Wading Into Murder (4 page)

Laura forced back a laugh. William in disguise, rings, hair, studs and all, would make an interesting sight. “For now, let’s just get warm,” she said.

William nodded. “Maybe we can get together later, so my grandmother can see that paper you found,” he suggested as they headed for the square. “I know she’d be interested. If you can make it, that is,” he added politely. “We’re staying at the Royal Hotel.”

“Easy,” Laura replied. “I’m coming there anyway. My tour group meets at the Royal for lunch at one o’clock.” She consulted her watch and was surprised to see that it wasn’t yet noon. She felt as if a whole day had passed since she went into the Baths.

William looked delighted. “Our tour has lunch there too, so maybe we’re on the same one.” He grinned. “That would be great! Make it easier for us to do more detecting. I’m pretty sure they’re taking us to the Baths this afternoon, so we could try out the key.”

“Mine is too,” Laura confirmed, “so we must be on the same one. That’s why I went to the Baths this morning,” she confided. “I wanted peace and quiet to absorb the atmosphere and get my own impressions before hearing all the facts from a guide. Things didn’t work out exactly as planned,” she added ruefully.

“Guess not,” William agreed. “We had a great time, though. It’ll be even better this time, now that we have the key. I’ll do that part. I already know all the stuff the guide will tell us, so I’ll sneak away from the group and try the key while you listen and distract the others. My grandmother knows that stuff, too, so she can help. No one ever dares to stop her from doing weird things,” he said with a grin.

Laura laughed. “I bet they don’t,” she agreed. “The place I’m staying is around the corner, so I’m off. See you shortly.”

Waving goodbye, she hurried back to her B & B and headed at a trot for her room on the second floor. Fortunately her landlady was out, so she didn’t have to explain why her clothes and boots were once again wet and filthy despite the clear weather. 

At the top of the stairs, she almost collided with a tall and very elegant young man. His manicured appearance made Laura feel like a drowned rat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, squeezing past him in the narrow space. His smile was polite, but she could see that he was annoyed. Leaning down, he wiped pointedly at his elegant pinstripe suit and the perfectly pressed shirt cuffs that extended from it.

Probably got a spot of wet on them, Laura thought sourly. “Fell into a puddle,” she snapped, and stomped down the hall. He stared after her, shook his head as if to clear it, and proceeded down the stairs.

“Snob!” Laura muttered to herself as she unlocked her door. The room had a medicinal smell, irritating her further. The maid must have used a disinfectant spray when she straightened the room. She hadn’t done a very good job, either. The coverlet looked rumpled and one pillow was on the floor.

Now for a hot shower and some clean clothes. Laura went to the closet, glad she had taken the time to hang everything up neatly last night. She felt bedraggled enough as it was, and going to this first meeting of the tour group in crumpled clothes would only make her feel worse.

She opened the closet door and gaped in dismay. Shirts, slacks, skirts and everything else – even her favorite outfit, the multi-colored jacket and flowing skirt she had planned to wear tonight - lay in a tangled pile on the floor.

CHAPTER FOUR

Laura shook her head, unbelieving. It looked as if someone had searched through her clothes and been interrupted before managing to hang them up again. But who would do that? Someone who knew she’d taken the baby and didn’t like it? But she had only found it a few hours ago. No one could find out where she was staying and get here that fast. How could they get in anyway? The front door was kept locked and only guests were given a key.

It was more likely that a maid or other employee had been looking for valuables, Laura decided. If so, the thief was out of luck. Her passport and money were in the pack on her back, and there was nothing more valuable in the room than a few pieces of costume jewelry. None had been taken, which suggested the burglar had given her up as a bad bet and gone on to the next room.

A long hot shower improved Laura’s mood considerably. She slipped on a black pant and tunic set of non-crushable fabric that had survived its time on the floor best and twisted her tenaciously curly auburn hair into a pile on her head. Adding a brilliant scarf and some small but dangly earrings so she wouldn’t look impossibly conservative, which wasn’t at all her style, she headed for the Royal Hotel.

The first person she saw was Lady Longtree, standing near the hotel door in another even more improbable hat, this one a wide-brimmed floral affair.

“We followed the mother but as you know, she eluded us,” Lady Longtree confided in a husky whisper. “Still, you and William seem to have found the right house since you saw the father and a young woman who knows the mother.

“William adores detecting, if not babies, so I left him to it,” she added. “I rather like it myself.” She frowned. “I am also quite curious about that particular baby.”

“I am too. The Baths seems such a strange place to leave it.”

“I suppose it’s because of all those women,” Lady Longtree said vaguely. “They clean the bathrooms in tourist attractions and can get in. I cannot help but wonder -”

“I’m so very glad, my dear, that you are on the tour,” she interrupted herself, to Laura’s frustration. She wanted to know what Lady Longtree meant by
all those women.

“I’m glad you and William are on it, too,” she agreed. “I’ve never joined a tour before and I’m a bit nervous. Knowing two people already is a great help.”

