The Grey Falcon

by J. C. Williams

  “Quite. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 30

  “I feel good about finding Baywater now that we have his friend’s name,” Dickie said, setting aside one stack of files. “I don’t feel good about Best’s assailant wanting to know your name.”

  “I don’t get it, but I’m not going to worry about it,” Sandy replied.

  “Did you tell Chip?” Dickie asked, purposely trying to goad her.

  “Chad. No we missed each other last night.”

  Dickie ignored the answer. “I’ve looked through all the files we have on any Maggie or Margaret Biddle in London. Nothing on anyone that fits her age. Bristol is pulling files.” It was easy to get her last name after they figured out where Baywater grew up and where he went to school.

  Sandy was not so optimistic. “Maggie Biddle from Bristol. Schoolmate to Baywater twenty years ago. She could be anywhere now. She had a driver’s license. It has expired. Four years ago. Her last address was Liverpool. I’ve asked them to check the address. I’m checking marriage licenses for the last twenty years.”

  “Liverpool or Bristol?” Dickie asked.

  “All of the UK.”

  Dickie was lost in thought.

  Sandy’s desk phone rang. “Hello.” She listened. “Yes. I’ll be right down.”

  She returned a few minutes later with a vase holding a bouquet of summer flowers. Her warm smile disappeared when Dickie looked up.

  She attacked first. “No smart comments, Dickie. No jokes.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, luv. They from Chip?”

  Sandy’s eyes shot daggers. She sat in a huff.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well what?”

  “What are you thinking?” she asked. “And, not about the flowers.”

  “I think we should go to Liverpool. We’ll find him there. It’s the best way out of the UK. Ireland is close. A short boat trip.”

  “This is based on?” Sandy asked.

  “Instinct.”

  -----

  Down the street from Scotland Yard, Max waited in an alley chosen because there was no CCTV. Max found people. He fixed things. Zevic had given him the name – Saundra Moffat.

  He had hired a man to hire a second man to order flowers at a shop, pay by cash, and insist that Inspector Saundra Moffat receive them in person.

  Max then hired another man to hire yet one more to wear a special ball cap and sit in the outer reception area at Scotland Yard with a view of the reception desk. His job was to look at the woman who received the flowers.

  In the cap was a camera with a live feed to a hand held receiver. Max now had a picture of Inspector Moffat. He immediately sent it to three operatives. One hanging about outside the exit to the Yard’s garage, and one at each end of the block. They would change positions with each other every thirty minutes.

  Max stepped out of the shadows when the man, who hired the man wearing the cap, walked into the alley. An exchange of money for the cap was done in seconds and Max was gone.

  Chapter 31

  “Take a break?” Harry asked.

  “Let’s. It’s noon. Let’s go outside and see if the sun is still shining. We can at least get our phone reception back.”

  They were given a restaurant recommendation and a map of Valetta at the entrance desk to the museum.

  Chad commented, “We hardly need a map. This city was laid out on a very clear grid.”

  Harry responded, “I read that there was nothing but a guardhouse on this spot when the Knights came. The Pope sent an engineer to help. There are some unique things like the hills and steps that enabled the city to be defended. Like this one.” They climbed up a particularly steep street.

  Chad commented on the morning search. “It is a setback that the recorded source location was often just the name of a church or monastery. We had to look them up and many no longer exist. Luckily most had the name of a city, but sometimes no country was named,”

  “I have a much better geographical knowledge of cities and countries after this morning,” Harry said. “Though some of the countries are quite different today than in 1530.”

  “We made progress. We determined an initial list of fifty possibilities, and luckily, we have found half of the objects in the room.”

  “Yes, but the other half are not in the room. We’ll have to ask Vittor what some of the other locations refer to. Hopefully, those churches and other buildings are on Malta.”

  “If we are lucky,” Chad said. “And, if we are even luckier, they still exist.”

