The Bath Conspiracy

by Jeanne M. Dams

  I endeavoured to look old and exhausted. It wasn’t much of an effort.

  The inspector was not best pleased, but he wasn’t a stupid man. He recognized Alan’s authority and inconvenient knowledge of standard procedures. He also noted, I’m sure, that Alan was taller than he and heavier by a good deal. Not that it would ever come to a physical struggle, but … He conceded. He nodded to his subordinate, who left the room and returned very quickly with a small box.

  ‘Now, Mrs Nesbitt,’ the sergeant began.

  ‘Mrs Martin,’ I corrected with a saccharine smile. ‘This is a second marriage; I kept my former name.’ I was enjoying this a good deal. Alan had managed, with very little effort, to establish control of the situation, and the sergeant’s small mistake helped.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. You’ve been printed before?’

  ‘Often.’ I hoped he might gain the impression that I was a habitual criminal, so that when the error was discovered, morale might be even further diminished.

  With both sets of prints taken, the inspector opened his mouth, but Alan forestalled him. ‘Now, of course, you’ll want to check one or two of the objects from the boot.’

  The inspector showed some irritation, and I, in turn, was wondering if Alan’s tactics were a trifle heavy-handed, but now he began to lighten the touch. ‘I suppose,’ he said conversationally, ‘it must be difficult for you here in high tourist season. Even with all the precautions laid down against theft and vandalism, you must have your hands full. You have my sympathy.’

  The inspector thawed a trifle. ‘It’s a constant battle, as you may imagine. And of course there’s the ordinary run of crime to deal with as well, with insufficient staff.’

  Alan groaned. ‘The perpetual problem! It’s no wonder the wide boys sometimes seem to have the upper hand. Their profession can be a good deal better paid than ours, and with less risk.’

  ‘It does sometimes seem that way, Mr Nesbitt.’

  ‘Please call me Alan.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Alan. My given name, I’m sorry to say, is Cedric.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘What do your friends call you?’

  He smiled. ‘Rob. My surname is Roberts. Although, when they’re upset, there are sometimes other terms. Ah, Sergeant. Any joy?’

  ‘Prints all over the shop, sir. Our crook was too stupid to wear gloves. And none of them that I could find looked anything like …’ He nodded to Alan and me.

  The inspector heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t looked forward to interrogating a retired chief constable. ‘Well, then, that’s fine. Of course, we’ll have to have everything properly inspected, but it’s apparent that you had nothing to do with this, sir – Alan – beyond the unfortunate circumstance of the goods being found in your car. Er … do you have any idea how that might have happened?’

  ‘Very little, I’m afraid. As I told the security guard, I surrendered the car to the valet at the Royal George Hotel when we arrived.’

  The inspector’s eyebrows rose at the name of the hotel.

  ‘That was on Monday in mid-afternoon, about four thirty,’ Alan continued. ‘We spent yesterday exploring Bath; my wife had never visited that remarkable city. This morning, quite early, we decided to visit Stonehenge, and rather than take the coach tour we sent for our car. It was delivered to us, we drove it here – and you know the rest.’

  The inspector had listened carefully. ‘Have you any idea where the car was parked while it was in hotel custody?’

  ‘None. I would assume that it was in a secure carpark, or perhaps a garage, but I don’t know.’

  ‘We’ll have to check with the hotel, then. Do you recall how much time it took for the car to be delivered?’

  ‘Not with any accuracy. Somewhat longer than I thought it should, but that may be simply because I was impatient. We were both eager to set out.’

  ‘I think it was about twenty minutes,’ I put in. ‘Because I went upstairs to change my shoes and hurried back down, not wanting to keep anyone waiting. And we still had to wait a bit.’

  ‘This was at what time of day?’

  ‘Around eight,’ said Alan. ‘That was one reason I was surprised at the time it took. The traffic wasn’t yet horrendous.’

  ‘Yes, I see. One last question. Was the driver who returned your car the same as the one who picked it up on Monday?’

  ‘No. I did notice that, though I didn’t read either of their name badges. But the chap this morning was Indian, or perhaps Pakistani. The other was English.’

