“Thanks. I’ll go find Richard then and we’ll get busy enjoying ourselves. We might not have long.”
Laura frowned. “That sounds ominous.”
“Yeah, it is.” Claudine sighed. “I did hide the clothes for the damned man, a terrible mistake, but he threatened me with all sorts of stuff if I didn’t.”
“Abdul?” Laura asked.
Claudine looked surprised. “No, not Abdul. I guess he wore the clothes, but he’s not the one who threatened me. That was the guy who stalked you. Ludwig told him to ask me. I didn’t want anything to do with him, but I didn’t have much choice.
“He’s a bastard,” she added. “He gets his kicks out of terrifying women and beating them up, but he likes money even more. Oodles of it in the baby stealing game. I don’t know who he sells the poor kids to, but I wish I did. I’d try to stop him myself.”
“That’s courageous,” Laura said, impressed at Claudine’s determined tone. “He’s a very frightening man.”
“And smart, or more likely my husband is really dumb. The guy plays him like a violin. That wasn’t some psychic up those stairs, you know. Roger Brown arranged an interview, as Ludwig calls them, which means some poor mixed up kid on drugs selling sex to make a few extra bucks – if Ludwig is still capable of participating in that activity, which I doubt.
“He really is a disaster, like you said,” she went on in disgust. “Into all that gross stuff with boys but he somehow fools himself into thinking its okay, that the kids like him. It’s amazing how he can turn things upside down. The worst part is that he has to pay the guy back, do him favors in return, but I’m damned if I know what they are.”
“It must have had something to do with this baby-stealing group,” Laura inserted into this fascinating tirade. “Could he have helped them somehow?”
Claudine shook her head. “I’ve racked my brains to figure it out but I haven’t had much luck so far. Maybe they’ll get it out of him at the police station. He’s terrified, I do know that much. If he knows anything, he’ll talk.”
“Have you told the police all this?”“ Laura asked sharply.
“Sure have. Three times at least.” Claudine hesitated. “I think they’re getting somewhere. That’s my instinct anyway. But for god’s sake don’t talk about what I’ve said to anyone else or they’ll be after me for that.”
“As long as the police know, I’ll keep it to myself,” Laura promised. “I have one more question though, if you can answer it. I assume you had the clothes - the disguise worn by whoever pushed me into the street - in your shopping bag and then hid them in the garbage bin, but were you Maisie too, and was that you rummaging through the garbage can the next day?”
“No to the last two and yes to the first,” Claudine answered promptly. “I hid the clothes in the rubbish bin before I got back on the bus but that was the last I saw of them. Didn’t want to, either – or that garbage bin. Who’s Maisie?”
“Just a bag lady who never existed,” Laura answered enigmatically.
Claudine’s well-arched eyebrows went up. “Right now, I’m not sure I even want to know what that means.”
“I’m not sure I do either,” Laura admitted, trying not to think of the dead Peg.
Claudine’s eyebrows rose further, but she didn’t ask more questions. “Thanks for talking to me,” she said instead, going to the door. “I didn’t mean to go on for so long, but you’re the only one I dare talk to, and it’s a relief.”
“Another quick question,” Laura called after her. “Can you remember where you were the night I was in that horrible cellar?”
“Right here in bed,” Claudine answered. “Alone, I fear. Sorry.”
“Thanks anyway,” Laura said. She lay back against the pillows again and tried to get her thoughts in order. To her horror, Mrs. Takara tiptoed through the door after the briefest of knocks. “You are tired, so I will not stay,” she began as she perched on a chair. “I came only to make sure you join us tomorrow. We have engaged Elise to show us more of the sights around Bath. She spoke of some caves; they are in the Cheddar Gorge, I think they call it, like the cheese, and she will take us there first. They have very strange names for places, these English.”
Laura opened her mouth to frame a polite refusal but Mrs. Takara forestalled her with a raised hand. “It is not good for you to and brood about what happened,” she insisted. “No, it is very bad. So I will not take excuses. I will fetch you myself.”
