Read Herring Hunt

by V. M. Burns

  I refused to close my eyes. Instead, I stared defiantly at him and awaited my fate.

  Just then, I heard a thunderous sound as someone leapt down the stairs. Harley turned just as a huge shadow came barreling toward him and knocked him to the ground. I slid back against the wall and felt arms coming around.

  “Sam, are you okay?” Nana Jo asked.

  I leaned against her arms and rested my head. “I’ll be fine. Who’s that?” I pointed to the tousling shadows.

  Just then, Dawson pulled Harley up by his shirt and punched him in the face. Harley went limp and Dawson reared back and hit him again. Dawson’s face was red with fury. Just as he was about to hit him again, Zaq and Frank Patterson grabbed his arm and held onto him.

  Tears streamed down Dawson’s face. “He killed Melody and tried to kill my dad.”

  Frank put his arms around Dawson and held on to him. “I know, but it’s over now.”

  Zaq came over to me. “You okay, Aunt Sammy?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine now.”

  Sirens blared. Footsteps trampled overhead.

  “We’re down here!” Nana Jo yelled.

  Chapter 22

  The EMTs patched up my head. They wanted me to go to the hospital, but I declined. Nana Jo insisted I ride home with Frank, but I refused to leave my new car.

  I looked at Dawson. “How did you get here?”

  He nodded toward Zaq. “My dad came to. He told me it was Harley. He was taking a leak behind a bush at the HOD and he saw him kill her. They were kissing in the back seat of his car and then he strangled her, got in the front seat and drove away. He must have dumped her body by the river where the police found her.” He looked sad. “He left her like a piece of trash by the side of the road.” He took a deep breath. “My dad tried to get him to pay to keep quiet and he tried to kill him.”

  I hugged him. “Dawson, I’m so glad your dad is okay.” I stared at him. “But, how did you get here?”

  “Zaq and Emma came by to see me and I got a ride back with him.”

  I looked around. “Where’s Emma?”

  He smiled. “Zaq made her stay at the bookstore.”

  “Would you permit me to drive you home?” Frank asked.

  We were outside and Zaq circled my new car. It was the first time he’d seen it. “Wow. Nice car, Aunt Sammy.”

  I smiled and handed Frank my key fob. He held the door for me and I got into the passenger seat. However, before he closed the door, I hopped out.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I opened the back door and pulled Harley Quin’s bicycle out of the back and tossed it to the ground. I brushed the caked mud out and slammed the door. Then I went back and got in and buckled my seat belt.

  Frank drove Nana Jo and me home. Dawson rode with Zaq.

  Detective Pitt came by the bookstore later to get my statement. We were upstairs in my loft. Snickers and Oreo must have sensed something was wrong. They hadn’t left my side from the moment I got home. Christopher and Jenna had been assigned taxi service. Jenna was, according to her, ordered by Dorothy to get to the retirement village and pick them up. Christopher had picked up my mom and picked Jillian up from MISU when she asked.

  Surrounded by friends, family, and Detective Stinky Pitt, I gave my statement.

  “He’s been singing like a canary,” Detective Pitt said. “Doesn’t want to be extradited back to England.” He chuckled.

  Jenna pulled out her tape recorder. “So Virgil and Melody were planning to get Dawson to go to the pros so they could try and hustle money from him. Is that right?”

  I nodded. “I think Melody hoped to trap Dawson into marriage to strengthen her bond.”

  Dawson shook his head. “My dad knew about that. He thought he could get money out of me too.”

  “But Dawson broke up with her,” I said. “Virgil said she was dating someone else.”

  Emma chimed in, “That was Professor Quin.”

  Nana Jo scoffed. “Professor, my big toe.”

  “He was the other person in that special program Dorothy told us about,” I said.

  “So if he wasn’t a professor . . . ?” Emma asked.

  I pointed to Frank.

  Frank said, “He was a grifter. I have a friend who used to be in British intelligence. I had him run his name.” He avoided eye contact with me, and I thought I detected a small amount of color on his ears.

