The Scarlet Wench (10 page)

  Nora felt her throat tighten. She needed to be away from this place that had always seemed like a haven. Putting a jumper and hat on Sean, she pulled on a jacket and grabbed her mobile. She fastened Sean into his buggy and pushed him hurriedly through the dining room toward the front door.

  In the drawing room, she saw Grayson Lange in the middle of a circle of his troupe, a hushed discussion taking place among them. He moved his puffy fingers to exercise them as Fiona held the ice bag to her lower leg and Gemma hung on Grayson’s good arm.

  “Darling, that could have been me that fell.” Nora heard Gemma’s raised voice as she opened the front door. With Gemma, it was all about her, Nora thought, bumping the buggy down the steps. Sean crowed with delight and banged his feet on the buggy’s edge. She turned toward the quay and her favorite lakeside bench. She had to get away from these toxic people and whoever hunted them. Why had she ever thought them to be such models of humanity to admire? With the exception of possibly the Dentons and Burt Marsh, the others were a fractious, backstabbing bunch of misfits.

  She thought back over the incidents as she walked. A missing script was one thing, a dead bunny a sick prank, but cut brake lines and falls downstairs were an entirely different matter. What if she had been the one to trip on the fishing line? What if Sean had been in her arms or strapped to her chest? She couldn’t bear to think of it.

The incidents weren’t directed at just one person, so what did that mean? Did someone want to send a message to or really hurt the cast of
Blithe Spirit
?

  Nora mulled this over as she reached the bench and sat down, looking out over Windermere. A line of geese screeched overhead, and she watched a pair of swans glide by. The geese distracted Sean, and he babbled happily while Nora took out her phone and called Val. As it rang, she saw an unmarked car pull up the drive at Ramsey Lodge and recognized Detective Sergeant Higgins as he hurried inside.

  “How’s our favorite detective?” Val’s warm alto soothed Nora instantly.

  “He’s fine, just fine.” Nora was too upset to gush.

  “Any action?”

  “That’s not why I’m calling.” Neatly sidestepping that for the moment, Nora plunged into an explanation of the events of the past few days.

  When she stopped her recitation, Val’s voice grew thoughtful. “Yankee, should I come and take Sean back here for a few days? For that matter, why don’t you just bring him here and stay yourself?”

  “I can’t do that, Val. I’m supposed to be helping Simon, remember? He’s going to have it tough once word gets out about all of this. People are superstitious in small towns, and lodge business is sure to suffer.”

  “Just a second.” There were voices in the background.  “Let me call you right back. We’re not done here.” Val rang off.

  Nora looked at Sean. His strawberry-blonde hair shone in the sunlight, and he cooed as the swans glided closer. She remembered feeling an instinctual and immediate love from the first moment she had held him in her arms and had counted he had the right number of fingers and toes. The protective mask she wore at times fell off unequivocally with Sean, revealing an honest and deep love she knew would never fade.

  With a start, she realized this must be what Muriel Pembroke had felt at one time for Paul. Whatever the cause of their eventual estrangement, there was a time when what she felt right now, this very second, was what that mother had felt for her son, too.

  Nora’s mobile rang and she answered right away. “Val? Yes, please do come and get Sean. I can’t leave Simon right now, but I don’t want the baby at Ramsey Lodge a minute longer.”

  “I’m still not sure you should stay with a maniac on the loose,” Val argued.

  “If you take Sean, I’ll be free to help find out what’s going on here.”

  “You mean our delicious detective isn’t on the case?”

  “Oh, he’s on the case all right. Only he can’t see the forest for the trees.”

  “Do I detect a little friction between the lovebirds at Ramsey Lodge?” Val’s snicker had Nora smiling.

  “Let’s say a momentary glitch I’m quite sure will be fixed as soon as I convince him I have something real to contribute.”

  “Oh, Yankee, you have got your work cut out for you. I’ll get to you tomorrow. But as I recall from my dealings with our dear detective, I seem to remember a stubborn streak almost as wide as yours.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Well, of all the filthy low-down tricks … !”

