A Forgotten Murder

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A Forgotten Murder Page 14

by Jude Deveraux


  Sara smiled. “Later, Bertram would yell at Nicky and ask if the murder was loud. He wouldn’t want the horses to be frightened. They might lose the next race too quickly.”

  Kate was grinning. “Puck would be hiding in the shadows. She’d see it all and never tell anyone anything.”

  “And what about Poorwilla?” Sara asked.

  “She’d say, ‘Oh no! That’s one less person to pretend to love me. Who do I pay to make it right?’”

  Kate and Sara looked at each other, then dissolved into laughter.

  When Jack opened the door, he saw both of them laughing hard. “What the hell have you two been talking about?”

  “You!” they said in unison, then laughed harder.

  * * *

  It was later, after Kate and Sara had calmed down—they’d told Jack why they were laughing but not how it had started—that Sara found the note. It had been slipped into her camera bag. If at all possible, she didn’t bother carrying it. She just put a medium telephoto lens on, stuck a battery or two in her pocket and went out shooting. That the bag had been in her room since they’d returned from Puck’s meant anyone had access to it.

  The note was on a heavy card and she held it out, facedown. She didn’t turn it over until Kate was beside her and Jack was looking down over her head.

  She flipped it over.

  Nadine had a daughter. She was born November 1994.

  Below that was a telephone number.

  Kate was the math person. “That means Nadine was pregnant when Sean and Diana disappeared. She was far enough along that she knew she was.”

  Sara looked at Kate. “What was it Clive said about her husband?”

  Kate quoted, “‘Nadine immediately married some man none of us had heard of.’”

  “She could have been fooling around with the guy she married,” Jack said.

  “And not tell her besties?” Kate said. “Not likely.”

  Sara held up the card. “If it was all on the up-and-up, why secretly slip us a note? I’m going to call that number.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait until...?” Kate began, but at the looks from Jack and Sara, she said, “Yes, do it now.”

  Sara got her cell and touched the numbers. It was picked up right away.

  “Teddy here. What can I do for you?”

  “Hi. My name is Sara Medlar and I’m at Oxley Manor with Lady Nadine. I believe she’s your mother. I was wondering if—”

  “My mother! You have a nerve calling me. Did she give you my number? I’ll have my lawyer—”

  “No, no,” Sara said. “She didn’t tell us about you. I don’t want to cause any trouble but there are three of us here at Oxley trying to investigate the disappearance of two people in May of 1994. We—”

  “You’re calling me about that?” The young woman’s voice with its upper-class accent was full of rage. “You can tell my mother that I’ll never forgive her for a lifetime of lies. I never want to see her again. She—”

  “We could tell her everything you want to say to her,” Sara said quickly and loudly. “We’re here. Come stay. Tell us all.”

  “I don’t deal with liars!” She clicked off.

  Sara looked at Jack and Kate. “Oh.”

  “Looks like we’ve uncovered a secret.” Kate looked at Jack. “Nadine didn’t mention that her daughter hates her?”

  “Must have slipped her mind.”

  Sara was looking at the card. “I wonder who sent this? Who wants us to know about Nadine and her daughter?”

  “A tattletale,” Jack said. “He or she is saying, ‘Don’t look too closely at me. Focus on someone else.’”

  “So how do we get her here?” Sara asked. “Or do we send Jack after her?”

  “If the daughter is like the mother, she won’t release him,” Kate said.

  “I’ll go if I must,” Jack said.

  The women ignored him.

  “Send her a photo of your room and say a weekend is free,” Sara said.

  “That doesn’t seem like much,” Jack said.

  “Anger like hers needs an outlet,” Sara said. “It’s the cold I-don’t-care kind of anger that doesn’t respond.” Sara used her cell to snap a photo of the beautiful room, tapped in an invitation, then used WhatsApp to send the text to the number on the card.

  They stared at the phone in silence but nothing happened.

  Sara and Kate sighed. “It was worth a try.”

  But then, Sara’s phone dinged.

  Eight p.m. The Josephine room.

  They clapped raised hands in triumph. “I have to find the Josephine room,” Sara said, “and make sure it doesn’t smell like disinfectant.”

  “I’ll cut flowers,” Kate said.

  They looked at Jack.

  He was backing out of the room. “I’ll go, uh... I think I’ll...”

  “You want to find Byon and sing some more,” Kate said.

  “Maybe.” Jack disappeared out the door.

  Kate and Sara laughed.

  “Wonder what our Jack’s future wife’s wedding dress will look like?” Sara said.

  “More like the other Kate than the Meghan one,” Kate said.

  “I agree completely.”

  They ran to do their tasks.

  * * *

  Just as Sara found the Josephine bedroom, her cell dinged with a text. She thought it was probably from Kate but when she saw the ID, she gasped.

  “Everything all right?” the young woman who was cleaning the room asked.

  “It’s all perfect.” Sara took off running to find Jack. It was no use texting him. He wouldn’t check his phone even if he was carrying it. As she ran, she texted Kate to meet her at the back of the house.

  She found Jack downstairs in the large drawing room. Byon was playing the piano and staring at Jack in adoration as he sang.

