The wrinkles on her forehead rose. “Humph. I see where loyalties lie after all the years I’ve given to this family.”
“Mary. I value you. So does Niamh.”
Her eyes glistened. “I can’t believe you found her.” She clucked her teeth. “Only God knows what they made that poor girl go through these past few years.”
I sighed. “Niamh said in a way she thought she was doing her part to save the manor from ruin. I guess convincing herself of that became her strength to keep going.”
“Hmm.” She brought the tray over to me. “Well, she’s sleeping peacefully now in her own bed, thank the Lord. Dr. Wilson sedated her.” She moved my food closer to me. “Though I agree with that Tom fella of yours. She needs a full examination and hospitalization. Seems they had her hooked on drugs.” She clucked her tongue. “How did you figure out she was alive?”
As I sipped my tea and chomped on the toast, I relayed my adventure with the vagrant Spud, Mac, and finally how Niamh led us back into the house. “We entered the dowager’s room and…”
The last few minutes of last night blared in my mind. The blood, the violence, Tom lunging, Robert butting, the bust falling. I shuddered, unable to finish my sentence.
“Poor dear. It must have been horrendous for you. Let’s get you into a steaming bath. You’ll feel better.”
Mary helped me into the hot suds. I soaked as she tidied the room. After ten minutes, she dried me off, dressed me, and combed my hair into place. “If you’re up to it, the investigators need to ask you some questions.”
I nodded as she held a sweater out for me to slip my arms through.
“Do you want them to come up here?”
I gave her a slight head bob. “If allowed. Where’s Tom?”
Mary placed her hands on her hips. “Your heart really is attached to him, now isn’t it? Can’t say I blame ya. Fine specimen of a man. He’s just back from the hospital.”
My eyes widened. I sat down on the sofa. “Hospital?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. He’s right as rain. Went into the police station this morning to give his statement and his arm started oozing again, so they had him checked out.” She patted my hand. “He’s downstairs shoveling in eggs and chatting with the Interpol blokes, now isn’t he? Local DCI and his men, NCA, Interpol. They’re all dashing around. Quite a hullabaloo, you see.”
A tap sounded on my door. A white-faced Jane peeked her head in. “Is she decent?”
“Yes.” Mary answered for me. “Show them in.”
Jane stepped aside. The man in tweed from last night entered, his hands folded in front of him. The younger detective I’d recognized from the night before trailed him. Two other men, both in black suits, came in as well. My throat clenched to see them ganging up on me. My hands squeezed the cushions underneath me. The room suddenly shrunk.
“Mrs. Westlaw, is it?”
I didn’t quite know how to answer him. Who was I officially? “Yes, I guess.”
“You guess?” His attention changed to Mary, who hovered behind me like a mother hen. “Is she still shockish?”
“Don’t think so, sir.”
I cleared my throat. “That was my name until I entered witness protection after testifying against my husband.” I glanced down at my hands and lay them in my lap. I cocked my head. “Just call me, uh, Jen.”
He opened a black notebook and jotted in it, then lifted his gaze to me again. “Very well, Jen. Blake’s, the name. Detective Chief Inspector Charles Hastings Blake. That’s Detective Jacobs. Our jurisdiction is this shire. What you might call a county in the U.S.” Detective Jacob stood next to his side. He nodded to me as he tipped his finger to his tongue and flipped through the pages of his own notepad.
I gave each a slight bob with my head. “How do you do?”
“And these are Officers Edwin and Willis from the National Crime Agency. Sort of like your FBI, now aren’t they?”
I knew all too well.
“May we?” He waved his hand toward the side chairs.
“By all means.”
He sat down and crossed his feet. Edwin took the second upholstered one as Willis pulled the wooden chair from the desk. Jacobs remained standing, notepad poised.
Mary stood as well, like a soldier at the end of the sofa. DCI Blake eyed at her over his readers. “Mary, isn’t it?”
She raised her chin. “Yes, sir.”
“You can stay if the lady is more comfortable having you present.”
My chest heaved in relief. “By all means, Mary. Please do.”
