“She’s fine,” the ambulance officer said. “A small war wound.”
Richard’s eyes opened wide when he spotted my cheek. Now that the adrenaline had fled my system, it ached and whined like a freshly stubbed toe.
“Are you up to flying home today?”
“Of course. The police have interviewed me and I’m cleared to leave.”
Richard’s face held relief.
“Quite an exciting weekend,” I said.
Richard grunted. “This last bit, I could do without.”
The taxi ride to Oakthorpe took forever. Richard had insisted on paying for it, and I hadn’t argued, not wanting to face the train ride. By the time I arrived, a vicious headache throbbed at my temples, playing a duet with the ache in my cheek. At least I was alive. I’d heard on the taxi driver’s radio that the woman shot during the incident had died on the way to the hospital.
The front door opened and the terrible trio and Amber spilled down the steps before the cab came to a halt.
Hannah opened the taxi door, took one look at my cheek and bit her bottom lip. Amber stroked my leg, her forehead puckered in a sympathetic expression. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m all right,” I said, climbing from the cab after paying the driver. I bent to give Amber a quick hug. “What I want to know is how you enjoyed your weekend.”
“I helped Grandpa and Ben in the garden,” Amber said. “We had croissants and jam for breakfast.”
“That sounds like fun.” I cast a quick glance in Hannah’s direction for reassurance. At her brief nod, my nagging anxiety dissolved.
Father and Ben retrieved my luggage, and we walked inside together. It was as if I’d been away for weeks rather than three nights.
“The money came through from Alistair,” Father said.
“That’s good news,” I said. “How did the market go this morning?” As much as I hated to pressure them, we still needed money toward the next payment.
“Business was so brisk, all four of us worked the stall. We could’ve sold twice as much. But nothing has happened on the dagger front, which is disappointing,” Father said.
Amber pushed between Father and I, and hugged my hip. “People paid for my eggcups.”
“Did they? How many did you sell?”
Amber held up ten fingers.
“Ten!” I was seriously impressed.
“They were a big hit.” Father ruffled Amber’s hair. He looked so pleased you’d think he’d painted the eggcups himself.
“I’m painting more for next week. Come see.” Amber dragged me to the kitchen. She had a desk set up near the windows looking out over the gardens. Small tins of paint and brushes covered the table. Six freshly painted eggcups were drying.
Hannah walked straight to the kettle, filled it with water and plugged it in while I admired the eggcups. Amber had painted bright flowers and trees on some while others bore houses and stick people. They were adorable, and it was easy to see why they’d sold well.
Hannah slapped a packet of painkillers on the table along with a glass of water.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said, reaching for the painkillers. “How did you know?”
“You’re forehead is wrinkled like a prune,” she said. “I thought I’d better do something before the wind changes.”
“Love the description,” I said dryly and made a conscious effort to smooth my frown. I popped two tablets from the foil pack and swallowed them down.
“Beauchamp behave himself?” Father inquired.
“Yes, surprisingly.”
The phone interrupted, and Hannah answered.
“It’s for you.” She clapped a hand over the receiver. “Kahu Williams.”
My stomach dropped with foreboding. “Kahu, how are you?”
“I’ll be there in five,” Kahu said without preamble. The phone slammed down, leaving me ill at ease.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Shit,” Father said.
I went with sarcasm to temper my spiraling fears. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What are you going to tell him?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t think. My brain cells, the ones that weren’t throbbing, were tearing around in a mad panic, too ruffled for logic thought.
“You’ll have to tell him something,” Father said. “We need him around in case our competitor decides to show.”
“That’s hardly likely now. Our competitor seems to have disappeared into a vacuum. I haven’t heard news of any thefts this week.”
“A week’s not long,” Father countered.
I saw his point but didn’t have time to think about it now, not when I had to face Kahu. Nerves hummed through me, exiting in the constant tap-tap-tap of my foot. I don’t know how it’d happened but Kahu figured large in my life. He had the ability to hurt me.
“I’ll talk to him out in the garden,” I decided out loud. I paced the length of the kitchen while I practiced what I might say.
“He mightn’t know you were with you-know-who,” Hannah said, ever practical. We’d kept details from Amber, merely saying I was visiting a friend, in case she innocently spilled the beans.
I shook my head. “No, it was his tone. He knows.”
“He’s not bad for a cop,” Father said.
“High praise indeed.”
Ben nodded, missing my irony. “He hurried up the reward money for us.”
“That was nice of him.”
The doorbell rang. I whirled to face the terrible trio in a silent plea for encouragement. I received it but nerves still jiggled in my stomach, warning me the worst was yet to come.
The doorbell rang again—three short bursts.
My white trousers still bore splotches of blood, making me realize I should have changed. It was too late now.
“Don’t let me catch you trying to spy out the window or eavesdrop,” I warned.
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Father said in an affronted manner.
I hurried to answer the door, still none the wiser about how to handle Kahu. My hand slipped on the handle before I managed to jerk open the door. Sweaty palms again. I wiped them on my trousers and stared wordlessly at Kahu.
