Early on in the evening, Lord Lunt directed the conversation towards an account of Lori’s activities and life in the States. “Mrs. Brill, Joseph tells me you are originally from Chicago. In my younger days I did a grand tour of the States. I spent time with a banking family in an enormous apartment overlooking the lake in downtown Chicago. It was a marvelous city."
"It still is. I miss the city, but not the cold winters."
"Joseph chose a tour of Australia for his law school graduation gift. I'm sure he'll make it to the States sometime soon. Did your family travel much?"
"My father did, as he worked for the government." Lori smiled as she realized he was fishing out her lineage. "My early years were spent in a home in the northern suburbs of Chicago, but I've always loved our lakefront."
Surprising Lori, he avoided any mention of Josh Wheeler. After the main course was served, his wife took over the conversation; Cate sat looking bored and Joseph stayed attentive, but quiet.
The champagne and the wine kept flowing. After about an hour of Lady Elizabeth’s bragging about Lunt’s royal family and their titles, a slightly tipsy Lori decided she had had enough, especially since not one word of condolence was said to her about Josh.
Lori sat up straight in her armchair, took another sip of the expensive champagne, and smiled wickedly at Lady Elizabeth.
“Quite an elaborate list of ancestors the Lunts have. I believe you mentioned a Duke from Germany. My mother comes from German royalty. We may be related.”
Lady Elizabeth curled her lips, lifted her square chin, and responded, “Highly unlikely, Ms. Brill. There are no Jews in our family line.”
Alarmed, Joseph looked towards his father for help.
Aghast, Lord Lunt turned to his wife. “Elizabeth, my dear, please lower your voice and watch what you say. The bloody staff can hear every word.”
Joseph sat up, a strained expression on his face. It wasn’t exactly the help he was looking for, but maybe his stepmother would listen to his dad if she thought someone other than the family heard her.
“Oh, really, Roger,” Lady Elizabeth said, looking around. “Do you honestly think there are any Jews working as staff? At the Ritz?”
Lori burned, but she kept a cool exterior. Leaning in closer to Lady Elizabeth she said, “One can never be sure! So many of us were forced to become secret converts. We could be anywhere, in any lineage.” She then continued on with her family tree narrative. “My mother’s family owned many banks, and when they helped finance World War One, Kaiser Wilhelm the Second gave titles to the family. So we too are of royalty. How did you say your family obtained their titles?”
“Did your Jewish family also finance the second World War?” Lady Elizabeth raised a penciled eyebrow and allowed a crooked sneer to play upon her overripe lips.
Lori gasped and started to get up, but Sir Roger Lunt interrupted the women’s cat-and-mouse game before it became a fist-fighting match. Moving forward in his chair, he turned to Lori, and with a big smile, he asked, “Pray, tell us, are you related to the Rothschilds? They are good friends of ours.”
Cate pulled on Lori’s arm and literally sat her back down. Leaning forward, Lori narrowed her eyes in anger, focusing on Elizabeth’s smug face.
“No, Cate and I are related to the Brunes of Berlin and Munich, who I’m sure were friends of the Rothschilds. That is, before my family’s fortune was stolen and my family exterminated in the camps.”
Sir Roger Lunt's small black eyes opened wide, he dropped his champagne glass, turned white, and collapsed back in his chair. Hotel staff and his son Joseph quickly surrounded him and helped him out of the room. Lady Elizabeth followed, but not before shooting a withering glance Lori’s way. Lori and Cate sat there silently for a moment before Cate spoke up.
"I hope he is alright. Do you think he had an attack over something I said?" Lori asked.
Cate raised her wine glass and took a long drink. "He probably drank too much. He does that frequently. He usually withers out slowly, though. Is she a dragon lady, or what?”
“Those aren’t exactly the words I’d use to describe her. What a nasty, racist, arrogant bitch!”
“Yep, there are those words, too. Calm down, Gram. Don’t let her get your goat.”
