“And the occasional hiker falling into an abandoned quarry on the moor?”
“Ah, yes. You may have read about one of those in the local paper a short time ago. Very sad.”
“Haven’t seen it,” said Siger. “But thank you.”
20
“You shouldn’t have told him where we are going,” said Siger quietly as he and Lois got in their car.
“Why?” asked Lois.
“You are too trusting,” said Siger.
“The coroner seems quite trustworthy to me,” said Lois. She put the car in gear, and they drove out onto the road to Bodfyn.
“To me as well,” said Siger. “I simply believe it’s not wise to tell anyone your business unless you have a specific reason for wanting the person to know it.”
“The specific reason is that I want to know if my best friends have died.”
There was a catch in Lois’s voice. It registered on Siger, and he just listened as she continued.
“I want the coroner to be able to reach us just as soon as he has definite news. For Aunt Mabel’s sake, and for Nigel’s. And for my own. But I’m puzzled what it is that you want.”
“I want to know what happened,” said Siger.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“No,” said Siger as inoffensively as he could. “Not quite exactly.”
With that, he settled back in his seat, pressed his fingertips together again, and closed his eyes.
“Well, end of conversation, then, I guess,” said Lois under her breath.
“I heard that,” said Siger without changing his posture. “And you’re right. But it’s only for the moment.”
They drove back to their hotel in Amesbury. They got their things, checked out, and got on the road as quickly as possible.
Lois slowed the car as they passed the turnoff to the crash site.
She looked at Siger and asked, rather reluctantly, “Do you want to see it again? In daylight?”
Siger shook his head.
“No need,” he said. “I think we should have tea with our new friends.”
Lois nodded and they drove on.
21
They drove under a sky of turquoise blue between the drifting gray and white clouds. But Lois would not allow herself to take pleasure in it. And Siger seemed lost in his own thoughts.
It was not quite noon when they reached the village of Bodfyn.
There was just the one main street. Lois drove it slowly, not wanting to miss their destination.
They passed a pub—the Wayward Pony—a pharmacy, a small auto garage, a grocery. A couple of older men were having a smoke outside the pub; a young woman was leaving the grocery.
As they neared the end of the street, Lois slowed even more, looking to one side.
“Look, they have a theater!”
“Hmm?” Siger roused himself. “Oh. So they do.”
“In a town this small?”
Siger nodded. “That is impressive.”
“Not my choice of plays, though,” said Lois, looking at the banner draped above the doorway. “Macbeth. Ugh.”
They continued on, reaching the end of the main street. They drove just a bit farther, past the final streetlamp, and took the only turn available, onto a narrow lane.
At the end of it, they found a quaint two-story home with white plaster on the exterior walls, shingles on the slanted roof, and red and purple geraniums in the windows.
Lois stopped the car.
“Yes, I think this is it,” said Siger.
“It looks pleasant enough,” said Lois.
“Yes,” said Siger. “I’ve had tea in worse places.”
“Yes,” said Lois, considering it. “I would suppose so.”
They walked up the pavers to the entrance, and the door opened just before they could knock.
It was Nancy, from the night before at the crime scene. She wore a bold daytime hat, and a welcoming smile.
“You’re right on time!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you. I was worried you might be one of those couples who promise they will come to tea but then don’t. What is the word for those kinds of people? I just can’t quite remember—”
“Tea teases?” offered Siger.
“Perhaps; the important thing is that you are not them. Thank goodness. Now just come right in; don’t be shy. Roy will be down in just a moment. He’ll never say it himself, but he is so hoping you will offer to let him try your tobacco.”
Siger raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Oh my, I hope I haven’t put my foot in it again. That is tobacco we smelled, isn’t it? Well, anyway, mustn’t mind anything I say. Just sit right down and I’ll get the tea.”
Nancy went into the kitchen. Siger and Lois sat down at the little table. It was very pleasant, with white lace place mats and a vase of yellow roses in the center.
Siger checked the contents of his tobacco tin and grimaced, but he said nothing further about it.
Now Nancy returned and poured the tea.
It was Earl Grey. Lois had never liked it; she found the taste of bergamot to be bitter. Their host was so effusively nice, Lois almost thought she might get away with asking for Darjeeling instead.
But no. Shouldn’t take advantage. Lois compensated for the bergamot with milk and two teaspoons of sugar.
“So, what brings you both to the little village of Bodfyn?” asked Roy as Nancy passed a small plate of vanilla cream biscuits.
“Your invitation to tea,” said Siger. “Or did we misunderstand?”
Nancy laughed.
“No, no, of course not. I think what my husband meant was when we saw you last night.”
“We got lost,” said Lois quickly, with a subtle glance at Siger, who seemed to confirm her newly learned caution with an even subtler smile.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” said Nancy.
“We were headed to Amesbury and took a wrong turn,” said Siger.
“No GPS, then?” said Roy.
“We don’t believe in that,” said Lois helpfully. “Costs extra on a hired car, and next thing you know, it puts you in a lake!”
Roy and Nancy both laughed.