The DCI gestured with his hand. “Have a seat.”
Mary slid around to sit next to me. She leaned over, handed me my tea cup, and perched on the edge.
I took a small sip, set it down, and raised my eyes to the DCI.
A kind smile crossed his lips. “Ready to begin?”
I preferred Tom to be in the room instead of Mary. He’d advise me how much to say. One time, as we rode in the back of a sheriff’s car after traipsing through the New Mexico desert, Tom said to tell the truth and not to worry about him. That’s when the world discovered I wasn’t really dead and he’d kidnapped me. We’d both survived the ordeal, though it meant Tom spent a while in jail until his CIA ops intervened. But, something inside me told me it would still be his advice now.
I waved a limp wrist. “Ask away.”
“There’s very little info on you. We keep running into blockades.”
Detective Edwin spoke up. “Privileged info, per your embassy. You’re in witness protection, you say?”
I jutted out my chin and took a deep breath. “Yes. Robert Westlaw, my husband, was imprisoned in a United States Federal Penitentiary, mostly due to my testimony and Tom’s. But, he escaped and located me again in Florida where the U.S. Marshals relocated me and gave me a new identity as Sheila Williams.”
Pens scraped paper as Detective Jacobs and Officer Willis jotted it all down.
“Am I going too fast?”
They answered in union. “No, ma’am.” Slight smirks emerged as they eyed each other.
I coughed and took another sip of now tepid Earl Grey. “So the government changed my name yet again and transferred me to England.” I blinked back new tears and cast my eyes away. “Except, now it seems those plans were all Robert’s scheme and not the U.S. Marshals’s at all.” In my mind I envisioned him with a gaped mouth and light-less eyes. The bone china tea cup clinked in the saucer under my shaky hand. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”
Officer Edwin’s answer sounded soft with empathy. “Yes, ma’am. That’s correct.”
A wave of numbness washed over my whole body as if every ounce of emotion had been sucked out. I set down the tea and rubbed my hands together. “Yes, I see.”
Mary put her arm around me. “Are you sure you are up to this, dear?”
I gave them each a blank stare. “Of course. They need to know.” I took a cleansing breath. My body felt a bit detached once again. Maybe God’s blessing.
The DCI coughed into his fist. “Well, let’s start off slow.”
The next hour we played fill-in-the blank. The detectives had already discerned a great deal, including why I’d been made to resemble the long-lost heiress, Niamh. I told them my version of the story from the beginning—Tom following orders to kidnap me, Marisol and Monica, my testimony against Robert and relocation, the baby, and lastly about Glenda, Andrew, and my adventures at the manor. I noticed, though she’d heard most of it previously, Mary’s gaze never left my face as she sat erect, ankles crossed.
To his credit, the DCI listened intently. He interrupted very little, except to ask his underling, Jacobs, who scribbled notes if he’d gotten the last thing I said down on his pad. Once sure, he’d motion me to continue. The NCA gentlemen listened intently, letting the DCI run the show. Being an aficionado of British inspector movies, that surprised me a bit. The British usually adhered to a rigid protocol when it came to the chain of command.
Two glasses of water later, I finished my tale. Since everything had exited my brain onto a detective’s notebook, my head cleared, as if I no longer had claim to any of what I’d said.
“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been most cooperative.” DCI Blake rose from his chair. The two officers didn’t.
I straightened my back. “May I ask a few more questions of you, Detective Chief Inspector?”
He sat back down. The NCA officers leaned in. “By all means. I’ll try to be as forthcoming with the answers as you have, as the law allows of course. However, I must warn you. These two gentlemen may have further questions for you as to your identity and your husband’s. That’s not part of my investigation, now is it?”
Edwin eyed Willis and nodded. “We have enough from your testimony to continue our end of it. We may need to make some clarifying inquiries later. Tomorrow perhaps, after you’ve rested.”
I wet my lips and plunged ahead. “What will happen to Tom?”
Eyes darted to each other. Blake spoke. “An inquiry is scheduled. But, given the circumstances, and his, um, connections, I imagine the courts should rule self-defense. Mr. Westlaw did wield a knife and Tom, as you call him, did not appear to be armed.”
