Murder Across The Ocean

by Charlene Wexler

  Cate shook her head. “That was built in 2003, opened in 2004. It’s called… Well, it’s got a few names. The Swiss Re, or Saint Mary Axe, located on the street of the same name.” Cate grinned slyly. “You might enjoy its other name.” She turned to her grandmother and laughed, “The Towering Innuendo.”

  “Really?” Lori asked, laughing.

  “And that’s the cleanest name I can give you, besides the Gherkin.” Cate threw back her head and laughed loudly.

  Lori listened to Cate’s description of the building, catching phrases like “first environmentally sustainable building” and “floor plan shaped like flowers,” and envied her granddaughter’s easy laugh. Would her heart ever be that light again? She knew if she were going to survive this latest ordeal, she would have to play along until she felt right again. “Fake it ‘till you make it,” Rain had told her once.

  Lori laughed along with her granddaughter and continued gazing out the car window. “I should like to visit the walkways of the Tower Bridge, if we have time. I’d like to see the exhibits there.”

  “Absolutely, Gram. You know, Joseph and I have an exclusive membership to the Gherkin, which means we have access to private dining there. You have to see the view of London from the very top of that building. It’s breathtaking! So, that’s another plan on the agenda. Oh! Thar she blows!” Cate announced in her best fake English accent, “’er Majesty’s Royal Palace and Fortress—the Tower of London.” Cate again stretched her arm out and pointed north toward the Tower as she made her way toward the Tower Bridge.

  The fat and dominating medieval fortress sat right along the Thames River. At one time or another during its long history, the Tower had housed lords and their families, animals, prisoners, armor, a public records office, and the Crown Jewels. The English royals had also imprisoned rivals for the crown in the Tower, among them Anne Boleyn, mother of Queen Elizabeth I; the young princes Edward and Richard, sons of Edward IV; and Elizabeth I herself, before she was queen. This castle and its surroundings reflected the rich and oft-times dark history of England; it was a must see attraction for anyone visiting London.

  Lori could plainly see, beyond the castle’s defensive walls, the four turrets of the White Tower, which housed the royal family as early as the 13th century. Tearing her gaze from the great stone keep, she did her best to relax and enjoy both the sun playing between fluffy white clouds and the warm breeze flowing through the open car window.

  “It’s really a lovely day. Before we go see the Royal Ravens, let’s take a little walk,” Lori suggested. “I could use a nice stroll, and we can catch up on things, like your school, your boyfriend, and…”

  “And anything other than, uh…” Cate helped, nodding in understanding.

  “Yes, anything other than… than poor Josh.” Lori closed her eyes and faced the warm breeze, hoping it would blow away the image of her friend’s body in the hotel bed.

  Cate reached over and squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Anything you want, Gram.”

  Using a pass given to her by Lord Roger Lunt, Joseph’s father, Cate pulled into an area of reserved parking near the Tower. From there the two women took a leisurely walk along the river to see London in all its past and current glory. Cate chattered non-stop about her life in London and also gave Lori a first-class tour, pointing out new and old structures that made the enchanting city of London a landmark. They sipped coffee while sitting in the sunshine alongside the riverbank, watching boats move lazily along the water in the shadow of the Tower Bridge. All the while, a voice in Lori’s head kept repeating, try, try, try for Cate’s sake.

  After their brief rest, Cate and Lori headed for the Tower where, thanks to Cate’s special pass, they were able to slip in as VIPs, thus avoiding the long lines at the castle’s tourist entrances. Their first stop was the west wing of the Waterloo Barracks, where the Crown Jewels had been kept since 1303 and where now sat the new Jewel House, built between 1992 and 1994.

  “Listen to this, Gram,” Cate said as she read from a tourist brochure. “Only once were the jewels ever moved from the Tower. That was during World War II, when they were taken from England to be hidden in Canada."

  The priceless jewels sparkled in their individual vaults. Lori and Cate marveled at their beauty and spent time just staring at the clarity and size of the diamonds, emeralds, and pearls. Cate dreamed of wearing the diamond tiara.

