Desperation filled Laura. Who did he mean?
“Will you please name the ice lady for us, Mr. Takara?” Violet’s voice was firm.
A shudder moved through Mr. Takara. Slowly he turned his head. “The ice lady is my wi -”
He got no further. The center of the room erupted into movement. Mrs. Takara leaped onto her seat and hauled Claudine up in front of her. One wiry arm wrapped itself sinuously around Claudine’s neck in a practiced gesture. In her other hand Mrs. Takara held a gleaming knife.
Laura watched her in horror. All trace of the little woman’s former identity had vanished. Her face was cruel, and utterly remorseless, and her black eyes gleamed with malice. She was someone else… someone who would kill and torture…
With the knife, the gleaming silvery knife, as long and thin as a shining sliver of ice but wickedly sharp, sharper than ice could ever be…
Alan and Richard both made a movement toward Claudine, as did Violet. “You will not move, any of you,” Mrs. Takara ordered. “I will kill her if you do.” Her tone was icy, commanding. The voice of the ice lady, Laura realized, and wanted to weep with the hopelessness of the situation.
Mr. Takara paid no attention to his wife’s threat and advanced on her. “It is too late,” he told her. “You cannot get away.”
His courageous gesture did no good. As soon as he came within range, Mrs. Takara’s knife shot out and stabbed him in the shoulder. “That is what you deserve,” she hissed venomously. “You have dared to betray me… You of all people know what will happen now. My people will find her and kill her slowly as I order.”
Mr. Takara staggered back, clutching the wound. Blood poured through his fingers. He looked pathetically at Violet.
“They will not find her,” Violet assured him steadily. Laura cringed. How could Violet be so calm?
With an easy agility Laura would never have suspected in her, Mrs. Takara stepped down from her chair and kicked it savagely out of the way. The skinny arms that had once seemed stringy and old were firm with muscle now, and there was no hesitation in her springing step or the vicious kick. Her face was supremely confident.
Walking backward with Claudine held in front of her, she proceeded slowly to the French doors, keeping the knife pointed at Claudine’s chest.
Richard, watching in helpless dread, let out an indeterminate sound of choked rage and took a step forward, then another. Watching Mrs. Takara carefully, he followed from a short distance, not venturing too close lest he make Mrs. Takara angry, but staying near enough to wrench Claudine from her grasp if the opportunity arose. Claudine looked terrified, and appallingly helpless in Mrs. Takara’s iron grasp. Laura noticed that she was twisting a silk scarf in her hands, as if to contain her terror with the small gesture.
Mrs. Takara pointed the knife at Claudine’s chest threateningly and Richard stopped, but his muscles were still primed to spring.
“You will open the doors now,” Mrs. Takara ordered Lady Longtree, who was closest to them. After a brief confirming nod from Violet, Lady Longtree went slowly to the double door and pushed one side of it wide open.
Laura watched in helpless horror. Surely they shouldn’t help this madwoman by opening the door for her? And where was Rachel? She might be able to stop her…
“Back,” Mrs. Takara ordered Lady Longtree, bringing the knife even closer to Claudine’s chest. Lady Longtree took a step back.
With infinite care, Mrs. Takara continued to move backward to the open door. Laura peered outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of police, but she could see no one. Was Mrs. Takara really going to get away with this and take Claudine hostage?
Richard continued to follow them but at a slight distance. His eyes seemed to be focused on the garden now.
Suddenly he stopped short. “Look out!” he yelled sharply, his face filled with alarm. “Dogs; the police have attack dogs out there. Look out!”
Panic filled Mrs. Takara’s face and she whirled to look out the door, the knife held in front of her in self-defense. In that moment Claudine wrenched herself free, turned like a dancer practicing a pirouette, and deftly slipped her silk scarf around Mrs. Takara’s neck.
Richard sprang forward and together they twisted it hard. Mrs. Takara uttered a choked cry of surprise. She tried to slash at them with her knife, but they only took a step back out of range and twisted harder.