Elvira: Act
II
, Scene 3

2:30 PM

When Declan came downstairs to the drawing room, he found the cast in a desultory rehearsal. Only the Dentons, sitting on chairs watching the scene unfold before them, appeared animated. Gemma and Fiona battled with each other and with Grayson in a match of Coward wit that had no one laughing.

  Even Helen’s usual high spirits lagged, her bright turquoise turban slightly askew as she adjusted her scarves and waited for her cue. Burt stood by the fireplace, working at rigging a vase to fall during the climax of the play.

  Poppy hung in the doorway, intent on her iPad. When she glanced over her shoulder and saw Declan, she slammed the cover shut.

  “Back to work?” He pointed to Fiona and Grayson, the two walking wounded.

  “The show must go on and all that rot.” She shrugged, apparently unfazed, and moved off to sit in a chair in the back row, where she reopened her iPad.

  Not a talkative one, Declan decided, or was talking reserved for Grayson Lange?

  Simon came in from the kitchen, his frown lines deepened. “Agnes is getting a migraine; Callie drove her home. All this stress. Thank goodness dinner is sorted and Maeve comes in tonight. And here’s more trouble.”

  They watched Detective Sergeant Higgins enter the Lodge.

  “Sergeant, good of you to come.” Declan shook the policeman’s hand, as did Simon, although Declan picked up on Simon’s reluctance. Last autumn, Simon had had his own dealings with Higgins.

  “Major conference on in Manchester, and we’re down to a skeleton staff for emergencies.” Higgins drew out his notebook. “I’ve had a look at the forensics report on that car. No fingerprints found.” He turned to Simon. “Why don’t you show me this evidence you have, and I’ll get your statement?”

  “Anything to get that bloody rabbit out of my freezer,” Simon said.

  “You’ll do background checks on that lot?” Declan inclined his head in the direction of the drawing room.

  Simon’s face paled. “I guess there’s no getting around that.”

  “Not unless you think Callie or Agnes have developed a sudden mad streak,” Declan said. “The answers lie with the cast. When the reports come in, could I have a copy?”

  “Certainly, Inspector,” Higgins said. “The chief is happy to have your assistance.”

  Declan clapped the man on the shoulder. “We’ll get it sorted. In the meantime, I might take a quick walk, as I think we’ve had today’s drama.”

  Simon motioned for Higgins to follow him. “I certainly hope so.”

*

2:40 PM

Poppy sat through the dreary rehearsal from her perch on the back row of chairs. She was surprised at the way the Dentons watched, as if it were the first time they’d seen this scene. This
was the boring part, between her entrances and exits. Once she’d marked up her script, she had little to do when she wasn’t on stage. She fiddled with her iPad. It was really amazing what could be found online these days. Images and old photos galore.

  Maybe after dinner, she’d start the final fittings for the costumes if Grayson agreed. Then she could work on any needed alterations in her downtime instead of enduring this mind-numbing tedium. The only thing of the slightest interest to her was watching Grayson as he moved around the stage, trying his lines in various deliveries, coaxing the others to sit taller or move more gracefully.

  Poppy watched Fiona milk her sore leg for all it was worth, stopping to adjust her ice pack. Bloody cow should have hit her face instead. Poppy stifled a snicker as an image rose in her imagination of Fiona with her face blown up in bright colors like an Oompa Loompa from
Willie Wonka
. How fitting for someone who’d had Grayson in her grasp and had let him go.

  As for Gemma, if she had to listen to that tart’s loud giggle much longer, she’d go seriously bonkers. Poppy selected the images she wanted and hit “share” to Grayson Lange’s Traveling Theatre Troupe’s Facebook page.

*

2:43 PM

Nora stowed her mobile. She saw Declan searching for her on the quay. He wore his hiking gear, shorts with thick socks and boots, which allowed her to examine his muscled calves. She remembered the feel of those legs wrapped up in hers, and her pulse quickened. Her feelings toward the detective changed from minute to minute. How could he annoy her so much in one moment and then make her heart beat faster the next?

  She waved, and he joined her.

  “There you are.” He knelt down to Sean’s eye level. “Enjoying those swans, mate?”

  Points to Declan. “He gets very excited when they swim close to us,” Nora said.