  Lori smiled and turned to Cate. “Way back in the summer of 1981, my friend Adele and I stayed up all night watching the wedding of Charles and Diana. Oh, Cate, the jewels, the glass carriage, all the pomp and—”

  Cate interrupted her. “Gram, what about the marriage of Kate and William in the spring of 2011? That one was really a fairy book tale. A commoner married a prince and is living happily ever after. After watching Kate and William’s wedding, I decided to spend some time studying in London, and here I am.”

  They moved at a comfortable pace through the exhibit, stopping to view Queen Victoria’s blue sapphire ring adorned with a red ruby cross. Lori scrunched her nose up at it and whispered, “Gaudy!”

  At the heart of the display sat St. Edward’s Crown. Made of solid gold and encrusted with four hundred and forty semi- precious stones, historically it was worn only once, at the moment of a ruler’s crowning during their coronation. It was the only crown ever used during a coronation besides Queen Victoria’s Imperial State Crown, which was also used during Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953.

  Lori mused about being a woman in charge of a country, to actually be living the life of a queen. How different her world must be from ordinary women like myself, Lori thought. Then again, there was murder and gore throughout the history of British royalty.

  “Life is funny,” she said to Cate. “I was in my mid-thirties when Diana married her prince, not too much older than you are now, and I still believed in the Cinderella story. In 2011, when Kate and Prince William married, I was old and disillusioned with that old happily ever after story. Didn’t stay up all night, I just glanced at the reruns of the wedding.”

  Lori sat down on a bench to rest. “How about we leave here?” she asked, her mind now distracted and her feet tired. She eased off her right pointed-toe pump and rubbed her foot, thinking, I'm getting too old to keep wearing these fancy, uncomfortable shoes.

  “Well, we need to do a fast run through the armor exhibit for Joseph’s sake. He loves it and reminded me to take you there.”

  “I can’t do a fast run anywhere, but I guess we could glance at it. Can’t we just tell him we saw the Great Sword of State and be done with it?”

  Seeing the look on Cate’s face, Lori gave in and accompanied her granddaughter to the exhibit. They’d been examining the swords for only a few moments when Cate turned from the display and tugged on Lori’s arm. “Gram, there’s a woman staring at you.”

  Lori turned around. A woman, maybe in her fifties or sixties, it was hard to tell, and dressed in a narrow black woolen skirt and boxy black blazer, waved at Lori. Lori was stunned that anyone would recognize her so far away from home. She acted in a familiar manner, leading Lori to believe she couldn’t be just someone who had recognized her from the newspaper. Was there even a picture of her in the paper? Who was this woman? Suddenly, Lori’s face flushed pink.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  When they reached the outside, Cate asked, “Do you know her?”

  Lori gasped for breath from the pace she had been moving. She sat down on a bench just outside of the Tower. “I’m not sure, but I think she is one of the women who helped me after I discovered Josh’s body, a Mrs. Sweetman or a Mrs. Putty. I don’t know, something like that. Anyway,” Lori said, stopping to take a breath and shaking her head, “for sure I don’t want to talk to her, even though I am grateful for her help.”

  Cate understood. Gram was just trying to put all the ugliness, the horror of it all, behind her as best as possible. She watched her grandmother’s face as she struggled with what could
only be menacing images of her horrible ordeal. Gram hadn’t told her much, but she would be there to listen when she was ready. Cate and Lori sat quietly on the bench, watching people and boats move along the river, Cate’s hand protectively over Lori’s.

  “We’ll get through this, Gram. You’re not alone.”

  Lori fought back the sting of tears as she looked up gratefully into the eyes of her lovely granddaughter. She saw an inkling of her own daughter in Cate’s sweet face, and instead of catching painfully on her heart, she found the similarity comforting, as though Julie was somehow comforting her through Cate, across all these years. She smiled a half-smile; Rain would have hooted with joy to hear Lori’s thoughts becoming so mystical. Rain’s influence was growing on her, she had to admit. And she welcomed the new perspective.

