by Kris Langman
Chapter Ten
When Anne entered the office the next day Lindsey jumped up.
“Anne! Where have you been? I’ve been so worried. You went into that building on Austin Friars Street and never came out again. After we got back from lunch I waited for you outside for more than an hour. I finally had to leave because people were starting to look at me strangely. One jerk had the nerve to ask what my rates were.” Lindsey’s elegant features scrunched up in distaste.
Anne took a quick look down the hall. No one else was around. She motioned Lindsey over to the reception area’s chairs.
“I’m sorry Lindsey. I should have called you. I’ll tell you what happened, but I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone else. It’s not the kind of thing I want people at work to know.”
“Of course I won’t talk about it, if that’s what you want,” said Lindsey, a vertical frown line breaking through her normally placid expression.
“I was arrested.”
Lindsey’s blue eyes widened but she didn’t say anything.
“You can see why I don’t want my boss to know. The charges were dropped, so there’s no permanent blot on my record, as far as I know. I’m not sure how these things work. Still, as a foreign national, getting myself arrested could be a problem. I could lose my work permit.”
“Oh, surely not. I’m sure The Franklin Group wouldn’t do that. Not if you explained the circumstances. Plus, you’ve worked for them for quite a while now. How long did you work for them in Los Angeles?”
“Five years.”
“See. You’re a valued employee.”
“You’re probably right, but for now I think it will be easier to just not mention this whole episode to them. Okay?”
“Of course. Whatever you want. Now, come on. Spill. What happened?”
“Dr. Davidson caught me in his office. He came back for something, and returned right when I was trying to sneak out of the clinic. He called the police and had me arrested for breaking and entering, or whatever you call it here. I spent the night in a cell, then found out the next day that he’d dropped the charges. I have the feeling that he never intended to take the matter all the way to court. He just wanted to scare me.”
“Really?” asked Lindsey doubtfully. “Why would he do that? He seems like such a nice person.”
Anne stared at her. “A nice person? You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” said Lindsey in surprise. “He was a perfect gentleman at lunch. Very polite and attentive. Actually, I’m thinking of seeing him again. He asked me to that Jose Carreras recital at the Barbican.”
Anne’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Her dislike of the doctor had been so strong, right from the first moment they’d met, that she found it impossible to imagine that someone else could actually like him.
“You didn’t tell him where you worked did you?” asked Anne, trying to keep her voice calm.
“No, of course not. Give me some credit please. He doesn’t know we work in the same office. I just said that I work near his clinic on Austin Friars, and that I’d seen him several times at that Pret A Manger on Old Broad street. He told me that he buys his lunch there most days, so it seemed like a plausible story. Anyway, I don’t give out any personal details like address or phone numbers on a first date.”
“It wasn’t a date,” said Anne in exasperation. “It was a diversion.”
“Well, yes. I know. But it turns out that we enjoyed each other’s company. He’s the kind I go for. Older, sophisticated, with possible sugar-daddy potential.”
“Lindsey!”
Lindsey grinned at her impishly. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. I know you love your career, and I think that’s great. You’re very good at it. But I’ve never been that fond of working. I’d much prefer to be kept. Kept and married, hopefully, but I’m flexible.”
Anne dropped her head into her hands and yanked on her hair.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Lindsey patted her on the shoulder. “I promise I’ll be careful. I know you don’t like him, but I honestly don’t think he’s involved in that hit-and-run business of yours. If you ask me, that awful Soames person who showed up here is the one you should be worried about.”
At her desk, Anne reflected that both Lindsey and Inspector Beckett thought Daniel Soames was the person she should be careful of. She stirred more sugar into her tea and forced herself to think about this idea objectively. She didn’t like Daniel, in fact she found him repulsive, but she had instinctively considered him less of a threat than Dr. Davidson. Right from the start. Why?
Her train of thought was broken by Nick, who bounded into the room and threw his backpack on his desk.
“Dudette, where’ve you been?”
“Um, sick. Just a cold. Why? Are we slipping on our Barclay’s deadline?”
“Nah. Nothing like that. Everything’s cool. I just wondered. Hey, did Lindsey tell you that I covered the switchboard for her on Tuesday? It was sweet. Her phone has ten lines. Ten! I think I transferred one poor dude to China. It’s a serious juggling act up there. Two lines rang at the same time and I was like sweating. I mean, which do you answer first? You want to be democratic and all that, you know, first come first served, but it’s tough when two of those little buttons light up at the same time. Major dilemma. I finally closed my eyes and punched at random. Of course, I missed the phone entirely the first couple of times, but I eventually got those guys happily transferred. I’m like the god of phones now. Just call me phone guy.”
“Great, phone guy. Now, why don’t we get to work. I have a couple of stored procedures to write and I need to use those new Oracle tables you were creating. Are they done yet?”
Chapter Eleven
The doorbell jarred Anne out of a dream the next morning. Gonzo had banded together with Fozzie Bear, and their successful coup d’etat had deposed Kermit from the throne of England. The Queen Mother was shell-shocked. As was Anne. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life dreaming about the Muppets?