  “So, he was a con man, too, and he and Melody ended up at the same university together. Convenient,” Detective Pitt said.

  “Well, there were only a few universities willing to take them. I think if you check around, you’ll find Harley Quin was originally sent to another school. I think he must have been in contact with Melody, who told him pickings were good at MISU, so he came here. I think he heard the rumors about the House of David and created an identity for himself.” I looked around. “That’s why Melody didn’t bother about classes. She knew she would get a good grade from Harley and just needed to hang around long enough to get an athlete with PEP.” I glanced at Nana Jo.

  “But what happened to Professor Quin? Or is there a real Professor Quin?” Emma asked.

  “He made up the identity and lied to the university. You’d be surprised how few places take the time to check references.”

  “Good for us he used the alias before or I might not have found him,” Frank said.

  “Thanks to Irma, we learned that Virgil Russell knew Melody had another lover.” I turned to her. “She found that out at the memorial.”

  Irma smiled broadly before breaking into a coughing fit.

  “Everything came to a head at the memorial service Jillian arranged.”

  Jillian looked shocked. “Me?”

  “If you hadn’t gotten the memorial together, Quin wouldn’t have found out that A-squared was still alive and in intensive care.”

  She smiled.

  “But then he made another attempt on my dad’s life,” Dawson said.

  “Yes, but that’s how he trapped himself. If Stinky . . . ah . . . I mean Detective Pitt hadn’t asked who I’d told about your dad being in the hospital, I might not have put it together. We were so focused on Virgil, but someone had to have put the note on his windshield.”

  “He could have faked the note.” Detective Pitt looked condescendingly at me. “Real detectives would have thought of that.”

  Nana Jo grunted. “A real detective arrested the wrong man.”

  I chose to ignore Detective Pitt. “The note bothered me and it took a long time before I figured out why.” I stared at Nana Jo.

  She nodded. “It bothered me too.”

  “It was the language. It told Virgil to go to the surgery.”

  Detective Pitt stared.

  “Americans would say hospital or doctor’s office, not ‘surgery.’ ”

  “That’s it? That was what tipped you off?” Detective Pitt looked skeptical.

  I nodded. “Not at first. It just bothered me. But, thanks to Nana Jo for catching on to the Deering Vale reference.”

  Detective Pitt looked confused. “Deering Vale? What’s Deering Vale?”

  “It’s one of the fictitious towns Agatha Christie created. That’s where Quin said he was from when Nana Jo asked.”

  Nana Jo smiled. “Thought he was so smart that one. I knew I’d read that name before. So, I started rereading the Agatha Christie books until I found it. Darned fool.”

  Frank shook his head. “That was pretty stupid. He should know better than to use a name and a village in an Agatha Christie novel to women who own a mystery bookstore.”

  “Well, it is a bit obscure. If he’d used something more obvious, like St. Mary Mead, I’d have caught on immediately. Most people haven’t even heard of the Harley Quin or Parker Payne short stories. They aren’t as famous as her other sleuths.”

  “Except to someone who owns a mystery bookstore,” my nephews said simultaneously.

  “It rang a bell, but it took me a while to plac
e it.”

  “Why did he steal Emma’s laptop?” Zaq asked.

  “I can answer that,” Detective Pitt said. “He thought it would help him find out what you were up to.” He nodded toward me. “He thought she had notes.”

  We talked for hours after Detective Pitt left until I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

  I woke up when I smelled bacon and coffee. Nana Jo came in to check on me. I suspected she’d been in several times during the night because whenever I woke up, my blankets were always neat and Oreo never woke me to go potty. I looked around and didn’t see them.

  “I had Dawson keep them so you could sleep in peace.” Nana Jo opened the curtains. “You feel up to breakfast?”

  “Definitely.”