  ***

  Mrs. Sweeney stared off into the distance before turning to her friend. “Madge, look there. Up ahead. Wasn’t that the poor woman who was involved in the to-doings at the Palace, the Wheeler murder? I can’t get that scene out of my head, I simply can’t. That wee little thing in absolute hysterics, and all the questions at Scotland Yard…” Mrs. Sweeney tsked. “Why, you would think we were suspects.” Mrs. Sweeney waved and gave a weak smile. “Hello, dear girl,” she said under her breath. “She sees us, I’m sure of it. Oh! Now, that is odd. Why ever would that woman be running from us? And all we did was be kind to her. You would think she would be grateful. No good deed goes unpunished, Madge, like I always say.”

  She put her hand down as she watched the diminutive woman give a furtive glance their way, turn her head quickly, grab a hold of the young woman she was with, and disappear into the crowd. “Well! Maybe she is a tart. Anyway, I’m glad you suggested we move to a different hotel, Madge. It was simply ghastly, remaining in such close quarters to that den of iniquity. Oh, the scandal of it all, and what a way to ruin a lovely…”

  Margaret Putnam wished her friend would keep quiet. She was a dear friend, but she never knew when to close her mouth. Margaret stood and stared at the young girl with Mrs. Brill. She was a stunning girl, tall, slim, long legs, and high cheekbones. She so reminded Margaret of her own daughter. She was around the same age, somewhere in her twenties. Tears came to Margaret’s eyes as she thought about her only child. Celia had been such a happy, delightful child. She never had an enemy. Everyone was her friend. Where did they go wrong? Maybe they protected and shielded her too much.

  Mrs. Sweeney shook Margaret. “Well, God go with her is all I have to say. Let’s be gone, Madge. Madge, stop staring. The men are waiting for us. Let’s go.”

  ***

  “Okay, Gram, let’s focus on our day together. Put that stuff behind you today, okay?” Lori embraced her grandmother and kissed her atop her head. “What would you like to see next?”

  “Honey, I think we should forget the tourist attractions and go shopping. I really need some things, and I’d like to buy you a pretty outfit.” Lori forced a weak smile and rose from the bench. In truth, she had had it. Mingling among so many people was adding to her anxiety. She jumped when other tourists clawed their way past her in the lines, she gasped at the pungent smell of smoke from someone’s cigarette or pipe, and she cringed when anyone looked in her direction. She felt like they all knew who she was and either gave her despising or curious stares.

  She and Cate made their way to the car and settled in. They then zipped along the A3211, Lori watching the sunlight diamonds play atop the Thames as they headed west on their nearly three-mile trip to Trafalgar Square. Along the way, she saw the grand London Eye observatory, which sat like a giant Ferris wheel on the river opposite the square. On arrival, they walked around the square, noting Nelson’s column, and then stopped on the steps of the National Gallery to people-watch. They then moved on, ducking into quiet, clean, tree-lined streets, browsing the shop windows.

  As much as she needed clothes, Lori couldn’t manage to find anything but some underwear and a thick black sweater, which she figured would come in handy as clouds were building up and the weather was cooling. She moved on automatic but tried to remain upbeat. Cate fell in love with a black knit dress. Fitted with a large black leather belt around the waist, hitting just above the knees on Cate’s slim body, the dress was a knockout. Lori promptly purchased it for her. In a men’s shop, they found a Burberry cashmere scarf for Joseph.

  Loaded with packages and exhausted from touring all morning, Cate and Lori headed for their car. The light breeze of early morning had become a gusty west wind, and gray clouds scudded across the sky, dimming the once brilliant sunlight and promising afternoon rain. Eager to avoid a drenching, but hungry after the day’s adventures, the two women decided on a short trip north of Trafalgar Square to famous chef Jamie Oliver’s restaurant.

  Lori marveled at how Cate had expertly maneuvered the Bentley out of the congested traffic circle and sped toward the restaurant. On arrival, they left their packages safely inside the boot of the car, then made their way around a construction crew, across the street, and into the popular Jamie’s Italian Restaurant.

  "Cate, dear, you are distracting the street crew with your short dress and great figure." Lori said as she eyed the workers.

  "Oh, Gram, those guys stop for anything in a skirt."

  The place was crowded with tourists, and they were squeezed into a small table not far from the entrance. A busy young waitress handed them menus. "Tea, coffee, wine? It's Friday, the fish is on special," she said.