“Oh yes,” said Roy, “we have troubles with all this digital technology ourselves.”
“You are both Luddites, as well, then?” said Siger.
“Oh no, just pensioners,” said Nancy. “Nothing cultlike at all.”
“But why Amesbury?” asked Roy quickly. “It’s almost as out of the way as Bodfyn, don’t you think?”
Siger was about to make up an answer, but Lois got there first.
“Roots!” she said.
Nancy and Roy looked at each other. Siger looked in surprise at Lois.
“Now, do you mean that in a botanical sense,” began Roy, rather deliberately, “or do you mean in the sense of ancestry?”
“Botanical!” replied Siger.
“Ancestry!” said Lois at the same time.
Another quick glance between Lois and Siger, and Siger explained.
“That is, she is interested in some heritage sorts of things, and I am a bit of a hobbyist regarding trees. Did you know that some of the oaks in this region are more than five hundred years—”
“Yes,” said Roy, interrupting. He seemed much more interested in Lois’s response. Turning to her, he asked, “Do you believe you have ancestors in the area?”
“Umm … well … it’s complicated,” said Lois.
“Oh?” said Nancy. “Why so?”
“Possibly because there are seventy trillion, three hundred billion, and six hundred and eight possible combinations in the human genome?” said Siger.
“Oh, but they can be mapped, you know,” said Nancy. “And how else are you to find out who you really are if you don’t know whom you came from?”
“You are what you think, and feel, and do,” said Siger. “The genome merely determines the physiological tools you will be born with. And your distant ancestors have even less say in the m
atter.”
Siger sounded annoyed in saying that, and Lois was pretty sure it was because he wasn’t happy with the rationale she had given. And now there was an awkward silence, because they had apparently just been rude to their hosts. She hoped that someone would change the subject.
“And what is it that you do, Mr. Siger?” asked Roy.
Lois wasn’t sure whether that was changing the subject or not.
“In what context?” said Siger.
“What is your occupation?”
“Oh. That’s not quite the same as what I do, of course. My occupation is playing the violin in the Baker Street tube station.”
Another silence. Roy and Nancy both looked up from their tea.
“You mean … as a sort of hobby?”
“No,” said Siger. “Not as a hobby.”
Roy and Nancy pondered that for a moment, and then Nancy said, “How does your significant other feel about that?”
Nancy was looking back and forth between Lois and Siger.
Lois laughed, and blushed.
“Oh, he’s not my significant other. We’re just traveling companions. Anyway, I try not to make occupation the sole criteria. It narrows the possibilities too much.”
“Not married?” said Roy.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Oh, stop it, Roy,” said Nancy. “That’s not polite.”
“Oh, yes, I was once, when I was twenty-two,” said Lois.
“Ah,” said Roy. He seemed very disappointed. Nancy turned to him and said, “I know, dear, it’s just so hard to find someone who qualifies.”
Lois tried to fathom the meaning of both Roy’s disappointment and Nancy’s attempt at consolation, but Nancy quickly distracted her with another question.
“Anyway, I think where we come from is very important. Lois, I presume you have had your Ancestry DNA test done?”
“Umm … yes.”
It was such a tentative lie—Lois had not had time to prepare for it at all—that she was sure it would be challenged. But it was not.
“And it showed you are descended from someone in this area?” asked Roy, showing surprising interest.
“And is that why you are here?” said Nancy.
“Umm … well … perhaps.”
Roy and Nancy looked at each other and smiled, as though something had just been accomplished, though Lois had no idea what that might be.
Siger suddenly leaned forward.
“So then, what about you two?” said Siger. “What brings you here?”
Roy and Nancy exchanged glances, much as Siger and Lois had a few moments before.
“We came to see a show!” said Nancy.
Roy nodded. “Macbeth. It’s just a small production, but we are dedicated fans.”
“Of the Bard, he means,” said Nancy. “The tickets are so much cheaper here than in London.”
“I’m sure they are,” said Lois.
“And, of course, the accommodations, too. We got this little place through Airbnb,” said Nancy. “Can you imagine? It was the first time we ever tried it, and look how well we did! We just showed up, got the key from under the fake rock, and came right in. We did it all online. Didn’t even have to talk to the landlady—or an annoying estate agent, or anyone!”
“Well, that’s certainly a plus,” said Lois. “Estate agents can be so annoying.”
“Most definitely,” said Roy, nodding.
Siger stirred his tea, studying the milk swirls.
“Landlady?” he said, not looking up.
“Sorry?” said Roy.
“No matter,” said Siger, looking up from his tea now. “It is quite a nice place. Two bedrooms, I gather.”
“Yes. I believe the advert called them both honeymoon suites,” said Nancy.
Roy nudged her and shook his head very slightly. Nancy reacted as if he had reminded her of something, and then she laughed and said, “But of course for Roy and me, that’s a bit of a throwback!”
Siger nodded and smiled slightly. He was sitting back in his chair now, seeming to relax a bit for the first time since they had arrived. He took out his pipe. He even opened his tin and offered some to Roy, who accepted, and took out a pipe of his own.
