We turned our eyes to Sir Philip. He nodded as he said, “Yes, my officers got a call from the doctors not too long after my call from the PM. I decided I wanted to handle this case myself.”
I winked at Finn when Sir Philip had said “case.” I was always the butt of jokes at home because I was quick to call the intrigues that we got involved in a case. Finn chuckled his silent laugh as he shook his head.
“Vivian, why do you think Gwen was at the root of all this? You know I’ve always thought she was suspicious, but I wasn’t sure if that was my own prejudice. I thought that to you she’d always seemed like an unwilling participant,” I said, then ate my last olive.
She nodded as she thought about it. “Well . . . Sean is definitely patient enough for a lengthy plan. And I’m certain he knew about it, was part of it. But what got me is that Gwen has been the one visiting me here and there over the years. Not Sean. Like I told you, Lane, I didn’t trust her. I thought it was possible that she just enjoyed my company, but when I got to thinking about it, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been a scout all this time.
“I was Finn’s only ally in the family. How else would Sean have known that Finn would be coming here on assignment again? I admit, I did tell her about your trip, Finn. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been able to set up this trap.” She reached out and set her hand on Finn’s.
“Oh Mammo, it wouldn’t have mattered. They would’ve just come up with a different plan. The fact that I ran into Gwen a few months ago probably got them thinking about how to get me out of the way for good,” he said. She nodded a thankful smile at him.
I commented, “But still, all that just shows that she might have been an informant to Sean. What makes you think she had more of a role than that? Maybe he threatened her or she passed on the information unknowingly . . .”
“Today she brought me a tin of Richard’s tea, too,” said Vivian with a droll look.
The penny dropped. Finn’s eyes turned a dangerous black as he fiercely whispered, “They tried to poison you?”
Sir Philip and I exchanged glances.
But Vivian was simply smirking as she said, “Don’t worry. I knew exactly what they’re capable of. I was ready. And no, I did not drink any of her tea. But I have to say it was fun watching her eye my teacup as I kept bringing it to my lips, then not drinking . . .”
Finn made a kind of strangled sound and Vivian absently patted him on the shoulder.
Sir Philip pointedly cleared his throat and continued, “It was a relief we got there in time.”
“What?” Finn exclaimed.
“Oh, it’s fine, dear, I was prepared. Remember? The hospital had called him, then I decided to call the Yard as well. Besides,” she said with a cheeky grin, “I had my revolver.”
“You have a revolver?” I gasped.
“Don’t get any ideas,” said Finn.
Viv was warming to the subject and carried on cheerily. “Oh, don’t worry, I took shooting lessons. And besides, Philip was on his way at that point.” Finn looked a little peaked.
Sir Philip took up the story again. “So we received the call from the hospital about the poison, and I asked about the origin of this supposition. They had Vivian’s name and phone number. I called to make an appointment to chat with her. A little later, I received another call from the Yard that they’d been informed that Gwen was on her way over to have tea. I decided I’d better head on over. Immediately.” He gave Vivian a slightly wary look and I had to bite back a laugh.
Vivian blithely went on, “You see, I think Gwen started to suspect that I knew what she’d been up to. Or at the least, that I would have your back, Finn. I believe she came over to see what I knew. Who knows? Maybe she’d try to get me committed, too. I certainly could’ve thrown a wrench into their plans, that’s for sure. And when she came at me with a pillow in her hands, obviously wanting to do me harm, I pulled out my revolver.”
“You what?” said Finn.
“Stop yelling, Finn,” I said calmly as I sipped my martini. He muttered something indescribable, sounding exactly like Mr. Kirkland, whom I knew would’ve given anything to witness all this going down. I suddenly missed them all: Fio, Evelyn, Kirkland, Val, Roarke, Morgan . . .
“They were used to getting things their way,” said Vivian thoughtfully. “And it infuriated them that a little old lady and the man they’d been able to convince everyone was daft and a loose cannon might actually present a difficult problem. I think even years ago, that devious nature is what drew Gwen to Sean. Like I told you, Lane, Finn and I could see through Sean’s charm. And Gwen either couldn’t see through it, or she did and she liked it . . .” Viv was right; Gwen was too smart not to be able to see through him.
