Walking Into Murder (14 page)

“Now, where can I take you?” Adrian asked, resuming his brisk tone. “I assume that you, Mr. Smith, are staying at the manor.”

“Catherine and I are staying at the Fairfax House in Stourton,” Laura told him. “It would be wonderful if you could take us there. And I really am sorry to cause you so much trouble.”

Adrian repeated the formal little bow he had displayed earlier. “It is indeed my pleasure to be of service to a pair of such gallant ladies,” he replied.

Thomas uttered a choking sound and clutched his chest. Not a heart attack, Laura was sure, just more suppressed laughter, which undoubtedly played havoc with ribs that had recently suffered a vicious kick.

Still with a hand on his chest, he rose slowly to his feet. She and Catherine each took an elbow as they trooped back to the truck. Thomas wobbled between them, but seemed to regain strength as they approached Torrington Manor.

“Perhaps it would be easier for you, Banbury, if you dropped us at the Manor,” he suggested smoothly. “My car is there, so I can take Laura and Catherine on to their lodging.”

Laura had no intention of letting him drive, but to her surprise, Adrian agreed to the plan. Maybe he’d had enough of these strange beings called Americans who were always getting themselves into trouble.

“I’ll drive. You’re not fit to,” she said firmly after Adrian had left them. “Why don’t I drop Catherine off at the B&B and then take you to the hospital so they can have a look at you? You’ve probably got a broken rib or two as well as a concussion.”

“I’m feeling a great deal better now,” Thomas assured her. “You can drive, but I’ll skip the hospital. There’s not much they can do anyway.”

Laura didn’t argue. She was too tired. What energy she had left had to be devoted to staying on the correct side of the road. She never had been able to tell right from left with any accuracy, so it wasn’t going to be easy.

“I want to know why you said you were looking for your wife at the manor, but told Dr. Banbury you were looking for me,” Catherine asked from the back seat.

“I saw Banbury before I realized there might be an art fraud going on at the manor,” Thomas answered, and in the rear-view mirror Laura watched Catherine’s face light up with relief. “After that, it seemed prudent to keep your name out of it so no one could use you to get at me if they found out that I was an investigator.

“And then Laura materialized out of the mist like the proverbial answer to a prayer,” Thomas added, “so I found myself a wife instead. Best idea I ever had.”

“Well, don’t let them get hold of her, whoever they are,” Catherine admonished sleepily. “She’s part of the team. We need her.” She yawned. “A bed sounds wonderful,” she admitted. “The stable was nice with the dogs but it’s itchy too. And there are rats. I saw a lot of strange activity, though. It’s interesting there at night.”

Thomas turned toward her sharply. “What did you see? Besides rats.”

“Well, a truck drove up a couple of times and parked outside the barn. A bunch of guys were there, and they were loading stuff into the truck, just like they did tonight. Only then it was paintings, at least that’s what they looked like. I didn’t dare go close enough to see who the men were, though.”

“Did you see anything else?” Thomas was fully alert now.

“Not much else except Antonia getting it on with Stewart,” Catherine answered. “I guess they do that a lot.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Thomas blinked. “Antonia and Stewart,” he murmured tonelessly.

Laura wanted to laugh. If Thomas
was
having an affair with Antonia, that bit of information would certainly rankle.

“She’s not your type, Dad,” Catherine declared. “I told Laura that when she asked.”

Thomas’s face was a study in astonishment and Laura suspected her own was a study in embarrassment. She hadn’t really asked that, had she?

Thomas gave her a curious look. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you met Adrian,” he said, changing the subject completely.

“I met him when he gave me a lift over the flooded road at Torrington Manor,” Laura explained. “He was kind enough to show me his gallery,” she added, feeling she should say something in Adrian’s defense.

Thomas’s eyes widened. “That really is a coup! I’ve been told that he only lets a few chosen people go in there, and so far I’m not one of them.”

“I think he asked me because I look like one of his portraits,” Laura told him. “At least Adrian seems to think so.”

“He fancies Laura,” Catherine said from the back seat. “That’s why he asked her. He can’t take his eyes off her. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No, I can’t say I had,” Thomas answered, sounding disgruntled.

He turned to Laura. “Why did you ask if I was involved with Antonia?”

“I didn’t quite ask that,” Laura replied, “just if you were the type to have affairs.” She hesitated and then plunged ahead. “I was curious because I saw you in that clinch with Antonia in the barn.”

Thomas confounded her again. “Clinch? What clinch?” He sounded genuinely astonished.

Laura squirmed in her seat, a motion she immediately regretted. “Well, I went to look for you this morning to say I was leaving, and Antonia’s arms were around you, and…” Her voice trailed off, and she felt her face flush.