Siger nodded toward the ladies, got their permission—although Lois would have objected if their host hadn’t clearly wanted to as well—and lit up.
“Did you see any other offerings in town when you were looking?” he asked.
“Not a one,” said Nancy. “I think we were quite lucky. My understanding is this is the only holiday rental in all of Bodfyn!”
“I don’t think the town has a hotel, either, does it?”
“Not that we know of.”
“Anyone in the other suite?”
“Oh, no, it’s been just us from the moment we arrived,” said Nancy. Now she looked at Siger and Lois, an idea flashed across her face, and she said, “Oh, do you two need somewhere to overnight? You are certainly welcome to—”
“Oh no,” said Lois. “We couldn’t—”
“That’s a very kind offer,” said Siger. “And if it truly is no trouble, we will be grateful to take you up on it.”
Lois looked at Siger with alarm, and she kicked his shins under the table.
“I mean, I think we will,” said Siger.
Nancy and Roy exchanged puzzled glances.
“I’ll start a fresh pot of tea!” said Nancy brightly. She got up and went to the kitchen.
“I’d like to take a look at the unoccupied room, if you don’t mind?” said Siger. “Beggars can’t be choosers, of course. I know well. But still—”
“Of course,” said Roy. “It’s not ours, after all.”
As Siger went up the stairs, Nancy came back from the kitchen with the fresh pot of tea.
“You know,” she said, “if you’re not doing anything tomorrow evening, perhaps you’d care to attend the opening night with us?”
“Well, I suppose that really depends on … some other things.”
“Oh, do you have other plans?” asked Nancy. “What are they? Perhaps we’ll want to do it, too!”
Lois gave a forced laugh. Quite aside from Siger’s caution about saying too much, she did not feel like sharing that the plan was to wait and hear whether two of her favorite people in the world had been killed in a plane crash.
“Oh, no, I’m sure that— You know what, I think us attending the play with you might be a lovely idea. I’ll just go right upstairs and check with my … traveling companion.”
Lois went up the short flight of stairs. The door to one of the suites was open, she saw Siger, and she hurried in to join him.
He was standing by the little sofa. He had picked up one of its decorative pillows and was holding it up to his face.
He turned to Lois the moment she entered.
“Shut the door,” he said. “I have a question for you.”
Lois shut the door.
“The tea downstairs is getting quite complicated,” she began, before Siger could ask his own question. “They seem like a very nice couple, but now they want to know if we will—”
Lois stopped. Her mobile was ringing.
She and Siger looked at each other. She picked up.
“Yes, this is Lois.”
It was the coroner.
Siger watched Lois’s face as she took the call. He heard her short responses, but he didn’t need to ask what was being said at the other end of the line. He could read it in her eyes.
All hope went out of them. Lois turned off the phone and steadied herself on the arm of the sofa. Siger caught her there and sat her down.
She made no noise as she cried. The tears ran silently.
She looked at Siger, who was kneeling beside her, the damn silly pillow in his hand.
“He confirmed it,” said Lois. “From Laura’s dental records.”
Siger just stared as she said that. Then he said, “My question for you…”
“What?” Lois p
ractically screamed at him. What question could possibly matter?
“Smell this,” said Siger. He held the pillow in front of her.
“What are you … I don’t want…”
“Please. Just smell it.”
Lois sniffed, or tried to. She sniffled. Siger gave her a tissue and she blew her nose. Then she sniffed the pillow again.
“Do you recognize it?”
She stared back at Siger.
“What? The … the perfume?”
Siger nodded.
“Is it familiar?”
“I … think so. But I’m not sure where—”
“In the underground,” said Siger, “early in the morning, before all the scents get jumbled—I can smell the perfume on the women who pass by, and especially on those who stop for a moment to make a contribution. I’ve learned to recognize those scents. Not by name, of course—I’d have to go to a perfume counter for that—but by the style and kind of women who wear them. Some scents are more expensive than others. Some are worn by younger women, some by older, some by women comfortable with their age, and some by women who are less so. Women who are having affairs, or hoping to, and women who are not. Some by short women, some by tall women, some by famous red-haired independent-minded beauties—they all tend to self-select for particular scents. I don’t know how, but they do.”
Lois was beginning to understand his point, but she still stared back with disbelief.
“Who do you know who wears this scent?” asked Siger. “It’s a very expensive scent. And not at all common. Do you know it?”
Lois blinked, sniffled again and wiped her nose, then said, “Laura has it. She wore it at the wedding. I know, because I asked her about it.”
Siger nodded and stood.
“Yes,” he said. “Laura Rankin wore it at her wedding. And someone very recently wore it here.”
Lois blinked, trying to comprehend the implications of that.
But now there was a knock on the bedroom door, and Roy called in to them.
“So, what do you think? Is it satisfactory?”
Lois cleared her throat and called out that it was quite nice.
Siger opened the door.
“It was a lovely tea,” said Lois when they got back downstairs. She picked up her coat. “Thank you very much.”
A Baker Street Wedding Page 14