  ‘Right.’ Rob closed his notebook and rose. ‘I am so sorry to have delayed your return to your magnificent hotel. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Bath.’

  Alan pulled a card out of his wallet. ‘Here’s my contact information. I’d appreciate your keeping us informed of developments.’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’ The inspector in turn gave Alan his card. ‘You’ll phone us if you remember anything else?’

  ‘Of course.’ They parted with cordial handshakes, with a grin from the sergeant, who had been effacing himself in the corner, and we traipsed back to our car.

  FOUR

  ‘Well! I’ve never before been accused of theft!’ I slammed the car door with unnecessary vigour, and buckled my seat belt, looking smugly virtuous.

  ‘Accuracy in all things, love,’ said Alan. ‘We weren’t actually accused.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be pedantic! We certainly were, if only by innuendo.’

  ‘Ah, but you can’t sue over innuendo. And you must admit, appearances were suspicious.’

  ‘I suppose.’ I was reluctant to abandon my snit, but Alan had a point. ‘What else was in the trunk? The boot? Besides that chunk of rock. Was it really a piece of Stonehenge?’

  ‘I didn’t look at it closely. If I had to guess, I’d say it was stolen not from the henge itself, but from the Welsh quarry where the monoliths originated. There’s been a rash of thefts from there lately. As for the rest of the loot, I saw only a little before they whisked it away, but it was very odd. There was a snippet of cloth, for one thing. Not big enough for any practical use. I thought I spotted a bottle of the Bath spa water that you’re so rude about, and a replica of a Roman coin.’

  I got excited about that. ‘What if it was the real thing? That would be worth a fortune!’

  ‘Sorry, love. It was much too shiny and new-looking to be real. Oh, and I also saw just the corner of a booklet, thin and paperbound. This was all in the box. I couldn’t check the bags without touching them, and you know why I didn’t want to do that.’

  ‘Fingerprints. Yes, I would have dived right in if you hadn’t stopped me. You know, my dear, just occasionally it’s useful to have a policeman for a husband. I think I’ll keep you.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear that. Now. Straight back to Bath, or repair to a pub for a little rehab?’

  ‘Straight back. We don’t know the pubs along the way, and the classiest one we could hope to find is at our … What did the inspector call it?’

  ‘“Magnificent hotel”. It’s all of that. I trust you don’t plan to become accustomed to that sort of luxury. Don’t forget this is a very special treat.’

  ‘No, I’ll happily accept re-entry into real life when the idyll is over. But for now I intend to live it up.’

  We didn’t dawdle on the way back as we had in the morning, so it wasn’t very long before I sat at a comfortable table in the George’s elegant bar with a perfect gin and tonic in front of me, along with a Scotch egg, my favourite bar snack. I told my conscience to shut up. Those rock cakes were but a distant memory, and I deserved some comfort after the recent trauma.

  ‘But I can’t help wondering,’ I began, when my drink was half gone and spreading a warm glow inside. I stopped when Alan made a great show of consulting his watch. ‘What? Are we late for something?’

  ‘No, I was timing how long it would take you to start worrying at your bone.’ He smiled blandly.

  ‘Did I say I was going to keep you?
I take it back. It’s not fair the way you can read my mind!’

  ‘As I’ve told you before, your thoughts are written on your face.’

  ‘I know, I know. Never play poker. Which is wasted advice, since I don’t know how anyway. However, before I was rudely interrupted, I was saying: I wonder about that very odd collection of objects. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern. Do you suppose Inspector What’s-his-name would tell us what else is in there, if you asked nicely?’

  Alan shrugged. ‘We’re in an ambivalent position. We were initially suspected of theft, and although that suspicion is nearly dispelled—’

  ‘What do you mean, nearly? They didn’t find our fingerprints. And they won’t, of course, since we never touched the stuff.’

  ‘We could still be accessories, allowing the loot to be stored in our car. Or we could be fencing it. There are several possibilities.’

  ‘But you’re a chief constable, for Pete’s sake!’

  ‘I was. I am still a sworn police officer, but I no longer hold any rank. And as you well know, love, policemen have gone bad before now. It’s a frequent plot element in your preferred reading.’