His eyes narrowed, noting everything about my appearance. The bruised cheek. The splatters of blood on my white suit. “It’s true. You were there in Edinburgh.”
“Come around the back into the garden. We can talk there.” I stepped past him, striding toward the narrow path leading to the gardens out the back. My ears strained to hear his footsteps. The edgy feeling inside indicated he followed me, but I was unable to hear his footfalls.
A thrush sang over to my right. The heady scent of old-fashioned red climbing roses filled the air. All the ingredients of a romantic meeting. When I arrived at a stone bench overlooking the valley below, I sat. Kahu remained standing, controlled anger evident in the slight flush in his cheeks, his taut stance. He didn’t intend to make this meeting easy for me.
“You lied to me. You were up there with Richard Beauchamp.” He said Richard’s name with a slight sneer.
Possible explanations danced around inside my head, but I’d never admit the truth. It would give rise to questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
Kahu waited for an explanation to put things right. His quiet, intense scrutiny probably worked well in the police sphere. He had my nerves worn ragged.
“Not going to talk?” he asked. “You could start by telling me about your so-called friend in Edinburgh.”
My heart seemed to stall, a fist closing over it to prevent a beat. My head pounded, the relentless sun accelerating the ache. The prickly sensation behind my eyes told me tears were not far away.
Kahu frowned down at me. “I don’t like liars.”
My life was one big lie. I mean where did I start? A spurt of hysteria rose to the surface. “I don’t think there’s much more to say,” I said, sick to my stomach.
>
“I thought we had the makings of a friendship.” Kahu’s voice held little expression, as if he’d locked his emotions away.
“We do.” Unable to look at him because it hurt so much, I studied a flock of white sheep grazing in the neighboring fields. A tear slipped down my face, and I scrubbed it away, concentrating fiercely on the white blurs.
“Not without truth,” Kahu said. “I asked you if there was anyone else in your life. You said no.”
I fumbled in my jacket pocket for a hanky, and when I couldn’t find one, resorted to an unladylike sniff. “So what happens now?” This was goodbye, but I needed him to tell me, to put it in words.
Kahu laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. “Truth is important to me. It’s part of what I am and how I live. You lied, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s it. No second chances.”
I bowed my head to study my hands and short nails. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Another tear fell.
“Goodbye, Lady Eve.”
The lump in my throat had grown so much I couldn’t force a polite reply. I heard soft footsteps as he left, taking my heart with him.
The next four days were difficult. I made it through by focusing on the important things.
Amber and revenge.
I spent as much time with my daughter as possible. In the evenings, Amber painted eggcups while the terrible trio and I carried out research into possible jobs. While Amber attended school, I worked for Ruth and carried out research into special interests—the search for Amber’s father.
I placed the last index card down on my bed and sighed. My search through the photographer’s records had yielded nothing helpful so far. All the drama breaking into his premises for nothing.
Next on the agenda was a comparison of Jaycee’s list with the photographer’s cards. Six names on Jaycee’s list: Allan Grayson, Quentin Sparkes, John, Patrick O’Finnegan, Duncan Urquart, and Jason.
The names were all familiar, and when I checked the social media sites, my memory matched the likenesses to the names—those I could find. None of the young men bore any resemblance to my daughter. I stormed from my bedroom, slamming the door so everyone at Oakthorpe knew of my bad mood.
What the heck did I do next? If there was an easy way to solve this mystery, I’d missed it.
The terrible trio sat at the kitchen table taking morning tea. The hum of the dishwasher, the low conversation and the clatter of cups and saucers from Hannah’s tea preparation comforted me, soothing my ruffled mood.
“Talking about me?” I asked while I slid into an empty seat.
They shared a glance and seemed to vote for Hannah in the silent conversation.
“Only in passing.” She shunted a mug of tea in my direction.
“I thought I’d ring Seth to see if he’s going to the ball this weekend at the Sheraton.” I speared a glance at Father. “Why don’t you find a date and help me narrow down our list of prospects?”
“Can’t,” Father said. “Ben and I have another case to investigate.”
Ben let out an abrupt guffaw that lengthened into a full-out belly laugh. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and trickled down his face. He raised a gnarled hand to wipe them away, still chuckling. “You’re gonna love this, Evie. They’ve hired us to recover stolen jewelry!” That set him off again with Father joining in this time.
Hannah and I shared a silent glance that covered everything from the fact men are such little boys at times to the ironic truth that they were right. Cat burglars recovering stolen jewelry was a hoot.
“Was the theft reported to the police?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“It’s the Martins at Rose Manor,” Father said.
“Ah.” I reached for a piece of shortbread. That explained everything. The Martins were eccentric, although harmless. They didn’t trust the police. “How much are they paying you? How’s the job going? What was stolen?”
“One question at a time, Evie.” Ben pulled a small burgundy notebook from his shirt pocket and flicked through the pages. “Two Victorian brooches with sentimental value. They were passed down through the family. And a diamond tiara, another family heirloom. None of it insured since they don’t think much of insurance companies. We have an appointment to see them this morning.”
