Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (42 page)

The other perk Debi enjoyed was creating the window displays. She would put a lot of thought and planning into the themes that were given to her. Hours were spent on each one, but the end result was
always
worth it. She got a kick out of seeing some hard-hearted Londoners hurrying by the window, then stopping for a moment just to have a look. For a brief instant she could see the childlike twinkle in their eyes. Then it would vanish quickly as they dashed off to the Tube or to catch a taxi.

Debi was working on a special Easter display when she noticed a beautiful woman standing outside looking lost and bewildered. Since yesterday had been a holiday, most people were rushing about trying to get shopping done but this woman looked out of place. Although stylishly dressed, she didn’t seem to be comfortable. Debi studied her for a moment as she read their sign:
Since 1760
. The woman had a porcelain doll’s face with a gorgeous mane of hair that was darker than black licori
ce, and her eyes were deep blue
. Debi was surprised to see her come in.

"
May I help you?
"
Debi asked as she stepped down from the window display.

"
Didn’t you used to be on High Holborn?
"
the beautiful woman asked with a strong American accent.

"
Yes,
"
replied Debi.
"
But we moved to this bigger location last year. Is there something I can help you find?
"

"
Yes please,
"
the woman answered as she pulled a photograph from her handbag.
"
Do you have something that looks like this?
"

Debi took the photo from her and looked at it. She knew it immediately.
"
This looks like a replica Bing Teddy Bear… wait a minute.
"

She looked at the photograph more closely. The manufacturer’s identification marker, a silver arrow with the initials GBN, for Germany Bing Werke, was visible on the right ear of the bear. This only existed pre-World War I. After 1919, the marker was changed to an orange circle with the black letter BBN, Bavaria Bing Werke, under the left arm or wrist. That meant the bear in the photo was an original vintage Bing Bear and would b
e worth almost ₤1000—if it were in mint condition. Pity the bear in the photo was weathered and worn.

Debi looked at the woman and said,
"
We do carry a line of replica Bing Bears but they don’t have the mechanisms that they used to have inside. The ones we
have are collectors’ editions and come with a certificate of authenticity.
"

"
Certificate of what?
"
she asked.

"
A lot of people collect them, and display them in their unopened boxes.
"

"
I just need one that looks like this one.
"

"
Wait here,
"
Debi said.
"
I’ll be back in a tick.
"

A short while later, Debi returned carrying two boxes under her arm. She saw the striking woman watching a little boy sit on his mother’s lap while she read him a storybook.

"
Here you go, ma’am,
"
Debi said as she approached the woma
n.
"
I have two 1910 replicas, they’re both slightly different shades. Which would you like?
"

"
Oh, they’re lovely,
"
she took out her photo, compared it with both and picked the one on the left.
"
I’ll take this one.
"

"
That will be ₤125,
"
Debi said. She saw t
he look of surprise flash across the woman’s blue eyes.
"
The replica collectors’ bears are far more expensive than the regular teddies. If you prefer something cheaper for a little boy to play with….
"

"
No, I’ll take it.
"

"
I’ll take you over here to the cash register. Would you like it in a gift box?
"

"
No,
"
replied the woman as she pulled out a thick handful of cash from her hand bag.
"
That won’t be necessary.
"

The woman placed ₤140 on the counter, and while Debi counted out her change, the woman took the Bing bear out of the box.

"
Thank you!
"
the woman said with a smile, and she walked out of the store leaving the box on the counter. Debi threw it in the rubbish
bin and went back to the window to work on the display.

She was suddenly frozen to the spot with shock. Just outside the window, she could see the same beautiful woman grabbing the expensive replica bear by the feet and smashing it repeatedly against the brick wall, completely oblivious to the odd looks she was getting from other passersby.

Debi screamed when she saw the woman throw the bear down on the pavement, on the edge of the kerb and stomp on it with her high-heeled shoes. She hoped that there were no children watching.

Chapter
LV

BLEEP    BLEEP    BLEEP

Over a week ago, Denise didn’t believe in miracles or coincidences. Since then she had seen the most astonishing recovery she had ever witnessed, which changed her thinking forever. It was a cruel, bitter irony that Dr. Natalie Lindsay lay unconscious in the same bed that Myra had been in only one week earlier.

The heart-tracking ECG bleeped very slowly. It was still too early to tell if she was going to pull through. Dr. Rowland had said that it was
"
touch and go" during the surgery. Although there had been no exit wound, he apparently could not find the bullet—only traces of a liquid metal that he had sent to the lab for further analysis.

Denise sat with her for a moment and held her hand. She had just been to this woman’s office only a few days ago. Denise was breaking the rules, but she had feared that someone was trying to kill ‘Myra’. Were the same people responsible for Dr. Lindsay’s condition?
Would they be coming back to finish the job?

