down?”

“That’s what the desk clerk said when she called at the ungodly hour of six thirty. So I came. But Mrs. Takara intercepted me. She thought I’d come down that early so I could go with them on a tour. She asked the day before, but I hadn’t checked with Violet. I didn’t want to go, and anyway I didn’t think Violet would let me.”

“We shall have to ask Violet,” Lady Longtree inserted. Her voice was sharp with interest. “What happened after that?”

“I tried to tell Mrs. Takara she was wrong but you know how she is, she doesn’t listen, and she just dragged me out the door. When she finally realized I was serious about not going, she practically started to cry.

“Then, while we were standing outside the hotel, the baby’s father ran between us, knocked Mrs. Takara down and pointed his knife at me. He said if I didn’t come he would kill me and Mrs. Takara. Someone else had a knife on her.

“I am tired of being abducted! It is very hard on the nerves!” Laura’s words were delivered in a near shout, and Rachel jumped.

“Hard on all our nerves,” she agreed fervently. “I shall have to ask for a rest cure if I’m assigned to guard you much longer.”

“I’ll join you,” Laura promised, “if I ever get out of here.”

The conversation languished, and Laura felt hysteria returning. Lady Longtree’s voice forestalled it. “I fear the rescue plan took longer than it should have,” she apologized. “It took some time to find a sufficiently sensible person to run to the hotel and give to Violet and Rachel my message. The first two people I accosted only looked irritated. Finally I saw a bright looking boy riding a bicycle and offered him five pounds if he did what I asked and did it fast. Ah, here he is now, wanting his tip.”

“Excuse, M’am,” a child’s voice ventured. “You said…”

“Indeed I did,” Lady Longtree agreed, handing him a five pound note.

“Thank you, M’am,” he replied in a piping voice, as if reciting a line. Then, in a more normal tone: “I never been in that hotel. Fancy, that is.”

“You deserve it. You may have saved this lady’s life,” Lady Longtree told him.

“I did?” A pair of round blue eyes, so round Laura thought they might pop out of the child’s head, peered down through the grating. Red hair stuck up in all directions as if the shock of seeing her had electrified it.

“Blimey!” he exclaimed in wonder. “Is she stuck down there?”

“She is,” Rachel told him casually. “She got locked in by one person so another person couldn’t put a knife in her back. There’s no key.”

“Gawd almighty!  Can’t cher get her out then, ever? Maybe she’ll have to live down there forever,” he added with ghoulish satisfaction. He plumped himself down on one side of the grating and leaned over it, apparently eager to observe Laura’s slow deterioration. “Jeez!” he observed happily. “It’s like one of them shows on the telly. What’s it like down there?”

“Cramped, dirty and smelly,” Laura muttered unhappily. “What’s your name?” she asked the child. At least he was distracting.

“Davy,” he answered. “What’s yours?”

“Laura,” she answered, and gagged on dust. Oh please, she begged the unknown man who must be the blacksmith, please hurry up…

“You’re American, ain’t cha,” the child observed with satisfaction.

Laura blinked. “Yes. You can tell because we do crazy things.”

“I think you’re brave,” he told her loyally. “Braver than my sister would be, anyhow. Maybe braver than me.”

Footsteps, even heavier ones, coming this way.The blacksmith? Laura tried to breathe deeply so she wouldn’t disgrace herself by crying but gagged instead.

“A problem here, I see,” a voice observed cheerfully, and a grimy face appeared above the grating. His next words were predictable. “How’d you get in there?”

“It’s a long story,” Laura croaked. “I just want to get out.”

“In a jiffy,” he answered. “Here, Davy, hold this crowbar.” Davy complied eagerly, and the man bent to his task.

Abruptly, the grate came off with a wrenching sound. Everyone cheered. Laura couldn’t. Rust and bits of grime had spattered into her eyes and down her throat, making speech impossible. She couldn’t see, either. Blindly, she felt for the opening. Rachel’s hands and a pair of mighty arms that must belong to the blacksmith, hauled her up and onto her feet. She promptly fell. Her legs had gone numb.

