by Glenna Mason
Elizabeth cantered back across the field, made short work of the lane investigation, gave the Bennet property a quick sweep and was home showering by four-thirty.
Elizabeth detoured by the police station on the way to Laurel Acres to deliver the butt. There she met the harried Luke Davenport. She had been very interested in making his acquaintance, since his name was so similar to one of her favorite fictional detectives, Lucas Davenport, John Sanford's invention for his popular Prey novels.
“Lt. Davenport, could I see the composite that the Taylor boys and Clancey came up with please?” Elizabeth requested.
“Certainly, Dr. Elizabeth. Without you, we wouldn't have it.”
The detective searched diligently through a file drawer marked “Top Priority” and soon pulled out a sketch. The face was familiar to Elizabeth, but she could not decide why. Someone in the horse world, she presumed, but a disreputable looking someone. Or possibly someone local that she had just seen in a store somewhere.
“Could I have about six or seven copies please?” Elizabeth decided it would be a good idea to hand them out at her dinner the next night. Maybe someone there would recognize the face or use it in his/her own reconnoitering.
“No problem, Dr. Elizabeth.”
Suddenly Elizabeth remembered why she was at the station. She handed the baggie with the butt to the officer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Driving up the tree-lined driveway of Laurel Acres to Letitia Pope's Victorian mansion was for Elizabeth like entering a wonderland of yesterday. The Laurel Acres portion of the massive Pope land grant was a wedding gift to Colonel Pope's son, Captain Pope. The Georgian home, original to the property, had burned down in the late nineteenth century and a more fire resistant Victorian structure had been built to replace it.
The red brick three story featured front and side porches with sleeping porches on the rear. Imposing, yet inviting, with gardens all around in clear view, the home was listed on the National Registry of Historic Homes and was available for garden parties and teas for worthy causes, especially those benefiting the horse industry and the arts. Its current owner, the patrician Tish Pope, the last of her line, would be an asset to any community and was often a godsend to Madison County and its charities. Many a benefit ball had found a home at Laurel Acres.
When Elizabeth, a neighbor since birth, had called Tish yesterday evening to ask for a talk about the kidnappings, Tish had readily assented, inviting Elizabeth for martinis at five.
Tish was already on the front porch to greet Elizabeth when the latter steered her coupe to a screech promptly at five o'clock. Tish carried a large ornate silver tray, covered with a white linen cloth.
Elizabeth raced from her Mercedes to the rescue.
“Please, Tish, let me help with that,” Elizabeth said. “That looks too heavy for one.” That said, Elizabeth grabbed the tray and began to carry it herself.
“Let's go to the garden, Lizzy. It is from there that I saw the van on Saturday. You can see the view from my vantage point.”
“Tish, you saw the van,” Elizabeth said with surprise.
“I certainly did,” Tish said. “Please place the tray on the garden seat,” she instructed, pointing to a beautiful, elegant blue and white garden seat with oriental overtones in its design. “We'll talk about it over refreshments.”
“Now what will it be today, Lizzy?” Tish asked, flipping the linen napkin from off the tray to display two silver pitchers, iced and dripping, and a china plate covered in pretty finger sandwiches, white bread cut in perfect circles, topped with homemade mayonnaise, tomatoes, and cucumbers, and sprinkled with herbs. Two Havilland dessert plates and four crystal glasses completed the spread.
“Since I am well aware of the widespread fame, having helped spread it myself, of both your freshly squeezed lemonade and your deadly vodka martinis, I elect to treat myself to both. Shall we start with the lemonade and proceed to the martinis?” Elizabeth asked, helping herself to a cucumber sandwich and dropping a Maraschino cherry into a goblet and pouring out a generous glass of the icy lemonade for herself and her hostess.
“Cherry, Tish?”
“Of course, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth settled back on the cushioned settee. She noticed the aria pouring from the open windows, Luciano Pavarotti was singing, “Nessum Dorma” from Puccini's Turandot.
Elizabeth started to hum the melody.