“You know him as Travis Wilson, then?”
Officers Edwin and Willis scoffed. The DCI shot them a stern look. Willis interjected. “Among the other four names Interpol shared with us. But, as you explained, your government seems to hand those out like candy, do they not?
“As does yours, sir, given similar circumstances, I’m sure.”
The man shifted his weight.
DCI Blake huffed. “Anything else?”
“Yes. What about the woman named Glenda? She became my British handler—isn’t that the term?”
Willis rubbed the top of his lip. “Yes. NCA as well, witness protection division. She’s out of the hospital. Quite anxious to see you I am told. We are getting her statement as well.”
So, she’d been truthful about who she worked for after all. I still didn’t have confidence her role had been totally innocent. Had she really been duped by Andrew? So many lies to sort through. Did they matter now? I chided myself. Maybe not since the master liar now lay on some mortuary’s cold slab.
I raised my finger. “Just one more, please. What about the others in the house? Andrew and Niamh?” I dodged a glance at Mary. She smoothed her uniform and stared at her lap.
DCI Blake filled me in on the details up to the present with the help of Officers Edwin’s and Willis’ updates from their headquarters. Andrew had been taken into custody for aiding and abetting Robert in trafficking, kidnapping, and money laundering. So had the six goons. Michael had slithered away, but there was an all-points bulletin out for him.
Jane, Mary, Malcolm and the other servants had been cleared of any charges. The British government considered them to be innocent bystanders just doing their proper duties according to the social strata. Niamh would probably not be charged with prostitution at this point, partially due to her being held in captivity and because of the family reputation. She had also been extremely cooperative in her testimony.
The dowager insisted Niamh be treated at the mansion by around-the-clock private nurses for the drug withdrawal. Intense counseling had been ordered and she had been placed under strict supervision and suicide watch. Of course, the paparazzi had begun to camp outside the grounds, but the DCI’s men kept them at bay.
He inched forward. “Does that answer your questions, now?”
Silence fell upon the room. The porcelain mantle clock’s weak ticks remained the main sound. After a few minutes, my nerve steeled. I decided to ask the most important question of all, well, two actually. “When can I see Tom, and when can I go home?”
As soon as I said the word “home” I realized I had none.
DCI Blake huffed. But his eyes twinkled. “Answer one—now, as far as I’m concerned. Answer two— I defer to my NCA colleagues.”
Edwin nodded. “I’d say within a week or so, if you mean back to the States. Paperwork will have to be done, you understand. Do you have any idea where your passport is?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know where my clothes are.” My cheeks flashed with warmth. “I mean the ones I packed and brought with me to England.” I smoothed the slacks I wore. “These are borrowed.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, we’ll check into it. I take it Andrew last had them?”
I thought back. It seemed another lifetime ago when Glenda and I pranced around JFK Airport shopping. Most, I’d never gotten to wear. “I imagine. He picked me and Glenda up from the airport. Placed them in the trunk, er, boot of the rental, um, car for hire.”
He shot me a warm grin for trying to use the British terminology. “Ah. We will make inquiries. Can you describe the vehicle?”
I squinted my eyes, and tried to get my brain to recall. “A BMW. Black, I think. Or navy.” I also told them the name of the auto hire service at the airport. “But as for my purse?” I shrugged. “It held my new identities. You know, passport, credit cards, and driver’s license… Not that any of that makes any difference if they all had been faked.”
Detective Jacobs spoke next. “Mrs. Westlaw, er, Jen. Your attendance at the inquiry will be desired. Which is set for…” He retrieved his own little notepad from his coat pocket. “Next Thursday, 10:15 in the Magistrate’s in Fromme.” He ticked off the amount on his fingers. “Ah. In five days, what? Will you need us to locate accommodations for you until then?”
Mary butted in for the first time. “Oh, no. Mrs. Westlaw is welcomed to stay here, I’m sure.”
I placed my hand on hers. “Thank you.” I perked up. “Today’s Sunday?”
“Yes.”
