The Scarlet Wench (6 page)

  Nora handed Gemma the wet rag. The actress turned off the
waterworks and moaned a bit for Nora’s benefit as she laid it across her forehead.

  “Who would do such a rotten thing?” Gemma sniveled.

  Nora sat on the side of the bed. “Someone’s idea of a sick joke.”

  Gemma muttered, “Who knows?” And moaned again.

  “Who knows what, Gemma?”

  The actress remained silent. Nora’s mind was in overdrive. Who
would
have committed such a perverted act and why? Perhaps Helen was right: Evil had entered Ramsey Lodge.

*

2:20 PM

Declan’s walk had started with a ferry ride to Far Sawrey. He followed a gravel shore path and climbed a hill that gave him spectacular views of England’s largest lake. The sun sparkled on Windermere’s surface. Sailboats bobbed about, and powerboats decorously observed the newly reduced speed laws. The vista gave him a feeling of omnipotence. Freedom from work and stress encouraged him to smile at the other walkers he passed, as did the thought that when he returned, Nora would be waiting for him.

  The night before, his mood had leapt from disappointment to great joy. His warm welcome had eliminated any awkwardness between Nora and him; the hours they spent together had been filled with playful discovery.

  “I’m so glad you knocked on my door,” he’d told her as they lay together in the early hours, her hair spread out across his chest. Had they slept? He couldn’t remember, but he could still feel her touch on him. When she’d risen in the early hours to creep back downstairs before the baby woke, he’d moved to her side of the bed to lie in the warm spot she’d left behind.

  Declan found the Cuckoo Brow Inn, south of Far Sawrey. They poured a good pint he enjoyed outside at a table, eating the sandwiches Callie had provided. Replaying last night, he ached for Nora as he brushed the crumbs off and continued his walk.

  This wasn’t the most challenging hike he’d ever undertaken but a reasonable one to start his week and clear his mind from the pressures of his usual investigations.

  Working in the Criminal Investigation Department as a Detective Inspector, Declan enjoyed his squad and worked to develop a good team. While there were separate departments that investigated drugs, organized crime and even high-tech cyber crime, Declan thought of his unit as the regular working group for the crimes that affected Oxford’s citizens: serious assaults, robberies, sexual offenses, even murder. He pursued all criminals with zeal borne out of his desire to outwit evil.

  On his way back, Declan stopped at a gift shop on the quay and perused the postcard racks for the tackiest one he could find. CID’s notice board displayed offerings sent from staff on holiday to tease those stuck at work. He chose one split into four views of the area with
Greetings from Cumbria!
splashed across the top. There was a view of Scafell Pike and a sunset over the lake for the top photos. The lower half featured Wordsworth’s Dove Cottage, its gardens in full bloom, and lastly—the deciding factor for Declan—a shot inside The World of Beatrix Potter, with dozens of stuffed Peter Rabbits and Jemima Puddle-Ducks on display. Brilliant.

  Then to bring a smile to the likes of Watkins, McAfee and the others toiling away, Declan scrawled across the back:

  No crime, not missing you, glad you’re not here. D

 
He addressed it and, after buying a stamp, stuck it into the red postbox on the corner. Mission accomplished.

  Declan crossed the road to Ramsey Lodge, mood high. The brown-stone Edwardian lodge looked attractive and well maintained; its white woodwork shone in the sunlight. Declan inhaled the spring air, wondering if he could get Nora away for a few hours tomorrow. Perhaps a trip to the Windermere Steamboat Museum? He wondered how far a ride it was to Sizergh Castle. Both would have facilities for buggies.

  He opened the lodge door and paused on the step to check for mud on his hiking boots. An iron hedgehog, its back a stiff bristle brush, sat to one side for just this purpose, and as he worked on removing the clumps of dirt that clung to his boots, he heard Grayson Lange’s bellowing voice.

  “ … and I want to make it clear to whomever is responsible that I will not tolerate any more of these childish pranks. This ends here and
now
.” His voice shook with anger, then quickly changed tenor. “I’m quite prepared to overlook today’s incidents in the interest of the play. Now if you’ll turn your scripts to Act
II
… ”

 
Today’s incidents
? What was that about? Declan closed the door behind him. After being in the bright sun, he stood blinking for a minute in the darker hall.