  I was stiff and sore and there was an ugly red-and-blue bruise on my forehead. Otherwise, I felt pretty good. Despite my good appetite and assurances I could work in the bookstore, Nana Jo would have none of it. She was going to keep things going at the bookstore, with a little help from my mom and the girls. The thought of Irma hitting on my male clients struck fear in my heart for a moment, but I supposed the store and the mystery reading men of North Harbor could survive one day with Irma.

  I’d tried to go back to sleep, but it was hopeless. Eventually, I gave up and looked for other ways to occupy my mind.

  “Dis is frame. Is Frame. Jestem wrobiony.”

  Józef Lipski paced and alternated proclamations of innocence in broken English and Polish. Neither James nor Victor spoke Polish, but they were able to comprehend the gist of the diplomat’s rants.

  “Mr. Lipski, we aren’t accusing you of murder. However, we do need to ask you some questions,” James said.

  “Questions. Questions. Always questions wit de English.” Lipski’s accent was thicker when he was emotional and made it difficult for Victor and James to understand him.

  “Did you tell anyone about your special cocoa?” James asked.

  “Of course. I talk about de cocoa. I tell dem Poland has best cocoa.” He puffed out his chest with pride. “Is true.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Victor said quietly as he looked around the room.

  “Did you show the cocoa to anyone?” James tried again.

  “Show it? I tell dem. I no show.”

  James rubbed the back of his neck. “The police are going to need to test the cocoa.”

  Lipski halted and turned to James. “Goot. Goot. Your police test.” He handed the cocoa to James. “Test prove I did not kill.”

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to harm you?” Victor asked.

  “Me?” Lipski stared. “You dink poison was for me?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Lipski was silent for several seconds. He walked to his bed and lifted a corner of the mattress, reached under, and pulled out a note. He took the note to James. “I give you dis.”

  James opened the note and read it. He looked up at Lipski. When he reread the note, he handed it to Victor.

  Victor read the note and then stared at James.

  “When did you get this?” James asked.

  Lipski walked to the door and leaned down. “It appear on floor.” He pointed down. “Day French woman shot.”

  “Meet me by the Marsh at three. W,” James read aloud. “Did you meet her?

  “No.” Lipski paced. “I shoot wit de American.” He stopped pacing and faced James and Victor. “We leave de shooting. But de leg. It get stuck in de mud.” He pulled on his leg. “I pull and pull, but . . . de leg it not come out. She take de leg off. Only den am I able to pull it out of de mud.”

  James’s lips twitched as he watched Lipski’s demonstration.

  “So, once you got her leg out of the mud, what did you do then? Did you go to the marsh?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “No. I help de American to de house.” He hopped on one leg. “I help. I not go to marsh. I not meet anyone. Later, she is killed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Victor asked.

  Lipski shrugged. “She is dead. Dat is how I know is frame. Jestem wrobiony.”

  Victor joined the Marsh Family in Lord William’s bedroom.

  “What took so long?” Penelope asked. “And where’s James?”

  “We were on our way here when we got stopped by Thompkins. James was wanted on the telephone.”

  James and Detective Inspector Covington rushed into the room and closed the door.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have much time. I’ve been called back to London. I hope I haven’t overstepped, but I invited Detective Inspector Covington. I think it’ll be fastest if we just include him.”

  “How did you get here so quickly?” Lady Penelope asked.

  “I called him after Brasseur died,” James said.

  Victor smiled. “What about the poachers?”

  Detective Inspector Covington grinned. “I’m hot on their trail.” Then he put his fingers to his lips and took a position near the window, where Daphne was seated.

  Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Of course, you’re very welcome.”

  The detective smiled his thanks and quietly sat with a notepad on his lap.

  “What’s happened?” Daphne stared at James.

  “A German secretary, Ernst von Rath’s, been as sassinated in Paris.”

  “Good Lord. What’s happening to the world?” Lady Elizabeth whispered.

  James paced. “I’m afraid that’s not all. A Polish teenager’s been arrested for the murder.”

  The family looked shocked.

  Lord William fumbled with his pipe. “Here we are on the brink of war and now this.”