I’d been there eight days. It seemed like eight months. “Is there a church nearby? Am I too late for services?”
Mary touched my sleeve. “It’s almost midday. But, there’s the chapel here, ma’am. Why don’t ya go say your prayers in it? Perhaps we can have the vicar pop by for a visit later at teatime.”
I smiled at her. “Yes, I’d like that. If it can be arranged.”
I nodded at the DCI. “Thank you for hearing my story and answering my questions.”
“Our pleasure, ma’am.” He raised his sleeve to check his watch. The men rose in unison. “One of the NCA officers will stay on property for your protection until you leave.”
I put out my hand in midair. “Wait. DCI Blake. Can Tom join me, in the chapel I mean?”
“I don’t see why not, do you?” DCI Blake lifted his eyebrow at Officer Edwin.
He pushed his mouth to the side. “Though, he, too, is under surveillance until the hearing, he is certainly free to move about the premises.” He turned to Detective Willis. “Go tell him.”
Officer Willis gave me a brief bow and left the room.
I hoped the others would follow, but they hung around chatting with each other and going over my statement. Mary poured more tea, and I excused myself to freshen in the restroom.
I cocked my head to view myself in the mirror. My hair hadn’t been brushed. No makeup accented my features, and I had no idea where to locate any. My eyes hung in deep dark bags. My cheekbones were pallid as a ghost. I pinched my cheeks, the way centuries of women in this manor had done, no doubt. It didn’t help.
Well, today obviously was not the day Tom would see me at my best. But soon, I promised myself. Very soon. I’d dye my hair back to its natural state. And to think as a teenager I’d cursed my reddish sheen. Now, I missed it.
A tap came on the bedroom door. Tom’s voice asked for entry. DCI Blake gave it to him.
It dawned on me Tom and I could proceed in clean conscience to explore our feelings for each other. Robert was dead and I a widow, for real. May God rest his soul. A warm smile lit up my eyes as they gazed back at me through the mirror.
But, not for long. My lips drooped into a frown as the sins of my past also glared back.
I had to tell him, didn’t I
? We couldn’t move forward until I did. A cold stone plopped in my stomach. How would he react? Could he ever understand? Maybe he’d turn away, unable to reconcile my sinful actions to his fundamental beliefs.
Either way, it had to come out in the open. Dirty laundry aired. No doubt he had some, too. Total honesty. The only way.
But, not today. Not with all of these extra eyes in the mansion. Besides, I wanted to savor our reunion. Dear Lord, grant me that.
I smoothed my hair, fluffed my bangs, and then strolled into the bedroom to greet him.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Propriety held me back from dashing into his arms and kissing him until we both ran out of breath. Well, and the fact his arm hung in a sling, tied around his chest. His face had bruises and one eye swelled half shut. And I had worried about my appearance?
I stood in the middle of the room, two feet from him. “Hi. You okay?”
His gaze dashed to the detectives, to Mary and back to me. He inhaled deeply. A warm glow entered into his face. “I’m fine.”
Heck with protocol. I took three quick steps, reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek, the one without a bruise. His free hand landed on my waist and pulled me closer. His voice became husky. “You okay?”
I nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I am now.”
His expression melted. Our eyes both said the same thing. When we’re alone, I’ll let you know how I really feel.
I blinked and cleared my throat. “Mary tells me I’m allowed to pray in the chapel. Want to join me?”
His forehead rose. “Sure.” He looked over my head at the detectives. “If it’s kosher with you.”
Officer Edwin answered first. “Yes. Willis, go with them, but give them privacy, okay?”
Officer Willis shuffled over to us. He took Tom’s arm from my waist. “Go on, then. You lead.”
Tom’s jaw twitched as he jerked his hand free from the officer’s grasp. But he winked at me before he turned around. Then, lined up like good little tin soldiers, we all marched out of the room.
When we got to the chapel, I entered in first. Tom followed, but the officer lagged behind. I grabbed a prayer book, and walked beyond the rood screen to kneel at the altar. Tom mimicked me.
Legitimate Lies Page 26
