Crimson (65 page)

Miranda protested, “It’s nearly six o’clock. I’m worried about Annabel she should have been back here three .hpurs ago! I don’t like to leave without her. Can’t Detective Inspector Piper do something about finding her?” Richard Fraser shook his head.

“He’s fraud squad. And You Ive already notified the police.” “Look, we’re all worried,” Sam admitted.

“But what can we do except tough it out? And move in on Adam as fast as possible?” “I’m going round to Adam’s place now,” Miranda said.

“Don’t try to talk me out of ill” Sam sighed and turned to Fraser.

“You take this stuff to Piper’s office. We’ll meet you there as soon as possible. I can’t let Miranda go by herself.” After the door had shut behind the accountant, Sam said, “Before we leave, I think you should have a swift look at these.” He pulled two creased sheets of paper from his pocket and handed them to Miranda.

Miranda scanned the first document. She looked puzzled.

“This is my birth certificate. How did you get it? Why give it to me now?” She glanced at it again.

“Hang on . This isn’t my birth certificate!”

Mystified, Miranda once again scanned the white sheet of paper, with its royal crest, headed: “Certificate of Birth.” She read aloud, ““Name, Miranda Patricia. Sex, girl. Name of mother, Patricia Doreen Kettle. Name of father, William Montmorency O’Dare. Date of birth, seven November 1941. Place of birth and registration district, St. Pancras. Subdistrict, south-west St. Pancras. Certified to have been compiled from records…””

Miranda looked at Sam.

“This birth certificate says that Daddy Billy was my father! What rubbish!”

Sam said nothing. Miranda looked again at the certificate.

“Miranda Patricia O’Dare is my name all right, but who is this woman called Patricia Doreen Kettle? She isn’t my mother! And this isn’t my birthday!”

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“Look at the other paper.” The second sheet of paper bore the letterhead of Swithin, Timmins and Grant; it was handwritten and dated 17 March 1942. Slowly Miranda read: “My dear Elinor, I beg you to do nothing hasty. Miranda is now Billy’s only surviving child, and so she might, one day, have a claim to Larkwood, together with the entire estate. Because of this, I advise you on no account to destroy her genuine birth certificate. Yours, in haste, devotedly, Joe.” Miranda looked up and said, “So if these documents aren’t forgeries or jokes, I am Daddy Billy’s daughter, not his granddaughter. But if this Patricia Doreen Kettle was my mother, then … Edward and Jane weren’t my parents … and I’m not related to Elinor!”

1 AY, 31 JANUARY 1969

Sam and Miranda hurried from the lawyer’s office through gShtly falling snow. Miranda impatiently brushed snow fink from her face and beckoned to her driver, waiting at the opposite kerb in her silver Mercedes.

Before the driver could pull over, a taxicab shrieked to a stop in front of her. The driver jumped out and hurried around to open the door for his passenger, but before he could reach it, the door opened.

The passenger collapsed on to the trampled, grimy snow at Miranda’s feet.

“Annabel!” Miranda recognized the wolfs king coat and crimson boots. She knelt in the snow beside her sister.

The driver said to Sam, “I wanted to take the lady to St. George’s Casualty, guy, but she made me bringer ‘ere.”

Annabel’s face was unrecognizable. Her swollen left eyelid was badly torn, leaving the top of her eyeball ex-. posed; the eye was cut and bloody. Her flattened nose was i clearly broken. Two front teeth were missing from her open, bleeding mouth.

“What happened?”

“I picked ‘er up at the junction of Cadogan Lane and Pont Street. She was staggering about. Matter o” fact, I thought she’d ‘ad a bit too much to drink. Then I saw the blood.”

“Thank you. She’ll be okay with us.” Sam thrust notes into his hand.

“Hey, wait a minute, guy. You gotta give me your name and address. Sorry, but we ‘ave to report this sort of thing to the police.”

The casualty ward doctor bent over Annabel.

“Bad bruising on the face … left eye cut … Looks as if there’s a loss of one muscle, which will have to be restitched. The two front teeth can be dealt with later. Fractured nasal septum … Fractured left radius and ulna … Fractured fifth, sixth, and seventh ribs on the left side … severe abrasion on stomach, chest, and legs.” He stood up.