“I don’t think I will be able to go,” Laura protested weakly. “The police want me to stay here and only go out with a police escort.”
Mrs. Takara was unmoved. “They will let you come, I am sure of it. That man Hans has been arrested and you are safe now.” She nodded her head wisely. “I knew from the beginning that he did not have a good character, but they would not listen to me when I told them. I have talked to the police about why I had to say I pushed you that first time, too, and why I said that it was the stout lady on those stairs.”
She leaned over the bed and spoke in a confidential whisper. “The police know those were accidents, that it was not his fault. I do not like to talk of this publicly because my husband is so…
“Well, for men in Japan it is impossible to admit that something is wrong with them and he gets very angry if I speak of it.” She stopped and bit her lip uncertainly, as if as if fearful of being overheard even in here.
“Speak of what?” Laura asked, wondering what all this was about.
Reluctantly, Mrs. Takara complied. “He has this dizziness sometimes, you see, and he stumbles. I try to be closest to him so I can catch him but I cannot always move fast enough. It was the steep stairs. They made him… what is the word? Disoriented perhaps? That is when it happens. He stumbles and cannot right himself, and then if he falls… well, he cannot stop. It is a disease some people get of balance, but I do not know the name in English.
“I try to save him from the embarrassment,” she went on with pathetic dignity. “That is the proper duty of a wife in my country. She must not let a man lose face. All the family suffers then.
“But we will not speak of this any more. You must rest. Do not worry. I will fix everything for you tomorrow. Sleep well!” She hustled out of the room again before Laura had another chance to open her mouth.
She lay back on the pillow, her mind whirling. Too many revelations, too fast. Sleep was what she needed. Pushing all thoughts of the case out of her mind, Laura managed to fall into a light doze that lasted until the next knock on her door.
This time, thankfully, it was Violet, once more bearing tea. “I don’t think I have ever in my life drunk so much of this stuff,” she complained as she set the tray down. “You always seem to need it so badly.”
“I do now. My head is positively swimming in confusion,” Laura told her. “Besides, I adore the service. It comes even before I have to ask.”
“I shall add to the confusion,” Violet said with a grin. “Roger Brown actually divulged some information. I want you to know what he said for your own protection but do not, and I mean not, allow what I say to affect your treatment of the person in question.”
“I’ll do my very best,” Laura promised. “What did he say?”
“He said that he was once married to Claudine and that she took him for all he was worth,” Violet stated. “That’s why he began selling babies, to recoup. He seemed very bitter about it. I don’t think many women get the best of Roger.
“He used another name then,” she added. “That’s why we didn’t know before.”
Laura gaped at her. “Claudine? But she told me she married Dr. Bernstein to get away from being a cocktail waitress. And she was just here, saying…”
Violet interrupted. “Claudine is a master at saying whatever works best in a given situation. I suspect Roger Brown rescued her from the cocktail job – if his attentions can be construed as a rescue, and she married Ludwig to get away from Roger Brown. In the meantime, she liberated Roger from his money
. She’s a very clever lady.”
“I guess this puts her at the top of the list as possible master criminal,” Laura agreed glumly. “She certainly had me fooled. I really admired her. She doesn’t have much of an alibi for the time I heard the icy lady, either. In bed alone, she says.”
“I checked out her statement and no one saw her leave, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t,” Violet said. “And I admire her too, but she could still be guilty. She could have teamed up again with Roger, so I want you on your guard.”
“I will be,” Laura agreed. “But if you think Claudine could be the culprit, why was Hans arrested?
“Who told you that?” Violet asked sharply.
“Richard. I guess he got it from his London friends.”
Violet sighed heavily. “Damn that reporter! And those clods of policemen. They were supposed to be discreet.” She hesitated. “All I can say at the moment is that Hans is helping the police with their investigation. And for goodness sake, don’t talk about it in front of anyone else.”