  James nodded. “Exactly. And, somehow word has leaked out to The Week that an attempt was made on the Duchess of Windsor’s life.

  Daphne looked pale. “What’s The Week?”

  It’s an anti-fascist newsletter run by Claud Cockburn. The readership is small, but . . .”

  “But it could still cause trouble?” she asked.

  James nodded.

  “So if word got out the French Ambassador was murdered by a Polish Emissary . . .”

  “It could be disastrous. I’ve got to run up to London. I’ll be back as quick as I can.” James hurried away, and the group sat in silence for a few moments.

  Lady Elizabeth looked around. “Well, we better get busy.”

  They filled Detective Inspector Covington in on what they had learned so far, including Victor’s conversation with Józef Lipski.

  “So, Lipski couldn’t possibly be responsible for the murder of the maid,” Penelope said. “If he was with Virginia Hall, then he has an alibi. Did anyone check with her?”

  Victor nodded. “Yes. As soon as we left Lipski, we questioned her. She confirmed everything he said.”

  “Do you trust her?” Daphne asked.

  “Yes. She was very credible. Both James and I agreed.”

  “He also couldn’t have poisoned the cocoa,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  “Really? How can you be certain?” Detective Inspector Covington asked.

  “I talked to Mrs. Anderson.”

  “Who is Mrs. Anderson?”

  “Mrs. Anderson is the cook,” Lady Elizabeth said. “It took a bit of prodding to get her to admit it, but apparently, she was rather curious about this cocoa. She’d never had cocoa from Poland so . . . she made a couple of cups for herself and her daughter, Agnes.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Lord William said.

  “Yes. She said it tasted just like good old-fashioned English cocoa, and she and her daughter are perfectly fine.”

  Detective Inspector Covington perched on the end of his seat. “That’s significant.”

  Lady Elizabeth nodded. “I know. It means the poison wasn’t in the cocoa.”

  Lord William stared. “But how can that be? If the poison wasn’t in the cocoa, how did the blasted fool get it?”

  “The poison has to have been put into his cup,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  “That’s not the worst
of it.” Daphne looked around at her family.

  Penelope stopped pacing and stared at her sister. “What do you mean?”

  “Unless you believe Thompkins or Mrs. Anderson put the poison in his cup, it had to have been put there by someone in the room.”

  Penelope paled. “You mean one of us.”

  “Exactly,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  Detective Inspector Covington wrote furiously. “You all are very good, very thorough.”

  There was a tentative knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Lady Elizabeth said.

  Thompkins entered the room and closed the door. He moved to a corner and stood erect.

  “Great, Thompkins, did you finish your assign ment?”

  The butler coughed discreetly. “Yes, m’lady.”

  Lady Elizabeth looked around the room. “I asked Thompkins to come here and share the results from the search.”

  Detective Inspector Covington looked confused. “Excuse me, did you say search?”

  Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. We needed to find out if anyone had a gun, since none of the ones used in the murder belonged to us.”

  Detective Inspector Covington stared at Lady Elizabeth with awe. “Did you really? How did you get them to agree to a search?”

  Lady Elizabeth smiled. “I didn’t ask them.”

  Thompkins looked slightly uncomfortable but straightened his already straight back, pushed his shoulders backed, and lifted his head higher. “As your ladyship instructed, I asked the maids, Flossie, Millie, and Gladys. The only one who remembered seeing a weapon of any type was Millie. She said Count Rudolph had a gun, but she hasn’t seen it since. Under my supervision, they searched the room again, and there was no gun.”

  Lady Elizabeth sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.” She smiled at the butler. “Well done, Thompkins. Please tell the staff I said thank you.”

  Thompkins nodded. “Yes, m’lady.” He paused for several moments.

  “Is there anything else?” Lady Elizabeth asked.

  Thompkins coughed. “There is just one other thing . . . I hesitate to bring it up, but you said you wanted to know about anything out of the ordinary.”