  Nora came downstairs leading Gemma Hartwell. He caught her serious expression and tried to ignore the rush to his groin. Gemma’s face was red and blotchy. Declan raised an eyebrow in question at Nora, who stood beside him to watch Gemma’s entrance into the drawing room. The actress was greeted with a loud burst of enthusiasm from Grayson.

  “Here’s our Elvira now! We’re starting Act
II
, dear, so your entrance will be from those French doors outside. Fiona, you’re sitting here when I make my entrance.”

  Fiona sat at the round table Burt had situated under the chandelier.

  “Remember your direction is to greet me ‘with a certain stiffness,’ Fiona,” the director instructed. “This morning you were much too friendly.”

  Declan enjoyed the glare Fiona shot Grayson, but the director ignored her as the rehearsal commenced. He and Nora turned as Simon came downstairs, carrying a small object wrapped in a green plastic bag.

  Nora tugged Declan’s sleeve. “We need to talk. In Simon’s room,” she commanded. “I have to get Sean.”

  Declan followed Simon to his kitchen and pulled out chairs.

  “Don’t ask.” Simon placed his bundle on the table.

  Nora returned with Sean and sat down with the baby on her lap. She explained the incident in detail, and Declan frowned.

  “Not a nice thing to find on your pillow,” he agreed, turning to Simon. “How did you get it into that bag?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “Miss Marple here had me pull the bag over the carcass and roll it into the bag, so no, I haven’t touched it.”

  “Excellent.” Declan caught Nora’s eye and smiled. “Do you have a pen and any tape to seal it, Simon?”

  Simon rummaged through a drawer and found a roll of masking tape and a marker. Sean reached for the bag but Nora distracted him with a set of plastic keys he promptly put in his mouth and chewed.

  Declan sealed the bag and used more tape to wrap it mummy style. He signed and dated a last piece of tape and held the bundle out to Simon.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Simon reluctantly took the rabbit.

  “Have room in your freezer? Better to err on the side of keeping evidence, just in case there are more pranks.” Declan flashed on the memory of the card he’d just posted and hoped he hadn’t jinxed his holiday by writing about the lack of crime in the area.

  “Don’t forget Fiona’s missing script,” Nora said. “We should make a list of why this might be happening and who may be doing it.”

  Declan frowned, noting Simon gave her a similar look from his side of the table.

  She looked from one man to the other. “What?”

  “Let’s not get carried away, Nora. It’s enough I have a dead rabbit in my freezer.” Simon sighed. “This has a childish quality about it.”

  “I agree.” Declan noted the firm set of Nora’s lips.

  Nora was not to be mollified. “It might be childish, but what if these pranks escalate? No one working here would steal a script or kill a rabbit for kicks. I have a child on the premises, remember? Maybe Callie could look—”

  “Nora, you will not involve that young woman in snooping in the guest rooms.” Simon’s firm pronouncement brooked no argument.

  “It’s an invasion of their privacy,” Declan added. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten your capacity for lying.” He had to resist shaking his finger at her.

  Nora buried her face in Sean’s hair to hide her blush. “I only pretended that Oxford don was my uncle to talk to him.”

  Simon reacted before Declan could answer, widening his eyes. “What about telling the porter I was your husband?”

  It was Declan’s turn to widen his eyes. “You told someone Simon was your husband?”

  Nora dismissed them both with a wave of her hand that Sean imitated with a shake of his keys. “You two get so upset over a little truth massage. Needs must, Agnes says.”

  Declan snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Nora threw back at him. “‘Just call me Declan’ to everyone, no hint of your detective title.” Her green eyes flashed.

  Declan couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to be annoyed. “I’m on holiday,” he reminded her. “But I’ll keep my eye on things around here—and on you, Nora. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower.”

*

7:25 PM

Nora turned on Sean’s musical mobile and tiptoed away from his cot as his eyes fluttered. There was a soft knock at her door, and she raced to open it before Sean raised his head in curiosity.