“I am so glad that you enjoy opera, Lizzy,” said Tish. “It is one of my passions. I like nothing better on a spring evening than to sit among my beautiful flowers and flood the garden with opera.” Tish's face lit up at the thought.
“I have a friend who joins me most evenings. At least six times a year we venture to Louisville and to Cincinnati to the opera houses there.” Tish said.
“As you know, I went to Louisville this week-end to the opera. My gentleman friend was supposed to accompany me, but he was detained at the last minute.” A strangely surreptitious smile crossed Tish's lovely face. “Unfortunate! He missed a truly superb Tosca performance.”
“Oh? I’m sorry you had to go alone.”
“Occasionally we go to NYC to the Metropolitan Opera, if they are presenting something we simply cannot resist, usually Wagner. So few companies can stage Wagner. And Europe. We have taken in the great opera houses there; La Scala is my favorite.”
“Tish, you amaze me—you are so, well—so mysterious.”
“Always the mystery with you, Lizzy,” Tish chided her friend, and then continued, “I always take my mother's opera glasses with me and a pair for my friend too.
“Which brings me, Lizzy, to Saturday morning,” Tish stated, as she bounced to the sprightly Verdi melody, “La donna e mobile.” Having thrown out that little gem, Tish queried, “Shall we try the martinis now?”
“Oh, let's please,” Elizabeth said.
Tish poured them both a generous portion of the martini and dropped an olive in each.
“Where was I?” Tish questioned, handing a martini glass to Elizabeth. “Oh, yes, Saturday morning.” The two lightly clicked the martini glasses and sipped cautiously. “I was out quite early. I was going to Louisville, and I like to water the flowers before the sun rises too high anyway.
“I saw Junior and Jonathan playing ball over in their side lot. They are such sweet young men—and such gentlemen—always a word and a smile for an old neighbor.
“I was down on my knees when the fool trailer careened around the hair-pin curve down there,” said Tish, pointing to the right, “and at a top speed for this little lane, I might add. The driver's lucky he didn't land on his side in the ditch. Thank God, he didn't. That could have been disastrous for Alexis and Junie.”
“And for Sir William,” Elizabeth said.
“So I grabbed my binoculars.”
“Your binoculars!”
“Well, of course, my dear, I'm never in the garden without them. Bird watching is another of my passions. My garden is specifically designed to attract as many birds as possible. The tree- lined drive also provides cover on their way south in the winter and north in the spring. And many like it so much they simply stay all year, of course.” Tish smiled in gratitude.
“Anyway I naturally scrutinized the van and its driver, as he zoomed past my yard, and right then and there I yelled aloud, ‘I knew you were fast! What a man!’”
“Knew? You knew he was fast? How? Why?”
“I am fairly certain that I recognized the driver of the van from the trots. I haven't told Sir William; I want to be sure before I accuse anyone. Besides I have no idea who he is, just what he looks like in profile wearing goggles and at a long distance.”
“In profile?” Elizabeth said, totally nonplussed.
“My gentleman friend and I are also fond of harness racing. We spend a lot of evenings in Lexington at the Red Mile, when the spring and fall meets are in progress. Again I always have my binoculars. I mainly use them for the back stretch. You see the van driver had on his goggle
s, just like he does when he is racing down the backstretch at the trots. And my lawn down to the road from the garden is relatively the same distance as the seats to the backside. My perspective of him that morning was the same side view as I get of him at the races.
“He was wearing the same intent expression that I have seen so often. Now, Lizzy, you might reasonably ask why I would remember this particular sulky driver in profile. Well, this particular driver is one gorgeous example of handsome. He appears from a distance to be the spitting image of Colin Firth as King George in The King’s Speech or perhaps Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister in Love Actually. Basically Greek God status.”
“Greek God! Why do we just assume that a malcontent will be ugly and scarred?”
“I suppose it’s the influence of movies and television. We want our heroes to be handsome and our villains to be dastardly dismal.”
“Shouldn't we at least alert the police to your suspicions, Tish?” Elizabeth asked, pouring herself and Tish a fresh serving of martini. Oh, boy! Southern hospitality could be hell on a waist line, but in this case well worth it, because of the information she was getting.