  They sat outside for lunch and followed the recommendations of a fellow patron, a native Maltese. A glass of local red wine was served first along with a plate of olives and gbejnet, sheep cheeses.

  The waiter deposited another plate with two items announcing zalzett and galletti. Harry and Chad looked questioningly at the customer who made the recommendations, their newfound interpreter.

  He told them in English. “Maltese sausage. It has a little coriander. And, of course, crackers. Maltese crackers. It is a warm day, but I ordered you pastizzi. It is a hot item. Will take longer, yes?”

  In a few minutes a plate of ricotta cheese filled pastries arrived.

  “Tajjeb hafna,” Harry said to their helper. Seeing Chad’s look, he explained, “Very good.”

  “Iva,” Chad nodded, saying yes in Maltese. “You’re not the only one who studies, Harry.”

  Harry summoned the waiter and asked for a menu. He leaned in close to Chad conspiring in whispers. Then he motioned the waiter back over.

  He held up two fingers, “Two Café?” The waiter nodded. Harry then pointed to an item on the menu. “Kannolis, for our friend.” He pointed to the helpful interpreter.

  Of course, the helper was eavesdropping. He nodded in thanks. “Grazzi, grazzi.”

  As they walked the few blocks back to the MCC, Chad felt he was being watched. Twice he stopped, looking in shop windows. Looking at reflections.

  “Don’t look, Harry, but I think two men are following us.”

  “What do you want to do?” Harry asked.

  At the next corner, Chad saw what he needed. A shop with a door on each street. “Turn right here. I will duck in this shop. You keep walking. I’ll circle behind them. We’ll see if they are following you.”

  They turned. Chad stepped to the left into a shop and found a place to watch the streets. Two men, dressed casually, like hundreds of other tourists, turned behind Harry.

  Chad went out the front door and started up the street behind his suspected followers. They had stopped. Looking ahead and to the side. Just as they were turning toward Chad, he called out. “Harry. Wait up.”

  Chad walked between the two men, who first eyed him in surprise, but then looked quickly away. Chad looked at each man, memorizing their faces. He jogged up to Harry.

  “What did they do?” he asked Harry, who still looked over Chad’s shoulder.

  “They turned around and went back the way they came.”

  Harry gave it a moment and then asked, “Should I worry now?”

  “Not yet. They’re not chasing us.”

  “Right.”

  Chad’s cell rang. It was Tellier.

  “Bonjour, Adrien.”

  “Bonjour, Chad.”

  “How is Dresden?”

  “Very interesting. Wish you were here. We have some puzzling aspects to the case.”

  “Such as, Adrien?”

  “You know what we said about coincidences before?”

  “Sure.”

  “What would you think if I told you that the day of the murder, the victim’s house burned down?”

  “I’m sure it is coincidence,” Chad quipped.

  “Plus certai n e ment, mon ami.” Adrien added a laugh.

  “What do the police say?”

  “It was a thorough investigation. I cannot fault it. It appears that the victim, Christoph Rauch, caused it by accident, before he went to the museum. He had been living slopp
ily. A coffee pot was on a timer, evidently turned on by mistake. There was no water or coffee in the pot. The man’s wife had recently left him and there were papers strewn all over the house from boxes, newspapers, and other things. And, some petrol in the basement. The house burned quickly.”

  Chad was looking for some connection to an envelope and photographs.

  “What did Rauch do for a living?”

  “He was unemployed. He was a lorry driver. Sorry, in the States it is what, a truck?”

  “Yes.” Chad knew he would have to explain, but he asked, anyway. “Did Rauch do any photography? A previous job? A hobby?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll look into it. Why?”

  “I wondered what was in the Meissen porcelain vases. I have dreams of photographs.”

  “H-m-m. I will check and let you know. I plan to go over everything with the local police and talk to his family. Oh yes. I forgot. The cameras in the museum had been hacked and taken out of service during the murder. Sound like anything you recognize?”

