Blood Will Tell

by Jeanne M. Dams

  ‘No, it might keep me awake. Don’t mind me. Carry on.’

  ‘Then let me tell Mrs Martin what I was going to say when I tried to phone her.’ Tom settled himself on the chair I’d vacated, sitting backwards and leaning his arms on the back. ‘See, I’ve been talking to some of the other students. No, don’t look at me like that, Aunt Elaine. Of course I was careful. Nobody could have had any idea what I was after.’

  She looked dubious, but said nothing.

  ‘Actually, I mostly listened. You know the canteen in Hutchins? At least, it’s not a real canteen, just a kettle and a fridge and some vending machines. We bring our own coffee and tea and that. Anyway, most of the students take a break there around eleven, so I went in and started them talking about famous university pranks.’

  ‘Pranks!’ I said indignantly. ‘It was no prank back there at the museum!’

  ‘No, but hear me out. I just thought it was a good way to get them talking. Well, the other doctoral student who was there looked down his nose, implying that we’re all far too mature and studious and high-minded and all that rot to play games. In fact, it is usually the undergraduates who get up to that sort of thing, and almost always the English ones – or the Irish. Two of the Asian undergraduates were there, and they just looked confused. They’re terribly earnest – they may never have heard of university students acting silly. So I primed the pump, talking about the cars they’ve hung from the Bridge of Sighs, and the various things up on the pinnacles at King’s. I said I thought those were fairly obvious and crude, easily done and not up to the standard of today’s students. With almost the whole Easter term to work in, they ought, I said, to come up with something truly imaginative, truly worthy of a group of scientists – maybe even something involving blood.’

  We waited.

  ‘And that, friends, is when the room went silent. Just for a moment it was like a morgue. Then it broke and the chaps started chattering again, talking about things we might do, or saying the whole idea was ridiculous with examinations ahead for some of us, and then everyone left to get to work, but two or three left ahead of the rest, sort of not part of the group, you know?’ He sat up in his chair and gestured vehemently. ‘And I’ll swear to you, all of you, that those men knew something. I know you’ll say this isn’t evidence, Aunt Elaine, but what I think is that the whole bit about the blood was a prank gone badly wrong.’

  ‘No. Not evidence. But suggestive, I’ll agree. Who were the students who left?’

  He sagged back. ‘That’s just it. I don’t know. I can’t be sure. People had been moving about, getting coffee and snacks, talking to each other. You know how it is in a break room. I didn’t see anyone’s face when everybody got quiet. I’d spilled my coffee, and by the time I looked up, things were back to normal. It was only for a second or two. And then I was just seeing general movement out the door, people’s backs.’

  ‘And I suppose all of those backs were in white lab coats.’

  He shrugged ruefully. ‘They were. Required garb when we’re working.’

  ‘That’s no help, then,’ said Alan. ‘In fact, although your experience is certainly suggestive, again it proves nothing. I presume you can give your aunt the names of all the people in the room at the time?’

  Tom looked even more apologetic. ‘I didn’t know them all. Some had only started working in the labs this term, and, as you know, that began just a few days ago. But if I give you the names I know, between them you might come up with a list of everyone.’

  ‘And thereby warn them all that they might be suspected of something,’ said Elaine. ‘I can think of no more certain way to turn them all into clams.’

  ‘In any case,’ said Alan, ‘it might be more useful to know definitively which students were not in the room at the time. This must have been only a few minutes before Dorothy was pushed down the stairs, if you phoned her immediately.’

  ‘I waited till I was certain they were all gone, and then I went up to my own lab for some privacy. When I didn’t get an answer the first time, I didn’t leave a message. I was trying to be careful. I waited a few minutes and then called again, and that was when I got the “not available” message, and I started to worry.’

  ‘So let’s work out the timing,’ said Alan, tenting his fingers in a gesture that always reminded me of Alistair Cooke. ‘How long was it from Tom’s call till you were pushed?’

  ‘I have no idea. I wasn’t looking at a clock. I do know I started down the stairs right away.’

  ‘While your phone was still ringing?’

