Walking Into Murder

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  For a few seconds Lord Torrington’s face registered only profound astonishment. He tried to speak, but then his legs gave way and he toppled heavily to the ground. The Baroness stared at her hand in horror. Then she fell to her knees beside Lord Torrington and wept as if her whole world had fallen with him. And perhaps it had, Laura thought with a rush of pity. Like the fallen heroes her mentor Shakespeare described, the grande dame did have a tragic flaw, but it wasn’t pride. Instead, her flaw was to cleave too hard and too long to the man she loved.

  Impulsively, she knelt beside the Baroness and stroked her heaving shoulders, oblivious to cars screeching to a halt or the people surging down the hill. The Baroness was oblivious too, aware of nothing but the sobs that wracked her body.

  The field was crowded with people now. Had Thomas’s whistle brought them? She couldn’t seem to think; all she could think of was the woman beneath her caressing fingers, the woman she had so admired whose life had been torn apart.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. A policeman. He pointed toward the house. Laura rose and stretched out a hand to the grande dame, to help her up.

  The Baroness finally became aware of the people around her, and her sobs ceased. Clasping Laura’s hand, she rose slowly and proudly to her feet. Her face showed signs of her distress, but her body was straight as a ramrod. Head high, she nodded graciously to the crowd and walked slowly back to the manor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Laura and Thomas sat at a table in a quiet corner of Maude’s bakery. From time to time Angelina appeared, clutching one of the puppies in her grubby fists. She looked superbly happy. Surprisingly, so did the puppy.

  When Angelina disappeared into the back again, Laura asked the question that had been haunting her all day. “What will happen to the Baroness now? Will she be charged as an accessory?”

  “I doubt it,” Thomas answered. “They would have to prove she knew about Lord Torrington’s role in the art forgeries and in the murders. He’d been sending Antonia paintings for Stewart to copy all along, even from France, and pocketing his share of the proceeds. I don’t think the Baroness knew. As for the murders, from what you said, she hadn’t known, only suspected.”

  Laura sighed. “Or she didn’t want to face the fact that the man she loved was a killer,” she answered. “In the meantime, two people died. If she’d been willing to face the truth earlier, they might be alive. Knowing that seems to me punishment enough for a lifetime.”

  Thomas nodded and then clutched his head to stop the pounding. He sported an array of bruises in various unattractive shades, depending on their provenance. The new ones were a livid blue-purple-red; the old ones were lurid yellow and an odd shade of brownish maroon.

  “I don’t know why you’re still upright,” Laura remarked. “Probably you shouldn’t be. Or why Lord Torrington didn’t just kill you instead of knocking you out.”

  “Cars hitting trees are useful because they muddle the evidence about how a person died,” Thomas said wryly. “Hard to tell what caused what, once someone has hit his or her head on the steering wheel or the roof.”

  “How did he manage to sneak up on you anyway?” Laura asked. ‘You’re always accusing Catherine and me of getting ourselves into trouble, but you’re much worse. I think you need us to look after you.”

  Thomas grinned. “Sounds like an excellent arrangement to me, and I suggest we start immediately. As for how Lord Torrington snuck up on me, he didn’t. I walked right into him. I’d heard him leave, or thought I did, so I went to his study to look for evidence about the forgery operation. He was behind the door with his shotgun and conked me as I came in.”

  “Not very smart,” Laura observed. “You definitely need a minder.”

  “No, and yes,” Thomas agreed. “My brain seems not to be functioning in optimal condition, and I do need someone to look after me.” He pressed her hand and gave her a ridiculously exaggerated meaningful look.

  Laura blushed, not because she was embarrassed but because she didn’t know how to respond. Her future with Thomas, if any, was a subject she couldn’t figure out how to deal with. Murders were easier.

  “Whatever happened to Stewart?” she asked hastily, by way of changing the subject. “And have you found the cook’s body, or figured out who took it out of the freezer?”

  “Stewart vanished, leaving nothing but a note asking the Baroness to look after Angelina. And we found the body in the woods not far from the cellar. We suspect Lord Torrington hauled it out there in the few moments when I left to tell the Baroness. He and Antonia probably planned to get rid of it permanently. No body, no case. I imagine Lord Torrington meant to do the same with Morris but you found him first.”

  Laura shuddered. “He would have removed us the same way, if the Baroness hadn’t helped me. It was a last resort for her, though. Until then, she thought she could control the situation by having Antonia caught for peddling fakes, and for all I know she took the missing silver herself, hoping that Morris would be arrested for stealing it. Nonviolent solutions that removed them from the scene – clever ones at that.”

  “They might have worked, too, if Charles hadn’t decided to take matters into his own hands,” Thomas put in. “His solution was simpler and much more ruthless. He just got rid of people who threatened his well-being.”

  Laura frowned. “Why in heavens name didn’t we suspect him before? That mistake was almost lethal for both of us.”

  “Don’t forget he’s a consummate actor,” Thomas reminded her. “I’m not sure I would ever have suspected him if Antonia and Roger hadn’t insisted that they didn’t kill Morris, or take the body. That’s why I set up the trap by saying they were dead. You and I were the only ones left who threatened the killer, so he or she had an open field to finish things off.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks for setting me up so nicely.”

