Stewart turned toward her briefly and for the first time the light shone on his face. Understanding came in a flash. That was where she had first seen Angelina’s unusually pointed chin – on Stewart. He must be her father. No wonder he was so concerned for her. That meant Lord Torrington wasn’t her father. Did he know? He acted a lot like a father, but that could just be concern for a child in his keeping, however unwillingly.
Antonia sprang to her feet and began to pace, and Laura decided she had better leave. The paces were getting too close to the window. She backed away and crept silently into the trees again.
The cellar had to be next whether she liked it or not. She had a few answers now, but not enough. She still didn’t know who had murdered the cook, who had put the masks on the victim’s face, who had turned down the lights, who had drugged Lottie, who had cut the telephone wires…. the list ran on and on. She might as well get busy.
Headlights glowed on the track that led to the manor and Laura heard a vehicle speeding up the hill. She ducked into the first building she saw, the old tool shed she had looked at just before she had seen Thomas and Antonia in that clinch. How long ago it seemed!
She sniffed. The place smelled odd, rather like disinfectant. Feeling her way into a corner, she crouched there. She heard a car door close; feet crunched along the gravel drive, and a squeaking noise she couldn’t identify made her jump. Total silence followed. Laura waited impatiently and then dared to turn on her flashlight again. She might as well look at that box of rat poison again and see if any had been used recently.
She trained her flashlight on the shelves. The container looked exactly as it had before. So did the tools. They were stacked against the walls or hung on hooks in orderly rows. Whatever his other faults, Roger was neat. The tools even looked clean – except for one shovel, which had been tossed down carelessly in the middle of the room. Laura bent over to look at it, wondering why Roger had left it there. Maybe he had been interrupted in the middle of a chore, or maybe someone else had used it.
It was definitely not clean. Laura knelt to examine the shovel more closely and saw that it had been used quite recently. The dirt on it was damp and stuck to her fingers. She frowned. It seemed to her to have the same consistency as the substance on the stick she’d found in the barn. Could it be blood? What did that mean?
A bundle of old burlap bags lay under the shovel. She had seen other bags like them neatly folded in a corner, so why were these here? Laura touched them gently. There was a lump under them, a large one. Probably an animal, she realized. Roger had either killed or found a dead animal and brought it here to be buried in the morning. That would explain the strong disinfectant smell. Perhaps Roger wanted to mask the scent of decay.
Curious to see what the animal was, Laura pulled back one of the bags. Her hand shot to her mouth in a desperate effort to hold back a scream. Morris! Morris was under the burlap bags.
His eyes were staring sightlessly and he was very, very dead.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura pressed her hand against her mouth, this time to hold back an urge to vomit. What was Morris doing here dead? She’d thought he was in the hospital. More urgently, who had killed him? Roger? Or could Antonia have done it?
Laura gagged. She had to get out of here. The person who had killed Morris could still be nearby. Stumbling to her feet, she almost ran out of the shed.
She had to alert someone too. There was no doubt in her mind that Morris had been murdered. His head was smashed in at the back. Had Roger done it on Antonia’s orders? Was that why she had told Stewart that Morris was out of her life for good?
Against her will, Laura visualized the scene. She saw Roger hitting Morris with the stick to knock him out, then dragging him here and hitting him again with the shovel, maybe because Morris tried to struggle. He couldn’t struggle very hard, though, with his injuries. He didn’t have his knife for protection, either. She had it; she still had that horrible knife…
Panic rose in Laura’s chest. She had to get into the house, into a place where there was light and safety. But how? The door was locked. The cellar. She would have to go through the cellar doors. She staggered toward them.
To her surprise, the double doors were already open, and a faint light showed inside. Could that mean whoever had killed Morris was hiding down there?
Laura crept closer and stood perfectly still, listening. Gradually, her breathing steadied and her heart stopped pounding. Rationality began to return, too. The murderer wasn’t likely to be lurking in the cellar. That would look too suspicious. He or she would either be long gone or trying to act as normal as possible. Besides, right now getting into the house was more important. Whether she could force herself to look in the freezer when she got there was another matter. She was beginning to think Thomas was right, that this wasn’t a job for amateurs. What she ought to do was to go straight up to her room.
On the other hand, it would be very useful to find out who was in the cellar and why. She had to go that way in any case. She would just look around quickly and then go straight to her room.
Laura approached stealthily, ears and eyes alert. When she reached the top step, she stopped. Still nothing. With infinite caution, she placed her feet on one step, then the next, until she reached the bottom. Then she came to a halt again. Unbroken silence. She stepped inside the cellar and stood still for a long moment while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then she began to walk slowly toward the freezer.
Without warning, her arm was seized and twisted behind her back. A hand came over her mouth, and something cold and hard was pressed against her back. Just like the last time, Laura thought hysterically, except worse. That was a gun!
Terror gripped her. She felt faint, and a surge of nausea rose in her throat. She tried desperately to wriggle away, but the man held her still harder. Opening her mouth as far as possible, Laura bit down hard.
“Ouch! Cut it out!” a voice ordered - Thomas’s voice. Laura’s jaw went slack. Thank heaven. Though why she should be thankful, she didn’t know. Maybe Thomas was a member of this gang after all – or the person who had killed Morris.