“I can’t cope with all this. Nurse, please call the emergency eye doctor and get an orthopaedic specialist to look at the fractured forearm. Clean her up and get her to the operating theatre fast. Give her a normal anaesthetic, but with a muscle relaxant.” Sam telephoned C i, the Major Crimes Branch of the Metropolitan Police, from the hospital pay phone. He doubted that Annabel’s mugging was a coincidence. If he was right, this case was no longer merely a case of fraud. It was also assault and battery, grievous bodily harm, and attempted perhaps actual murder.

After talking to Ci, Sam checked his watch: seven-thirty p.m. in London meant two-thirty p.m. in New York. He called Scott’s office.

Annabel lay in the operating room, her hair tucked beneath a green plastic cap, as the medical team the ophthalmic surgeon, the orthopaedic surgeon, the casualty doctor, the hospital emergency anaesthetist, the nursing sister, and two nurses prepared to go about their business.

After the anaesthetic was administered, the orthopaedic surgeon cleared up and stitched the abrasions; then Annabel’s fractured left arm was gently put’ back in place and set in plaster, and her ribs strapped back. These matters were dealt with quickly and easily, but the eye operation was a far more delicate matter.

“We’re looking at major trauma to the eye,” the ophthalmic surgeon said after his initial examination.

“I’m going t. clean up initially. She’s lost that left eye muscle and h left eye. She’s had a nasty laceration, and *Adse er th e,re;s a lot of abrasion as well as damage to the cornea. If I can save the eye, she’ll need at least one further major operation, when the bruising and lacerations have subsided. At this stage, I can’t say whether her sight will be impaired indefinitely.”

The eye operation took over an hour. Afterwards, the ophthalmic surgeon removed his-gloves and ran his hands over his face wearily. He washed, then again donned his dinner jacket; without being asked, the sister tied his black bowtie. He hurried off.

After Annabel’s nose was set, she was given a sedative injection. It was ten p.m. when she was wheeled into a dimly lit ward filled with other recovering emergency patients.

At three in the morning, she became conscious of the pain: it hurt to breathe. She felt such pain in her head that she winced with each laboured breath.

Upon hearing her groan, the nurse sitting by her bedside spoke reassuringly.

“You’re in hospital, Mrs. Svensn. You’ve had an accident. You’re going to be all right. Your family are waiting outside. We had to give you an injection, before we tidied you up, and the effects are wearing off now, which is why you’re waking up.”

“I … can’t … see.” Her words were slurred and muffled, almost as though she were drunk.

“That’s because your left eye is bandaged, and your right eye is very swollen.” She fed Annabel a little water from a cup with a spout. As the water dribbled into her mouth, Annabel retched. The nurse sponged her lips and continued to soothe her until Annabel drifted into an uneasy sleep.

SATURDAY, I FEBRUARY 1969

As soon as Miranda opened her eyes, she reached for the ivory telephone at her bedside.

“It’s only seven o’clock. The hospital said you couldn’t call before nine,” Angus sleepily reminded her.

“I’d forgotten.” In the pale winter sunlight, Miranda sighed, then stretched luxuriously.

“Well.” well, well,” she said softly.

“I’ve been practising,” Angus murmured smugly.

“No more practice needed.” Gently she pinched his rather large ear.

“I’m a jealous woman.”

“So now will you marry meT Miranda propped herself on one elbow.

“Hold on, darling, give me time to collect my thoughts.” She was delighted by his proposal. The big obstacle clearly no longer existed: she would be happy to stay in bed with Angus for the rest of the week, and to live with him for the rest of her life. She was confident that they would live happily ever after, for all the reasons she had originally become engaged to him. But she couldn’t think about the future until she had resolved the present. But she Wasn’t going to risk hurting Angus or herself again by making up her mind in a hurry although now that it was behind her, she could admit to herself how much she had regretted breaking off their engagement.

By ten a.m.” Annabel was vaguely aware of nurses” voices, of squashy rubber-soled shoes treading a rubber floor, china clinking, a radio playing soft music. She could smell antiseptic.

Her right hand was warm. It was being held in somebody else’s hand.

Annabel whispered, “Scott?” “I’ve been here for over an hour, angel.” 56o don’t … leave me.” ain.” g ,tTn so … sorry.”