Thomas shuddered. “They were? No wonder I felt so horrible. That’s like being embraced by a viper. Damned woman must have doctored my morning coffee as well as knocking me on the head. I haven’t been able to clear my brain all day.”

Laura blushed even harder. That didn’t sound like a pretense. Obviously, she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Thomas saw her face redden and grinned. “You are charming when you’re that pinkish color, especially when your hair is decorated with twigs and leaves, and the rest of you with dirt.”

“I am sorry if my appearance disturbs you,” Laura answered stiffly. “I shall try to moderate it in the future.”

“That was a compliment,” Catherine corrected sleepily.

“A compliment?”

“My mom spends hours getting her hair right, and her nails and her clothes and her face and everything else,” Catherine drawled. “It’s pretty boring, so you’re a relief.”

Laura wasn’t sure being a relief was a compliment, but she let it ride. At least she’d found out something about Thomas. He wasn’t keen on women who fussed over their appearance. In her case, that was a pretty good start.

Catherine suddenly sat up. “You know what?” she exclaimed, tapping her father on the shoulder, “I think Laura is really Miss Marple in disguise, except she’s much younger and prettier. He loves Miss Marple,” she explained tolerantly to Laura, and stretched out on the seat again.

“Much prettier,” Thomas agreed. “In fact I would say she’s the prettiest detective professor – or should it be professor detective - I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“As well as the smelliest,” he added sotto voice to Laura. “That liniment Banbury gave you is horrendous. I bet he did it on purpose so he can have you all for himself.”

Laura glared at him. “You are impossible!”

Thomas smiled broadly. “If we ever get to know each other really well, and I sincerely hope we do, I shall strictly forbid smelly liniment of any kind.”

“And I,” Laura responded through gritted teeth, “will never, ever again come to your rescue on a horse.”

She brightened, considering another possibility. “For that matter, maybe I’ll just use the liniment as my special perfume when you’re around instead.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Laura came down to breakfast the next morning, she was greeted by an unwelcome piece of news.

“That poor child’s been kidnapped,” her landlady informed her excitedly as she brought in some freshly baked muffins that smelled gorgeous. “The one at the Manor, you know. She’s an odd little thing but still…”

Laura was horrified. “You mean Angelina?”

“That’s the one,” her landlady agreed. “Vanished, she has. She was staying with Lady Torrington’s mother, but now she’s run off, or more likely been taken by one of those horrible child molesters. They’ve got everyone they can find out looking for her.”

“Now, now, my dear, nothing to worry the guests about,” her husband rebuked as he brought in Laura’s pot of tea. “The child will turn up safe and sound just the way she did the last time she disappeared.

“She’s a one for tricks, Angelina,” he explained to Laura. “The last time she persuaded a friend to invite her to stay for the night but she never told her grandmother or anyone else. She likes getting everyone all excited.”

He was right about that, Laura reflected, remembering how Angelina had stood in the middle of the drawing room and announced dramatically that the woman on the bed really was dead. She felt a sudden pang of fear. Who else had Angelina told? Whoever had killed the cook might view the child as a threat. He or she had gone to great pains to hide the fact that a death had even occurred.

Laura drank her tea gratefully but found the rest of her breakfast hard to get down, despite the truly superb muffins.

“Lord Torrington was worried about Angelina running away again,” Catherine commented when she came down for breakfast. “I guess she did. She sounds like one determined kid.”

“She is that,” their host agreed, appearing with the coffee pot this time. “They’ll find her, though, just like the last time,” he added confidently.

Laura wasn’t comforted. Angelina hadn’t seen a dead body on that occasion and had been no threat to anyone. Thomas was another concern. He had driven himself off last night, saying not to worry about him because he might have to be away for a few days, but how were they not to worry?

“I feel badly about leaving you with Catherine,” he had apologized, “But I can’t think what else to do. I never thought when I came here that I would get embroiled in this blasted case. I really did come here to look for Catherine, you know, and one day I will be able to explain what happened. For now, I can only ask for your help.

“But please don’t let Catherine get into any more dangerous situations,” he had begged. “Things could get really nasty. I don’t want her hurt, or you for that matter.” Impressed by his serious tone, Laura had promised.

She looked at her watch. Thomas had also said he would try to call in the morning, but so far he hadn’t. Was that because he didn’t have access to a phone or because he was incapacitated? There was no way to tell.

The weather didn’t help, she thought gloomily. Rain slashed at the windowpanes and poured from the gutters in gushing torrents. Laura dashed out to get some cash after breakfast with the vague idea that she might need more money now that Catherine was with her. If she didn’t hear from Thomas soon, she decided when she returned to the hotel, she would call a cab and go to Torrington Manor on her own. Perhaps she and Catherine could help to look for Angelina, and in the process, check on Thomas.

