by Nancy Warren
His eyes lit with humor at that. “I don’t care.”
I knew he didn’t. He’d been through it once before with his first wife. But that had been half a millennium ago. “Rafe. It took you five hundred years to get over the last mortal woman you loved. Are you sure you want to do this again?”
His hand tightened on my wrist. “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything. I think my track record proves that I am nothing if not a faithful husband.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I felt foolish and indecisive, but it was a big decision. Marriage in general was a big decision. And I’d never had the best taste in men. Oh, I knew I could trust him. I knew he loved me. I even knew that I loved him. But I’d age, and he wouldn’t. How long would it be before people were looking at me like I was the ultimate cougar? At some point, we’d have to leave Oxford. At some later point, I would no doubt have to pretend to be his old aunt or his mother or something, while he remained forever thirty-five and in his prime. While I aged and aged and grew more and more frail and finally died. I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want it for me. Of course, another alternative was before me. I supposed I could always join him. Have him turn me into a vampire. But I didn’t want to make that choice. Constance, his first wife, hadn’t chosen it, either.
I looked at him. My answer trembled on my lips and then a cheerful voice said, “So you found a clue? Well done, Lucy.” And Theodore walked in from the back room.
Chapter 11
Rafe released my wrist. He turned to Theodore. “For a detective, you have a wretched sense of timing.”
Or perhaps an impeccable sense of timing. I knew I would have to give Rafe an answer, but at least I didn’t have to give it right now.
I took a moment to pull myself together, and then I picked up the torn halves of the photograph and put them on the counter before the two vampires. Rafe’s hand clenched immediately into a fist as he looked down at the image of me torn in half. “Did she do this?”
I didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well who had done it.
Theodore said in a calm, soothing tone, “Do you have some tape, Lucy?”
I was grateful for his matter-of-fact handling of this awkward moment. I nodded and fussed around in a drawer where I kept everything from spare pens to stray elastic bands and scissors and stamps and envelopes and there, right at the back, was the tape. I pulled it out and said, before I even handed it to him, “What I noticed was this,” and I pointed to what would have been the background of the picture. “That’s Bryce Teddington.” I pointed to the other person. “And that does not look like a casual conversation.”
Theodore pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket. He looked like a cherub-faced, chubby Sherlock Holmes as he studied the pair. “Do you know who it is, Lucy?”
“No idea. But I think it might be worth finding out. That is not cocktail party chit-chat those two are having.”
“No.” He peered closer. “And look at that.”
I peered through the enlarging lens and saw what he’d meant. There was a piece of paper, and one of them was handing it to the other. It was impossible to tell in that captured moment whether the unknown person was giving the paper to Bryce Teddington or Bryce Teddington was giving the paper to the other person. Either way, I suspected the unknown woman was going to be a person of interest in this case.
“I have an idea,” I said. I put my camera on maximum magnification and then took a photograph of the two people in the picture. Fortunately, that professional photographer had been good enough that the people in the background were still recognizable. Then I texted the image to Patricia Beeton and asked her if she knew who the person was.
Instead of texting me back, she phoned me. I was excited when I saw who was calling, hoping she could tell me who the mysterious woman was. But what she said was, “I remember that woman. I was surprised she was at the party because she wasn’t with the production company. She obviously wasn’t one of the waitresses.”
“Could she have been Bryce Teddington’s date?” They had clearly been speaking intimately.
“No. We weren’t allowed to take dates. Well, only Lord Pevensy, obviously, could take his wife. But it was confined to key staff at the production company, as many entertainment journalists as we could get and important people in the film business. There were some people who worked for the college there, though.”
“Thanks, Patricia. You’ve been a great help.”
“Anything I can do. We all feel terrible about this.”
“I can imagine. I guess it’s put a real hiccup in the production.” Though they did say that there was no such thing as bad publicity. The notoriety of the theft of these famous jewels would probably increase ticket sales.
She made a strange sound. Something between a laugh and a groan. “The real question is whether this movie will be made at all.”
I felt my eyes widen. “What?”
If we’d gone through all this and lost Sylvia’s jewels and she didn’t even get her movie remade? I might as well just buy myself a ticket to Antarctica right now.
“Annabel phoned me half an hour ago. She said Simon Dent is having second thoughts. He’s very superstitious, it turns out, and thinks the jewel theft is a bad omen. Annabel’s worried he doesn’t want to be involved with Rune Films since their accountant seems to have stolen the Cartier set. She said the police came to their office and interviewed everyone who’d been at the gala. And they searched Bryce Teddington’s office.”
“Have they interviewed you?”
“No, but we were all searched before we could leave, you know. And they asked every one of us if we’d noticed anything suspicious. I certainly didn’t. I was having a nice time until I saw you being taken away by ambulance.”
“Not a great end to the evening,” I agreed. We ended the call. I wouldn’t have thought this day could get any worse.
As so many times when I thought a day couldn’t get worse, I’d been wrong.
I relayed the information to Rafe and Theodore. Then, I looked at that photograph again, pulling it right up close to my face and really studying the faces through that magnifying glass. And it was like Bryce Teddington was before me again. I replayed in my head that intense conversation we’d had. “I can’t believe he stole the jewels. He seemed so nice. And so mild-mannered. I thought he was trying to warn me of something.”