  ‘Oh. No. Let’s see. I heard it making that peculiar noise. I can’t think why they can’t make them sound like real telephones.’

  ‘They can,’ Tom put in. ‘When you get a new one, I’ll program it for any ringtone you like.’

  ‘Oh, yes, actually I did know that. That they can sound like almost anything, I mean. I have an American friend who makes hers play Tchaikovsky at Christmastime. One of the dances from The Nutcracker.’

  ‘If we could get back to the subject at hand,’ said Alan with forced patience. ‘You heard your phone ring.’

  ‘Burble, is more like it. All right, Alan, I’ll come to the point. I heard it and I was upset because I’d forgotten to turn off the sound. So I hunted for it, and of course it was at the very bottom of my purse. It had stopped ringing by the time I found it, but I thought it was probably Tom, so I looked around for a place where I could call him back without bothering everybody. The nearest place I could think of was outside, so I headed for the stairs. I’d gone down only one or two, I think, before …’ I stopped, feeling suddenly wobbly. The memory of that moment of sheer panic was strong. I had, I realized, been quite sure I was about to die.

  ‘Yes, all right, love. So in fact it could have been as much as five minutes from the call until you started down the stairs.’

  ‘Not that long, I don’t think. Maybe two or three. Hear the phone. Rummage for it in my purse.’ I mimed the action. ‘Ring, ring, ring. Where is the dratted thing? Ah, there. It’s stopped. Who was calling?’ I peered at the imaginary phone. ‘Don’t know the number. Probably Tom. Where can I go to call him back? Rummage for floor plan.’ I pawed at the duvet. ‘Find plan. Study it. Darn. No restrooms except in the basement. Have to go outside. Make my way through the crowd to the stairway.’ I walked my fingers across the duvet. ‘Reach over and more or less drape myself over the railing. How long was that?’ Alan had been looking at his watch.

  ‘Not a lot more than a minute. Double it to allow for the difference between real and reconstructed actions, and I’d say three at the absolute outside. Now, how about your end, Tom? How long between the departure of the last of the break-room party and your phone call?’

  Tom went through a similar dumb show. ‘Perhaps five minutes, sir. I had to climb those stairs, and I didn’t care to take them at a run, in case anyone was watching. I didn’t want to appear hurried. Then I had to find your number on my phone, Mrs Martin. Not more than five minutes, I should think.’

  ‘That would give a student eight minutes at most to get from the Hutchins canteen area to the top of the stairs at the Fitzwilliam Museum. Could it be done?’

  ‘At a dead run,’ said Tom, frowning. ‘But—’

  ‘But—’ said Elaine at the same moment.

  ‘But it makes no sense.’ I overrode both of them. ‘The – call him X, for want of a better term – X would have had to know who I was and that I was getting dangerously close to something he didn’t want known. Which, heaven knows, I’m not. Getting close to anything, that is. Then he would have had to know I was at the Fitzwilliam, out of all possible places in Cambridge.’

  ‘You told no one where you were going? Except me, I mean.’

  ‘No one. I didn’t see anyone to speak to.’

  ‘Then it seems reasonable to deduce that it was not one of the students with whom you had your little chat, Tom, who attacked Dorothy.’

  ‘If, in fact, she was attacked,’
murmured Elaine.

  I pretended not to hear her. ‘So if we’re going with this scenario, it means that someone else involved in what Tom’s calling this “prank gone wrong” somehow knew me, thought I knew too much, et cetera. Someone who wasn’t in the canteen with Tom this morning. But the only student I’ve actually met over there is Tom. So how could anyone – in this city I’ve visited only two or three times in my life – pick me out of that crowd as his victim?’

  ‘My dear,’ said Alan gently, as Elaine said, ‘My dear woman!’ with a snort.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think they mean your hat, Mrs Martin,’ said Tom, trying not to snicker.

  ‘Oh, my hat. Alan, my hat!’ I sat straight up, a move I regretted. ‘Where …?’

  ‘I brought it back, love. I’m afraid it fell under the staircase, or was kicked there. It’s a bit dusty, and somewhat the worse for wear.’