“I did speak about my suspicions to the young officer, who came to interview me today. I could tell he wasn't very impressed. I gather the police are inundated with a multitude of crank calls. He either considered me a publicity-seeking nut case or a gaga old dame.” Tish chuckled.
“In any case I knew that you were coming today, so I saved my best for you. I know you, Lizzy. You know me. So I was confident you, not the police, were the one I should turn my evidence over to. I knew you would believe me and take me seriously, not stick my statement in a file somewhere.”
“I have to admit you are right, Tish. The police are evidently so overloaded with data to sort through that they may as well have none, for all the good it does them.”
“Now to continue with our handsome horse thief—I have never really wondered who the driver is. I always just bet on the horse, not the driver. And even when he wins and ends up in the winner's circle, by then I do seldom have my binoculars out. I do not use my binoculars down the stretch either. One wants the whole picture there, but on the back stretch, I have gazed admiringly at him for years now. So just picture Colin or Hugh in riding attire and goggles and you have it. Anyway from a strictly artist's point of view this man's profile has been worth studying over the seasons at the Red Mile. A little added joy to my already pleasurable experience there.”
“Tish, you never cease to fascinate me,” was all Elizabeth could muster.
“Now, Lizzy, I have a gift for you.”
“A gift, Tish? Believe me, your homemade lemonade and deadly martinis are gift enough for one day.”
“You'll appreciate this gift, Lizzy. Please pour yourself and me another sip or two. I will be right back,” Tish said, waving her elegant hand at the clearly diminished beverage in the martini pitcher and retreating toward the house.
Within minutes Tish returned, a manila folder in her hand. She extended the folder to Elizabeth, who opened it and emitted a breath of startled surprise.
“They're phenomenal, Tish.” In Elizabeth's hand were two very artistically rendered profiles of an exceedingly handsome and debonair gentleman, actually wildly reminiscent of two gorgeous leading men, Colin Firth and Hugh Grant, foils of each other in Bridget Jones’ Diary.
“Wow! I'd like to meet him on a cloudy night in a dark alley,” Elizabeth said, with a strange sort of anticipated delight. “And this paragon of perfect male beauty is our villain?”
“I am fairly sure he is, Lizzy,” Tish said. “I have done two, one with the goggles and the other without, because actually I have seen him in the winner’s circle. Now, as I said, I didn’t view him there with binoculars and it is quite a distance. I used my imagination a little and Colin too, I’m afraid. But I am actually quite proficient at drawing. And I believe it is a fairly good likeness.”
“Yes, I see your talent quite clearly.”
“And I have always preferred profiles. I was a Liberal Arts major at Vassar, so art and music are quite naturally my avocations, but I am also an artist.”
“You are more than proficient. This is worthy of an exhibition.”
“Did you show this to the Richmond policeman?” Wagner's love duet from Tristan and Isolde spilled into the garden. A fortuitous sign perhaps? Or a portentous one?
“As I told you, he was not interested. I saved it for you.” She poured Elizabeth another martini and filled her own glass. Both ladies were getting a little giddy from the surfeit of constantly replenished martini glasses.
Tish was becoming more audacious with each sip, Elizabeth more open to suggestiveness.
“Now, Lizzy, I have a secret to share with you about my gentleman friend, one I have revealed to very few before.”
“Oh, Tish, how deliciously mysterious of you—do tell,” Elizabeth said, positioning herself on the edge of the fancy iron seat, as if Tish would suddenly begin to whisper.
“Lizzy, this is a secret,” Tish said, emphasizing the last word.
“I totally understand, Tish. I appreciate your trusting me with such a special secret.”
“You see, Lizzy, I trust your instincts and admire your perseverance. I appreciate your lifelong absorption in all things mysterious. I'm a bit of a mystery buff myself, truth be told.”
Elizabeth, now completely intrigued, said, “What aren't you interested in, Tish?”
Tish continued without comment, “And especially based on your incredible response at Sir William's on Saturday, your organization of the Pope Road militia to help the police, your personal discovery of clues along the way—I believe— no, I know—you are the one to head our investigation.”