  “One day we’ll take you to the shore and let you feed them, all right?” He spoke directly to the child. “Just have to watch they can’t nip you.”

  “He’d love that. I haven’t wanted to get too close on my own.” She met Declan’s probing gaze. In the bright light, his grey eyes had an aqua glow. The annoyance between them fell away.

  “The two of us can surely handle it, if you’re ready.”

  Nora’s heartbeat thudded in her ears.
I’m more than ready
, she wanted to say. Instead, her breath caught in her throat, and she nodded. He got up and sat next to her.

  A goose swooped overhead. Sean cried out happily and stretched his arms up, breaking the tension of the moment. Both adults laughed, but Nora’s worry for Sean returned.

  “Val’s coming tomorrow to take Sean to Oxford for a few days.”

  “Good idea.” He stroked her shoulder. “Maybe you should go, too.”

   “I can’t leave Simon.” Nora smiled at him. “Besides, you’re here, not in Oxford.”

  Declan sighed. “Nora, I admit I don’t want to send you away. So far, the incidents seem directed at the cast, but what if that changed?” His lips brushed her hair. “Just having me on site won’t guarantee your safety.”

  It meant the world to her that he cared for her and the baby. “I saw Higgins arrive.” Nora wrinkled her nose. “I imagine Simon can’t wait for that bunny to be out of his freezer.”

  “Higgins will be here a while to go over everything with Simon—how the troupe came to be here, all the incidents—or I wouldn’t think about leaving you to take a quick hike.” He placed his arm along the back of the bench. “Agnes has gone home with a migraine. Callie drove her home.”

  “Callie’s off tonight, anyway, with Maeve in.” Nora buttoned Sean’s sweater and sat back. “Where are you headed?”

  “Maybe just to Miller Ground, too late to do more. There’s a front coming in, so before it—” He examined her. “Unless you’re afraid even with Higgins here. I don’t have to go.”

  “No, you should go,” she protested. “If we get rain, you can’t walk in a downpour. And it
is
supposed to be your holiday.”

  “It’s not the only reason I came here.” His thigh brushed hers, and he lightly touched her shoulder.

  She tilted into him, feeling his breath across the top of her head as he spoke about the intelligence checks Higgins would carry out. She inhaled his scent, woody with a hint of something like spiced honey. If she could just freeze this moment.

  She didn’t want to renew the tension between them right now, but somehow she had to convince him that Maggie Denton’s death was important and especially that the play had something to do with what was happening at Ramsey Lodge.

  “This is a beautiful place,” he said, a low voice in her ear. “I can see why you’d want to live here.”

  “It’s one of the loveliest places I’ve ever seen,” she agreed, taking in the lapis water. She noted the edges of the fleecy, white clouds to the west had taken on grey edges. It would surely rain tonight. “But it’s losing its gloss for me lately.” She remembered she hadn’t told Declan about the solicitor. She was about to do so when he spoke.

  “Do you ever miss Oxford?”

  Was that hope in his voice or was it her imagination? She decided to let the issue of Mr. Daniel Kemp drop for now. They’d had enough to deal with for one day. She thought of Oxford’s golden spires and the glow of its ancient buildings in the afternoon light. “Sometimes,” she admitted.

  And they left it at that for the moment.

Chapter Sixteen

“I feel as though something tremendous had taken place.”

Madame Arcati: Act
I
, Scene 2

3:30 PM

Declan eyed a large outcropping up ahead to the right and noted a flat rock that would make a good seat. He stepped off the trail and sat down, leaning back against taller rocks behind him. Stretching his legs, he paused his iPod, dropping his ear buds around his neck. It seemed almost sacrilegious to have Pink Floyd’s
The Division Bell
thumping in his ears when he was surrounded by so much nature, but the album reminded him of his late teens, when it hit the top of the charts. The craggy fells across the lake looked purple in spots. He could see pathways cut into them leading to sparkling tarns. The breeze was light, and he closed his eyes and let the afternoon sun warm his face.

  He would never have taken this brief hike and left Nora and Sean alone at the lodge unless it was timed with DS Higgins being on site. When he had found out Nora was sending Sean to Oxford, he had felt it was the right decision. It meant she would be relieved of one worry—and that meant she would up her snooping, which he didn’t want to encourage.