Rachel knelt beside her. “Drink,” she ordered, putting a flask in her hand.

“Too much stuff in my throat,” Laura sputtered, but she tried anyway. Some of it went down, and she choked. Blinking hard, she peered up at the others.

A flashbulb went off. Richard, Laura saw, drawn to the drama by his nose for news - if a nose was needed. The hotel must be buzzing with the story by this time.

“I don’t think cameras and flashes are allowed in here,” she croaked.

“I bet maniacs with knives and ladies in tunnels aren’t either,” Richard noted.

“Let’s get one of you and the boy. Davy, is that right? Just go bend over Laura. That’s it. Terrific.” Another flash went off.

William reappeared. “Sorry Laura. The tunnels didn’t go through,” he apologized, sounding genuinely contrite. “We would have had a great time exploring them. I saw a bunch of skeletons down there.”

Laura shuddered, but William didn’t notice. Davy had sidled up to him, and an absorbing conversation about skeletons ensued. “She might have been one of them, that Laura lady,” she heard Davy exclaim enthusiastically, “if they hadn’t pulled her out. How long does it take to get turned into bone?”

Laura didn’t wait for an answer. “Get me out of here and get me tea!” she said, struggling painfully to her feet.

Violet reappeared. “Works every time,” she agreed, taking Laura’s arm. “A few cups in you, and you’ll be right as rain. Besides, we have work to do.”

 Rachel took the other arm and they set off. Laura wondered if her legs and hips would ever work properly again. Her muscles felt like sandpaper, and her feet seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to do.

There was no lack of people outside the hotel now. As they came up to it, more flashbulbs went off. Laura winced.

“Tea coming right up,” Rachel announced, and headed for the kitchen.

Once in her room, Laura stripped off her clothes, threw them aside and stumbled into the shower. Sighing luxuriously, she let the hot water strip grime from her body; then wrapped herself in the terry cloth robe and staggered back into the bedroom.

Violet had already poured a cup for her. “I feel like I got buried alive and was just dug out again,” Laura said as she sipped gratefully. “It’s going to take three cups at least to bring me back to normal.”

“Not surprising,” Rachel commented with a shiver. “Ghastly place. I’d have freaked out long before you did. I hate places like that.”

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Laura offered belatedly. “I really did think for a bit that I’d had it. Lady Longtree was amazing.”

“She held him off until we could get there,” Violet agreed. “Ah, here she is, and William. I want them to listen too, while I ask you a few questions.”

“Sorry,” Lady Longtree apologized as she took a seat. “I got held up when Davy’s mother came to look for him, with four others just like him in assorted sizes and sexes tagging behind. Rather like a gaggle of red-headed geese.”

Violet recalled them to business. “I need to ask Laura those questions,” she reminded them. She turned to Laura, her face intent. “Think hard about your answers because this is important.”

“I’ll try,” Laura agreed, aware that there was excitement in Violet. She could feel it emanating toward her. She sat up straighter.

“I want you to repeat everything you can remember and especially everyone you saw during five short periods of time,” Violet began. “William, I want you to check Laura’s accounts with your graphs and make any necessary changes.”

She turned to Laura again. “I want to hear about your time in the airport, the time when you tried to talk to Amy in Stourhead Gardens: the time after you were waylaid by Dr. Bernstein; the time after the recital in the Cathedral, and the time of your accident on the stairs of the tower. Give yourself plenty of time to think who and what you saw.”

Laura prodded her memory as she finished her second cup of tea; then she recounted each period in as much detail as she possibly could.

“Does that help?” she asked when she had finished.

“I believe it does,” Violet replied, and again Laura was reminded of a hawk. This time, it was definitely not a friendly one. The gleaming amber eyes were fierce and determined, the eyes of a hawk about to make a kill.

“Yes,” Violet added in a soft, deliberate voice that sent shivers up Laura’s spine. “I believe it does.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Violet announced that there would be a meeting at five o’clock that afternoon in a large room overlooking the hotel garden. All the tour members were expected to attend. In the meantime, she asked them to stay nearby and to let her know if they went out. No one questioned her authority.

