Murder Across The Ocean

by Charlene Wexler

  Lord Lunt, dressed in a brown tweed-riding outfit, greeted Lori with a gracious hug.

  “So thrilled am I to see you looking so wonderful. You do know how worried we all were about your welfare.”

  Lori ignored the comment and looked around at her surroundings. She stood still, in awe of Greyhall Manor. It was a stately, three-story beige brick castle overlooking a massive garden with a river meandering throughout the property.

  “Your home is amazing. Tell me its history.”

  “Come, let me give you a brief tour and history,” he said. As Lord Lunt, in his very English stately manor, led her into the house, he started to give Lori a royal tour. “First of all, my home dates back to the 1200s, when eighteen-hundred acres and the original manor house were deeded to the Greyhall family by the monarchy. Kings and prime ministers have stayed here. In fact, we have an original oil of Lord Melbourne, who once stayed for several months. The Lamb family owned it for a short time before my ancestor, the first Lord Lunt, took over in 1745. The original manor had a fire around 1884. The present manor house was built then. Renovations, adding indoor plumbing to each bedroom and electricity throughout, were made at the turn of the century, and the whole manor was updated again in the fifties and in the eighties. The estate has been owned by a Lunt ever since, though my grandfather had to sell off one thousand acres, and I as well as my contemporaries have had difficulties maintaining such a large estate.”

  They walked down a white marble-floored hallway, one wall of which featured gilded framed oil paintings of Lunt’s ancestors, some dressed in similar riding outfits to his. Most were in period costumes dating back hundreds of years. The hallway led to a room that appeared to be the same size as the Ritz’s lobby.

  A man wearing a bright black blazer with shiny gold buttons took her coat. Her shoes clicked on the Italian tile and sunk into the intricately woven blue, green, and gold Persian carpets as they passed Chippendale furniture, beautiful antiques, marble fireplaces, and original paintings. Lunt continued with the tour.

  “My grounds have forests and rivers running throughout, which makes for great trout fishing and fox and pheasant hunting. Years ago, we had sixteen bedrooms with private baths, but I’ve recently closed off a wing, as just Elizabeth and I and her daughter’s family live here. No need to engage extra servants.”

  She had to admit the place was meticulous, like a showplace. “It must cost a fortune to keep a place like this in such perfect order.”

  “Yes,” he answered with a pleasing smile.

  Lori noted there was no visible digital equipment, just an old television in a small den. Much different from the townhouse Cate and Joseph lived in. Actually, the Lunt’s castle seemed stuck in the 19th century, like one of the places in British history, though she hadn’t been in the upstairs rooms.

  He walked Lori through a carved, molded, heavy oak door into the billiards room. “This is my favorite room,” he said.

  Besides the large, elaborately decorated billiard table, the hall was adorned with an immense collection of hunting trophies and portraits of English prime ministers. He pointed to the one of Lord Melbourne.

  “There is a family connection to his notorious wife, Lady Caroline Lamb. Do you know of her?” Lord Lunt did not wait for a response. “She had a notorious and, of course, scandalous affair with the author Lord Byron. She was a poet and an author.”

  “How wonderful for her—her writing career, I mean.”

  “Yes, a terrific scandal. Our family has weathered a few of those.” He looked at Lori for a few moments. When Lori did not respond, he cleared his throat.

  “Yes, well, I would imagine each family has its skeletons. Luckily, you have plenty of room to keep your skeletons safe from prying, yes,” Lori said, laughing lightheartedly. “Of course, a historical scandal like Lady Lamb and Lord Byron can only be an asset.”

  Lori wasn’t current enough on English history, but she did recognize the name Melbourne and a picture on the wall of Sir Winston Churchill.

  He motioned for her to follow him out of the back of the house through white French doors to the patio. They lunched in the English garden, where the flowers and plants ran wild in an orderly fashion and the view reached across acres of manicured lawn. A butterfly flitted from flower to flower while a small sparrow scavenged the ground for seeds.

