Shadow of Reality (Book One in the Elizabeth and Richard Mystery Series)

by Donna Fletcher Crow

  Everyone looked at their watches. “Right after lunch,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yeah, that’s about right. One o’clock or so, in very general terms, you understand. Without actual tests—” the doctor hedged, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening. She and Richard had been on this floor by one-thirty. There had been a few members of other teams poking around, but had she noticed anyone in this hall? Maybe she had seen the man and thought he was another player? She wished she could remember something helpful.

  “Best to leave him here until we can get him to the proper facilities?” Dr. Pearsall asked.

  “Yes. By all means.” It was clear Mr. Hamlin didn’t want any corpses carried through his hotel in broad daylight. “And we’ll keep this unfortunate event just between those of us in this room—no need to worry the others. Right?”

  “Worry us about what?” A jaunty voice made them all turn to the doorway. “I say Elizabeth, have I been stood up for tea?”

  “Oh, Gavin, I’m sorry. I forgot. We found this…”

  At her gesture toward the bed Gavin came further into the room, putting his glass in his eye just as Hercule Poirot would have done. “You don’t mean he’s really copped it this time?”

  “What do you mean ‘this time’? Do you know him?” The manager showed signs of relief.

  “Not exactly what you’d call knowing. We only met once. But he is—was—one of the actors.”

  “Get Stark up here!” The manager looked around for a telephone, then realized there wasn’t one in the room.

  “Shall we move next door? The parlor is more comfortable,” Richard suggested, then led the way.

  “Yes, yes. Glad you find it so. The tower rooms really are quite nice.” Mr. Hamlin spoke like a recording. “That is, they will be when they’re redone.”

  Weldon Stark answered his summons promptly, but his comments only added to the confusion. “No, I’ve never seen him before. What made you think he was part of my cast?”

  “That’s what he told me,” Gavin said from where he sat on the sofa beside Elizabeth. “A surprise bit that we hadn’t rehearsed. Some brain wave Stark added at the last minute.”

  “He told you? When?”

  Elizabeth spoke up. “The first night. After the landslide. He was in my bathtub. Scared me to death, but he told Gavin it was just part of the script.”

  “That’s right.” Gavin took up her story. “But after the stunt went so awry, scaring Elizabeth so badly, I told him to tell you we’d just have to scrub that bit.”

  Weldon Stark pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Well, he was lying. He was definitely not part of my cast. There was nothing like that in the scenario.”

  “Quick thinking on his part,” Richard said.

  “But if he wasn’t part of the play, what was he doing in my room?” Elizabeth’s hand went to her throat, her dark eyes were wide and round.

  “Trying to shelter from the storm?”

  “A journalist looking for a backstairs story?”

  The suggestions seemed weak, but Elizabeth didn’t like the alternative that occurred to her—he had chosen a woman’s room in an isolated part of the hotel…

  But Mr. Hamlin’s mind was working in another direction. “Miss Allerton, do you have anything of value with you? Jewelry, perhaps?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I’ve never owned anything worth stealing. Most of the things I brought this week are rented. Oh, except my grandmother’s pearl brooch, which I wore the first night—” She broke off abruptly, then rushed to her room and yanked open the top dresser drawer. Nothing had been touched.

  When she returned, smiling with relief, Gavin was questioning Richard, “Do you have anything someone might want to steal—old books or manuscripts with you? Anything in your research notes?”

  Richard made a wry face. “I only wish I did.”

  “Well,” Gavin said, “it seems clear that whatever he was up to, it was no good. Why else would he be so careful not to carry any identification?”

  “The only thing to do is to leave him right where he is until we can contact the authorities in a day or two. Whatever he was doing, he’s no danger to anyone now.” The manager turned to Stark. “I suggest you go right ahead with your program as if nothing happened. We all agreed before you came that it would be best to say nothing to alarm the other guests.”