“Get my goat? Honey, she is terrible! She grabbed the whole herd!”
“And I’m thinking of marrying into this family of arrogant sons of…”
Presently, Joseph returned. “Pardon me, ladies. I just wanted you to know, Father is all right. I think he just had a bit too much to drink. Their chauffeur will take him home.”
Lori was puzzled. She was sure Lord Lunt’s upset was a response to her mention of the Brune name, not due to drink, but this was not the time to pursue it. Lori knew little about her mother’s family history. By the time she found out she had an uncle who had survived the Holocaust and was living in Berlin, he was on his deathbed. It had been a family secret through- out her childhood. She would really like to talk to someone who could untangle some of the remaining secrets.
Again they drove home in relative silence, though Joseph made somewhat of an attempt to apologize for his stepmother’s rudeness. But the damage had been done, the insult hanging in the air like a mephitic fog. Cate gave Lori’s hand a firm squeeze, and she smiled at her grandmother sheepishly when helping her out of the car.
As for Lori, she was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, but she thought to herself, Maybe I went too far with that horrid woman. Couldn’t you just die over her comment about financing World War Two? The unmitigated gall.
***
Joseph was clearly upset, having driven all the way home with his arms bent at an uncomfortable stiff angle, his hands tightly grasping the steering wheel, and his jaw set firm and clenched. He had an irritating habit of clearing his throat when upset. Cate feigned a headache, though before Joseph's father had become ill, she had enjoyed every minute of the exchange. She always found Sir Roger intimidating and his wife intolerable. She had wanted to match them wit for wit, but Joseph would have been horrified. She loved Gram's responses. Why, she was back to her old self tonight.
Cate did wonder what had set off Joseph's father. She had seen him drink tons more without getting sick. With a wife like his, who wouldn't use alcohol to excess.
Chapter 11
A rainbow spread out from the window across the ivory carpet. “Could it be a sunny day?” Lori asked aloud as she slid off the bed. To make sure, she pulled the curtains all the way back. Maybe spring was really appearing; after all, the days seemed longer, she thought. She brushed her teeth, swallowed her pills, and stared at the running water of the shower, thinking maybe she would take a bath instead. While contemplating this, Cate knocked on her door.
“Gram?” Cate and Tigger entered the room. Cate handed Lori the house phone while shrugging her shoulders, squishing her face into a question mark, and mouthing the words, “Joseph’s father.” Lori wasn’t surprised.
“Heelllo, Mrs. Brill,” said Lord Lunt. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting you last night. I’d be quite pleased if you would join me for lunch today.”
Lori answered, turning off the shower water, “Sir Roger, I’m happy to hear you are feeling so much better, but I must decline. I am a bit under the weather today.”
There was silence on the line, and then Lord Lunt, no longer friendly, said, “Mrs. Brill, it is imperative that we meet and discuss some family matters. My man Bly will pick you up in an hour.” The phone went dead.
Lori hung up the phone and sat down on the bed, bewildered.
Cate asked, “Well, what was that about? Both he and his wife usually have very little to do with us, and for that I am thrilled.”
Lori related the conversation to Cate as the younger woman settled on the bed next to her grandmother, her eyebrows knit in consternation.
"Possibly he wants to talk about Joseph's marriage to you?"
Cate cringed. "No, we’re at a standstill, and Joseph woul
d have told me. Do you think he knew your mother’s family? Gram, please refresh me on our family history.”
“Make some coffee, honey. I need to get dressed. We can talk in a few minutes.”
Lori quickly showered and dressed in one of her finer outfits, a long-sleeved, cream-colored silk dress with matching heels. She took a few extra minutes to apply some makeup, just in case his wife was around. The alluring aroma of coffee instead of tea guided Lori down to the flat’s kitchen, where Cate was pouring coffee and filling the creamer. When Cate saw Lori, she sat down across from her grandmother, eager to hear about the family history. Lori took a gulp of coffee, bit into the cinnamon coffee cake Cate had made, and sat back in her chair.