Only the Takaras asked for permission to go out so they could do their tour with Elise. Alarmingly, Mrs. Takara was still determined to take Laura with them. Violet vetoed this unrealistic demand but decreed that the Takaras could go as long as a policeman went with them and they returned in time for the meeting. Both decisions seemed to hurt Mrs. Takara’s feelings deeply; she protested that a policeman wasn’t necessary and that she would take fine care of Laura.

“She has had a bad experience,” Laura overheard the little woman whisper confidentially to Violet, “and the best remedy then is always to keep busy and not keep thinking of what has happened. That is always what I tell my girls.”

Violet wouldn’t back down, however, and Mrs. Takara finally gave in. To Laura’s amusement, she then tried to convince her police escort not to come. That too was refused. Mrs. Takara sounded almost tearful as they set off. Being accompanied by a policeman incurred a loss of face – as did the inference that she couldn’t take good enough care of Laura despite her long experience in taking care of girls.

Glad to be spared the trip, Laura stayed mostly in her room. Violet turned up twice to clarify certain points. She gave nothing away, but the predatory look in her eyes made Laura certain that her friend knew the identity of the criminal she sought.

William came in for a brief visit too. He seemed ebullient, which Laura suspected meant that Lady Longtree had told him about Maria. He showed her the diagrams he had made, where people were when, who might have interacted with whom and who might have seen another person without that person’s awareness. They were clear and easy to interpret, and Laura was impressed.

“That’s the way my mind works,” William explained nonchalantly. “I’ve got a kind of map inside my head that I can look at when I need to, and that makes it easy to remember stuff. Like musical notes, or tunnels, where they go in and come out or where they are on the scale or map. Everybody has one, I guess, only they don’t always see it.”

Laura smiled. The juxtaposition of musical notes and tunnels was unusual, but she knew what he meant. “I doubt if most people are as good at it as you are,” she told him, “and the diagrams are brilliant. I imagine they’ve been a great help to Violet.”

William smiled with pleasure, the beautiful encompassing smile that always went straight to Laura’s heart. “Yeah, I guess they were. She really liked them. Said they helped her crack the case. It’s surprising how often people forget to tell you what they saw, but if you know where everybody was and when they were there, and check them against each other, you get some interesting patterns.

“Violet said not to talk about them, so I better not. Or to show them to anybody but you and Rachel, so don’t say anything either.”  With a cheery wave, he sauntered out the door, the diagrams tucked securely under his arm.

The day wore on. Laura tried to sleep, to rest, to think, but only became more and more restless, as if a hurricane or violent thunderstorm was pending. Rachel finally brought out a pack of cards and made her play variations on poker, which entertained her mildly but didn’t really help.

Just before five o’clock, Violet popped in with a request. “I want you to take the far seat at one end of the semi-circle of chairs,” she told Laura. “You are there to watch faces. William will do the same at the other end. I shall need your input if the meeting doesn’t go as planned.”

She turned to Rachel. “You are to stand behind Laura, but when I give you the signal I want you to move to the French doors into the garden. You understand.” 

Their eyes met and Rachel nodded, her face grave. “Yes, I understand.” Laura looked at the youthful face and wondered how much Rachel knew, and even more, how much violence and cruelty she had already seen in the few years she had spent at her job. Probably too much.

Suddenly, the case seemed very serious, and horribly nasty. Laura was aware of a weariness that had nothing to do with physical tiredness as she walked slowly into the meeting room with Rachel and Violet.

The room featured a pair of glass-paned French doors that looked into the hotel garden. The only other door was the one through which they entered. Eight straight-backed chairs had been arranged in a wide semi-circle around a central podium.

They were the first to arrive; Violet went to the podium, and Laura took her assigned seat at the far end so she could watch people as they came in. Rachel stood behind her.

It was a solemn procession. Lady Longtree came first and took a seat in the middle of the semi-circle near the French doors, murmuring about feeling dizzy if she didn’t have air. Laura raised an eyebrow. That was the first she had heard of dizzy spells. William took the other seat at the end of the semi-circle opposite Laura.