  Helen Mochrie stood in the hallway. Tonight’s turban was purple. “Sorry to bother, but I think this must be yours.” She held out Nora’s blue robe.

  “Where did you get this?” Nora kept her voice low and looked back at the empty hook on the side of the armoire where she typically hung her robe. A frisson of alarm ran through her. Had someone invaded her private space?

  “I found it lying across my bed when I came out of the bathroom.” Helen shrugged her shoulders and matched Nora’s low voice. “How’s that lad of yours?”

  “Going to sleep, I hope.” Nora couldn’t tell if Helen was still in character or not, but she couldn’t shake the fear someone had come into her room when Sean was napping. She tried to remember where she’d last left her robe.

  “He seems to have a very mild disposition,” Helen said. “Not mine. Even as a child he was given to—”

  “—the most violent destructive tempers,” Nora finished with delight. “That’s from the play!” She explained her familiarity with the script.

  Helen chuckled. “That may come in handy yet. I’m afraid staying in character is a habit I can’t lose during a run.” She pointed to the robe hanging over Nora’s arm. “Now as to your robe, I suspect between pranks like Fiona’s script and that ridiculous dead bunny, someone thinks this is a way to pay Grayson back.”

  Nora’s brow furrowed. “Whatever for? I don’t appreciate someone coming in here, especially when Sean might be here alone.”

   “I’m afraid Grayson’s past is more checkered than he’d like to admit.” Helen winked. “Try not to take it personally.”

  Nora looked at her sleeping child and decided that would be a very difficult thing to do.

Chapter Ten

“You’d better take that warning to heart … ”

Ruth: Act
I
, Scene 2

8:50 PM

Simon finished his pudding while Callie refilled coffee and tea. He watched Nora stir her tea. She’d bathed Sean and settled him for the night before she’d joined them for dinner but seemed preoccupied. Declan kept them entertained with stories of stupid criminals he’d dealt with, a counterpoint to the director’s notes to his cast. While the cast members were engaged in listening to him, Nora quietly described how Helen had found her robe upstairs and the ugly feeling of her space being invaded with Sean captive in the room.

  “There might be a key for that door,” Simon suggested.

  “Not safe to lock him in,” Declan pointed out.

  “Then what do I do?” Nora whispered. “I can’t leave him alone knowing someone’s been in there.”

  “I have an idea,” Simon said and motioned Callie to the hallway. He had a brief conversation with her and returned to the table.

  “All sorted. After clearing up, Callie will do her studying at Nora’s desk until she’s ready to turn in.”

  “A good solution, Simon,” Declan said. “I doubt whoever’s doing these pranks will go back to Nora’s room, but why take a chance while we try to work out what’s going on?”

  “Which is why we need to make a list of who has a motive for these pranks and what they mean.” Nora became insistent. “Helen thinks they’re directed at Grayson.”

  Simon snorted. “Helen’s opinion isn’t one I’d bank on. Nothing’s been directed at him yet.”

  “But it all bears keeping in mind,” Declan said. “Which is why you are to leave the snooping to the professional, Nora.”

  Nora’s crossed arms told them what she thought of that idea.

  Simon privately agreed with Declan to keep an eye on Nora, given her confounded need to put her nose where it didn’t belong. All right, she lived here and was in the midst of things, he could see that. But he had thought that when she’d become a mother, she’d lose the need to pry into everything. There was no question she was an excellent mum, but the second that baby was whisked away for a nap or to bed, she was up to her old tricks. And now that her space with the baby had been invaded, it would be tough to stop her.

  He’d just put the last bite of pudding in his mouth when Grayson Lange rose and tapped his water glass with his knife.

  “Listen to me, peons.” He waited for everyone’s full attention. “Today’s rehearsal went well, despite a few hiccups. Thank you for knowing your lines and working so hard. I was going to ask Nora to prompt for us, but it doesn’t seem necessary. Burt—” He nodded to Burt’s end of the table. “—the set looks amazing.”

  A burst of applause from Helen had the others politely joining in.

  The man knew how to grandstand, Simon thought grudgingly.