She stumbled to the door, pulling on her bathrobe. “Who is it?” she asked the door grumpily.
“Carstairs Miss.”
Huh? Who the heck was Carstairs? Reluctantly Anne opened the door. The man standing in the hallway was wearing an elegantly tailored chauffeur’s costume, his gray hair rumpled from the hat he held in his hands. Oh, right. Carstairs. Lady Soames’ butler. Anne frowned at him in confusion.
“Um, Hi. What are you doing here?”
“Lady Soames has requested that I collect you Miss. She is at the family’s London home, near Regents Park, and would like to speak with you. Now, if that would be convenient.” Carstairs had the grace to look embarrassed at his employer’s extremely abrupt summons.
“Um, okay,” said Anne, rather taken aback. “I guess that would be all right. It's Saturday, so I don't have to go into the office. Come on in. Did Lady Soames say what this is about?”
“No Miss,” said Carstairs apologetically. “Her Ladyship can be uninformative at times.”
Anne sighed and bowed to the inevitable. “Okay. Have a seat.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the sofa. “I’ll just get changed.” She left Carstairs sitting quietly, his hat on his knees, and closed the door behind her as she went into the bedroom. She splashed water on her face, then pulled on her usual jeans and t-shirt, mentally cursing herself as she stepped into her Nikes. She had to learn how to say no to people. Maybe there was a course she could take. How to stand up for yourself in three easy lessons. Of course, even a master of the art would find it difficult to stand up to Lady Soames.
“Okay, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, coming out of the bedroom. “Could you hand me my coat?”
Carstairs looked confused by this request, until he spotted the forest green parka lying on the floor at his feet. He plucked it up and politely helped Anne into it. Anne grabbed her purse off the kitchen table and ushered him out, locking the door carefully behind them.
“Uh . . . " As usual, Anne was finding it difficult to come up with an excuse which would foil Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson was leading her down the hall by her arm when Carstairs broke in.
“Madam,” he said smoothly, “I’m afraid we will not be able to assist you at present. Miss Lambert has an urgent meeting to attend. I’m sure you understand.” He gently removed Anne’s arm from Mrs. Watson’s grip and steered her around the streamers.
“Carstairs, I think I love you,” said Anne.
Carstairs took this in stride. “Thank you Miss. As you might expect, I have extensive experience coping with elderly ladies of an imperious nature. I’ve found that an element of surprise combined with a quick exit works in most situations.” His gray eyes twinkled at her. “If I may make a suggestion Miss –- you need to work on your speed. Always present a moving target. Don’t freeze like a deer in headlights.”
It was a nice day, for March. A pale sun was shining on the leafless maples in Tavistock Square, lighting up the crocuses at their roots like votive candles. As they drove through Bloomsbury Anne settled back into the squashy leather seat. Lady Soames’ London car was a Rolls – a Silver Ghost. A bit of a cliché, admittedly, but an impressive cliché. It was a new experience for Anne, being chauffeured through London’s crowded streets in the back of a Rolls Royce. She decided to enjoy the ride no matter what lay ahead. She rolled the window down and stuck her head out, squinting her eyes against the rush of wind. Other drivers swiveled as they passed, checking out the Rolls. Anne couldn’t decide if this was flattering or embarrassing. She finally decided on the latter and pulled her head back inside.
The car turned onto Outer Circle Drive, skirting the Regents Park lake, empty of rowboats this time of year. As they drove by Anne watched two large spotted geese waddle out of the lake and converge on a toddler who was hesitantly offering a piece of bread. The geese hissed as they came, their long necks undulating like twin cobras. The toddler looked like she was about to cry. She bravely stood her ground until the lead goose got to within six inches of her shaking hand, then she dropped the bread and ran. Very wise, Anne decided.
Turning a blind eye to geese and other dangers lurking in the park, Carstairs swung off the main drive and onto a side street marked Hanover Terrace. The driveway he pulled into circled in front of a cream-colored building more than a block long. The building proudly displayed its granite columns and pediment like the status symbols they were. Anne hopped out and paused to admire the building.
“John Nash?” she asked Carstairs, who had turned off the car and was standing beside her.
“Yes Miss. 1810. I especially like the frieze.” He pointed to a large bas-relief over the columned entrance. White marble figures on a sky-blue background were lined up side-by-side as if queuing for a bus.
“Does the Soames family own this whole building?”
“No Miss. Not even the Queen herself owns one of these buildings in its entirety.” He pointed to an octagonal tower halfway between the entrance and the end of the building. “The Soames family occupies that tower, as well as a large portion of the first floor. If you’ll follow me please.”
He led her under the columns and up immaculate marble steps into the entrance hall. Anne, who was expecting something grand and ballroomy, was disappointed. The carpet was Persian, and orchids sprouted from a vase by the door, but the overall impression was that of a Hilton reception area. A uniformed doorman was seated behind a polished wooden counter. Carstairs nodded at him and continued on to a stairway to their right. The Persian carpet of the hall continued up the stairs, held in place by heavy brass rods under each step. At the top of the stairs they turned down a long paneled hallway lined with doors, each of which had a shiny brass number on it. As they walked the doors got farther and farther apart. Anne guessed that the flats behind the doors were getting larger. At the end of the hall they turned into a kind of cul-de-sac which had only one door. Carstairs unlocked this and ushered Anne inside.