  Prim and proper maidens adorned in white aprons over black uniforms served the meal, consisting of boiled fish, boiled potatoes, fresh green beans, and popovers. The gold rimmed English china, lace tablecloths, sterling silverware, and crystal goblets enhanced the flavor of the food. The conversation was generic until the silver dessert tray consisting of fancy teacakes was served.

  Lori finally asked, “Why were you so anxious to talk to me?”

  Lunt sat back on his chair, crossed his arms over his rather large stomach, and remained silent for a short time. He then leaned forward and said, “I am acquainted with the Brune family. In fact, my first wife, Joseph’s mother, was a Brune. Marie was a very young child during the Holocaust. She was hidden in the church orphanage and raised Catholic. Her first cousin, Baron Joseph Bruen, found her after we were married. At her and my request, he kept the fact that she was Jewish a secret. He gave her and Joseph a generous sum of money, which I've kept in trust for Joseph. I didn’t know if you were aware of it.”

  Lori burst out laughing. ”I can just see your wife’s reaction. By the way, are you aware that would technically make Joseph Jewish, and make him my blood relative, as his mother would be my first cousin.”

  Joseph’s father put his hands together in a plea motion. “You do understand what this would do to our family and Joseph’s ambitions, and why I needed to talk to you before Joseph and Cate married."

  Lori smiled and moved her head from side to side. This was truly the only highlight in this trip. “I think Joseph needs to know his rich heritage, but if my step-brother, Baron Bruen, was willing to keep it a secret, I will keep it through your lifetime.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  He looked somewhat upset that he had revealed his secret to her, but being from nobility, he quickly covered his disappointment with a smile and a handshake. “Thank you, Lori. Now that we have family in common and a secret to share, I hope we can be friends.”

  "Lord Lunt, do you know of any other living Brune family members? My brother Joseph died shortly after we discovered each other.”

  "No, Lori. After the Baron died, I assumed all the Brunes were gone and my secret about Joseph's mother was safe. That is why I was in shock when you said you were related to the Brune family."

  He walked her out the French doors and to the front of the house.

  “Thank you for an interesting lunch,” she said, as they shook hands.

  ***

  Lori sat down on one of the white wicker chairs located on the front porch. She tried to clear her head a moment before taking out her cell phone and calling Cate to pick her up.

  Within twenty minutes, Cate drove up, and Lori got into the car and buckled up, bracing herself for a fast ride through the narrow countryside. A month ago, she had been living a quiet, bored life in Arizona; now, every day brought a new crisis. She clenched the door handle as Cate sped on. Time to fasten the seatbelts for another of life’s bumpy rides, she told herself, attempting to screw up more courage from her already compromised reserve.

  Cate turned towards her grandmother. “That was a quick visit. I was doing a little shopping, so I was nearby. So, Gram, what was all that about?”

  Lori took a deep breath; her heart was pounding, her hands cold and tingling. She was bursting to tell Cate about Joseph, but she had just promised to keep quiet, so she toned it down.

  “He had a distant relative that was once married to a Brune and he didn’t know if I knew about it. I promised to keep it a secret, but I am bursting at the seams thinking about his wife.”

  Cate looked at her and started to laugh. “Oh, my God.
I would love for her to find out. She is so anti-Semetic. They live in the past with their money, power, and religious snobbery. The world has changed, and the Lunts won't acknowledge it."

  I so wish Cate was right, Lori thought.

  “Who was it?”

  “I’ve told you too much already.” Lori smiled and shook her head.

  “I love it. Okay, who?"

  “Cate, I promised.”

  “Alright for now, Gram. Oh by the way, I have to move up our departure date by a few days as the Judge wants me to start my job earlier.”

  Lori's face lost its smile.

  “You look upset, Gram. Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’m… just… I’m disappointed about something.”

  Curious, Cate sharply answered, “Spill it. What’s wrong?”