“Our?”
“Yes, Lizzy, I am in on the amateur detection front and center. I am at your service; I have unlimited time to devote, and I definitely believe I have a unique perspective on our perpetrator, which may be helpful. But most importantly, my charming neighbor, I have a secret reason for wishing our success.”
“Secret reason?”
“Sir William is my gentleman friend.”
“Sir William Lucas?” Elizabeth repeated, totally surprised. “Some detective you are Elizabeth,” she thought to herself, but stated aloud, “Sir William goes to the opera. Who'd have imagined?”
“Oh, yes, he's a man of many levels of refinement, Lizzy. When he is in Europe on business, he often flies me over to meet him in Milan for the La Scala or in Rome for the grand opera there. We saw Aida in Rome. What a spectacle that was! Elephants on the stage!” Tish temporarily resided in a memory wonderland.
“We have walked the great museums together: the Louvre, the Prado, and the Uffizi. Do you know what that means to someone of my background?”
“No, Tish,” Elizabeth said, suddenly a little bereft that she had no such great love in her own life. “I actually do not, unfortunately,” she said a little despondently, but Elizabeth quickly jerked herself back from that strange temporary abyss of loneliness. “It must be the martinis,” she consoled herself.
Missing the innuendo and inattentive to Elizabeth's consternation, Tish said, “I could wait and go to the Red Mile in June. William and I could go. I could hope the handsome young man would still be riding. I will not let William know my suspicions, until they are at least somewhat confirmed. The result could prove too disappointing for William and especially unfortunate if the handsome gentleman were to be wrongly accused. But June, Lizzy. By then the case will be so—well, finalized—ransoms paid—insurance moneys received.
“I just feel that there is something about this theft that deserves a different approach. I do not know why, Lizzy. It is just a fleeting, yet palpable, conviction, perhaps generated by the fact the villain is indeed so very handsome, that the motivations for this crime are somehow explainable. It cannot be simple greed, because there are so many easier, less public ways to steal money.
“But I prefer not to take on
the investigation alone. It will be so much more fun, if we do it together. I need your fertile imagination, your unbounded energy. If you and I can find the true essence behind this theft, the reasons and the perpetrators quickly, then William can take it from there and do with it as he will.”
Elizabeth was astounded at Tish's unique take on the kidnappings. She herself never stopped to think why anyone would undertake such a massive and sure-to-be-widely publicized undertaking. It was doubtless unnecessarily brash and difficult.
She heard Tish ask, “Are you game? Do you understand?”
“Mais oui, Tish,” Elizabeth said with her old enthusiasm. Her first mystery was definitely beginning to sizzle. “Do you have a plan of how to proceed?” She couldn’t believe her good fortune. The most significant lead so far in the case—but that wasn’t the best part. Here was one of the most respected members of her little community asking her—Elizabeth Francine Bennet—to partner with her on an investigation. Elizabeth couldn’t believe her good fortune.
“Let's see what the others have to say tomorrow night at your house first. That may give us a possible direction. And, most importantly, I think we will be going to the races at the Red Mile very soon—simulcast, of course. And, Lizzy, let's keep our little side investigation a secret from the others. I prefer that William doesn't know for now.”
“Agreed!”
“Now, Lizzy, you deserve a fuller account,” Tish asserted, as she filled their glasses with the rest of the pitcher of martini.
“Sir William and I of course met through the years at your parents’ parties. He was handsome, but taken, and I thought no more about it. Even after he bought Stantonfield twenty years ago, he mainly lived exclusively in Hertfordshire the next five years, with Gage Webb handling the property here. Then when Lady Lucas died at the end of that five years, William came to Stantonfield more often. It is a valuable property with magnificent thoroughbred stock. I think the challenge took his mind off of his loss. Then John, his son, reached an age to take over Lucas Lodge and its estate in England. Maria was now eighteen, the perfect age to begin college at Eastern Kentucky University, where she could study and also be his companion and hostess in Kentucky. As you know, ten years ago the father and daughter moved here more or less permanently, with only two or three short visits to Meryton each year to visit John and Charlotte.