  I collapsed back on to the pillows. ‘Salvageable?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘I loved that hat. We got it in Scotland, remember? That little shop in Edinburgh. I suppose it was a trifle conspicuous.’

  ‘Dorothy, apart from the mortar boards or Tudor bonnets some wear for graduation ceremonies, almost no one in Cambridge ever wears a hat. Any hat is conspicuous, and when it’s red and gold, of course it’s noticeable.’

  ‘So,’ said Elaine, ‘X knew the person wearing that hat was the nosy American lady who was prying into some sort of mess, and decided to take direct action. Spur of the moment. No real way to trace him or her. Dead end.’

  ‘But it has to be someone who knows about the blood on the floor, knows I saw it. Someone, in short, who knows I could somehow be dangerous. And I’ve told only the people in this room. You told your two buddies, Alan, the ones who went with you to look. Did you or they say anything to the student who you talked to there?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Alan did his best not to sound offended.

  ‘Sorry, love, I had to ask. So how did anyone know what I saw?’

  ‘The phantom in the lab coat,’ said Alan. ‘The one who keeps disappearing. He must have seen you that first day. You weren’t sure, as I recall. And then, of course, on Friday, you were there snooping again – and wearing your hat.’

  ‘So that must mean the blood on the floor was vitally important – to conceal it, I mean. And that means …’

  ‘Yes,’ said Elaine. ‘I will get the search started. Missing persons reports, serious injuries, deaths at hospitals. Starting at that end might give us something to work on. Get some rest, Dorothy.’

  NINE

  That was when Alan shooed them away and let me (at last) take that sleeping pill. I drifted away into blessed oblivion until the next morning, waking only a couple of times when my bladder made demands I couldn’t ignore. Even then I didn’t wake fully, only enough to make my painful way to the bathroom and back. Every time, in the dim light that came through the blinds, I saw Alan watching me from his pillow. He had meant it when he said he wasn’t letting me out of his sight.

  In the morning I felt a little better. Every part of me still complained, but not quite as loudly. Perhaps the grumbling voices were drowned out by the bells.

  Bells?

  Our house in Sherebury is right next to the Cathedral Close, and the bells on the other side of the wall have become so much a part of our lives that we don’t always hear them. But these sounded different. I opened my eyes and saw Alan getting dressed.

  ‘Bells?’

  ‘Still not quite awake, darling? Yes, bells. It’s Sunday, you know. The various churches and chapels are saluting the Sabbath. Are you feeling well enough to go to church?’

  ‘Oh, Alan, let’s. We still haven’t heard the King’s choir. Do we have time to get there?’

  ‘Masses of time. Can you totter to breakfast with me, or shall I get someone to bring some to us?’

  ‘I think I can just about make it that far, and I may even be able to dress myself.’

  ‘That’s progress. I’ll stand by in case a helping hand is needed.’

  I needed only a little help from Alan, though I’m afraid some operations did elicit a certain amount of profanity. I wasn’t very comfortable once I was dressed, and I’ve looked better. ‘I feel naked without my hat, and it’s the only casual one I brought,’ I grumbled.

  ‘We’ll find you another. At the moment what I want to find is sustenance. Come, love. We’ll take it slowly.’

  Everyone at the conference had apparently heard about my ‘accident’. We’d agreed to let them think that, at least for now. Alan and Elaine had both quailed at the thought of an entire conference of police officers jumping on our problem. ‘If this is meant to be about community relations,’ Elaine had said, ‘the concept would be ready for burial long before we caught our mysterious X. I’ve nothing like enough evidence yet to trample on the town/gown division of powers.’ So Alan and I responded pleasantly to the sympathy and offers of assistance and well-wishing as we walked to the dining room, and kept our mouths shut about our suspicions.

  Alan got my food for me. He had seated me next to Elaine, who acted as substitute watchdog until he returned.

  ‘Feeling a bit better?’

  ‘A bit. I can move without wanting to scream.’

  ‘Good. Coffee?’

  I accepted coffee with thanks, and took a reviving sip. ‘Oh, that’s good. I don’t know what genius first figured out that you could take some red berries that didn’t taste very good and roast them and grind them and pour hot water over them, but I owe whoever it was a great debt of gratitude. Skoal.’ I raised my cup.