“All right,” Laura agreed. “I won’t talk. But as soon as you can tell me what’s going on and why you think Hans is implicated, please do.”
Violet nodded. “I will. I don’t think it will be long now.”
Her tone changed. “I’m going to leave you to have a nice long shower, which you seem to adore almost as much as tea,” she pronounced, “and then we’re going to have a walk and some dinner. I need to clear my mind and I imagine you do too.”
“I’ve begun to wonder if I have a mind to clear,” Laura replied. “I think that crack on the head must have affected it more than I realized.”
“Not unusual with a concussion to feel fuzzy for a while,” Violet assured her. “Besides, you haven’t had a break ever since.”
“I slept for almost two days,” Laura pointed out.
“With multiple interruptions and lots of mental stimulation,” Violet rejoined, “as well as a hair-raising escape from that ghastly man.”
“True,” Laura agreed. “I do hope nothing more happens today. I’m not sure I could handle it.”
“With you around,” Violet retorted, “that cannot be guaranteed.”
About half and hour later, Violet reappeared and escorted Laura downstairs. Lady Longtree, who had decided to join them, was waiting in the hotel lobby. The limp she had affected earlier had disappeared, and her pace when they set off was so brisk Laura had trouble keeping up.
“Shall we try this bistro?” Violet suggested after they had walked for about half an hour. She indicated a small ethnic restaurant up the street.
“It looks very pleasant,” Lady Longtree replied, “and more interesting than those big establishments near the Baths.”
“Less expensive, too,” Laura pointed out. “I think it’s a great idea. This is the area where the baby’s mother vanished, so we might even overhear some more clues.”
“It seems to me we have an overabundance of them,” Violet replied humorously. “I’m having trouble integrating them as it is.”
The dim interior of the restaurant made Laura think of Casablanca, the sultry, mysterious look on Lauren Bacall’s face, and Humphrey Bogart’s seductively twisted smile. Those two would feel at home here. The air wasn’t as smoky, but the bistro had the same atmosphere, the same look of shabby sophistication that characterized so many ethnic restaurants. Always candles or some kind of dim lighting, and carelessly laid tables that nonetheless displayed gleaming white linens.
They were ushered to a table near the back. There were a few curious stares as they walked by, probably because they were women unaccompanied by men, but after that no one paid much attention to them.
Laura looked around with unfeigned interest. The people at the tables around them were a mixed group, some pale skinned and English-looking, others with darker faces and middle-eastern dress. Most were men, but she saw quite a few women, too. Some wore headscarves, others had uncovered hair, and all of them were engaged in intense and absorbing discussions.
This was a place where thinkers gathered and people argued freely, where social policy was debated and political decisions might even be made, Laura mused, and felt her senses quicken. Eyes, ears and nostrils were deluged - by the titillating scents emanating from the kitchen, by the flickering light that shadowed faces of every color and the muted medley of tongues that made her realize how marvelously diverse the world really was. She soaked it all in, glad she was here. The food, when it arrived, was equally spicy and satisfying, and so was the pleasant if slightly green wine that came with it.
When they had finished and paid the bill, they decided to walk at least part of the way back to the hotel.
“It will settle our stomachs after all that spicy food as well as clearing our brains,” Violet remarked.
“Mine just feels heavier than ever,” Laura complained.
“A brisk walk cures all ills,” Lady Longtree said judiciously, but Laura saw that her blue eyes were twinkling. The food, or perhaps it was the wine, had lightened all their moods. The worry lines had left Violet’s face, and Lady Longtree looked more relaxed.
They were about half way back to the hotel when a van slid up beside them. To Laura’s dismay, two large men emerged from the van and approached them. She braced herself. Was she going to be abducted all over again?
The men came close, too close it seemed to Laura. “You will come with us,” one of them said in stilted English. It wasn’t a question; it was a command. Oddly, though, he didn’t look threatening, only determined.