  The director continued. “I’ve decided we’re going to sample the local pub, The Scarlet Wench. It’s just down the road, and I hear it has a fine selection of real ales and has even put up a welcoming banner in our honor. Everyone’s invited—you in the corner, too. First round’s on me.”

  Chairs were pushed back, and Fiona and Gemma went upstairs to freshen up.

  “Would you rather watch
Rebecca
with me in my room?” Helen asked the Dentons. “I have the new version, but I don’t think Charles Dance is as handsome as Olivier.”

  “Delighted,” Lydia beamed at Helen. “Rupert was never a pub man.”

  “I’d love a pint,” Declan said, looking at Simon.

  Simon caught on. “Nora, you and Declan take off. Callie and I can handle clearing up and the baby monitor, and Callie will stay with him until you get back.”

  Nora frowned. “Sure?” She thought back to the robe incident.

  Simon was expansive. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Sean sleeps well, and if he wakes, I’ve changed his nappy before and so has Callie.” He pushed her toward the door. “Go and get your bag.”

  “Thanks, Simon.” Declan clapped him on the shoulder. “Even though it’s not been announced, I’ll put my work hat on tonight.”

*

10:45 PM

The noise inside The Scarlet Wench, coupled with the knowledge that someone had been in her room and the lawyer’s visit next week, gave Nora twinges of a headache. Her usual compartmentalization seemed to be failing her. Was this really a helpful technique she’d developed to deal with stress or a way to erect walls to keep people out? Why hadn’t she confided to Declan her fears over the lawyer’s visit and the larger implications of the Pembrokes knowing about Sean? Simon knew, and she didn’t mind that. Was she unconsciously keeping Declan at a distance from areas important to her?

  She nursed her cider, watching Declan standing at the bar pretending to listen to the pub’s owner, Daisy, as she expounded on the differences among various ales. He had one ear cocked to listen to the cast’s conversation and observe their interactions. One of the things Nora liked best about Declan was that when they talked, he really listened to what she had to say. She could see this was a developed skill. Then why wasn’t she ready to trust him?

  Burt Marsh had downed a quick pint on Grayson’s tab and bid the group goodnight. Nora decided he was polite, the height of an old-fashioned gentleman, but not a drinker. She wondered about the screening of
Rebecca
and wished she were snuggled in bed with Declan, watching the movie in his room with a big bowl of popcorn between them and her baby asleep for the rest of the night—and the activities that could follow. She mentally admonished herself for wanting to sleep with Declan again but drawing the line at taking him into her confidence. What kind of basis was that for a relationship?

  Nora opened the door and stepped out to the side terrace, standing in the shadows under a hanging planter brimming with multicolored primroses. When she had a chance, she would bounce her fears about the Pembrokes off Declan. He would be the voice of reason. And she needed to be open and trusting with him.

  “There you are.” Declan joined her.

  “Enough detecting?”

  “I got what I was after—a look at the cast when they weren’t on their guard.”

  “And what did the great and powerful detective find?” She moved into the circle of his arms.

  He dipped his head and kissed her nose. “Fiona is definitely jealous of Gemma.”

  Nora laughed. “I could have told you that. Good thing I like having you around for more than detecting.”

  This time Declan’s kiss was deeper.

  “Absolutely not!” Fiona’s voice broke them apart as the pub door slammed open. “You’ve had too much, Grayson. That’s why I took your keys.”

  “Incoming.” Declan took Nora’s hand, and they turned to watch the spectacle.

  Grayson appeared in the doorway, his arm around Gemma, whose minidress sparkled in the dim light. “Give me those, Fiona.”

  Nora stayed with Declan on the patio, watching the interplay. Then Poppy appeared on the doorstep.

  “You’re all mad.” Poppy flounced off. “I’m walking back.”

  Grayson snatched the keys from Fiona. Gemma screeched in laughter, and the duo trotted off to the silver Jag parked in the drive, facing out.

  “Wait, Poppy.” Fiona caught up to her, and the two women set off together on foot.

  “I’d better stop him.” Declan approached the car just as the director floored the Jag. It took off with a sharp squeal of tires, but instead of slowing down to turn onto the road, it slid at speed across the street and crashed into a brick retaining wall.

  “Call
999
!” Declan shouted and took off at a run.