Gagging, Mrs. Takara lunged forward as if trying to run, the knife once more held in front of her like a dagger. Her long hair swinging, Rachel stepped out from behind the other door, knocked the knife out of her hand with an efficient blow from one leg and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The garden was suddenly full of police. Three of them converged on a screaming Mrs. Takara, but a fourth and then a fifth were required to drag her away. Laura watched the writhing group, mesmerized by Mrs.Takara’s capacity for sustained violence. She scratched at the policemen’s eyes with handcuffed fingers; when her arms were restrained, she bit savagely at the hands that held her. A burly arm finally pinioned her neck so she resorted to kicking, well-aimed blows that found their mark, according to the yelps of surprise and pain that carried back into the big room. And all the time she screamed obscenities and curses in multiple languages, interspersed with unspeakably cruel vows of vengeance on all of them and on her husband and Laura in particular.
Laura collapsed onto her chair as the terrible noises faded away. “Good heavens,” she stammered, her voice awed. “I didn’t know anyone could be that vicious…
“You were magnificent, Claudine,” she added, and jumped up again to make sure Claudine was all right.
“Thanks,” Claudine’s voice was shaky. She too had fallen into a seat. “I can’t believe I actually managed it,” she added, and shuddered violently. “My God, she really is horrible, isn’t she?”
As if at a signal, everyone’s eyes went to Mr. Takara. He hadn’t moved. He stood like a statue, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast. Blood dripped down the front of his suit jacket. Alan stood silently beside him.
Two policemen approached, and Mr. Takara held out his hands to them for the handcuffs. “I am happy to come with you,” he told them.
“Those won’t be necessary,” Violet said gently. “Deal with the wound as best you can,” she instructed the police officers, “and then get him to hospital for assessment before you take him in.”
Mr. Takara stood patiently while they attended to him. When they had finished, he raised his head and for the first time looked at the people in the room. There was great dignity as well as sadness in his bearing.
“I wish to apologize to all of you for the harm my wife has caused, the harm I caused because I was afraid to go to the authorities. Not for myself, you understand,” he added, “but for my friend. She is innocent, as Amy was innocent. I am very sorry for her death. As for myself…”
He smiled faintly. “My wife has threatened me so many times with so many forms of horror that I have lost all capacity to fear her. I came only to hate her instead. I believe that after I have told the authorities everything I know, and I know a great deal, I can finally make sure she does not return.”
He turned to Violet. “Thank you. I am grateful to you for making that possible. You have done this group and the world a great service. I also wish to thank all of you who helped.”
Violet acknowledged his thanks with a grave nod. Mr. Takara bowed to all of them, a succession of formal bows; then he gestured to the policemen that he was ready to go. Together, they walked slowly out the door. Alan and Rachel followed.
Violet went to Claudine. “You were superb,” she said sincerely. “In all my years at this job, I’ve never come across anyone quite so savage. If I’d known what a monster she was, I would never have let you take such a chance. And I can’t imagine how she got that knife in here! The man on duty at the door instructed anyone with a handbag or other container to leave it at the desk.”
“Hid it
in her stocking, I imagine,” Claudine said dryly. “It was a bit stressful, but worth it,” she added, sounding more like herself, or the person Laura suspected was most like the real Claudine. “I mean, it’s good business, isn’t it? One good turn hopefully leads to another and I did hide those damned clothes. Stupid mistake and they’re bound to book me for it but maybe if they know I tried to help….”
She let the sentence dangle and looked up at Violet with wide blue eyes. Violet laughed. “Claudine, I am glad to know you at last, and I really will see what I can do.”
“It was a bravura performance,” Lady Longtree agreed. “If you wish to pursue acting, I think the stage, more than film. Richard too. That line was admirably delivered.”
Richard grinned at her. “I practiced in front of the mirror. Not too bad, I thought, though I might have added a tremor to my voice.”