The other man gestured toward the van. “It would be better if you came quietly,” he said in the same stilted English.
“The Lady wishes to see you,” the first man added. Laura saw Violet and Lady Longtree exchange a guarded glance.
“Hurry,” the man urged. “You must hurry.” He sounded almost desperate, and Laura frowned. What kind of abduction was this?
Violet hesitated for a moment and then nodded. The two men herded them gently but definitely toward the van, as if making sure none of them tried to escape. At least she didn’t feel a gun at her back, Laura thought. That was an improvement.
“Sorry to involve you,” Violet murmured to Laura. “I think they want all of us.”
“The Lady wishes to see all of you,” the man behind Laura confirmed.
Numbly, she followed the others to the van. The only lady she could think of besides Lady Longtree was the icy lady she had heard in the cellar. She hadn’t liked the sound of her voice and she had no desire to meet her. Terror swept through her and then dissipated. Violet didn’t look frightened or even alarmed, nor did Lady Longtree. Instead she looked as if she had suddenly frozen. Her face was deathly pale, her expression one of mixed dread and anticipation. What was going on?
The seats in the van had been rearranged so that they faced each other across a small space. Laura paused in surprise as she stepped in. A woman swathed all in black sat on one of the seats. A chador, the Muslim head scarf that hid the face completely except for a small rectangle of woven fabric that permitted the wearer to see, covered her head. Her eyes were downcast.
Violet took the seat beside the veiled woman, Lady Longtree sat opposite her and Laura sat down beside Lady Longtree.
The two men climbed into the front seats and the van slid away from the curb. The windows had been darkened, Laura saw, and began to be frightened again. The icy lady could easily be hiding under that chador.
She looked at the other two in alarm. Violet was watching Lady Longtree and her face held an expression Laura couldn’t define, except that she thought it was something between pity and apprehension.
She turned toward Lady Longtree, wondering if she knew what was going on and saw that she still wore that frozen look. Surprisingly though, it wasn’t dread on her face now as much as… as what? Hope?
The woman across from them raised her face and looked directly at Lady Longtree. Her eyes weren’t dark as Laura had expected, but bright blue. They
were misted with tears.
And then, suddenly, Lady Longtree’s face crumpled. “Maria,” she whispered. “Maria, is it really you?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Oui, Maman, c’est moi,” the woman whispered, holding out a tentative hand. Then her restraint slid away, and she leaned over and clasped Lady Longtree in her arms. Laura felt tears slide down her face. This must be the lost granddaughter, the one who had married so young and disappeared, had been thought dead.
As ever, there were more facets to the old lady than a chameleon, she reflected. Who could ever have imagined her weeping unrestrainedly?
“William!” Maria whispered suddenly. “Is William really all right? I see the reviews but now he seems not to be playing…”
As if aware of their Lady’s need for privacy, the men in the front seat turned on a radio. “Merci,” she called to them in an almost steady voice.
“William is all right,” Lady Longtree assured her quickly. “He misses you and is desperate to find you but he doesn’t believe you are dead. He said he would know if you were. He isn’t playing because… well, he became distracted when we decided to try to find you ourselves. Oh, Maria, I have been so afraid…”
Maria’s face was tragic. “I am so terribly sorry I couldn’t contact you before. So many people might have suffered, even been killed, but it was hard to wait, knowing how anxious you were. And then they told me, my fine helpers up there, that you were in the restaurant with only the two others and it was suddenly right, an opportunity sent by heaven if there is one in this terrible world.”
Lady Longtree raised her wet eyes to Violet’s face. “Heaven sent or Violet arranged?” she asked skeptically.
“A little of both,” Violet admitted modestly. “I had information that the restaurant was a place where people from many countries gathered and where news of our presence might spread. I thought if we went there a few times, word would get around, if what I hoped was true. I certainly didn’t expect such a fast response.”
Wading Into Murder Page 22