  He’d learned in the past that she had good instincts, but what was happening at Ramsey Lodge was difficult to figure out. He had to admit he agreed with her that the mystery revolved around this particular group of people. Whether that had anything to do with the death of the Dentons’ daughter remained to be seen. As for the actual play being somehow tied in, he doubted that. Still, the last thing he wanted was for Nora to be in any kind of danger. Part of him hoped she, too, would go to Oxford with Val. That would be a sad irony—Nora in Oxford when he had finally made it to Cumbria to be with her.

  Something else was bothering Nora. He had sensed it as they’d talked. And how did she feel about him? It was another reason to leave her with her own thoughts for this brief time. He hoped that by coming here he’d shown her that he wasn’t put off by her child. That was easy, for the little boy was certainly a charmer. She would share what was bothering her when she was ready. He’d have to trust her on that. He hoped Higgins’ intelligence checks would reveal someone he could point to as the culprit, and then this would all die down—and he could focus on the real reason for his stay at Ramsey Lodge.

  He opened his eyes. This was a huge change from the bustle of Oxford, which had its own beauty with its deep sense of academic tradition and history. Lately, he’d been thinking about change in all its forms. He knew he could never stop being a detective—it was too much a part of him and was how he felt most alive—but could he see himself policing in a place other than the Thames Valley Police?

  This area had its share of crime. Just look at last autumn’s murders, when Keith Clarendon and two others had been killed. There was crime in every village and city in the world, so he wasn’t necessarily tied to Oxford to do his job.

  No, it was more a question of what he wanted out of life besides his work. He saw death too often to take life for granted. He’d realized for some time that his existence was lacking something … or someone.

  Declan reached into the pocket of his fleece for the apple he’d taken from the fruit bowl at Ramsey Lodge. He rubbed it across his leg, polishing it until the red and green shone, a habit that took him back to his father. He bit into the skin, the juice running into his mouth, its tart-sweet fragrance filling his nostrils, reminding him of the apple tree that had stood in the garden of his family home. His parents’ marriage stood out like a talisman, a goal he wanted to fulfill in his own life.

  A group of middle-aged hikers approached, chatting in what sounded like German. He nodded as they passed, and they saluted him, waved and carried on. One couple in the rear stopped to take a photograph, the woman focusing her camera over the vista spread before them. They had to be in their late forties or early fifties, he estimated from wide streaks of grey at their temples, with the well-defined leg muscles of long-time walkers.

  As he watched, the man’s arm came up to the woman’s shoulder in a tender and familiar gesture. They waved gaily to him as they walked on, calling out “guten Tag!” as they came abreast of his rock. Declan envied their easy camaraderie. The man’s arm dropped to his side, and the woman held his hand as they passed. Declan missed that feeling of being part of a couple, one half of a whole.

  His brief marriage to Anne had fallen apart because she hadn’t been able to tolerate the demands and uneven hours of his job. Nora wouldn’t be like that. If anything, he’d have to hold her back from getting too involved in his work. She also had her son and her writing to pursue. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of being with her. Declan finished his apple and wrapped the core in a napkin, tucked it into his pocket and started to whistle “High Hopes” from the Floyd album. The clouds were gathering, and he could see far off to the west that grey tendrils of rain were already coming down. Better start back to Nora and the lodge. He hoped Higgins had finished taking statements from the cast. The interruption to rehearsals would not have gone over well with Grayson.

  Declan removed his left boot and adjusted the toe of his sock where the seam had begun to rub. Thoughts of Nora in all her guises filled his mind: Nora annoyed at him when they disagreed, green eyes flashing with stubbornness; Nora’s face softened with tenderness when she held her son; Nora looking him right in the eye, then closing hers in ecstasy as they made love. A voracious reader, Declan remembered a couple of lines he thought might belong to Hemingway:

  “Death no longer lingers in the mind. Fear no longer clouds your heart. Only passion for living, and for loving, become your sole reality.”

  Declan retied the shoe and took one last look around the spot, committing it to memory and thinking, “This is the place where I’ve decided whom I need to spend the rest of my life with, wherever that might be.”