Finn prompted, “Um, yes. Getting back to the story?” She and Sir Philip filled us in on the scene at her apartment, but I don’t think it made Finn feel any better at all.
“We arrested Gwen and took her in. We knew it would be going down at Sean’s about seven in the evening, which was cutting it close. So I called everything in, even notified the PM, and we all raced to Sean’s.”
Vivian chimed in, “We picked Lane up on the way.”
Sir Philip carried on, “After we got Sean and Gwen back to the station, I personally interviewed those two policemen who’d been working with Sean, the ones who had the misfortune of trying to wrestle you into the police wagon, Finn.” He raised his eyebrows appreciatively at Finn.
“They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Turns out, Sean told them a convincing lie about Finn and they had agreed to the plan, hoping to hear a confession. However, they started to doubt Sean once they overheard your conversation, despite his effort to manipulate your words. Enough was said, though, that they just carried on with their initial mission for the time being. But the final straw was when they saw the PM and me drive up. Let’s just say they were completely convinced about which side was the right side.
“Most importantly, Finn, my men overheard a conversation with Sean and Gwen around five o’clock. Sean wanted my men there early in case you arrived ahead of schedule. They hadn’t known what it meant at the time, but to sum it up and subtracting some of the more colorful language, Sean and Gwen had been arguing about the culmination of their scheme, as it were.”
Sir Philip looked pointedly at Finn. “Gwen said they’d been planning it for too long, he’d better not mess things up. Then Sean said that if he’d executed a car accident on their own wedding day, he could manage this.” His words had slowly come to a halt, lending importance and solemnity to their weight.
Finn’s eyes were wide with vindication. He finally had proof of Sean’s deception. His shoulders let go of a tension that he had been holding onto for many, many years.
“My men didn’t know what accident Sean meant. But I did,” Sir Philip declared. “It had been in the papers; after all, it had been quite the society wedding.”
“And . . .” proclaimed Vivian with a determined voice, “I filled in Sir Philip fully and gave him Detective Marlowe’s name, the one whom we worked with on the case.” She nodded her head smartly. “They’ll be launching a full investigation into the entire matter.”
Sir Philip sat looking at Vivian with a one-sided smirk, obviously delighted with her spunk. We chatted and wrapped everything up in the next hour. I felt we’d made a great friend in Sir Philip Game, head of Scotland Yard. And I did so enjoy Prime Minister Baldwin’s sentiment about trusting a woman’s intuition. I liked him indeed.
CHAPTER 32
“Hello, I’d like to place a call to the Savoy Hotel, please.” Daphne threw her luxurious fox fur around her neck and over her shoulder as she waited, tapping her toe, looking forward to the call with a cold, satisfied grin of anticipation. “Yes, Lane Sanders, room 407, please.”
“Hello?”
“Lane dear, so good to hear your voice.”
“Oh my God,” whispered Lane.
Daphne’s lilting la
ugh made the clerk turn to her, eyes amused. She gave him a ravishing smile and he happily blushed from his sweat-rimmed collar to his receding hairline.
“Yes, dear, I just wanted to let you know one more little tidbit before I departed. Be sure to ask your friend Alistair if he’s spoken with Matthew’s sister lately.”
Just then the ship’s horn blew loudly. “Sorry, darling, I need to rush off. Ta-ta. See you back at home. I have a business venture to attend to.”
She casually pulled out her compact and looked at her reflection in the little mirror, making sure every hair was in place. She pressed her lips together, spreading her garnet lipstick evenly, as she heard Lane sputter on the other end.
“Oh, and a funeral to attend,” she added.
She quickly handed the receiver back to the clerk. “Thank you ever so much,” she said.
“Of course, Mrs. Franco! Any time,” he said, his blush resuming with renewed vigor.
“Please, call me Daphne. Ta-ta!”