  Sheepishly, Lori answered, “Because I am leaving so fast, I will have to cancel my theater date with Geoffrey.”

  “Geoffrey who?”

  “Why, the chief inspector, Geoffrey Holmes.”

  The car nearly swerved off the road as Cate turned to face her grandmother. “Are you telling me you are dating Inspector Geoffrey Holmes from Scotland Yard?”

  “Cate, watch where you are going! You nearly got us killed!”

  “Oh, Gram, we’re fine. We all drive like this. Now, don’t change the subject. Tell me what’s going on. Is this a romance?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Geoffrey and I are only friends. Why, I’m seventy, and he is sixty-seven.”

  "Sure. I have to watch you like a hawk. First Wheeler, now Holmes. At least you've moved from criminal to Chief Inspector," Cate responded as she swerved the car into the garage.

  As Lori exited the car she turned to Cate, "You're not little Miss Innocence in the romance department."

  They entered the flat arm in arm and laughing, something they hadn’t done in a long time.

  ***

  Back at Cate’s flat, Lori tried packing. She opened the closet door in the guest bedroom, where her clothes spent more time in the room than she did. St. John suits, well-designed dresses, high-heeled shoes. She gave a short laugh as she dropped each perfect, unworn outfit back into the suitcase. Too bad she hadn’t brought all her old sweats. She took the pair of Prada shoes she had worn during her kidnapping and threw them into the trash bin. She had even tossed out her intimates, as well. It was thoughtful of Cate to have them cleaned, but she never, ever, ever wanted to see them again.

  Her lovely silk dress was missing, having been ruined not only by the bullet hole, but also by bloodstains and the memory of her harrowing experience. She just assumed it had been thrown away at the hospital. Or perhaps it had been taken and wrapped in a paper bag as evidence. Good riddance, she tried to tell herself, but it spooked her to think of her tiny silk dress somewhere, hanging on a hanger or folded in a box in a paper bag as evidence in the vast building of Scotland Yard. Lori felt ill thinking how many bits and pieces of herself she would be leaving in this country. Would she ever feel whole again?

  She had spent five days—five days— in the same clothes. A tight feeling in her stomach welled up as she stared gloomily at the trash bin. She silently admonished herself for becoming too morbid, remembering her dear therapist warning her against slipping too deeply into dark thoughts. She turned back to her suitcase and laughed when she saw Tigger busily exploring its contents, alternating between sniffing and rubbing against everything, leaving her scent everywhere. Lori was startled at first, then relieved to hear herself laugh. I think I’m going to be all right, after all. Through this little cat, she realized the restorative, calming power of pets in one’s life.

  Downstairs, Cate was busy cooking. Lori had left her cutting beans and frying onions and garlic. The scent of Italian spices, garlic, and oregano floated up the steps, making Lori’s mouth water. On the one hand, Cate was a health nut—running, doing Yoga, exercising, filling her fridge with organics, whole grain breads, and alfalfa—and on the other hand, she was always cooking deliciously fattening foods. How she stayed so thin was beyond Lori. For Lori, it had been a struggle her whole life. It was only in the last twenty years, when she moved to Arizona, that she had been able to remain small and petite. Her friend Rain, with all the hiking and walking and healthy eating they did back at home, would not let her gain an ounce. Well, she was going to come home much thinner than she was when she left.

  Suddenly, Lori heard a tremendous crash, a meow, and then a barrage of swear words. Lori left the room in disarray and hurried down the stairs. Cate looked up from the floor, where she was cleaning up pieces of crockery intermixed with pasta and sauce.

  “I was in a hurry. It was too hot, and I dropped it. I’m sorry, Gram.”

  Lori smiled, “Forget it, honey. I have an idea, let’s go out for dinner, and let someone else do the dishes.”

  Lori finished packing while Cate cleaned the kitchen. Then they dined at Bellissimo’s, Cate's favorite Italian Restaurant, just a few miles down the road from the flat.