  Standing in the shadow of the doorway, Sara got Jack’s attention. She hated to take him away but she had to. She pointed to her watch, made a motion of driving, then zipped her mouth and jerked her head toward the back of the house.

  He gave a nod of understanding and kept singing. He knew that quitting midsong would raise questions.

  Sara went out the back. As she knew she would be, her dear, organized, up-for-any-adventure niece was waiting beside one of the hotel’s cars, keys in hand.

  “Is he going to drag himself away or do you and I go alone?”

  “Don’t know if he can tear himself away since he has an audience. Half the staff has spent the last hour dusting the balcony,” Sara said.

  “Puck’s spy bridge? They’re watching the Byon-Jack show?”

  “Good name, and yes. But I think—”

  Jack came out the door, took the keys out of Kate’s hand and got into the right-hand-drive car. He put down the window. “Are you two going to stand there?”

  Kate got into the front, Sara in the back.

  “We waited for you for twenty minutes,” Kate lied. “So who are you choosing? The magnificent Byon or the very old lady Nadine?”

  “I’m waiting for her daughter.” Jack looked at Sara in the mirror. “Where to?”

  “The Red Bull Inn.” Sara was tapping on her phone. “It’s not in the nearest village to Oxley Manor. GPS says it’s a whopping twelve miles away, and considering the corkscrew nature of English roads, it’ll take about an hour. Turn left at the gate.”

  “I’ll do it in thirty minutes,” Jack said.

  “Just don’t forget that driving is on the left side of the road,” Kate said.

  Jack gave her a look to cut it out.

  Sara read aloud about the inn from her phone. Built in the sixteenth century as a coaching inn. Fourteen rooms, a well-respected restaurant/bar serving three meals and drinks.

  Twenty minutes later, Jack reache
d the village and parked in front of the inn. “Who are we meeting?”

  “Guess,” Sara said as she got out of the car.

  Jack looked at Kate. “Poorwilla,” they said in unison.

  The inn had blackened beams and red carpet everywhere. There was a check-in area near the entrance, with a man standing there.

  “We’re here to see—” Sara began.

  “I know,” the man said. “But then, she’s our only guest. I’ll show you up.”

  The trio looked at each other as they followed him up the narrow stairs.

  At the top, he stepped back. There were about ten doors standing open and half a dozen young women were going in and out of them, their hands full of papers and cell phones.

  What was startling was that all the women were exceptionally pretty, and their clothes showed their well-toned bodies.

  “I feel like I’ve walked into a 007 movie,” Kate said.

  “Me too.” Jack’s voice was in awe.

  “I love coming up here,” the manager said. “I use any excuse.”

  “So where is she?” Sara asked.

  Jack spoke up. “I’ll look in every room, question everyone until I find her. Wait here.”

  Sara clamped down on his arm.

  “Buzzkiller,” he murmured.

  One of the young women came toward them. “You must be Sara Medlar.” She offered her hand to shake. “Come with me and I’ll take you to Meena.”

  Kate turned to Jack to mouth, “Meena?” but he was smiling at the women they passed—who were all smiling back at him.

  They were led into what was probably the main bedroom of the inn. It was a large room with a bed at one end, sitting area at the other. The bed was heavy, dark wood and carved extensively. On the floor between the two areas was a woman on a yoga mat, her face turned away from them. She was twisted into an impossible posture.

  The woman who’d escorted them in left, closing the door behind her.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” the woman on the mat said.

  The three backed up until they were sitting on a large chest at the foot of the bed. They couldn’t take their eyes off the woman in front of them, who was twisting and turning into yoga positions.

  “Jacobean,” Sara said softly.

  “What?” Kate whispered.

  “The chest we’re sitting on is Jacobean. Bed is Elizabethan.”

  “That was my number one question,” Kate said.

  Jack was watching the woman and said nothing.

  She brought her body back to what a person would consider normal. Her back was to them as she sat cross-legged, hands behind her, clasped in reverse prayer mode.

  Finally, she turned to face them. She was older, true, but her skin was flawless, her brows perfect, her lashes sooty black and thick. Combined with her body, she was an extremely attractive woman.

  They stared at her in wonder. This couldn’t be Poorwilla. Could it?

  “I see that you’ve been told about me.”

  “You are Willa?” Kate asked.

  “I was.” She picked up a blue silk robe off the back of the couch and put it on. “Shall we sit and talk?”

  They took their seats. “You used to be Willa?” Sara asked. “But now you’re called Meena? Maybe as part of Wilhelmina?”

  “Yes. Willa was too close to ‘willing’ whereas Meena is more ‘I mean what I say.’”

  “I’m intrigued,” Sara said.

  Kate leaned forward. “We want to know about your time with the Pack. Oh, sorry. I meant the—”

  Meena smiled. “That’s what we were called. It’s an accurate label. And just like in a real pack, as long as we each did exactly what was expected of us, it was good.”

  “Clive was part of that?” Sara asked.

  “Oh yes. The others needed both of us. For all that they sneered at him, he took care of them. But then, he was as afraid of being tossed out as I was. But I do think I was more desperate than he was.”

  “What happened if you didn’t do what they wanted?” Jack asked.