The room they entered was octagonal-shaped, with a brightly glowing chandelier suspended from its high ceiling. A cream-colored rug spilled across the floor, lilacs winding around its edge. The only furniture consisted of a Louis XVI mahogany side-table. Carstairs laid his keys on this and waved Anne towards a staircase which curved to fit the wall like a vine wrapping around a tree trunk. Anne guessed that they were ascending to the next floor of the tower Carstairs had pointed out. She could hear voices up ahead.
“Sit down Daniel,” said Lady Soames’ voice. “All that pacing is wearing on my nerves.”
“Miss Lambert, Madam.” Carstairs waved Anne inside and disappeared back down the stairs.
Anne paused awkwardly at the entrance to the room, uncomfortably aware of being stared at. The room was circular, with delicate Louis XVI furnishings grouped to face its center. Lady Soames and Dr. Davidson were ensconced on a window seat which followed the curve of the tower. Over their heads she could see the lake and the rest of Regents Park stretching away like a green carpet. Daniel was sprawled in a gilt-edged chair, his legs spread so widely it bordered on indecent behavior. Leaning against the far wall was a tall man with overly-long dark hair and a scraggly goatee. Anne frowned. She’d seen him somewhere before.
“Please sit down dear,” said Lady Soames, gesturing regally toward a chair opposite Daniel. “Would you like some tea?” Without waiting for a response she poured from a silver teapot which rested on a damask-covered table in front of her. “Milk and sugar?”
“Just sugar, please.”
Anne took the delicate bone china cup and saucer with the care of a bomb squad expert handling a suspicious package. She balanced on the edge of her chair and stirred her tea, waiting for someone to speak. Daniel was ignoring her. Lady Soames and Dr. Davidson exchanged a long look which suggested a conversation left unfinished. Lady Soames unconsciously smoothed the skirt of her teal silk dress with a repetitive motion, the gold bangles on her wrist clinking. To Anne’s astonishment she appeared almost nervous.
Finally, Lady Soames began. “Miss Lambert, you are aware that my son James was killed not long ago. Drowned, near Greenwich.”
Anne nodded, a vertical frown line growing between her eyes as she glanced from Lady Soames to Dr. Davidson. Lady Soames met her gaze with a face rigidly devoid of expression, but the doctor seemed amused by something. He busied himself adjusting the pale blue cuffs which extended a precise half-inch from under the sleeve of his jacket.
“I believe you knew James. When we talked at our family home in Kent you mentioned that you’d spoken to him several times, struck up an acquaintance.”
“No,” replied Anne cautiously, “I only met him once, very briefly, when he came to see Dr. Davidson.”
“Really. I was under the impression that there was more to the acquaintance. Well, no matter. It’s not so much the length of time you two spent together as what was said.”
Anne stared at her, baffled. She couldn’t for the life of her see where this was leading, but Lady Soames seemed to be following some kind of agenda. She spoke her words like a bad actress who hadn’t memorized all of her lines.
“John – Dr. Davidson – and I feel certain that James must have confided in you.”
“Confided?”
“Yes. Confided. Talked to you about certain friends of his. Unfortunately he had gotten mixed up with a rather rough group of people. Drugs, that kind of thing. We
feel quite sure that someone in this group is responsible for his death. Our family would be grateful if you took it upon yourself to go to the police and tell them everything you know. You see, it would look better coming from someone outside the family. Someone like yourself, with no ulterior motive. If I were to contact the police they would assume that it was something I had fabricated in order to protect Daniel. Daniel, you see, has been arrested. Charged with his brother's murder. My husband and I posted his bail immediately, of course, but it has been an ordeal for all of us.” Lady Soames turned to Dr. Davidson, who patted her hand and nodded consolingly.
Anne just stared at her. The conversation had taken on such an unreal quality that she had no idea how to respond. Lady Soames waited, her face back to its usual regal mask. Anne glanced over at Dr. Davidson. He was looking at her like a fisherman reeling in his catch. Light began to dawn. They didn’t really think that Jimmy had told her anything. They just wanted to make use of her, to get Daniel off the hook. They expected her to go to the police and perjure herself. Anne was amazed that they had even considered it. Admittedly, Lady Soames was used to getting what she wanted, but this was ridiculous. They had no hold on her, nothing which could force her to do this.
“I appreciate that you’re just trying to protect your son,” Anne began cautiously, “but I can’t do what you’re asking. Jimmy never mentioned drugs, or discussed his friends with me.”
“My dear,” began Lady Soames, but stopped when Dr. Davidson placed a hand on her arm.
“Anne,” he said smoothly, “I know this is a difficult thing we’re asking, but think of all the people it will benefit – Daniel, Lady Soames, your friend Lindsey.“