  ‘You are feeling better. More sleuthing planned for this morning? Not that I know quite where you’d begin.’

  ‘Nor do I. Alan and I are tending to our neglected souls this morning. And, I must admit, to our ears. We’re going to the Eucharist at King’s. We’ve been intending to get to Evensong all week, but things kept happening.’

  ‘Things like almost getting killed.’ She looked around. Nobody was paying any attention to us. ‘You could have been, you know.’

  ‘I know. If I’d fallen the other direction and bumped my head all the way down those stairs … but I didn’t. And I honestly wonder if X intended to kill me, or to frighten me, or just to put me out of commission for a while.’

  ‘He didn’t succeed in any of those goals, thank all the gods at once,’ said Alan, arriving with my food. ‘Unless you count one wasted afternoon and evening as a “while”.’

  ‘He frightened me, for sure. But he didn’t scare me off. I’m more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this, even if I’m moving a little slower than usual. I very much wonder what X intended to do with me out of the way that would have been more difficult with me around and snooping.’

  ‘We might have had a better chance of finding out,’ said Alan, ‘if we had acted as if you were seriously injured. Now that you’re visibly among the living, right here in the college, word is going to get around. Our servers here are students, you know, and they talk.’

  ‘Well, I refuse to worry about it just now. I have wonderful food before me, and it’s a glorious Sunday morning, and I intend to put my troubles behind me for a few hours.’

  For an Anglican lover of choral music, there can be few more blissful experiences than a service of Holy Communion at King’s College Chapel. It’s all there. Splendidly soaring architecture, brilliant stained glass, probably the finest choir in the world and the stately cadences of the Book of Common Prayer combine in what can be a perfect worship experience.

  We lingered in the chapel even after the last notes of the postlude had died away, unwilling to break the spell. Finally, some tourists began to wander and chatter, and we reluctantly got up to leave. I grunted as I rose, and staggered a little. ‘Alan, I didn’t even notice how uncomfortable those choir stalls are until just now. It was all so lovely, and they even had my favourite hymns.’

  ‘Perhaps we’ll stay on a few days and c
ome back for Evensong a time or two. Would you like that, or are you yearning for home?’

  ‘Yes to both. I do long for my own bed, especially with all these aches and pains, and I miss the animals, of course. Which reminds me, I should call Jane and make sure they’re all right.’

  ‘You know quite well they’re being pampered within an inch of their lives. Watson’s enjoying playing with Jane’s dogs, and the cats are sleeping everywhere they’re not allowed and eating all their favourite treats.’

  ‘I know. But I still miss them, and I hope they miss us.’

  ‘They’ll tell us they did when we get home, whether or not. So you’d like to leave tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve got to hear this choir again. And—’

  ‘And we’ve unfinished business. I’m sorry to remind you.’

  ‘It’s all right. Right now I feel I can face anything.’

  ‘The exaltation will wear off, you know.’

  ‘I know. It always does. So let’s strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. I want to get a really thorough look at the whole Hutchins Building. We got distracted on Friday. Do you think any of the rooms will be unlocked on a Sunday?’

  ‘If not, I imagine Elaine can work out a way to get us inside. You’re not going to go all wobbly again, are you?’

  ‘No. I’m feeling invulnerable. My guardian angel is back on the job. And besides, you’ll be with me.’

  ‘Glued to your side, my love. But let’s get a taxi. I don’t want to waste your strength, or your angel’s patience, on a walk through these incredibly crowded streets.’

  The taxi dropped us off at the college gates. Alan extricated me, groaning, from the back seat and then said, ‘Look, love, there’s no point in you walking all the way to Hutchins and then back to our room if we can’t get in. Do you think you can bear to sit on this bench for a moment while I phone Elaine and ask her to meet us there?’

  The bench in question was stone. There was no question. ‘No. I wouldn’t last five seconds. There’s no terrific hurry. Let’s just go to the room. I can take some ibuprofen and lie down for a little while to ease the memory of choir stalls out of my bones. Meanwhile you can see about getting us into the labs.’