  They hadn’t exactly agreed earlier, but everyone seemed in agreement now. As the others were leaving, Gavin turned to Elizabeth. “Tea time is over in the lounge, but shall I order you some from the kitchen?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “If chicken soup is Jewish penicillin, tea must be British Valium. But it’s not such a bad idea. I’ll take a cup, nice and strong with lots of milk, please.”

  “Something stronger for you?” he asked, looking at Richard.

  “No. Thanks. Tea for me, too.”

  Since the hotel offered no room service, Gavin departed for the kitchen. Richard turned to Elizabeth and put his arms around her comfortingly. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a little choked laugh and nodded, her head rubbing against his chest. “Yes, I’m fine. Really. Strange isn’t it, but I was more upset when he was acting than when it was for real.”

  “Do you want to move to another room?”

  “No, not at all. But thank you for asking, Richard, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Who would have guessed Richard would be so sensitive? She didn’t want to move to another room, and neither did she want to move from the comfort of his arms at the moment. “But I can’t help thinking—There ought to be something we could do for that poor man next door. I mean, it’s too late even for any sort of last rites or anything, but shouldn’t we, er—“ She caught her breath at her own words, “that is—pray or something? I noticed a Gideon Bible in my room, maybe…I don't know. Maybe I’m being silly, but he probably didn’t have any idea he was going to die—and then suddenly…” She shivered, and Richard held her tighter.

  She felt his lips move before she heard his voice. “Our Father, in the midst of life we are in the midst of death. From whom may we seek comfort but from thee? Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for you are with us, your rod and your staff they comfort us.”

  He paused, and she wondered if she should say amen or something. Then he continued. “We meekly beseech you, Father, to raise us from the death of sin unto the life of righteousness; that, when we depart this life, we may rest in you.

  “And God of mercy, we ask your mercy for the soul of this man that now stands before you.”

  Elizabeth didn’t move, she just stood there silently, letting the strength and magnificence of the words sink into her soul: When we depart this life, we may rest in you…She sighed with the permeating sense of peace. “That was beautiful, Richard.” She was as touched as she was surprised. She would never have expected Richard to wax so poetic.

  “I memorized that years ago for its beauty and comfort—four years ago to be exact. It’s hard to beat the Book of Common Prayer for the crisis moments of life.” He led her to the sofa. “Here, sit down now. I’ll light the fire. You still feel cold.”

  The maid had re-laid the fire that morning, so it was only a matter of seconds until a crackling blaze was warming the room. Richard sat beside her.

  “Richard…” She turned to him, so amazed at her own thoughts that she wasn’t sure she could give them words. “I don’t know…I was just thinking—I mean, Of course I signed on to all the tenants the chaplain espouses at Rocky Mountain…I think his weekly talks about kindness and goodness and justice are absolutely right. But there must be more.”

  She was quiet again for a long while as the fresh logs snapped and spit on the grate. “It’s just that, seeing that poor man…Wouldn’t it be awful if that really is the end? What if that's all there is to life, just to end up lying there like that? No more to it all—just a limp, cold, empty body?”

  “Yes…” Richard’s thought hung in midair.

>   “And so?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing really new, but it’s a powerful reminder of how fragile life is. I mean, that poor fellow may have been sick, but he probably had no idea his end was so near.”

  “Mmm.” She nodded. “One doesn’t think about it much. I mean, Nanny, my grandmother, that is, was always quoting things like that if we have hope in this life only, we are most miserable. But I never agreed. I always thought this life was pretty good. Oh, lots of problems, I know, but still, lots of joy and beauty, too. Oh, I think, I believed in eternal life and all that in an abstract sort of way, but it just wasn’t that important to me…but now that I’ve actually seen death—it’s—it’s very unsettling.”

  “You’ve never seen it before?”