“They’re offering one thousand pounds if we recover the items.” Father clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair until its two front legs left the ground. “I’m thinking it might be an inside job.”
I studied his posture, his bright eyes, and uttered up a silent thanks to both the Martins for hiring them and the doctor for prescribing his new medication.
“Guess it’s just me at the ball,” I said. “Hannah, do we have a recent statement of what we owe Richard Beauchamp?” Since Hannah was such a whiz on the computer, I’d asked her to keep track of our money.
“I’ll print you one out. It’s looking better. If you can do another three jobs that net us the same as this last one, we’ll be well ahead instead of scrambling to meet each payment.”
“That’s if the other cat doesn’t turn up and rain on our parade,” Father groused. “Damn nuisance and damn peculiar that no one on the inside is talking. I’ve quizzed every contact I can think of and none of them knows a thing. Not even Alistair.”
“Did you check with Grace?” I asked, only half joking. Grace seemed to know everything going on in the community.
Father scowled. “Grace’s a gossip.”
“Don’t knock it. Gossip might help you recover the stolen brooches and tiara.”
Ben checked his watch. “Point taken. Time for us to visit the Martins. We don’t want to arrive late. That woman is peculiar. Anything could set her off. I’d hate to rile her and lose our job. I haven’t had so much fun in ages.”
Father stood and, after landing a peck on my cheek, trotted after Ben.
Hannah started to gather the dirty cups. “It’s good to see them both happy again. The forced retirement didn’t go well.”
“It makes them feel like they’re contributing. They get a kick out of the market stall, even though they complain about getting up so early.”
“They got past the it’s not an upper-class activity quickly,” Hannah added in a low, gruff voice as she mimicked Father’s first objection.
“It was a good idea, full stop. Amber is excited about her sales. Do you have a minute to help me? I need to go over the ball plans and try to find a list of who’s attending. And can I borrow your phone? I dropped mine in Edinburgh. It’s dead.”
Hannah rolled up her sleeves and wiped the table down. She plucked her mobile off the counter and handed it to me. “Are you asking me to do a little hacking?”
“Who, me?” I clapped a hand to my chest and tried to look mortally wounded. “Could you?”
Chapter Twenty
In the end, I attended the ball on my own. Seth was away on business in Lucerne, and I’d left it too late to find a date. All the good ones had been snapped up, leaving the dregs. In other words, the ones who would cling like a second skin when I needed to focus on work.
I left my car in Kensington at Alistair and Grace’s house, since I intended to stay the night there, and caught a cab to the Knightsbridge hotel where the ball was being held.
A red carpet stretched the length of the walkway from the road to the ballroom entrance. Security guards kept the public at bay while a man dressed in a turban and Indian silk checked tickets. High security tonight. I scanned the faces of the public out of habit, checking for familiar ones.
A photographer snapped shots of guests before they entered the ballroom, creating a slow-moving line.
“Ticket, love?” While the costume looked exotic, the accent was pure East London.
I handed over my ticket.
“No partner, Lady Eve?” His eyes twinkled as he offered a wink.
“Too many to choose from,” I said blithely. “Trying to pick one brought on a headache so I decided to attend alon
e.”
Ah! The blonde bimbo had decided to burst out in full glory. Probably the best way to go tonight.
“Thank you,” I said when he handed my invitation back. When the line in front moved, I drifted along the red carpet with them.
“That’s Lady Eve,” I heard one of the public bystanders say. “I like her dress. I wonder who designed it.”
I worked at keeping a straight face. Hannah and I had found four new outfits for me to wear to balls and charity functions at a second-hand clothes shop in Kensington. The dress was made from midnight-blue silk that suited my blond coloring perfectly. It skimmed my curves and dipped low in the front, giving any male with height a fairly good view of my assets. Hannah and I had discussed the low bodice and decided to leave it because my breasts were another weapon in my arsenal.
The line moved closer to the photographer. I considered trying to duck around and miss this important step until I noticed another security guard. Photos were not optional.
A voice from the crowd piped up. “That’s Lady Eve. I wonder who her escort is tonight. She’s got a young daughter. Unmarried, you know.”
This time, I had trouble finding amusement. Why did I have to attend with a man? There was nothing wrong with going solo, and what business was it of theirs if I was an unmarried mother?
The line moved again, and I came face-to-face with the photographer I’d stolen from—Jasper Cooney.
“Stand over here please.” He glanced past me then his gaze zapped to mine. “Where’s your partner? I don’t have time to wait for him. Surely you can see I have others waiting?”
“I don’t have a partner tonight.” Several guests heard and started murmuring to each other. My cheeks heated but I lifted my chin and ignored the whispers. “Where would you like me to stand?”
“Over there, please, Lady Eve.”
I stepped into a leafy bower and offered a toothy smile for the camera. The photographer snapped several shots and lowered his camera.
“Thank you. I was wondering…” he said, visibly hesitating.
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