“Which is how he lured you away from the main room into a quiet alcove where he could hit you over the head without anyone being any the wiser,” Rafe said in an unnecessarily sarcastic tone.
I winced inside. He was right, of course. I’d been so gullible.
“Well, Patricia Beeton knows everybody at the production company. She didn’t recognize that woman. She thinks she works for the college.”
Rafe and Theodore looked at each other and then at me. “Then I guess we’d better get ourselves to the college.”
“But what about my shop? I can’t leave it. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. It’s bad enough you put the closed sign up. What if I actually had customers?”
Rafe turned to Theodore. “Go wake up Mabel, will you? Or Clara. Either of them would be only too pleased to spend a couple of hours in the shop. You know they’re always dying to work behind the counter, Lucy.”
It was true. I still hesitated. Not because they were undead so much as their terrible taste. Especially Mabel. But I couldn’t worry about that now. I’d have no shop at all if I didn’t find Sylvia’s jewels again.
Rafe made a call to the college, while Theodore went down to rouse one of the vampire knitters.
Within a very short period of time, both Mabel and Clara showed up. They looked a little sleepy but quite pleased with themselves. Mabel was wearing the garment she’d begun the other night. It looked like she was wearing a bath mat with sleeves.
I told them I’d only be a couple of hours and thanked them sincerely for their help.
“Oh, it’s a pleasure, dear. And if you’re not
back by five, we can manage to close the shop.”
I nodded, truly grateful to them, keeping my eyes averted from the bath mat sweater. And then the three of us left.
We purred through the streets in Rafe’s black Tesla. We could have walked to the college in about twenty minutes, but it was undeniably quicker this way.
St. Peter’s was one of the oldest and most famous colleges in all of Oxford. Built in 1200 over the ruins of a former college, it had appeared in movies and television shows galore, including a few exterior scenes from the original The Professor’s Wife, which was why we’d ended up having the gala there.
When I recalled how thrilled I’d been the last time I was on the campus, my feelings could not have been more different than they were now. Then I’d been wearing a priceless set of jewels, doing a big favor to a vampire I really cared about, being photographed as though I were an A-list movie star. Now I was slinking along with a weight of guilt on me much heavier than the weight of those jewels had been.
We walked in the front door, and I couldn’t help but remember how fabulous it had been when I walked up on the red carpet and everything had seemed so bright and exciting. Now I slunk in like a student with failing grades. As though Rafe could read my thoughts, he put an arm around my shoulders and leaned in.
“It’s not your fault. We all know that Sylvia pushed you into showing off her Cartier set. The responsibility is hers, and when she calms down, she will realize it.”
“Thanks,” I said softly.
Rafe was the kind of guy that when he made a phone call, people jumped. He was a well-respected expert in antiquarian books and manuscripts, but he was also really well connected. We were met by a portly man in tweeds who obviously knew Rafe.
Rafe introduced him as Piers Gimlet, head of security. He shook his head. “Terrible thing. Of course, it’s the worst possible publicity for us. We’ve had parents on the phone worrying that it’s not safe to send their children here.”
So not what I was worried about right now. We headed in and Rafe showed him the picture and asked him if he knew the young woman who was standing beside Bryce Teddington. He studied the photograph carefully and I grew hopeful until he shook his head.
“I don’t know everyone at the college, of course, but I’ve never seen this woman.”
I noticed a tour group walking by and overheard the tour guide, who looked to be a senior student, encouraging them to look up at the Jacobean ceiling. The group was staring up in rapt astonishment.
“Will ya look at that, Jackie?” a guy said in a New Jersey accent. I’d become so used to listening to the clipped, British accent that I felt drawn to this guy who made his enthusiasm known in a loud voice. He was short and squat and bald, and a big camera rested on his paunch.
“Now, if you’d come this way, I’ll take you into the main floor gallery.”
I don’t know what instinct compelled me, but while Rafe and Theodore were in close conversation with Piers Gimlet, I slipped among the tour group. I wanted to go back into that room where the gala had occurred and look at it again with fresh eyes, and not under the scrutiny of their head of security. The young tour guide went on enthusiastically about the famous people who had studied there and some of the college traditions. And then, with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because it will be very shocking, but this room holds a great secret.”
I bet this guy took part in amateur theatricals. He’d spoken the words with such drama that everybody, even my friend from New Jersey, hung on his every word. He said, “In previous times, of course women were not allowed in the college. This space was often used for smaller dinners. The gentlemen would sit back with their port and discuss the matters of the day. It was considered in very poor form to leave the room for any reason.” He gave a humorous look at all of us and continued, “After drinking a vast quantity of port, you can imagine that sometimes nature’s call was quite persistent. And to this end, there is a secret doorway.” He gestured with his hand and low down in the wall. He leaned down, did something—maybe he only pulled the corner of what looked like stone—and a door swung open. “It’s completely imperceptible if you didn’t know that it was there,” he said.