Denise never believed in miracles until she met Myra. Now Denise prayed for another.

. . .

Pamela Toughill entered the massive white building of The Royal Bank of Scotland Group Archives in Edinburgh. She had been reluctant to get involved but ever since learning of Callum’s fate, she was determined to follow this through to the end.

She walked across the marble floor to the gentleman at the information desk. He looked at her and her uniform and immediately straightened his back and addressed her formally.
"
Yes… Ma’am. My name is Adrian. How may I help you?
"

Pamela smiled to herself. Obviously Adrian had once served in a branch of the military. She asked politely,
"
Do you have bank records of the Drummonds Bank of London?
"

Adrian nodded,
"
We have customer ledgers going as far back as the 1660’s.
"

"
Can you find these ones?
"
Pamela asked as she slipped him a piece of paper.

He took it and read it.
"
1910? I’ll see what I can find. Have a seat and I’ll have Bob bring you a tea or coffee while you wait.
"

For a moment, Pamela considered coffee, but still said, "Tea, please."

_ _ _

Darren cursed under his breath as he looked at the orange juice stain on a gorgeous Elizabethan costume.
Why can’t actors learn not to eat in their costumes?
He wasn’t sure that stain would come out! Especially around the hand beading and the embroidery.

RING-LING

Darren looked up at the sound of the front door of his store opening. A handsome woman with pale alabaster skin, sapphire eyes and raven black hair strolled into the costume shop. She was fabulously dressed. Her heels made her legs look nice and long with the perfect line. Too many actresses these days didn’t know how to walk properly in heels.

"
What can I do for you, miss...?
"
Darren asked.

"
You can call me Myra,
"
the woman replied in an American accent.

"
I’m Darren. Are you an American actress?
"

"
I just flew in from New York,
"
Myra replied.

"
Oooh, Broadway or Off-Broadway?
"

"
Off Broadway. I’m looking for a dress… in the 1910 era.
"

"
Gigi
or
My Fair Lady
?
"
asked Darren.

"
I beg your pardon?
"

"
Are you looking for 1910 France style or 1910 British style?
"
he asked. He knew there were subtle differences between the two. Especially in ladies
'
fashion.

"
Oh, British,
"
Myra nodded.

"
Wait here, darling. I’ll pull some stuff that’ll make you look stunning.
"

"
Thank you,
"
Myra replied. Darren turned away from the counter. Then he heard her call after him.
"
Excuse me? You wouldn’t happen to have any stray mismatched antique buttons I could buy from you?
"

"
Buttons?
"
he asked, perplexed.
"
How many do you need?
"

"
Just two.
"

Darren grabbed a pickle jar filled with buttons from under the counter.
"
Here darling, help yourself.
"

. . .

Edward sat in the smoking lounge
,
staring at the old painting of New York that was hung above the piano. The idea of a smoking room caused a heated debate among the board of directors. In the end, the point that solidified keeping the smoking lounge was the popularity of posh cigar bars in Manhattan that served expensive port and cigars. So it would be on the RMS
Titan
.

The space had been modeled after the smoking room on the original
Titanic
, complete with ornate wood carved walls and stained-glass partitions. Added features included HEPA (high efficiency particulate air) filters which were now used in hospitals to purify the air quality, and electric smokeless ashtrays. Both of the elder Hoffmans sat comfortably in their wheelchairs, enjoying a smoke and a drink. It was bordering on ridiculous since Mrs. Hoffman had a portable oxygen tank and a disapproving nurse close by.

"
Sonnyboy, try the brandy. It’s excellent!
"
Archibald Hoffman said to Edward.

"
On the
Titanic
, women weren’t allowed in the smoking lounge,
"
remarked the elder Mrs. Hoffman.
"
This is very nice, at last…
"

"
This isn’t the
Titanic
,
"
grumbled Edward.
"
Can we go through this trip without mentioning that damned ship?
"

"
Are you going to sulk the whole time?
"
Archibald Hoffman asked.

"
Forgive me, Father. I have been a little unsettled.
"

"
I can’t believe you thought that woman was me,
"
wheezed Mrs. Hoffman.
"
I mean
, really!
That sounds like the plot of a Twilight Zone episode.
"

Edward glared at Roger, who took another sip from his brandy rather guiltily.
"
Roger, I didn’t know you were back to being in-house council for Hoffman International.
"

"
It’s not like that, Edward,
"
Roger replied, wiping his mouth.
"
I’ve been worried about you as a friend. And I felt, as your friend, that your parents needed to know what was going on… should anyone ask.
"

"
Did you really think I wasn’t your mother?
"
Mrs. Hoffman asked.