“I have also been anxious about it,” Lady Longtree confided, “especially with William in tow. Teenagers are so expert at dissecting adults, don’t you think? The trouble is that they’re not always as polite about it as we were taught to be, and the consequences can be hard to predict. Still, he seemed to like the idea. Antiquities and New Age in one package. I expect we’ll see a lot of that sort of thing in Glastonbury.”

Laura laughed. Glastonbury, where they would go next, was known as a mecca for occultists, new age types and mystics, standing as it did on the reputed site of the first Christian Church as well as being the place where the legendary Arthur and Guinevere were thought to be buried.

“We can compare notes,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be very interested to hear what William thinks about our fellow participants. He is very perceptive.”

“He is indeed,” Lady Longtree agreed. “I am sorry, my dear, that we left you to deal with the police alone,” she added apologetically. “I can’t bear publicity. If you have a lady attached to your name, people feel they can say the most outrageous things about you. And then, of course, there is William…”

She broke off as William came into view. “Off you go, my dear, and we’ll join you in a moment,” she instructed, waving Laura toward the room where the luncheon was being held. Laura obeyed. One just did obey Lady Longtree, she reflected.

Everyone was milling about looking self-conscious, as people always did in these circumstances. Turning to the nearest person, Laura introduced herself.

She immediately wished she hadn’t. The man, who announced that he was Dr. Ludwig Bernstein, looked exactly as she had always imagined a mad psychiatrist might look. He was short, not fat but definitely sturdy, had dark skin, a dark pointed beard and intense olive eyes that bored into hers. When he explained at some length that he was a pediatrician turned child psychiatrist who had a particular interest in the subconscious and the occult and children’s latent ability to tap into them, she almost choked. It was much too easy to visualize him in an old science fiction movie, doing experiments on his unsuspecting clients. He even had the right accent. German, she thought, which turned out to be correct as well. He also used a distinctive and cloying aftershave. Laura massaged her nose surreptitiously, and managed not to sneeze.

An extremely attractive woman came up beside them and Dr. Bernstein introduced her as his wife, Claudine. Her accent was different; Laura placed it as French, possibly because Claudine looked exactly like her internal picture of a Parisian woman. Everything about her was elegant; her clothes were perfectly cut, her hair perfectly coiffed, her make-up discreetly applied. Only a few lines of disillusionment and discontent marred her otherwise lovely face.

They made desultory conversation until another participant joined them. He was small and neat, with white hair belied by a youthful face. His sharp blue eyes were in constant motion, seeming to take in everything that was going on around him even as he made charming conversation. He was from Switzerland, and his name was Hans Gruber. When he heard that Laura had just finished a walking trip, he told her she must come to his villa in the mountains of Switzerland to walk next summer.

“Switzerland is the most beautiful country in the world,” he enthused. “We have snow-covered mountains, valleys filled with flowers and lakes, and trains or busses or cable cars to take you to the high places, so you do not have to climb all the way. You are on the top from the very beginning, and the world spreads out around you.”

He gestured expansively, almost upsetting the tray of drinks that had appeared at his elbow. “Let me know when you come and I will show you it all,” he promised, taking a mug of beer.

“I may do that,” Laura replied. “I won’t forget.” She wouldn’t, either. Switzerland was definitely on her list for walking places she wanted to visit.

The tour director, Alan Mansfield, a handsome man in his forties, came to greet her, bringing in his wake three women who had gathered around him like bees drawn to honey. He introduced everyone with an easy patter that covered each person’s status and interests. The two younger women were English, medical technicians at the same hospital who loved gardens especially, Laura gathered; the third woman came from Japan and was interested in photography, as was her taciturn husband.

Alan Mansfield was very good at his job, Laura decided, watching him circle the room to chat amiably with each of his clients. He charmed the women but was careful not to be too attentive, lest his intentions be misconstrued. The men seemed eager to impress him. The same kind of competitive masculinity she saw in apes was at work, Laura suspected, with each male jockeying for status.

The tour director appeared at her elbow again, this time without his retinue of eager followers. “You had an unusual experience in the Baths, I heard,” he said quietly. “I hope it didn’t distress you unduly.”

Laura was horrified. Did all these people know about the baby? What an appalling way to start a trip!

“No, it didn’t,” she answered, “but I do hope the story doesn’t get about. Being known as the woman who found the baby in the Baths could get tedious.”

“I don’t think anyone here is aware of your involvement,” he assured her. “The only reason I know is because the guide who will take us through the Baths this afternoon told me what had happened.”

“Are the Baths open again?” Laura asked.

“Yes. I gather they think the call about the bomb was made to keep people out of the Baths until the baby had been picked up, but you foiled the plan.”

“I’m glad they don’t have me down as a baby-stealer any more,” Laura said. “When I was in the police station I was afraid they did.”

 Alan Mansfield smiled sympathetically. “Of course they don’t,” he assured her, “but if there is any further trouble, please come to me. We are here to help.”