Mrs. Takara, who had overheard Lady Longtree’s remark, sat down beside her. “I, too,” she whispered. “It is these long meetings. I always wish for fresh air.” 

Mr. Takara sat stolidly down beside William, as if emphasizing his lack of connection with his silly wife. Irritated, Laura examined his impassive features and discovered that they weren’t unexpressive at all. Mr. Takara was terrified. Mrs. Takara, in contrast, was either unaware of the tension in the room or ignored it. Still, Laura thought her face was watchful, not frightened like her husband’s, but definitely wary. How far would she go to protect him, to save him from embarrassment, as she had put it, if he was guilty?

Claudine came in and crossed the room quickly as if to sit beside Laura, but Mrs. Takara patted the seat beside her insistently. Claudine hesitated; then she took it. She looked frightened too, or was nervous a better word? More like stage fright, Laura decided, as if she was preparing to play yet another role. Already, she had morphed from cool, self-contained beauty in a miserable marriage to former waitress with a Brooklyn accent – with a detour at some point to marry Roger Brown - to the loving companion of an irreverent journalist who could hardly take his eyes off her. A further transition to master criminal seemed well within her range.

Richard took the seat between her and Claudine. Laura was surprised that he had been included, but she assumed Violet had her reasons. She wondered if Richard knew about Claudine’s former marriage to Roger Brown – and if his infatuation with Claudine could be an act designed to trap her.

Alan entered next. Instead, of taking the remaining seat, he pulled a chair to a spot midway between Violet in the podium and the door through which they had all entered. Laura thought he looked better, as if part of his life had returned to normal.

Violet stood perfectly still, watching the door. Clearly, she expected someone else to arrive. Dr. Bernstein or Hans, Laura thought, and wondered which.

The others waited in strained silence. Laura spent the time making a mental map of everyone’s position, as William had suggested. She ran her eyes along the row of chairs: herself, Richard, Claudine, Mrs. Takara, Lady Longtree, a still empty seat, Mr. Takara and William. 

They heard a muted commotion in the hall, and then Hans appeared – or Laura assumed he was Hans. The bandages that swathed his head made it hard to be sure. He limped as he headed slowly for the last seat. Laura was appalled. Who had done that to him? Surely not the police. Did his presence here mean that he was no longer being held as a suspect, or that Violet meant to accuse him in front of everyone?

No time for speculation now, she reminded herself. Watch faces. Was anyone shocked by the sight of Hans? Only Claudine, though that could be an act. William and Lady Longtree looked upset but not surprised. Mr. Takara shrank away from Hans as he took his seat, his face guarded now.

Mrs. Takara, surprisingly, was angry. “He should not be here,” she hissed, and stared malevolently at Hans, as if trying to see through the bandages to the bad character she was sure lurked underneath. Perhaps she was right, Laura thought.

When Hans was settled, Violet turned to survey the people in front of her. Her eyes were hard as gimlets.

“As many of you know, I am a special investigator who deals with criminal cases involving children,” she began, her voice firm and authoritative. The only people who seemed disconcerted by her statement were the Takaras. Mrs. Takara’s eyes opened wide in amazement that quickly disappeared, as if she didn’t want to be exposed as naïve. Mr. Takara reacted differently. He seemed to sink into his chair and for a moment Laura thought he would bolt from the room. He stared at his wife with an expression Laura couldn’t read, except that it wasn’t pleasant, and then his eyes dropped.

“I am here, as are a number of other people in the room,” Violet continued, “to investigate an organization that bribes parents to sell their babies for a particularly onerous purpose – to make them virtual slaves to a group of wealthy men. The babies, who are all girls from Muslim backgrounds, are taken abroad to be trained as obedient wives. They are forced to undergo circumcision, as that is considered essential in an acceptably submissive mate. Should they object to their new role, they are brutally punished, made to work as unpaid servants, or they are put out into the streets.”

Claudine uttered a faint cry of distress. Either she hadn’t known the purpose of the organization, or she wanted everyone to think she didn’t. Richard took her hand to comfort her, and she moved closer to him.