Claudine, however, looked embarrassed. “Thanks, but I think maybe just amateur theater after this,” she said with a shiver. “Not so much tension.”
“But did you have it all worked out in advance?” Laura asked.
“Some of it,” Claudine answered. “Violet was afraid she might try to take you hostage, so we made sure she couldn’t because she needed to be near the door and you were at one end. I knew what the plan was at least, so I volunteered. Richard looked at all the old newspaper accounts and discovered that the only thing that really terrified this ice lady was dogs. Both of us remembered the dog line from a play we’d been discussing, so we decided to use it if the opportunity came up.
“Just a scene from a play,” she added modestly. “But it worked, didn’t it? Mostly, though, that was because of Richard. He was very convincing.”
“But did you know who Mrs. Takara was? And why did she hate me so much?” Laura persisted.
“I didn’t know until I remembered the stories about the ice lady, that she was a tiny Asian woman,” Claudine answered. “But I still wasn’t positive until Mrs. Takara grabbed me around the neck. And she hated you because you kept getting in her way, but even more she was terrified that you would recognize her because you had lived in New York during the time she was there.”
“She had a laundry list of other reasons,” Violet put in. “First, at the airport you sat down across from the baby she was about to steal and then rescued it in the Baths, which suggested that you had joined the tour to investigate her organization - and that you had eavesdropped when she called the father on his cell phone.”
Laura’s jaw dropped. “You mean that was her he was talking to?”
Violet nodded. “We think she was giving instructions about where to drop off the baby. Everything you did after that – handing the baby over to the police, talking to an old man who had seen the baby earlier, looking for the mother and spying on the father, trying to get information from anyone who seemed to be involved – confirmed her suspicions. When she added all that to your research, you looked very dangerous to her. She tried staging fatal accidents first, but then it must have seemed more important to find out what you knew. That was fortunate – if she hadn’t switched tactics, you wouldn’t be here at all.”
Laura shuddered. “That’s the stuff of nightmares! But you’re right,” she added. The father was talking to a woman, and she was giving instructions about dropping something off. It just never occurred to me that it was babies. If only it had.”
She shook her head ruefully. “All that time it was meek little Mrs. Takara, and I never even suspected! She’s such an unlikely criminal. I even felt sorry for her.”
“The trouble was that we dared not tell you when we finally began to suspect her,” Violet said, “not because of your expressive face, but because Mrs. Takara is the type who picks up the tiniest clue. If you had viewed her as a suspect instead of seeing her as a tolerable nuisance, she would have spotted the difference in an instant. It was too dangerous. How you managed to escape her clutches I will never know.”
“Sheer dumb luck?” Laura suggested.
“More like quick thinking,” Violet corrected.
“It seems to me the only thing I did was stumble over clues and be chased by criminals with semi-murderous intent, “Laura commented wryly.
“You gave us our first clue about who the real villain was when you talked about the icy lady,” Violet objected. “That’s what triggered Claudine’s memory. When she told me what she knew, it all fell into place and I finally zeroed in on Mrs. Takara.
“My problem then was how to catch her. Mrs. Takara is a slippery customer. She makes few mistakes and covers her tracks well. I knew I had to set a trap for her, but without everyone’s help it would never have worked.”
Violet glanced at her watch and sighed. “I was about to suggest a cup of the proverbial, but unfortunately, I’ve got to go to the station.”
“Not until I get answers to a few questions,” Laura said firmly.
“Fire away.”
“First, what will happen to Margaret?”
“She arranged for the babies to be stolen by one of Roger’s couriers, and that is an offense,” Violet answered. “We are trying to get therapy for her. That is all we can do.”
Laura grimaced. “Sad all round, especially that Amy got killed instead.
“Second, why did the baby’s father kidnap me? Never mind. I can answer that myself. Mrs. Takara put him up to it. She arranged the phone call that got me downstairs and hauled me out the door, knowing he was waiting. When that failed, she had the temerity to try to get me to the gorge again so she could push me off a cliff!”