  There was a quick knock on the door and one of the pretty young women came in and handed Meena a clipboard full of papers. In large letters across the top was the name Renewal. She glanced at the papers, signed, then the woman left the room.

  “Where was I? Oh yes. When I didn’t conform to their plan, they let me know of their displeasure. I found that out when I was attracted to a young lawyer here in the village. I saw him yesterday.”

  Sara’s upper lip curled. “If you married outside the group, they’d lose their open bank account.”

  “And lose their talentless, adoring audience,” Meena said. It was the first time there was a hint of anger in her voice. “They told me I was worth much more than a village lawyer.”

  “Elevating you and tearing you down at the same time,” Sara said.

  Kate spoke up. “Byon said you were devastated by Clive breaking up with you. He said you probably cried for years.”

  Again there was a knock on the door. Two women came in bearing trays loaded with tea, little sandwiches, scones and clotted cream. They set them down, then left.

  The women only had tea, but Jack dug into the food.

  “They all work for you?” Sara asked.

  “Yes.” Meena didn’t elaborate. “Byon. How is he?”

  “He’s in love with Jack,” Kate said. “He plays piano and Jack sings.”

  Meena looked at him. “I can see that. You’re just his type. Do you know you look like—?”

  “Yes,” Jack said quickly. “Everyone has told me.” He was on his fourth sandwich.

  Meena took a breath. “It was over twenty years ago, but it’s still hard to speak of. I know everyone thinks I left because Clive broke up with me, but that’s not true. I think I wanted him to dump me. That way I’d be the innocent one.”

  Sara smiled. “You pursued him until he got rid of you.”

  “I think so,” Meena said. “At the time, I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing, but I wasn’t destroyed when the bastard so coldly told me to get out of his life. I think I figured that what would happen is that we’d end our engagement, I’d cry awhile, then we’d all go back to being our little family.”

  “And no one would ever again nag you to marry bad-tempered, unhappy Clive,” Kate said.

  “Exactly,” Meena said. “They really are a very talented group of people. Has Byon put on a play for you? No? He will.” She looked at Jack. “He’ll write one just for you. With original songs.”

  Jack’s face so drained of color that he looked like he might pass out.

  Meena laughed in delight. “He will definitely write for you.”

  “If it wasn’t Clive, then what did cause you to leave?” Sara asked.

  Meena’s voice got lower. “It was Nicky.” She paused to breathe deeply, as though to give herself strength. “After Sean and Diana disappeared, I went to him in private. I knew he liked both of them more than he let on. Nicky liked to be thought of as an Oscar Wilde clone, that he was above such petty emotions as a need for love.”

  “Or approval from his father,” Sara said.

  Meena shook her head. “How they despised each other!”

  “What did Nicky say when you went to him?” Kate asked.

  “He...” Meena took a moment to calm herself. “His words are emblazoned on my brain. I still remember them verbatim. Nicky said, ‘We’re all tired of feeling sorry for you. And right now we don’t have time to give you sympathy, no matter how much you pay us to do so.’ Then he slammed the door in my face.”

  “That’s horrible,” Kate said. “He—”

  Meena put up her hand. “It’s all right. I needed that wake-up call. I knew he was telling the truth.”

  “As he saw it,” Jack shot out.


  “No, as it really was. I think I was some ravenous plant that fed off sympathy. Were you told about my family?”

  They nodded.

  “My siblings are selfishness personified.”

  “But then, you expected them to intuit what you needed and to give it to you,” Sara said. “I bet they demanded whatever they wanted.”

  Meena laughed. “You have perfectly described the situation. But I didn’t see it that way.”

  “I don’t believe in blaming the victim.” Kate’s voice was rising. “I hate when people say ‘If only you had done so and so, then he wouldn’t have been angry.’ In this case, you’re being blamed for not being as selfish as they are. They should have known that you needed love and affection. Everyone does.”

  They were all staring at her.

  “I like your attitude,” Meena said. “You want to come work for me? I’ll start you in a top management position.”

  “What is your business?” Sara asked.

  “Do you tell the ending of your books at the front?” She didn’t give Sara time to answer. “Don’t look so surprised. I know about all of you. Estate agent, builder extraordinaire and a supposedly retired writer. You’ve solved two murder cases that no one else bothered with.”

  Jack looked up from a plate of scones. “We’re public record, but you’re a secret. How’d you go from Poorwilla to this?” The way he said it was flattering.

  “After what Nicky said, I knew I had to leave. All through school I’d told myself that yes, I paid for things but they really did care about me. But it was like Nicky had taken a hammer and shattered the glass cage I lived in.” She took a drink of tea. “To say I felt sorry for myself is too mild. I was absolutely and totally alone. I couldn’t possibly go home. Beatrice was the most vicious of my siblings and she’d had time to make what happened at Oxley into a war. If I showed up there, they’d tear me apart.”

  “So what did you do?” Kate asked.

  “As Byon said, I cried. I had so much wanted to belong. I especially wanted to be part of that set of beautiful people.”

  “And you were willing to do anything to achieve that,” Sara said softly.

  “Yes, I was. Money, marriage—”

 

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