She opened the door of the little shop at the port and took a deep, bracing breath. With that little phone call, she’d accomplished everything she’d set out to do. It was time to head home.
Daphne adjusted her large, dark gray hat with the elegant ostrich feather. Smacking her lips and getting a firm grasp on her purse, she strode over to the gangplank and boarded the Queen Mary.
CHAPTER 33
I replaced the receiver, my heart having sunk down to my feet somewhere.
“Who was that?” yelled Finn from the bathroom.
“It . . . it was Daphne.”
I heard a few things drop to the floor in a clatter.
“What?” he exclaimed, rushing to the bathroom doorway, his collar wide open, tucking his shirttails into his pants.
“I think Alistair may have omitted a detail,” I said queasily. “Daphne said to ask Alistair if he’s heard from Matthew’s sister lately.”
“Oh no,” he said. “Your father was an only child.” I nodded.
“My mom, too. I think that made them a good fit for intelligence work. Not many ties, you know?”
I went to the sink to get a glass of water, feeling parched. “And Finn . . . I think she is at least money-wise involved in the pinball affairs. She mentioned that she needed to get back to attend to a business venture. She said that part, ‘a business venture,’ with a sarcastic tone like I knew what business she meant. The kind of tone that makes you want to kick people in the shins. Then she said she had a funeral to attend.”
“Peter’s,” said Finn with a grim tone.
“Now we know she really was here.”
“Was here?” he asked.
“Yes, a ship’s horn blew just as we were hanging up and she had to rush off.”
“Okay, we’d better confirm that, find out where she made the call. Then we need to contact Alistair,” he said succinctly, his detective instincts taking over.
“So, Finn . . .” I said, thinking things over. “Something else has been bugging me. Why do you think Daphne had it out for me when I was a kid? She and Rex got my parents out of the way, why me?”
He put his hands on his hips for a moment, thinking. I remembered waking up in the hospital bed after I’d plunged into the freezing water with my parents. I had been the sole survivor. I remembered my eyes fluttering open and seeing Daphne and her green hat looming over me. Then raising a pillow in her delicate hands with the magenta nail polish, about to try to suffocate me. I was so listless, I couldn’t react. But she had to put the pillow down and quickly retreat, probably because hospital staff had come in. I’d rehashed those moments for years, but I never was able to recall anything else that might point to why.
I looked over to Finn, hands still on his hips. He said, “Well . . . we know Rex always toyed with people. She’s definitely like that. But you’re right, it does seem like there’s something specific with you.”
“Yeah, she plays with her victims all right, but she’s not wasteful, either. There must be some impetus to wanting a ten-year-old dead. And . . . now we know she knew we were here. Which begs the question, did she intend for us to come? Did she allow Morgan to witness her getting her ticket? Was this part of her plan and it’s just been a wild-goose chase?” I stood up, pacing.
“Hmm . . .” said Finn. “I’d say that’s definitely a possibility. She’s clever enough and patient enough to plan something as elaborate as that. However, even if she intended for us to go to Alistair, it’s all new information to us that we needed to know regardless. She can control some of the information dissemination, but she can never control how we will react and how we will use it. She—and Rex—toyed with people for their own amusement, I think, but mainly it’s for manipulation. And I know you, Miss Throw My Stockings in the Thames, you will not let her manipulate you and for cryin’ out loud, she won’t be able to predict your moves.” He walked over to the mirror to finish adjusting his tie, then said, “No one can.”
I eyed him, wondering if that was a compliment. Or not. I thought of the older gentleman who had walked right into a lamppost when I took off my offending stockings. “Well, I have to admit . . . you’re probably right on that point.”
“All right. Now, let’s finish getting ready and then find Miles. We need more coffee and we need to chat.”
* * *
In half an hour, Miles walked into the hotel restaurant looking dapper in a dove-gray suit with fine pinstripes and a soft periwinkle ascot.
Finn was grinning devilishly at him. “Why, Mr. Havalaar, don’t you look glamorous this morning,” declared Finn, which made Miles turn red and blustery.