“Okay, I’ll make this brief, because Lunt’s man Bly will be here soon. My mother came from a prominent German-Jewish banking family. They owned a mansion in Berlin and a country home in Munich, so she lived surrounded by all the trappings of the wealthy of her time: expensive crystal, china, silver, custom furnishings, and servants. She married a man named Alfred, and they had a son named Joseph. In 1943, my mother, her mother, father, and sister, and her husband Alfred and son Joseph were rounded up and sent to Auschwitz.” Lori paused and watched her granddaughter’s face turn from a look of concern to sadness and, finally, to anger. It was never easy to talk about this, harder still for people to hear it. “Her brother escaped to the underground. As far as we knew, just my mother and her brother lived through the war. Her brother and his family went to Israel, and my mother moved to Chicago with the American soldier who rescued her. That man was my father.
“My parents never told me any of this. I found out from relatives in Israel after my mother died. Nobody talked about the Holocaust when I was growing up. It was a secret. In fact, my mother’s whole life was a big secret, a secret that has haunted me my whole life. She had a number from the camps tattooed on her arm, and I never saw it. That is how hidden it was. Ten years ago I discovered my mother’s son, Joseph, was alive. You were a teenager and probably don’t remember when I went to visit him in Berlin. Unfortunately, he was on his deathbed, so our reunion was brief. Money he left me helped put you through college. That is why you are one of the few who has graduated without owing your life to the government."
Lori became very quiet. The ache in her heart returned as she thought about her father’s words, “Don’t judge her too harshly, Lori. Your mother has been through a terrible tragedy.”
Lori often wondered what could be worse than a mother who didn’t love you and a father who was always gone. As an adult she found out the answer—the death of a child.
“Gram, I remember you showing me your mother’s letters. They were fascinating. In fact, after that, I read some of Elie Wiesel’s books, and I checked different places on the Internet to learn more about the Holocaust.”
Lori thought back to those letters she had translated from German to English. The ones she found right after her mother died, the ones she read over and over until she knew them by rote. One in particular came to mind.
March 25, 1945
My dear brother Dov,
I am finally feeling well enough to leave the hospital. I know you want me to join you in Palestine, but I have another interesting opportunity.
The young American soldier who befriended me has asked me to marry him. He is seven years younger but a very capable young man. He comes from a Jewish family that has connections with the government, so I believe he will be able to get me into the United States.
Do I love him, you will ask. At this stage, I don’t know what I feel, only that life must go on. He can never replace my beloved Alfred and little Joseph, but I must have been spared from death in the camps for a reason.
Your sister, Lillian
Lori also remembered some twenty years ago when she and her husband Jerry came back to Arizona from their son’s wedding in Chicago. Her neighbor had told her some old man calling himself a baron had come around the house, and he had asked her if Lori had been born in Germany. Lori dismissed it as mistaken identity, especially since she had more pressing problems. Jerry had started drinking again after years of being sober, and she had just given him the choice to either go back to rehab or she would leave him for good. Too bad she hadn’t left.
Well, that was history now.
“What do you think this has to do with Lord Lunt?” Cate asked.
Lori looked up, startled. Cate’s question had brought her back to the present. She heard the doorbell ring and answered, “I don’t know, honey, but I will know soon. Lord Lunt’s man is here.”
Chapter 12
The sound of computers humming and the clicking of fingers on the table in the technology room of the station surprised Inspector Holmes. After all, it was almost noon on Saturday. He walked into the room. Sitting at the computer, pen in hand and coffee cup nearby, was Jordan Gould.
Holmes glanced at his watch. “What are you doing here?"
“Headquarters back home just sent transcripts of interviews with some of Wheeler’s girlfriends and a list of others they are looking for. You need to see these."
“Come, let’s have a bite to eat down the street and you can tell me about it. I assume you haven’t had lunch.”
“Good assumption. Let’s go.”