She waited for another half hour; then she and Catherine put on their rain gear and loaded their packs with essentials in case they had to roam the countryside searching for Angelina. Laura was just about to call for a taxi when their host knocked at the door.

“Gentleman to see you,” he said cheerfully.

“I wonder if it’s Adrian,” Laura said as they went downstairs. “He must know about Angelina, too. Maybe he wants us to help.”

Instead, a burly man holding a very wet cap was waiting in the hall. The hostile gardener, she realized, except he looked friendlier now. He even attempted a smile.

“Dr. Banbury sent me to fetch you,” he told them politely. Laura was even more astonished. Why would Adrian send this man?

“I thought you were the gardener for Torrington Manor,” she objected, aware that that the thought of getting into the car with this man made her uneasy.

“I’m gardener and chauffeur in both places,” the man answered in the same polite tone. “Dr. Banbury would like to meet you at Torrington Manor.”

Laura felt deflated. She’d made a mystery out of nothing. He had been driving Antonia’s Mercedes because he was also her chauffeur.

“Why does Dr. Banbury want us to come?” she persisted.

“He didn’t tell me that,” the gardener replied, and she heard impatience in his tone. Still, he was trying to be pleasant, and she decided not to antagonize him by asking more questions. Surely, Adrian wouldn’t send him unless it was all right. Besides, he would take them to Torrington Manor, which was where they wanted to go.

A remarkably sleek-looking car stood at the curb. Adrian must do very well indeed as a vet, Laura thought, impressed. She wished he had used this car last night. Her derriere might feel a good deal better.

The gardener cum chauffeur opened the back door for them, closed it carefully and slid into the driver’s seat. The car’s engine purred to life.

“I dunno about this,” Catherine whispered. “I think he’s one of the men I saw loading paintings. And why would Dr. Banbury send him?”

“He’s his chauffeur and gardener,” Laura explained in a low voice. “Same at Torrington Manor, so it should be all right.”

Catherine was looking out the back window. “We’re being followed,” she reported nervously. “There’s a dark car right behind us.”

“You’ve watched too many TV shows,” Laura said with a laugh that sounded forced even to her own ears. Her uneasiness increased. Was this really the way to the manor? The road didn’t look right to her, and they hadn’t passed the pub where the taxi had left them last night.

She leaned forward. “I thought we turned left back there for Torrington Manor,” she told the gardener, and wished she had asked for his name.

“Have to go around the back way,” he replied. “The other road is under water still with all the rain.”

That sounded reasonable to Laura. “I don’t know your name,” she commented, trying a friendly tone. If she could butter him up a bit, she might learn something useful.

“Roger,” he answered shortly.

“Have you worked for Lord Torrington and Dr. Banbury long?”

“No,” was the curt reply. Roger cut the wheel abruptly to avoid a hole, as if to emphasize that he had to concentrate on driving, and Laura subsided into the back seat. There seemed nothing else to do. If the man really was trying to take them somewhere they didn’t want to go, they could always open the doors and leap out. The car was moving very slowly, due to the rain and the muddy road, so it should be possible. Or was it? She tested the door handle and found it was locked. The various buttons and knobs she tried failed to release it.

“Car’s still with us,” Catherine reported softly.

Laura didn’t respond. She was suddenly filled with misgivings. Catherine was her responsibility and she had promised Thomas to keep her out of danger. They should never have got into this car.

Unexpectedly, Roger pulled over and the car stopped. Laura stared out the window and saw nothing but trees and bushes. This couldn’t be Torrington Manor.

“Out,” Roger said. “We walk from here.”

“Where are we?” Laura asked. “I’m not getting out until I know where we are and why we have stopped here.”

“Please yourself,” Roger replied with a shrug. Laura didn’t believe him. His tone was light, unconcerned, but his eyes told another story. They were mocking, even triumphant, and her stomach tightened with fear. He didn’t mean them to have a choice. Why had she ever got into this car?

She knew she was right when the car behind them turned around in a farm track and pulled up facing their car. Stewart climbed out. When she looked back at Roger, she saw a gun in his hand.

“Uh, oh,” Catherine muttered. “A different duo. Armed, at that.”

“Yes,” Laura agreed, horrified that she had got Catherine into this. She wished fervently that she had the cook’s walking stick, but Thomas had kept it as evidence.

Maybe she could bluster their way out instead. “Put that damned gun away,” she snapped irritably to Roger. “This isn’t cops and robbers, and it makes me nervous.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Roger’s face darkened with rage. He pointed the gun at her. “Out,” he snarled. “Now!”

Laura knew that this time he meant it. The mockery had left his eyes, and she saw only implacable dislike.