“Well, you said breakfast at the Savoy. How else do you suppose a gentleman should dress?”
“Oh, Miles, he’s just teasing. You look perfectly marvelous. Here, let me pour you a cup of coffee.” Finn was still silently chuckling at Miles’s discomfort, but the coffee and steaming croissant mollified him.
I happily drank the delicious and famous Savoy dark roast. It was the best coffee I’d ever had. I decided to bring some home to New York with me.
Finn filled Miles in on what we learned, then continued, “So I put in a call to Alistair and left a message. He should get back with us soon.”
“In the meantime, have there been any other findings about the Red Scroll starting up here?” I asked. I enjoyed his confident demeanor and smiled to myself thinking of the Millionaire’s Flight he took on the Hindenburg. Miles had changed so much from when Finn first met him. I bet he’d never thought he’d be wearing a genteel ascot at the Savoy, once again in the intelligence arena.
Miles gave a thorough report that there had been no signs about anything starting up again. “But I did find out about one particular meeting that took place, and I have a theory about it.”
“We’re all ears!” I said, pouring another cup of coffee.
“We haven’t seen signs of the Red Scroll starting up again here and quite frankly I’m not surprised because business on American soil is much more lucrative now. We are all still rebuilding from the war. I believe Daphne felt she needed to come here in person to prove that she was in charge now. Something in writing would never do. There are business leaders here, the underground crime sort, who would require proof. I’m certain it would be very wise to make sure they knew she was top dog.”
“I would agree with that,” said Finn decisively.
“So,” I summed up, “Daphne wanted us here, wanted us to find out about Alistair’s information, and we have yet to hear about that. But why all that effort? She could have easily gotten us that information without a whole trip across the ocean.”
They agreed and I tapped one finger on the table inlaid with an Art Deco design similar to the windows of the Chrysler Building as I contemplated Daphne’s motives.
Finn set his cup down with a thunk and said, “You’re right. The information about Alistair and John, if she wanted us to know about that, she could’ve easily accomplished that without luring us here. That
’s the part that suggests she didn’t know we were following her, but later learned about our trip, then figured why not have a little fun with us, perhaps.”
“Which makes me think of our long history, which brings us back to the beginning. Why did she feel she needed to kill me back then? I was only ten. Why go through such an extraordinary effort?”
CHAPTER 34
On our way to see Alistair, we decided to drop in to visit our eclectic friends at the Bird and the Baby. We walked into the warm pub and asked the barkeep to send another round to our friends over in the corner.
We approached the group just as Owen Barfield was saying to John Tolkien, “So Tollers, do you really think you’ll get your book out this coming year? Seems awfully fast.”
John replied, “Fast! Seems as long as my little friend’s journey, to me. Fast. Bugger.” Then he caught sight of us. “Say! Lane and Finn! How are you? Pull up a chair.”
Warren Lewis arranged a chair and took my coat for me. He said, “To what do we owe this pleasure? Just dropping in, are we?”
Jack Lewis, a bit of a beefy fellow, had his hands clasped over one knee and a sparkle in his eye. He said, “Oh, by the looks of these two, I’d say they have news.”
“I believe you’re right, Jacks,” said Warren with a gleam in his eye that matched his brother’s.
The barkeep came with his full tray and gave us our pints. Finn said, “Cheers, gentlemen! And we do have a tale to tell.”
We clinked glasses all around as they pulled their chairs just a bit closer together, readying themselves. Storytelling was, after all, their sole purpose for gathering. I filled them in on Alistair and how he had gotten involved with my parents, how he’d hit bottom after his brothers had all been killed in the war, but the kindness of strangers had reminded him of who he was, and what he had to offer.
“I’ve had my father’s dagger all this time,” I said, pulling it out of my purse. “But I didn’t know it had been Alistair’s.” As I thought about the story, I balanced the dagger, blade side up, on my middle finger just as I’d done for as long as I could remember.
The Pearl Dagger Page 16