“Exactly.” Violet’s lips twitched with laughter.
“What’s so amusing? Laura demanded.
“What is amusing is that the father was the double dealer in the group but apparently Mrs. Takara didn’t know that. He wanted to get more money for his daughter because of her unusual coloring, so he was blackmailing Mrs. Takara even as she was hiring him to get you.”
“Good grief! I’m not sure I’m all that amused.” Laura considered, and smiled reluctantly. “On the other hand, I can see the humor in the situation.”
“Good. Now I really must be off.”
“Why tourist sites?” Laura called after her, desperate to know.
“Oh, that. Can call in bomb scares if required, can be done early in the morning before tourists arrive, or after hours, plenty of available help for dropping off and picking up babies because the couriers are mostly Muslim women – in conveniently concealing clothing - with jobs cleaning lavatories at the tourist sites. They have keys and can get in and out any time. Roger Brown was in charge of that. He had a whole group of women who adored him and thought they were giving the babies a chance at a better life.
“Also, because all tracks are covered or at least muddied. The principals are never in contact with the babies, only the couriers, who mysteriously die if they get too nosy or bungle the job. No trails are left to lead investigators to Roger Brown and Mrs. Takara.
“Make sense now?” With a final wave, Violet charged out the door.
“Yes, I mean I guess so,” Laura muttered, trying to piece it all together.
Unexpectedly Violet reappeared. “I suggest that those of us who are left meet for dinner and a last celebration. I was going to stop by the desk and see if they’ll let us use a room and sort out the logistics, but I’ve run out of time.”
“Great! I’ll do it,” Laura replied. “I’d like to. Now that I know who wanted to kill me and why, and I’m not under guard, I can’t think what to do with myself.
“Let’s see, how many are we?”
“Twelve or thirteen, maybe fourteen,” Violet answered with a grin. “And your next task is to figure out answers to any remaining questions, one of them being who the extra people might be. That should keep your brain busy.
“Or call someone and tell them all about it,” she added more seriously. “That’s always a help after the action is over.”
“An excellent idea,” Laura called to Violet’s retreat
ing back. She consulted her watch. Six- thirty – was that all? The meeting had felt more like a year. What time would it be in New York? Five hours behind, she realized. An excellent time for a chat.
Smiling to herself, she went to the desk and organized the event with the hotel, called or left messages for the remaining group members, then she went up to her room and picked up the phone. Thomas, for once caught at his desk, was delighted to hear from her and even more satisfying, was still delighted even after she told him the whole story. All the same, he uttered a variety of exclamations of horror and dismay as she proceeded and groaned theatrically when she had finished.
“Laura, my beloved, you are… well, what are you? Incautious to say the least, over-curious to put it mildly, entirely too willing to take chances and the devil to keep up with. I don’t suppose I ever shall, at least completely.
“You are also very brave,” he added softly, “a trait I admire despite my gasps of alarm and abundant protestations. Next time a client wants to kill me or otherwise do me bodily harm, I shall send you an urgent SOS. I am quite certain you will soon convince him or her that to take such an uncompromising attitude toward your beloved does not pass muster and I shall adore you even more than I do already, which is considerably.”
Laura laughed. “Thomas, you are surely exaggerating!”
He was silent for a moment. “Actually, I don’t think I am,” he said seriously in that same soft tone.
Laura felt a delicious tingle invade various parts of her anatomy. She was trying to think how to respond when Thomas spoke again.
“I have a case coming up that might interest you. It involves a portrait of a well-known English reformer of the early 1900’s. He was painted as a man but according to a new analysis, he was actually a woman. It seems to have aroused quite a bit of hostility in some quarters. Something to do with Jane Austen’s family, I gather.”
Laura was intrigued. “How fascinating! In my field, too – not the painting, but the gender aspect. And women authors.”
Wading Into Murder Page 27