  “Just a coincidence, eh, Adrien?”

  “Oui.”

  Chapter 32

  Sandy stepped into the Liverpool airport concourse and dialed a number. It went to voicemail. “Hey, Archer boy. It’s me. I’ll try you later. Or you try me. Or, well, you know.”

  Dickie started humming.

  She caught the tune after a minute. “Hey, that’s not funny, Dickie.”

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “You’re humming Jealous Guy.”

  “I am? Didn’t notice. It must be because this is the John Lennon airport.”

  “Right,” she said with disgust.

  They continued walking toward security and the exit. She heard as Dickie changed tunes to Woman. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction that she noticed.

  -----

  Liverpool boasts a population of over a million people. It’s industrial. It’s banking. It’s insurance. It’s affluent and it’s poor. They were headed to the not-so-affluent side of town. Two constables accompanied Sandy and Dickie to the former residence of Maggie Biddel. The apartment complex was for lower income residents, but it made modest attempts at preserving its dignity. The parking lots were clean. Bushes were trimmed, maybe not so regularly, but they provided hues of green to soften the blacktopped landscape. Grey and faded brown were the alternating colors of wood siding.

  “How many units do you think there are?” Sandy asked.

  “Five hundred?” suggested one of the constables.

  “It’s been three years since she lived here,” Dickie said. “We’ll be lucky anyone lived here that long. If they knew her, that would be blinding. I’d like to get anything about where she might have worked, stores frequented, how she got around. We have no car registration for her for the last three years.”

  Three hours later they stopped at a pub. Sandy wanted to buy the constables a pint as they went off duty.

  “I’ve got nothing the first constable said. No one knew her name. No one recognized the three-year - old vehicle license picture.”

  “I had one man who remembered seeing her several times. Always in the evening. She was usually carrying Tesco bags,” Sandy sighed. “Tesco. Must be a million of them.”

  “We’ll find the closest one,” Dickie said.

  “Maybe we should ask him a few more questions,” she added. “It seemed a bit odd that he saw her so often from his balcony. I wonder if he saw her closer than that.”

  “Stalker?” the constable asked.

  “Might be,” Sandy answered.

  “I met a woman who thought she saw her in a bar. Unfortunately she couldn’t recall the name,” Dickie said. “Though, like your boy, Sandy, she seemed to be holding back.”

  “I might know why,” the second constable said. “I met a man who was quite bitter about her. Called her a bloody dy… lesbian. His words, not mine. I’d offer the opinion that it may have been an advance that was not requited. Anyways, he applied the expression to her and her roommate.”

  “That might explain a source of transportation,” Dickie commented. “Since she did not have a registration, I assumed she took buses.”

  “I should have thought of this sooner,” Sandy said. “I’ll call the renters office. Maggie would probably register her roommate’s car and license plate. I think we got our lead.”

  Sandy raised her glass in a toast. “Cheers. Another round in order?”

  The response was unanimous.

  -----

  Four thousand miles away, Chad and Harry wished they had a solid lead. Nothing but possibilities, so far.

  “I’d like to take another look at the Palace Armoury. I want to look closer at the pommels and scabbards on the swords,” Harry said.

  “Me , too,” Chad agreed.

  “Bongu,” Vittor called as Anton wheeled him into the Research Room.

  “Bongu,” they replied.

  “How are you doing?” Vittor asked.

  “Your timing is good. We have looked at all of the locations in this room. Now, we need to rent a car and look at other locations. First, though, we need to decipher some of the abbreviations. Can you help?”

  Vittor looked over their list. “Let’s see. Who translated these?” he laughed.

  “We tried. They were in multiple languages,” Chad laughed with him.

  “That makes sense,” Vittor said. “Many knights returned with the valuables and helped label and store them. This first church is correct. St. John the Baptist Co -Cathedral. You can walk there. First church built by the Knights. The next one is the oldest church in Valletta – Our Lady of Victories. St. Catherine is in Valletta as well.”