  ‘Well, but can’t they see you’re a respectable citizen?’

  Alan just shook his head pityingly.

  I finished my drink and thought about another, but reluctantly decided I’d had enough. ‘But it’s so frustrating! There must be something we can do. Couldn’t we at least ask for a list of the stuff? They can only turn us down. I mean, they wouldn’t think that was a suspicious request, would they?’

  ‘One wouldn’t think so. I very much doubt they will grant it, though.’

  I slid my empty glass around on the table, thinking. ‘Well, at least we can ask about the parking situation, where the car is kept, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Aha! I did ask, just now when I turned the car back over to the valet.’

  ‘Oh, was it the same one?’

  ‘Not the same as either of the others. I did get his name, this time; it’s Ben.’

  ‘Oh, English, then.’

  ‘South African, actually, at least from the accent.’

  I shook my head. I’m still bemused by the vast diversity of cultures one finds in England. Such a small country, but with a rich history of empire, which I suppose accounts for some of the mix. South Africa, though, was a Dutch colony … I brought my attention back to Alan.

  ‘… on the outskirts of town, which is why there’s a bit of a wait for the car.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alan, I got distracted. You’re talking about where they park the car?’

  ‘In a garage just on the edge of the city.’

  ‘A parking garage?’

  He smiled. ‘We don’t have many of those on this side of the pond, love. No, a repair garage, but with a separate area that’s used by the hotel. I told Ben I might want the car very late at night, and he said that would be no problem; the hotel has a key to the facility.’

  ‘Key! So it’s kept locked?’

  ‘At night, at least. I didn’t enquire about the daytime hours when the repair garage is open.’ He held up his hand as I opened my mouth. ‘Yes, of course we want to know that, but I didn’t want to push too far this time. We can find out more later. Of course, the police will be looking into it, too, very thoroughly.’

  ‘Assuming they don’t still think we’re the villains.’ I picked up my glass, remembered it was empty, and set it down again.

  ‘Even if they still have doubts about that, they need to establish who had access to our car during the relevant times. Don’t underestimate them, Dorothy. The inspector who questioned us, Roberts, is with the police here in Bath, and he will be cooperating closely with the World Heritage people. Though some of what was in that box was obvious rubbish, that piece of stone, if it is bluestone, is a precious artefact. They’re not going to rest until they find the thief. And that means they’re going to keep us in their back pocket, so to speak, until they’re quite satisfied of our utter innocence in the matter. Now. Are you going to keep on fiddling with that glass or have another?’

  I was considering whether to be sensible or do what I wanted when the barman came over to Alan. ‘A gentleman to see you, sir. A Mr Roberts. He’s waiting in the lobby. Do you want to see him, or shall I tell him you’ve gone out?’

  ‘Good grief,’ I murmured. ‘We’ve been here about forty-eight hours, and the staff know you by sight?’

  ‘I ordered our drinks with our room number, love.’ In a louder tone he said, ‘Certainly I’ll talk to Mr Roberts. In fact, I’ll buy him a drink. Ask him to join us.’

  He smiled blandly at me.

  ‘That look,’ I said quietly, ‘always means you’re up to something.’

  ‘Ah, am I growing as transparent as you in my old age? It’s nothing, really, just that … Ah, Rob! Do sit down. Would you prefer whisky or beer? I can recommend this’ – Alan held up his glass – ‘Highland Park. Got acquainted with it on a visit to Orkney. Well worth trying, if you don’t know it.’

  After that, the inspector could hardly refuse, and I caught on. With that one smooth move, Alan had taken control of the encounter. I lifted my glass in salute and grinned, and Alan signalled the barman for another round. I had noted earlier, with approval, that this was not the sort of place where one fetched them from the bar. Oh, no, not in this ‘magnificent’ hotel.

  Inspector Roberts was, of course, not in uniform, but there was something about him that identified him as a person of authority. The barman was very quick with our drinks, but lingered a bit after he had distributed them. ‘Anything else, sirs? Madam? Are the drinks to your liking? You would perhaps like some nuts? Crisps?’

  He wanted to know what was going on; that was obvious. Alan had no intention of enlightening him, but sent him away with courteous firmness.