Mrs. Takara nodded her head mournfully, as if such horrors were nothing new to her. Mr. Takara only shrank back further. His forehead gleamed with sweat, and little droplets trickled down his cheeks.

“That is the background of this case,” Violet went on. “We became aware that this criminal organization had begun to operate in the Bath area, and so we moved in. We became aware, too, that some of the principals in the organization were on this tour, for reasons we did not at first understand. Now, we do.”

She let the statement linger in the air before she spoke again. “Amy’s death was not suicide,” she said baldly. “Amy was murdered because she had been persuaded to help this organization obtain infant girls still in hospital, or shortly after they went home. Amy believed she was saving them from genital mutilation and a life of servitude to the man chosen for them by their fathers or brothers. She, like them, was an innocent victim of a vicious organization.”

Mrs. Takara looked shocked. “But that cannot be,” she said in disbelieving tones. “She was so unhappy. So very unhappy.” She glanced at her husband as if seeking confirmation, but he didn’t meet her eyes. He never looked at her except with loathing, Laura realized. Mrs. Takara was hardly beautiful with her lined face and dark frumpy clothes, but her husband seemed almost to hate her. Unlike her, he didn’t seem surprised by Violet’s revelation about Amy.

Claudine seemed unsurprised, too. Only her body betrayed her reaction. It crumpled a little as if at a blow but she stiffened again quickly. She seemed tired and withdrawn now, as if she just wanted this drama to end.

Her wish wasn’t granted. Violet had another shock for them. “Amy was also murdered by mistake,” she stated deliberately. “The intended victim was Margaret.”

A wave of pity engulfed Laura, but also recognition. Margaret as victim made much more sense. She studied the others. Most reacted as she did, with sadness but not shock. Mr. Takara looked uninterested. It seemed not to matter to him which woman had been murdered or why. He was still afraid, though.

Mrs. Takara, in contrast, nodded her head sagely. “Yes,” she murmured to Lady Longtree. “Yes, that could be so. She was not a strong person, Margaret. She did not have good companions I think. She did not judge them well.”

Violet spoke again, and Laura noted that everyone seemed puzzled by her choice of subject matter. She certainly was.

“It has been interesting to us,” Violet said, and now her tone was bland, “that so many participants in this tour have spent time in New York or once lived there. Laura comes from New York and has taught for many years in that area, Hans attends many meetings in New York associated with the United Nations and his own organization; Lady Longtree and William visit often for various reasons. Dr. Bernstein was a regular visitor to New York as well, for academic conferences and less admirable pursuits that we are now investigating.

“He is a suspected pedophile,” she added in a soft but menacing tone. “And a distributor of illegal drugs. He provided them for the babies, to make them sleep.”

Laura winced. The first revelation didn’t surprise her, but the second did. No wonder Violet disliked Dr. Bernstein so intensely.

Abruptly, Violet’s demeanor changed again, and Laura had the feeling that she had gone on the attack now. She took a step forward and her body whipped around to face Mr. Takara. Her eyes were steely.

“You worked in New York for a time, did you not, Mr. Takara?”

His face blanched. “I… I, yes I did, for a time,” he mumbled, and Laura didn’t even need to look to read his fear. His body radiated terror. Violet watched him intensely for a long moment before she turned to Mrs. Takara, who looked nervous and for the first time a little uncertain.

“You too lived in New York at that time, Mrs. Takara?” Violet persisted, but her tone was less menacing now.

“I must go where my husband goes,” Mrs. Takara reproved, seeming to regain assurance by returning to familiar ground. “In these modern times I understand that is not always done, but in Japan it is still so.”

 “But you are not Japanese, are you?” Violet asked unexpectedly. “I understand that you were born in New York and lived there and in other parts of the world before settling in Japan. Mr. Takara is not Japanese by birth either, I believe,” she added.

“I am Japanese now,” Mr. Takara inserted angrily, with a sudden resurgence of strength. Mrs. Takara cast him a mournful look and cocked her head to one side like a small bird before she answered for both of them.