  “What is a co- cathedral ?” Chad asked.

  Vittor explained, “A co- cathedral refers to a covenant order. A covenant is a ‘coming together’. It usually means there is a convent or a friary.”

  “The next location is a strange one,” Harry said. “It translates to Shipwreck.”

  “St. Paul’s Shipwreck Church,” Vittor explained. “St. Paul shipwrecked on Malta. He brought Christianity to the island.”

  “If he had not landed here, perhaps it would not have become Christian and none of this would exist. Fate, eh?” Harry said.

  “I think that some may say it was not fate but the hand of God,” Vittor pointed out.

  “We may need his hand in this quest,” Harry returned.

  “Oh, this last one, the Sanctuary of Our Lady,” Vittor said. “You will need a car or take a taxi. It is in Mellihea, to the north. It is a lovely church. The original church is in a grotto.”

  “Thanks for your help, Vittor. Can we ask you a favor? Is there a car we could borrow?”

  “Certainly. Anton, will you help them?”

  Anton nodded.

  Chapter 33

  “It’s a fort,” Harry commented as they stood before St. John the Baptist Co -Cathedral. Vittor was right about how close it was, less than a ten-minute walk, though they still borrowed a car for the next stops.

  “It looks dreary,” Chad agreed. “But it is large. I hope they have the artifacts stored here in a nice well numbered place.”

  Two bell towers flanked the center doors. Absent were the customary large stained-glass windows. Instead, openings that would shield archers strategically looked out on the square in front of the church.

  “Why three clocks?” Chad asked looking at the large round clocks on the right tower.

  “It appears they are the time, the day of the week, and the date.” Harry observed.

  “Wow,” Chad whispered as they entered the church.

  Harry had nothing to say.

  Stretching before them in cascading gold paint and gold leaf, every inch of the nave was ornate. The arches supporting the ceiling were covered in murals. Large arched entrances to small chapels were on the left and right. Chad counted nine in total.

  They walked past each chapel marveling at the silver, the paintings, and the gold. Each c
hapel strived to be more spectacular then the previous one. A three-dimensional painting looked down on each column that supported the chapel arches. Chad looked closer and saw the painting was on a carving giving it the 3-D effect.

  “I don’t know where to look,” Harry marveled at the main altar. White statues, golden starbursts, and a colorful red, green, and gold painting recessed above the altar vied for his attention.

  They found a watchful attendant and gave him Vittor’s name and a number to call. The cooperative official showed them to a storage area in the basement. Chad and Harry had a list of five items that should be here. The vague descriptions hinted at cloaks, country chalices, and weapons of defense. Their source was Vienna.

  The two investigators had to move many crates but found all five labeled items. The cloaks were for priests. The country chalices were very simple goblets. None were solid gold or silver, and only a few were gold or silver-plated. Chad had hoped the reference to country meant objects brought from various villages and remote cities like in Serbia. He was wrong.

  The weapons were misleading as well. Evidently their role of defense was to combat Satan. There were crucifixes and small daggers and exorcist manuals.

  An hour of searching yielded nothing. Chad took pictures before he left. They moved on to the Lady of Victories Church.

  “This is the oldest church in Valletta,” Harry told Chad, reading from the plaque. “1566,” he added

  “It’s smaller,” Chad said looking over the light tan block wall construction.

  At the door a young woman met them.

  “Bongu,” she said. “Are you the visitors from Nida Grech?” She referred to their host as Mr. Grech.

  “Iva,” Harry replied, ever the learning translator.

  “Tajba, good. I am Maria. He called. We are closed for tourists at the moment. Our renovation is almost complete. However, I can show you the church .”

  Inside she pointed out the architectural design based on defending the city.

  “From our very beginning in Valletta we realized the role our island would have in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. We knew we would be a target. The architect sent by the Pope and the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller considered that in the construction of all of our public buildings, particularly our churches.”