  ‘And now,’ he said, smiling at the inspector, ‘I hope you have some news for us.’

  The inspector smiled back a bit thinly. ‘Nothing of any great interest, I fear. There’s scarcely been time. We have at least learned where your car is kept by the valet service. It’s in a locked facility at the edge of Bath.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Alan, ‘that makes a good deal less likely that someone from outside put the stolen goods in our car.’ Nothing in his voice or face betrayed the fact that he knew the car’s location already. ‘At least, I’m assuming that they were all stolen. Have you determined that?’

  ‘Actually, no. We’ve not got far beyond unpacking everything, and really, it’s the oddest assortment of riches and rubbish. There are trinkets from all the museum gift shops in Bath and environs, some of them made in China and vastly overpriced even at a pound or two; they still have the price stickers on them. One small bag actually had a receipt in it, so our boy bought them! And then there are the other things, quite definitely stolen. The chunk of bluestone is the most obvious, but there’s also a Roman coin from the Baths museum, a glove that belonged to Jane Austen, from her museum, and a locket whose origin we have not yet determined, but it’s gold and set with a small diamond.’

  ‘Good grief! I begin to think, Mr— Rob, that we’re dealing with someone who’s not quite sane. This sounds like the hoard of a collector who’s gone round the bend. As they sometimes do.’

  Rob looked at me more closely, seeming to recognize for the first time that I was a genuine person. ‘You have some experience with collectors, Mrs Nes— Er, Martin?’

  ‘Dorothy, please. And yes, I had an unfortunate experience some years ago with a collector even more rabid than most, a woman who tried to kill me and succeeded in breaking my leg.’

  ‘And in so doing delivered herself into the hands of the authorities,’ added Alan. ‘She had already been responsible for two murders, and it was my wife who figured that out. Dorothy has a remarkable insight into human nature, Rob.’

  The man got that odd look on his face, the look of one who is peering at something in his mind. ‘Do I seem to remember … Dorothy Martin … have
n’t I seen that name in the newspapers?’

  ‘I suppose you may have. I’ve been involved in one or two criminal investigations. Strictly as an amateur, of course. And I’ve had the most amazing luck, sometimes.’

  ‘Don’t listen to her, Rob. Luck had very little to do with it. Dorothy is one of those gifted people who can take a seemingly meaningless bit of information and turn it into the linchpin of an investigation. If she had been born later, and in this country, she’d have been the chief constable in the family and I a lowly flunky.’

  ‘And that is flat nonsense, and you know it, Alan Nesbitt. I never wanted to be anything but a teacher, which I was for years, Rob, back in Indiana where I lived all my life before coming to England. I think that’s where I picked up a certain amount of knowledge about what makes people tick. I do admit to being as curious as a cat or the Elephant’s Child. And … well, I care about people and like to help with their problems if I can.’ I picked up my glass and sipped to hide my red face. Admitting to emotion is Not Done in England.

  Rob’s smile this time was genuine. ‘I seem,’ he said, ‘to have fallen on my feet, rather than my face as I first feared. Am I to understand that the two of you are in fact an investigative team?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking’ said Alan. ‘All strictly unofficial, of course. Back home in Sherebury, where we know nearly everyone, we are treated almost as police associates. Elsewhere, we try to interfere as little as possible.’

  ‘We are, in fact, known to the police,’ I said, almost giggling. Oh, dear. I put down my glass.

  Alan patted my hand and murmured, ‘Dinner, love, soon.’ Aloud, he addressed Rob. ‘Well, that’s cleared the air a bit, hasn’t it? Mind you, I quite understand that some suspicion must still attach to us until the real thief is caught. The swag was, after all, found in our car.’

  ‘And we’ll all be thankful when we find out how it got there!’ Rob finished his drink, but before he stood up, he added, ‘I hope … that is, if you … what I’m trying to say is that if the two of you should feel inclined to look into this matter, let me just say that my department and I won’t stand in your way. Now that I understand the situation … well. I’ve kept you from your dinner quite long enough. Thank you for the drink, and for your time. I’ll be in touch.’ He gave us a little half-salute and faded out of the room.