  “Well, I’ve been to funerals, of course. Nanny’s was beautiful. My parents traveled a lot, so she was the most stable influence in my growing up. Then when I was in my first year of college she was so frail when I came home for Christmas, and then before spring break she just went to sleep…” Elizabeth was quiet for a long time. “It was the way we would all want to go. And her funeral reflected that: her favorite hymns and flowers, and she was just resting in folds of white satin—but this was something altogether different. It happened right there, maybe while we were just down the hall…”

  Richard moved closer and put his arm around her, then pulled away when he heard Gavin at the door. Soon they were all sipping cups of rich, hot tea and hungrily consuming chocolate cookies that Gavin insisted on calling biscuits, and laughing at Gavin’s comic relief: “Frightfully awkward, that blighter popping off like that right next door. I mean, it’s not done, positively not done. It creates such a tiresome mess, not letting anyone know who you are or what you’re doing. Simply too mystery-making. I mean, really.”

  Elizabeth laughed so hard she had to set her cup down. “You do that so well, Gavin! And what a relief to laugh after all that intensity.” They were all quiet a moment as the fire crackled cheerfully. “Really, though, I would love to know more about that poor man. Why he turned to a life of crime—if he was a criminal, that is.”

  “If not criminal, certainly something suspicious.” Gavin refilled Elizabeth’s cup. “But it will most likely be cleared up quickly enough when the police get here. I expect he was a local who just walked up the mountain from Hidden Glenn. Hotel security would prevent anyone unregistered from driving up, but they can’t patrol the whole mountain for hikers.”

  “Yes.” Richard laid his crumpled napkin on the tray and leaned back. “That would explain his not having a billfold. He wouldn’t need it for a walk in the country.”

  “But it’s hardly been hiking weather since we got here,” Elizabeth objected. “And if he was just passing by, why would he make up that elaborate lie the first night?”

  Gavin shrugged. “Maybe to keep from getting thrown out in the storm. He knew he couldn’t pay for a room.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re nice guys to look for answers that leave him an honest man, but I’m afraid he was up to no good. I mean, I don’t have anything of much value, but one or two of the teams are all Texans, and that may mean oil money. I’ll bet their jewelry isn’t rented from the costume shop.”

  Richard took the empty cup from her hands and set it down. “If some of the glitter I saw at dinner last night was real, it would certainly be enough to attract a jewel thief.”

  “Dinner!” The word brought Gavin to his feet. “I say, there’s just time to change. Leave all that.” He motioned to the tea tray. “The maid will get it later.” He dashed off to change into the required formal wear and Elizabeth turned to her costume plan. It was good to have something frivolous to think about.

  A short time later Elizabeth felt uncomfortable entering the buzzing dining room—she was sure that one glance at her would give the whole secret away—but after two minutes of listening to the excited chatter around the table, she relaxed. “Oh, was Millie found? We got…er, sidetracked.”

  As usual, Irene was the first to pick up her line. “The Circle found her. Guess what? She was right here in the dining room all the time—bound and gagged and hidden under the salad bar.”

  Elizabeth looked at the long table in the center of the room with the gold tablecloth hanging in precise folds to the floor. “What a great place! Everyone in the room passed within inches of her! I love it! Did she see her abductor?”

  “Stark announced that she was too shaken by the experience to be interviewed right then. He said Dr. Pearsall would give her a sedative, and she would be available for questioning in the morning after breakfast.”

  “They’d better all be available.” Evan patted the notebook beside his plate. “I’ve got plenty of questions that need answering.”

  Elizabeth smiled at his intensity. “Evan, I think we may be witnessing the birth of a new Sherlock Holmes.”

  Evan’s sister cut in. “Yeah, that’s what he thinks. He wants to get a job as a private eye.”

  Several laughed at Cathy’s jibe, but Richard turned to the uncomfortable boy. “Let them laugh, Evan. When you make headlines for cracking your first big case, they won’t laugh anymore.” Evan smiled appreciatively. “Really,” Richard continued, “the world needs good detectives. You could be a police inspector, or have a private agency, or be an investigative reporter for a newspaper, or work for the FBI. There’s really no limit.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better see if I can solve this one first. Then maybe I’ll apply to Scotland Yard. We were in London last summer, and I loved it there—all those castles and armor…and then there’s the food,” Evan ended appreciatively, taking another helping of the roast lamb with mint sauce.