  Carlos greeted Cate with a hardy handshake and hug. He turned towards Lori. "Now, who is this lovely lady?"

  Cate laughed. "My grandmother, Lori."

  "Welcome to Cate's Abuela." He opened his arms to her, but Lori just gave him a nod.

  Before the murder and kidnapping Lori had a tendency to talk to everyone—the taxi driver, the man on the street, the waitress. It had bothered Cate, but now she missed it.

  Lori skipped the wine and ate a light shrimp salad, while Cate enjoyed their special mushroom cream ravioli and a glass of Merlot. They lingered in the restaurant enjoying each other in lively conversation. The waitress refilled their coffee cups, and inquired whether they wanted dessert. Refusing, Lori slipped on a small pair of reading glasses in order to survey the check and pay with her new American Express credit card. All her cards had to be changed after her purse had been floating around everywhere.

  Home close to midnight; Lori excused herself as she walked upstairs. "Cate honey, I'm beat. I plan to sleep in tomorrow morning."

  Chapter 26

  Sunday morning, Cate woke up to the ringing of her cell phone. She yawned and squinted at the clock. She had stayed up most of the night packing and was not happy about being awakened at seven-thirty.

  “Hello?”

  When she heard Jordan’s low, warm voice over the phone, her mood changed. She hadn’t expected to see him in London again, so she was delighted to accept his invitation to play a game of tennis on his last day in the city.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do today on your last day here?” she asked.

  “Sure, but that’s only part of the plan.”

  “You have a plan, huh?”

  “Well… Let’s just say I have a good feeling about how the day will play out, how’s that?”

  She quickly dressed, left Gram a note, and packed her tennis clothes in a bag. Since Gram came to town, she hadn’t played tennis, so she was hoping to get to the club a little early to practice some, but Jordan was already at the Standard Health Club when she got there, probably thinking of doing the same thing. They were both very competitive people, and as soon as they got on the court, they engaged in a heated tennis competition, with Jordan outscoring Cate by one shot. Exhilarated and dripping with sweat, they headed to the club’s dressing rooms, showered, dressed, and met in the club’s restaurant for a quick lunch.

  Cate swirled her fork around her salad while Jordan bit into his Club sandwich and gulp down his coffee. As with their game, their conversation took on a passionate discourse. Jordan soon realized that no matter what subject he brought up, politics—philosophy, sports, art, or business—Cate was truly knowledgeable. He enjoyed how she punctuated her opinions and stated facts by prefacing them with, “What you must understand, Jordan, is…”

  He liked it when she called him by his name. It was very personal, intimate, and he felt himself drawing closer and closer to her, as though she were mesmerizing him, seducing him, even when
they were discussing something as banal as grocery shopping.

  “What you have to understand, Jordan, is I hate grocery shopping. Well, I love it, but I wish I had the place to myself, because I must buy my own ingredients. I love cooking! As soon as the ingredients are united, something magical happens. It’s like alchemy. It’s a heady experience where all your senses are engaged, and one that you can have more than three times a day—if you’re lucky, if you live right. No matter how busy I am, I won’t deny myself the pleasure of a good meal, whether I’m the one making it, or they’re making it over there at Bellissimo’s. Oh, what am I gonna do without my Italian restaurant?”

  “I’m sure we can find a few good ones in Washington,” Jordan replied, smiling.

  “You have to find one, Jordan. Well, I better pick it out. I’m not sure you know good Italian food,” she teased.

  “Uh, I grew up in the frikkin’ Bronx, Cate. I know my way around a good brasciole or a plate of homemade gnocchi.”

  “You are a man of many talents,” Cate cooed, popping a grape into her mouth.

  She was taking over his psyche on all levels. When his eyes focused on her short black skirt that showed off her smooth, shapely legs, he leaned closer to her across the small table and inhaled her perfume. He felt the familiar stirring in his loins, and he was no longer interested in his sandwich.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  He paid the check, picked up his and Cate’s bags, and walked with her to the parking lot.