Catherine took her hand. “I guess we get out,” she said.

“Stick together,” Laura told her in a whisper as they left the car. “Hang on to each other and don’t let go. They might try to separate us to get the advantage.”

“Do you think Dr. Banbury really sent him?” Catherine whispered.

“I doubt it, but we can’t be sure. He could have,” Laura replied grimly.

Stewart started up the road he had used to turn the car around, and Roger gestured with the gun that they should follow. He came behind, his heavy footsteps squelching into the wet earth. The track led up a long hillside filled with sheep, then curved down between two hills. It was a lovely place, or would have been in any other circumstances, with fine views in all directions. Laura was glad she had her pack. Her compass and maps were in there; if she could get to them, she would try to orient herself.

The rain had eased during their drive, but now the clouds opened again, quickly turning the farm track into a quagmire. Stewart slipped with every step. His shoes were more suited to London sidewalks than a rough track, Laura noticed, and he had no rain jacket. Both seemed odd for a groom who presumably spent most of his time out of doors. Laura examined him as he struggled through the ever-deepening mud. He was handsome in a macho way, with almost Grecian features and a sturdy build. He wasn’t a type that appealed to her, but she could imagine that Antonia might find him sexy, with his curly dark hair and stubble, at least in comparison to Lord Torrington’s country gentleman looks, which didn’t seem Antonia’s style.

“Stop,” Roger ordered behind them, and Laura’s stomach tightened again. Were they going to be shot in this remote place?

Stewart disappeared up the track, and Roger trained the gun on them. He appeared to be waiting. Laura and Catherine watched him, their muscles tense with readiness in case a chance came to escape.

Incongruously, the playful whistle of a steam engine cut into the silence.

“It’s the kids train,” Catherine murmured. “Runs near here.”

Laura nodded. She had seen the tracks on her map, and the local shops were full of posters and brochures advertising the little steam engine and its glorious ride. The contrast between her present situation and the innocent tourist attraction was ludicrous. Here she was with a gun in her back, and a short distance away, eager children and their indulgent parents steamed happily through the countryside.

Silence fell when the train had passed. Laura wondered what would happen if she and Catherine dived simultaneously into the bushes. Before she had time to evaluate this possibility, Stewart returned. He nodded at Roger, communicating a message of some kind. Roger motioned with the gun for them to continue along the track.

“At least he didn’t shoot us there,” Catherine whispered jauntily.

“Right you are,” Laura agreed, feeling her spirits rise a little. She had a lot to learn about courage from Catherine.

They rounded a corner and saw a low stone cottage. Built against the hillside, it was surrounded by a clearing that must once have been a garden. A few roses and a border of bright flowers still sprawled haphazardly across the earth. Laura would have found the setting charming if she had come across the place in an innocent ramble. Then she noticed a disturbing anomaly. All the windows were boarded up. She felt a thud of panic deep inside.

She turned to face Stewart and Roger. “Where are we, and why have you brought us here?” she demanded. Neither man answered, but she noticed that Stewart looked tense and miserable, even afraid. Aha, she thought. He might be the weak member of the team. The knowledge could be useful.

Stewart pushed open a door at the back of the cottage. He didn’t look at either of them. “In there,” he said with a swift gesture. He had unexpectedly delicate hands, and there was paint under his fingernails. Laura was surprised by both facts. Had he been interrupted in some painting job to come here?

She was about to refuse his order with the vague hope that he might intervene on their behalf, but a glance at Roger’s face stopped her. He looked as if he would welcome an excuse to shoot. Stewart’s eyes, in contrast, were almost pleading. Was that because he didn’t want to see them shot, or was there another reason?

She and Catherine went through the door and found themselves in a tiny kitchen. To their astonishment, it was well fitted out with appliances, pots, pans and everything else a kitchen might need. There was even some food stacked on the counter - cans of soup, packets of tea and coffee, a loaf of bread and some cheese. The lights were on, too. How extraordinary! This must be a holiday cottage, for people to rent. Why had they been brought here?

She took another step into the room and heard the door close behind her. She whirled, but knew immediately that she was too late. A key turned in the lock, and a bolt scraped noisily as it was driven home on the outside of the door.

“They’re locking us into this place!” Laura said in disbelief, and felt an irrational urge to laugh. She had been expecting a bullet, or at the very least a dark and smelly cellar inhabited by rats and lacking food or drink. Instead, she was being locked into a well-stocked cottage.

“This is ridiculous!” Catherine muttered with an hysterical giggle.

Her face sobered instantly. “Look!” she exclaimed in horror, pointing at a row of boots at one end of the room. Laura followed her gaze but it took her a moment to see the significance. One pair of boots was very small. They were also pink.