“Thank you.” Laura was grateful. She didn’t understand the British police system, and a sympathetic local ear would be welcome.

“At any rate, I shall do my best to see that the story does not get around,” the director went on. “Probably the less that is said about it, the sooner people will forget,” he added smoothly, which Laura suspected was a polite way of telling her not to talk about it either.

“I intend to put the whole matter out of my mind and concentrate on the tour,” she assured him.

Alan Mansfield nodded. “Excellent. I am sure the case will be resolved very soon anyway. The police here are very good.” With another reassuring smile, he went off to tend once more to the others.

Feeling that she had earned a break, Laura retired to a corner to watch her fellow travelers. It would be interesting to see if her initial impressions of these people held up. As a start, she suspected that although Alan Mansfield was careful, he wasn’t averse to a pleasant romance if one came his way without complications. She wondered which woman he would choose, or more likely, who would choose him. Her bet was on one of the young medical technicians, who were both rosily pretty despite a few extra pounds, maybe even the lovely and discontented Claudine, if he was sure he could get away with it and she seemed cooperative.

Another person appeared in the doorway and stood observing the group. Laura watched her curiously, wondering who she was. She was almost six feet tall, had a mop of unruly dark red hair and an intent gaze that made Laura think of a friendly hawk, perhaps because of her yellow-brown eyes. Laugh lines decorated her face and she had the ungainly look of a colt despite middle age.

Their eyes met and the woman smiled, a quirky smile that told Laura they intuitively understood each other. She smiled back, delighted. It was rare for her to feel that instant rapport with another woman, and when it happened she treasured it. She looked forward to getting to know the red-headed stranger.

Alan Mansfield called everyone to the table, and as they consumed an excellent lunch, he provided an informative and interesting overview of the sites they were to visit and the philosophy of the tours he ran. “We call this a limited, independent tour,” he told them. “
Independent
means that escorted activities are always available but there is no compulsion to join them. I will point out, however, that our clients find the background information we provide as we go through each attraction quite valuable.

“Limited
means that we restrict the number of people to fifteen, and we limit the tour to the attractions in this area that most appealed to you in the survey we sent out. That way, we can set a leisurely pace and spend more time at each place. I will also note that our schedule is flexible. If it rains, we focus on indoor activities, on fine days we concentrate on the gardens, which are particularly popular with most of you.”

Laura was pleased. Those were exactly the reasons she had selected this tour, and it was good to hear them confirmed. Rushing from one place to the next in a huge group held no appeal. No one could feel atmosphere that way. An added inventive had been the surprisingly low cost.

Alan answered a few questions and distributed a detailed itinerary. From Bath they went to Glastonbury and stayed for two nights to see the various attractions; three nights in a well-known manor house followed. Those days would be spent visiting nearby attractions like Stourhead Gardens, Longleat House and Safari Park, and the ancient city of Wells, where they would attend a rehearsal performance of the famous Cathedral Choir. A final day in Bath and a concluding dinner completed the tour.

A brief description of the people on the tour, based on information each had provided, was also included. They were well done, Laura thought, scanning them. They told her more about each person’s interests and background and would serve as a valuable shortcut to establishing friendly relations. The unknown red-haired woman wasn’t on the list, she saw, and wondered why.

She glanced at her own profile and found it accurate if embellished with superlatives she hadn’t provided.
Professor at a well-known American University
, she read,
whose course on gender evolution was a resounding success last summer. This summer she will teach a new course on the effects of religious and political turmoil on women’s status today. Dr. Morland has spent the last year conducting research on this very topical issue.

Alan’s voice recalled her. “This afternoon, we are taking those who wish to join us to the Roman Baths, the Museum of Costume and Bath Abbey. Elise Brown, who is an authority on all these sites, will conduct the group. I recommend that you take advantage of her expertise. There is also the benefit of not having to stand in line since immediate admission is included in the tour and we are expected.”

He consulted his watch. “Coffee will be served on the terrace, and at two thirty, we leave for the Roman Baths. It is only a short walk from here, but the van is always available if anyone wishes to ride. Just let me know.

“Thank you everyone for listening.”

A polite smattering of applause followed, and then they filed outside into the charming little terrace off the dining room.

The red-haired woman was sipping a cup of coffee and Laura joined her. “Quite a pet, isn’t he?” the woman said, gesturing toward the psychiatrist. “He’s so perfect for the role one wants to reach out and pat him. And the wife - now there’s a study in frustration.” Her voice was low and gruff, and very pleasant.

Laura grinned. “Do you suppose there’s any truth in the theory that psychiatrists go into the field because they’re a bit crazy themselves?”

 “Or terrified of being crazy,” came the prompt answer. “By the way, I’m Violet, Violet McLarty. Ridiculous, I know, I mean the Violet part, and you are permitted to laugh. My dear misguided Mum apparently thought I looked like one as an infant. Little did she know how overgrown her darling little plant would turn out to be.”