  Lori put the menu down. She wasn't in the mood for decision-making. "Fish and chips will be fine," she told the waitress while Cate thumbed through the menu before settling on a small chicken Caesar salad and a glass of red wine.

  Cate tried to keep the conversation light and avoided the topic of Josh, even though they did see his picture plastered all over the newspapers and tablets. In today’s age of communications, there was no place to hide from the topic. News of Josh Wheeler and his murder was on television, radio, the Internet, phones, and computers, besides magazines and newspapers.

  Comments at court concerning Joseph’s association with Lori had caused some dissension between Joseph and Cate. That morning, Joseph had said maybe Lori should stay elsewhere, and Cate had blown up, telling him that it was his fault for talking to everyone about the murder and her grandmother’s involvement. She was hurt that Joseph would put his position before his fiancée’s family. She was thinking about this when the woman sitting next to them pointed to the paper and, in a very loud voice, commented, “Why do the Yanks have to bring their criminals to our establishments? Bloody intolerable.”

  Cate, trying to ignore the woman, pushed loose hair from her forehead, leaned in towards Lori, and plunged right into the topic at hand. “You seem much better this afternoon, Gram. Do you want to talk about Josh Wheeler? I don’t remember you ever mentioning that you were dating someone.”

  Lori dropped the piece of fish she was about to put into her mouth. She was at a loss for words, something new to her. She wondered how to explain a seventy-year-old’s obsession with a man to a twenty-six-year-old. She was sure Cate never thought of her grandmother and sex in the same sentence. Lori had been gray, and thus old looking, since the day Cate was born.

  She needed a tissue, and felt around the chair next to her where she had left her purse. She panicked. “Cate, my purse is gone!”

  Cate got up and moved over to the chair. “Calm down, Gram. It must be here.” She checked under the chair, crawled around the floor, and searched the area to no avail.

  Lori’s purse was missing, the purse the police had recently returned to her.

  By now, they had gathered a crowd around them. The waitress asked Lori, “Are you sure you had it when you came into the restaurant?”

  “Yes,” Lori answered, though by now she wasn’t sure of anything. She frantically looked at the crowd, then over their heads in a futile attempt to see if anyone was running away from the scene, purse in hand.

  “Let’s check wit
h some of the stores we were in,” Cate suggested. She took out her wallet and paid for the lunch, then wrote down her cell phone number and address for the waitress in case they found Lori’s purse.

  They were out of the restaurant only a few minutes when Cate’s mobile rang. She held her dress receipt in one hand, ready to phone the boutique, but stopped and answered her mobile. It was the restaurant; they had found Lori’s purse in the loo. Since Lori had never gone to the restroom there, she assumed someone had taken her money, credit cards, and cell and left the purse. That was not the case. Back at the restaurant, when she opened her purse, she found the contents of her wallet floating through the purse. She and Cate sat down at a table and took everything out, checking to see what was missing. All her credit cards, documents, three hundred dollars in pounds, and a lipstick were there. Nothing but the keys to her home in Arizona and Cate’s flat were missing. The lining throughout the purse had been cut open. Whoever took her purse had worked fast. Lori went white. She looked at her granddaughter.

  “Cate, we better go and check your place. I think this has something to do with Josh.” They left in a hurry, driving to the apartment through a light drizzle of rain

  Lori’s worst fears were confirmed when they arrived. Books, clothing, papers, and knickknacks scattered helter-skelter comprised the first scene that met their eyes as Cate flung the front door open. The flat, though in an old building, had been remodeled, with walls knocked down to give a wide-open feeling. Thus, they could see disarray throughout the flat. Expensive digital equipment that could have been pawned was searched but not taken. In the kitchen, copper pots and pans, silver knives and forks, and splintered drawers lay all over the shiny wood floors. A glob of yellow mustard dripped down the opened refrigerator door. Someone had even searched through the appliances.

  Oblivious to the mess, Cate ran through the house calling, “Tigger! Tigger!” Cate found Tigger under the bed, shaking. She picked her up, pulled her in close to her chest, and petted and kissed the frightened cat on the head. “They can take anything they want, I don’t care, as long as they didn’t hurt my baby.” Tigger purred in Cate’s arms.