  At first it was hard for Elizabeth to feel involved in the playacting around her. Why concentrate on a pretend mystery when there was a real one upstairs? And yet she knew she must or she would attract unwanted attention. So when a circus was announced as the evening’s entertainment, she applauded as excitedly as everyone else.

  “A group of traveling performers were stranded when their wagons bogged down in the mud on the moors, and Nigel Cass has graciously consented to let them spend the night in the servants’ quarters at Kilcliffe Manor. Provided, of course, that they perform for us in return,” Weldon Stark explained.

  “Isn’t it great the way they do everything in character!” Irene applauded, then groaned and pushed her half-eaten dish of cream and custard trifle away. “But I won’t be doing anything but fat-lady characters if I keep this up.”

  “Oh, Irene—” An idea had suddenly occurred to Elizabeth. “You follow theatre world happenings. Have you heard anything of Margo Lovell recently?”

  Irene scrunched her face in thought. “Margo Lovell? English actress? Oh, yes, I remember what marvelous reviews she got for the revival of ‘The Duchess of Malfi.’”

  “What actress was that?” Benton asked.

  “Margo Lovell. Elizabeth asked if I knew what’d become of her. I don’t think I’ve heard of her since she played the Duchess of Malfi.”

  “She died, didn’t she? Heart attack or something sudden a few years ago?”

  Before Elizabeth could comment on the unfairness of one so beautiful and talented dying young, everyone started moving toward the parlor, and Gavin requested the honor of escorting Elizabeth.

  “I haven’t been to a circus since I was ten years old.” Elizabeth smiled at the memory. “Nanny—that’s what we called my grandmother, mother's mother, that is—gave us special treats for memorizing Bible verses. Usually ice cream cones or something, but this was a biggie. I learned about half of the book of Isaiah. Trudy and Ryan were younger so I think they got by with the 23rd Psalm or something. “Anyway, it was a great treat.” And as she took Gavin’s arm, she thought that the timing of this event couldn’t have been more perfect. If ever there was a time that she needed to escape into the magical fantasy of a circus, it was now. Now, when the real world held a cooling, stiffening, dead body in the room upstairs. />
  Nothing could have been farther removed from a funereal atmosphere than the room they entered. The parlor had been turned into a big top circus tent with flying flags, calliope music, and curtains of red velvet and purple satin across the far end of the room. Risers provided seating along both walls. Gavin held Elizabeth’s hand to help her to an empty spot about halfway up on the risers, then settled himself beside her.

  Elizabeth was torn between watching the cavorting clowns mingling with the crowd or concentrating on the audience itself, which presented a fashion show of sleek, bias-cut satin dresses, white furs, and diamond jewelry.

  “Oh, look at the Navy uniform!” Elizabeth pointed Gavin’s attention to a tall man with military bearing just entering the room. “I wonder if he’s really Navy or if that’s a costume?”

  “I think it’s a costume. I noticed him earlier. He’s sporting some rather irregular-looking badges and medals.”

  “Oh, good. He’s coming our way, maybe we can ask him.” To Elizabeth’s delight, the captain and his wife, who was adorned in a dove gray satin gown with a train, sat right in front of her and Gavin. “We’ve been admiring your uniform,” Elizabeth said, as the officer removed his white dress cap and ran his hand across his shiny black hair. He turned at Elizabeth’s words, and she saw his shoulder patch—a yellow and orange sunburst with the word Arizona across it. “Oh, you’re from the Arizona?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I’m on leave from the USS Arizona. We’ve just completed a cruise to the West Indies with the President aboard.”

  “Oh, I say, that must have been jolly. How nice you could get leave to come to Kilcliffe, old man.” Gavin was once again in character, twirling his eyepiece on its black ribbon.

  “Yes, we’ve been stationed in the Pacific since ‘21, so trips to England are a rarity. But I’ll retire in ‘42, which is only nine more years. My wife and I plan to travel a lot then.”