“If you’ll promise to be quiet, I’ll let you go,” Thomas hissed. “If you don’t…” An unnerving pressure against her ribs made his meaning clear.
Laura nodded fervently, and he released her. A wave of dizziness almost made her fall. Thomas reached out to prop her up. His beard had disappeared, she realized, and that ghastly wig. He looked a great deal better without them.
A look of disgust spread across his face when he saw who she was. “Oh, Lord, not you again!” he exclaimed. “I thought there was something familiar about the way you felt, especially with those cobwebs and bits of straw all over you. Every time I think I’ve finally nabbed one of the villains in this case, it turns out to be you. And that is the most improbable outfit I have ever come across. Black stockings and a hospital gown? Really, you are matchless!”
“That’s not very flattering,” Laura snapped. “And I wish you would stop pointing that gun at me if you don’t think I’m one of the villains. I’ve had enough trauma for one night.”
She brushed ineffectively at the offending straw and cobwebs. “I’ve always suspected you were one of them,” she went on. “You’re still the most likely candidate to mastermind an art scam. If you aren’t, I think it is past time you told me what really is happening. And don’t start prevaricating again.”
Thomas regarded the gun in his hand with surprise. “Sorry. I was so disappointed I forgot I was still holding it.” He tucked the gun into a holster at his belt. “As for being the mastermind, I can only say there have been times when the thought has crossed my mind. As you imply, I am ideally placed.”
He sighed dramatically. “However, I am basically a conservative type who upholds the side of law and order. I suppose I should pull out a badge to prove it, but unfortunately I don’t have one. A business card perhaps?”
He reached into his shirt
pocket but came up empty-handed. “I guess I didn’t bring them,” he said lightly. “A bad idea, you know, in case the villains get hold of me. I can’t lie as well if they know who I am.”
Laura felt like screaming. Couldn’t the man ever be serious? Gritting her teeth, she tried again. “Are you telling the truth? And please for once can you be serious? I really need to know. It’s important.”
She reached up to swipe defiantly at her eyes, which against her will were filling with tears. Her hand came away streaked with makeup, and heaven only knew what she had deposited on her face. She felt herself swaying again.
Thomas reached out to steady her. He looked into her smudged face, frowning, and then pulled her against him.
“Laura, it’s all right! Seriously, I really am an art detective, as Catherine describes it, and I am not a part of this organization. I am trying to find out who is for the Baroness, so we can put a stop to it. She discovered who I was when I came looking for Catherine, and she asked me to help her. That is the truth, I promise.”
His voice was very somber and Laura believed him. Relief washed over her, and she felt tears start again. She pulled away, unwilling to let him see. Thomas turned her toward him again and peered into her face.
“You really are upset, and not just by me,” he said, startled. “You’re white as a sheet under all that make-up. What is it, Laura?”
“Morris,” she answered tonelessly. “I found him in the tool shed just now. Dead. His head was bashed in.”
Thomas was appalled. “And then I come along and grab you. I wonder you’re still on your feet at all. You must have nerves of steel.”
“I don’t,” she admitted. “I thought I was going to throw up on you when you grabbed me – or faint. It’s a good thing I didn’t.”
“No, you bit me instead.” Thomas examined his hand, which still showed the indentations of her bite. “At least you didn’t draw blood. I suppose I should be glad you didn’t spew all over me instead, or faint dead away like one of those old-fashioned maidens in books.”
Laura smirked at him, feeling better now that they were sparring again. “Just a little love bite, you can tell your friends, so you don’t have to explain that a lady with pancake makeup and cobwebs all over her got the best of you by protecting herself with a good old-fashioned bite despite the fact that she was just about to faint.”
Thomas grinned. “You don’t give up no matter what, do you? Rather like one of those terriers that go after rats.”
Laura glared at him. “That is distinctly unflattering. Can’t you ever say anything nice about me?”
Thomas considered. “Well, I could say that I have never known anyone before who so regularly came across bodies.” He frowned. “That reminds me. I must go have a look at Morris. It’s best not to delay, lest someone else have an interest in him.”
The remark reminded Laura of the cook. “I found another one too,” she admitted, feeling almost sheepish. “Or I think I did.”
Thomas gaped. “Another? Who?”
Footsteps on the stairs from the kitchen interrupted them. Laura froze in terror. It could be Roger. That had probably been him driving up in the van. Worse, Antonia and Stewart might have seen her creeping away and followed her. In her present costume, it wouldn’t take the canny Antonia long to penetrate her disguise.
Thomas, however, seemed unconcerned by the approaching footsteps, which suggested that he knew who was coming. Laura wasn’t sure whether that alarmed her or reassured her.
“We have an unexpected visitor,” he said lightly as the newcomer approached. “I must say, Baroness, you’ve done a masterful job. I wouldn’t have recognized her during the tour except for Catherine. I’d seen her in a get-up like that before.”
Laura’s muscles relaxed. Not Roger or Antonia. But what was the Baroness doing here at this time of night?