“So am V During his long flight, Scott had been able to think of nothing but Annabel and their marriage. He had eventually decided that there were no innocent partners in 4-troubled marriage, and if one spouse pointed an accusing loger at the other, it was probably an unrealistic way to solve the problems and save the marriage.. Annabel had not been his wife and partner: he had always expected her to be his second lieutenant, to submerge her individuality to his needs, and to be displayed Scott’s status symbol. He suspected that if she hadn’t fallen for that bastard Adam, she’d have fallen for someone else someone who was prepared to make the effort to make her feel that he cared for her as a person and not as a supportive prop to his self-image as a smart and successful career man.

Scott kissed Annabel’s hand. In a frenzied whisper, he told her what he had been longing to say: “I thought my job was a good enough reason to neglect everything else, angel -I didn’t mean for it to suck up all my time and energy. Things are going to be different, Annabel. I want to be successful, but I also want my life.” In spite of her woozy state, Annabel could feel his warmth and tenderness. She could feel the difference between Scott’s loving attention and the skilful but detached and uninvolved attention she received from Adam.

She whispered, “Scott, I’m so ashamed.”

“So am I. In future, I’ll be looking after you.” He rested his cheek on her arm, which lay on the bedclothes.

“What’s… happened … to meT Annabel asked.

“A couple of guys mugged you and snatched your purse. The police have to ask you a few things, later. You’ve got a broken arm and ribs, and … they reset your nose. It will look exactly the same the surgeon swore it would.”

“My eyes feel funny.”

“They punched your face, angel.” “Are my eyes going to be all right?” Scott hesitated.

“Of course.”

“You’re such a bad liar, Scott.” After a moment, he said, “Your right eye will be fine.” Annabel’s soft sobs hurt her broken ribs.

“You’ll certainly be able to see,” Scott said.

“And it doesn’t matter to me … Oh Christ, I shouldn’t have told you.” V want to know … I don’t want to be treated like a child any more.”

“You won’t be.” Scott again kissed her hand.

“In fac ‘t, if you still want it … I know I’ve always argued that New York was no place to bring up a child … But what the hell other people do it. Why shouldn’t weT

Annabel stopped crying.

“Can you remember what happened, madam?” the unseen policeman asked quietly.

“Not much,” Annabel whispered.

“But I’ll try.” Just after five cclock, Annabel had left Adam’s home, explaining that she was late for a dress fitting. As she hurried along, her crimson boots occasionally slipped on the slush. She turned left into Pont Street, where she thought she could probably get a cab. There was nobody in sight and very little passing traffic.

Annabel was vaguely aware that a small woman in dark clothes had emerged from the recessed door of a flower shop already closed for the night on the corner of Cadogan Lane. As Annabel hurried past, this woman suddenly leapt towards her. Expertly she thrust her left index and middle fingers up Annabel’s nostrils, which jerked her head backward. At the same time, the woman hooked her right foot around Annabel’s left boot and tugged it beI’s arms circled wildly as she slipped on the she tried to regain her balance but failed. She crashed backwards. From behind, she heard a, car draw up. In the light of the. st .tlamp, she looked up and saw two men with stockinp pulled over their heads, flattening their features into Umfying, inhuman shapes.

As the two men jerked Annabel to her feet, twisting her so that she faced the street, she felt the woman grab her led shoulder bag, then saw her jump into the car, take the -Wheel, and rev the engine. I With a thug on either side of her, Annabel was held in aid-air. Her elbows pinioned to her body, she was dragged to the rear of an old Morris Minor parked in Cadogan Lane.

As one of her attackers swiftly and roughly searched her, the other hissed, “We’ve got a message for you. Remember for the future if you make trouble, you get trouble!” He drew back his fist, then smashed it in Annabel’s jaw.

He continued to hit her with a professional boxer’s skill and a steady’ rhythm as the second man held her more or less upright. Annabel felt agonizing pain in her kidneys; her left ribs seemed to explode. She felt a blow to her chest, then could no longer breathe as her nose was smashed. After the first punch in her eye, she began to lose consciousnes “Better leave it at that,” she heard the second man grunt as she passed out.

“You know what happened last time.” In her bronze Reliant Scimitar, Miranda drove Sam to Wiltshire, where Josh was waiting for his dad. Sam had spent the night at the hospital, and felt as stiff and stale as yesterday’s bread, but he had promised Josh that he would see him over the weekend. And Miranda wanted to talk to Elinor about the birth certificate.

Jet lag was now catching up with Sam, but Miranda’s fast driving over snowy roads in the sports car was sufficiently suspenseful to keep him awake.