Everyone gathered around to peer inside. Inside it was a small cupboard containing a chamber pot. Laughter and whispers went around the group, but I just stared at the spot, my whole body tingling. And I waited for the rest of the story. “Having relieved himself, the diner would then place the full chamber pot back in the alcove and shut the door. On the other side of the alcove, a butler would open the opposite door, remove the brimming chamber pot, empty its contents and replace it with a clean one.”
I couldn’t even believe it. I turned and rushed out of the room. I went so fast that the tour guide said, “Miss? Are you feeling all right?”
I didn’t even stop. I just threw one hand up and gave him half a wave.
I found Rafe and Theodore still in deep conversation with Piers Gimlet. They were obviously discussing what measures were being taken. I waited impatiently for a pause and said, “I think I know what they did with the jewels after they stole them.”
That got everyone’s attention. I looked at the three men. “Everyone was searched leaving the gala, right?”
“Yes. That’s right,” Piers Gimlet said. “Every guest and every staff member. There was some sharp grumbling, I can tell you, but they all complied.”
“But what if the jewels weren’t taken out of the college? At least not then.”
Theodore narrowed his gaze on my face. “What are you getting at, Lucy?”
“There’s a secret alcove in the gallery.”
The head of security looked at me as though I was mad, and then I could see the moment that realization dawned. “That’s a curiosity that we’ve kept for the tourists.”
Rafe ignored him and stared at me. “What curiosity?”
I quickly reiterated the story of the chamber pot. “It makes perfect sense. That’s what they must have done. They stole the jewels and slipped them into the cupboard. Then, while there was pandemonium in the main room and everyone’s bags were searched on their way out, all Bryce Teddington had to do was go around the other side, open the other secret door, shove the jewels in his pocket and walk out a different exit.”
Theodore shook his head. “Neither of you can ever tell Sylvia that her jewels were placed in a chamber pot.”
Chapter 12
“Oh, don’t worry.” Though at this point I thought she’d be so grateful to get them back, she wouldn’t even care.
When we went back into the room, the tour group had moved on, and the head of security immediately went to the little cupboard. It was ingenious. He opened it, but of course the chamber pot was empty. However, it had opened so easily that I was convinced that’s how the jewels had been hidden. “The black and white movie was playing on a screen right here,” I told them. “It would have obscured the cupboard.”
Theodore suggested we retrace my steps as much as we could. “You were wearing the jewels here,” he said, standing in the middle of the room. I nodded. “And then Bryce Teddington convinced you to meet him.”
I felt the weight of humiliation again as I realized what a fool I’d been. What a dupe. Still, I had to get over myself and try and help find the set. So I led the two of them down the hall exactly as I’d taken it.
“Did you see anyone?”
I tried to think back. Had I? I pointed to my left, to the ladies’ room door. “A woman dressed like a flapper came out of the bathroom. I assumed she was a waitress, as they’d all dressed in period costume.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did you recognize her? Had you seen her before?”
“There were a lot of people there. No. I didn’t.” They followed me down the hall, past the ladies’. I stopped again. “There was a full laundry cart there, but I think someone parked it there and left it.”
/> We moved on to the alcove. I shuddered again, reliving the attack. Theodore listened as I described what happened. Then he looked around, backed up and gazed both ways. He said, “Bryce Teddington hit you over the head, stripped you of the jewels, and then walked back into the main room and deposited them in the secret alcove to be fetched later. That’s what you’re suggesting.”
I looked at Rafe and then back to Theodore. “Maybe? Or he hit me over the head, and the woman in the photograph took the jewels and put them in the secret cupboard.”
He didn’t seem convinced. “Where does this corridor lead?” he asked Piers Gimlet.
“There’s nothing down there but the laundries and then a door to the outside.”
“May I?” Theodore asked. The man nodded, and we all followed. Sure enough, there were big, double doors leading to the laundry and then a door that went outside. Theodore paused and looked at the laundry but kept going. We followed all the way outside. It was chilly out there, and I wished I’d thought to bring a coat.
We were in a not very interesting quadrangle with grass and some trees and flowerbeds. The horticulture out here was a bit of an afterthought. All the glory was obviously focused on the front quadrangle.
A cool breeze suddenly kicked up, and I wrapped my arms around myself. Somewhere a door banged. A uniformed maintenance guy walked by. The head of security said to him, “There’s a door banging somewhere.”
“Aye. I’m going to investigate. If those students have broken the lock again on that ice house…” He sounded very annoyed.
Theodore perked up. “There’s an ice house?”
The head of security said, “Yes. It’s ancient. But it’s always kept locked and bolted.”
The uniformed security guy said, “Well, it’s supposed to be. Until them ruddy kids get into it.”
Theodore didn’t ask permission this time. He just followed the maintenance guy. And then we all followed along. The ice house was nothing more exciting than a raised mound of grass until you got closer and saw there was a stairway leading down to a stout door. I could see where it was meant to be locked, but the lock was missing. If it hadn’t been windy, it would have been impossible to tell. The guy went down to inspect the damage, Theodore right behind him. He muttered again, then opened the door to peer inside. Theodore eased his way around the man and went very still. Rafe and I followed and, even as Rafe tried to step in front of me and block my view, I peered around his shoulder.