“What do you think we ought to do with her?” Thomas inquired mildly as the Baroness came up beside them. She looked tired and rather sad, but as unruffled as ever. Laura looked at her own disheveled clothes and wondered if she would ever be able to achieve that look of dignified order.
The Baroness considered the question. “Actually, I rather expected Laura would be unable to resist the temptation to look around the manor,” she answered calmly.
“I should have expected that, too,” Thomas agreed. “She is not the sort to leave stones unturned in her search for the truth.”
“An excellent trait,” the Baroness pronounced. “Do not be so flippant, Thomas.”
They were certainly on good terms, Laura reflected, which seemed to confirm that they were on the same side. Still, she mustn’t jump to conclusions about the Baroness. Like everyone else in this household, she was clearly not the person she pretended to be.
“I suppose we shall have to ask you to remain while we supervise the task for which we have come,” the Baroness said soberly to Laura. “It will not be a pleasant task but it is a necessary one.”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. My preference would be to send Laura back to her room with stern orders not to come out again, but I doubt very much she would heed that sensible advice.”
Laura decided it was time to speak for herself. “No, I do not intend to return to my room,” she said crisply, “and if there is a task to be performed, I suggest you get on with it before other members of the family interrupt you. Antonia and Stewart are in the small cottage behind the barn. He is copying a painting, a portrait of a woman in a bonnet. I also thought I heard Roger coming in the van a few moments ago.
Thomas and the Baroness regarded her with respect, and Laura was gratified. She decided to take a chance: “Does your unpleasant task have something to do with the body in the freezer?”
To her disappointment, Thomas looked unsurprised. “So that’s your other body,” was all he said.
The Baroness didn’t look surprised either. “Ah,” she said. “I wondered if you had looked during the tour. I trust you kept your discovery to yourself?”
Laura’s heart sank. So there really was a body. She had wanted badly to find only a mannequin when she looked again.
“Yes,” she answered sadly. “I made sure no one else noticed, and I haven’t spoken of it to anyone. Neither Catherine nor Nigel should see such horrors, nor should any of the other guests,” she added with a shudder.
“Thank you, my dear,” the Baroness replied gravely.
“However, I need to know how the woman got there and who put her there,” Laura’s voice was firm.
“I did not put her there, nor did I kill her,” the Baroness stated. “I am not certain who did but intend to find out. Thomas is helping us in that regard. Does that satisfy some of your concerns?”
Laura nodded. It was simply impossible not to believe the grande dame. She turned to Thomas, awaiting his explanation.
“I certainly didn’t kill her, but I too intend to find out who did. I found her only a short time ago. I didn’t actually see you look in the freezer during the tour, but I did notice that you had seen something that shocked you badly. Naturally, I came down here to look for myself as soon as I could. I called the authorities right away, and then I went upstairs to notify the Baroness.
“I imagine the person or persons who did kill her are becoming very nervous about leaving her in the freezer any longer,” Thomas added. “I intend to put her into safe hands before they can dispose of her in their own way.” Once more, his voice had that implacable note. And so it should, Laura thought fiercely. Someone had to defend the poor woman, even if she was dead.
The Baroness coughed gently. “I believe I owe you at least a partial explanation for the events you have witnessed since you arrived in Torrington Manor,” she said unexpectedly. “I shall endeavor to be brief.
“When Lord Torrington and I first arrived at the manor, it was in very bad repair. So were many of the town’s finest buildings. Traditionally, the owners of the manor helped to maintain them as well as the mano
r. The necessary repairs, however, were costly, and we sought a means of raising the funds. A friend informed us that many of the paintings in the manor were very old and could be valuable. That proved to be the case. We hired Stewart, who is a master copyist as well as a painter in his own right, to make copies of some of them to use in the manor, and provided him with the basic equipment needed for the task. We wished to maintain the integrity of its furnishings, in appearance if not in reality. We also wished to avoid drawing attention to our plans and so conducted the transactions very quietly.”
Which, Laura thought, was a discreet way of saying they didn’t want the villagers or the general public to know that some of the paintings at the manor were now fakes, thus reducing the manor’s value as a tourist attraction. No wonder Lord Torrington wanted to avoid the police, especially the local ones.
“The originals were sold, and with the proceeds we were able to begin the necessary restorations,” the Baroness continued. “Some have already been completed, in particular the church and much of the manor.”
She paused, and Laura waited patiently. “It seemed an excellent plan,” the Baroness went on almost wistfully. “We did not think many people would notice that some paintings were copies, and indeed that was the case until Thomas arrived. At the same time we were able to fulfill our traditional obligations to the village and the villagers. They are in a sense part of the family heritage, and we take the responsibility seriously. Unfortunately, others with more personal motives discovered that there was money to be made at Torrington Manor, and we have thus far been unable to dislodge them. Once Thomas understood what was happening, he agreed to assist us in this matter. We hope to resolve it soon.”
“As I said, I came here to look for Catherine,” Thomas put in, “but I was also aware that a number of old masterpieces were entering the market that had originated in this area. That is all I knew, so it was just luck that brought me to Torrington Manor – and the fact that I was aware that Catherine had been sleeping in the barn.”
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