The two men had put on their coats and hats and started out of the station when Holmes suddenly hesitated. “Good Lord, your intensity upsets me. I almost forgot why I’ve come here. I left my briefcase in the office.”
The phone rang as they walked into Holmes’ office. Picking it up, the chief inspector listened and then handed it to Jordan.
After returning the phone, Jordan looked up. “We may have a breakthrough. My office has located the whereabouts of Wheeler’s current girlfriend, Suzi Wu. She is in Shanghai, and it seems she’s planning a trip to London. They have men watching her and will keep us informed. They have a few photographs of her with Wheeler from some charity events. They’re e-mailing them to me now.”
"Do you believe she has something to do with his murder?"
"My superiors do. As I told you the other day, Suzi is a member of the Wu family of Wu Industries, major investors in Wheeler’s Ponzi scheme.”
“Good to hear we may have a viable suspect in this case,” the inspector said as they left the building and crossed the street. “I’m starting to get heat from my superiors.” He raised his eyebrows while looking directly at Jordan. “They think I’m letting the Yank do too much, and I should be setting the machinery in motion.”
Jordan smirked. “You won’t be sorry I’m working with you. We’ll crack this case. Your men are watching the house, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
Holmes put a copy of The New York Times in Gould’s hands. “It is mainly your press that’s complaining.”
A headline on the front page of the Times read: Jilted Investors Anxious for News, Feel British Ignoring Wheeler Murder. Jordan laughed.
“Geoffrey, you should look at the social network pages, where everyone thinks they could be a better Sherlock Holmes than you.” He didn't mention all the jokes and editorials about Wheeler and Mrs. Brill.
Holmes stopped in front of a pub called Hardcastle. The two men walked in through the large stained glass door. Inside, metal fans whirled above the room with its dark wood walls. Old beer steins adorned the shelves above the bar.
“Oh, there’s a good spot,” Jordan mumbled, and he was off in the direction of a deserted area of the pub.
“Evening, Inspector.” A stout, ruddy-faced proprietor greeted Holmes. “Same table?”
Following Holmes’ gaze, he said, “Ah. Got a Yank with you?”
After they were seated, Gould asked, “How did he know I was a Yank?”
Holmes just grinned at Jordan, who was dressed in khaki pants and an open shirt with the sleeves rolled up, thinking of how he had rushed right over to a table before the proprietor had a chance to greet him. And then there is that accent.
A
pproaching the table, the server smoothed back a piece of hair from her face and took out her pad and pen. “What will you have?”
Jordan said, “I’m not quite sure yet.”
Holmes took the menu out of his hands. “They have the best minced meat. And you must save room for a sweet. The lady bakes them herself.” He looked at Jordan, who had turned his nose up at the mention of mincemeat, then said to the server, “Adrienne, give us the fish and chips with vinegar instead of the meat, and two applejacks.”
“Do ye want a starter?”
“No, just the meal will be fine.” Holmes looked at Jordan. “Right?”
Jordan nodded his head in the affirmative, although he was not quite sure of the question, nor was he used to Holmes taking over as he was today.
Two friends of Holmes approached the table and greeted Geoffrey. One asked, “Heard you were the one on that Yank’s murder. Anything new?”
Holmes smiled, “Scotland Yard always gets its man.” He was happy when the server appeared with their food and drinks. “Ahhh, time to eat.” He waved off his friends before digging into his meal. “Cheers! Take care.” He stabbed a forkful of fish. Holding the fork in mid-air, Geoffrey glanced over at Jordan. “Okay, tell me about this guy's girlfriends.”
“Wheeler was married and divorced twice. First wife comes from a prominent family, but she once lived on an Indian reservation in Arizona. She calls herself Rain. Today she lives in the same retirement development as Lori Brill. I find that very interesting. His second wife died in an airplane crash several years ago. They had a son together, but apparently he’s been estranged from his father for most of his life. My department has talked to both the son and the first wife. They claim they haven’t had contact with Wheeler in years.”
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