  Thomas had the grace to look abashed. “I almost got us killed instead,” he admitted.

  “You did indeed,” Laura agreed. “But Lord Torrington had me fooled, too, at least until I saw that the Baroness was afraid of him.”

  “The Baroness is also a consummate actor,” Thomas reminded her. “She can take on any identity or spin any tale that serves her purpose.”

  Laura nodded. “She certainly can. And in her own way, she’s equally ruthless - not on behalf of herself but for others. She’s a tigress when the people she cares about are threatened.

  “I’d be one too, in similar circumstances,” she admitted candidly.

  “I imagine you would be,” Thomas observed. “Maybe one day I’ll get to see the tigress in action on my behalf.” There was a wistful note in his voice and Laura had the odd feeling he meant what he said.

  Who was Thomas anyway, and how many times had she asked herself that question? Was he the conservative husband and father Catherine described or the complex, ever-changing half-scoundrel she had come to know?

  Finding out was more fun than knowing, Laura decided. Besides, if she could jump feet first into a murder and emerge more or less unscathed except for an aching ankle and a feeling that she’d been put through some kind of mangle machine from being dragged down three flights of stairs, she ought to be able to jump with equal vigor into a new relationship.

  She looked back at Thomas. “Maybe you will one day,” she answered coyly, and smiled at him.

  Thomas smiled back; then he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. Another, deeper kiss was imminent when Catherine burst though the door.

  “If you two have something going on, I want to be in on it from the very beginning,” she announced, hands on hips. “It’s my life too.”

  “Would you like that?” Thomas’s voice was carefully neutral.

  Catherine’s eyes lit up. “You bet! It’ll be exciting! I mean murders all the time, between Laura walking into them and Dad coming along to solve them, and me helping. And then I’ll pass on the plots to Nigel so he can put them in his plays. He’s doing
one now called: The strange events at Torrington Manor. It’ll be seething with affairs and passions and intrigues about who’s the rightful heir to the title and the manor, just like Shakespeare’s plays,” she enthused, revealing a knowledge of literature Laura hadn’t expected.

  Thomas looked momentarily speechless. No doubt that wasn’t the answer he had expected. Like her father, Catherine responded in unpredictable ways. Taste of his own medicine, Laura thought. It would do him good.

  “I imagine Nigel will make a fine playwright along with all his other talents,” Thomas said, recovering his wits. “Still, all of this must be pretty hard on him. The man he thought of as his father stands accused of murder, never mind helping to run an art forgery ring. Is he all right?”

  Catherine shrugged. “To tell you the truth, he wasn’t all that close to Lord Torrington. He was kind of afraid of him. He knows he wasn’t his father, too. The Baroness told him who his real father was a long time ago.

  “Which is why he’ll never have to leave the manor,” she added cheerfully.

  Laura was puzzled. “I thought Lucy’s husband was his father – the one who got killed in the car crash, and I don’t see what that has to do with Torrington Manor.”

  “Who’s Lucy?” Catherine asked.

  “The grande dame’s sister. She was killed too,” Laura explained.

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Catherine replied. “What I do know is that Nigel’s father was the real Barkeley Smythington, which means Nigel is the rightful heir even if Lord Torrington is a fraud and a murderer.”

  Laura laughed. The Baroness was indeed creative – brilliant, really. She could change her story to meet any circumstances, and make everyone believe it. Would they ever know the truth about Torrington Manor and how Nigel and the Baroness had come there? Probably not, she decided, and maybe that was just as well.

  “Well, I for one like Barkeley Smythington as father best,” she declared, “since it means that Nigel and the grande dame can stay at the manor. They belong there.

  “Now, however, I am going to forget all about it and let them get on with their lives while I get on with my own - which means getting on with my walk. I’ve got almost fifty miles to go, I calculated last night.”

  Thomas looked dismayed. “Fifty miles? I can’t do that, at least not in my present condition.”

  “You don’t have to,” Laura pointed out.

  Thomas leered. “For you, my darling, I would walk a thousand miles.”

  Catherine regarded him quizzically. “He’s not like that usually,” she informed Laura. “He must really be smitten.”

  She jumped up as a motor buzzed outside the door. “That’s Nigel. He has a motor scooter. That’s one good thing Lord Torrington did before he got caught. He said Nigel needed a way to get around so the Baroness didn’t always have to take in his broken glasses. People thought she was going blind because she spent so much time at the eye doctor’s getting them fixed for him.” With a wave, she ran out the door.

  Laura grinned. “I had heard that rumor too, from Maude, the first time I came here, and I’m glad to find out it’s not true.”

  Thomas didn’t seem to hear her, and Laura regarded him anxiously. He really had been battered these last few days. Maybe he should see a doctor.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “How soon do you have to leave?”

  Laura looked at him in surprise. He sounded like a nervous adolescent. Maybe he felt as insecure about forging new relationships as she did. It was a new and interesting thought.

  She leaned closer and smiled at him seductively. “I don’t have to leave, not right at this moment. Why don’t we fix ourselves up as best we can and treat ourselves to a really nice dinner tonight? If there’s one to be had in this part of the world other than Torrington Manor,” she added hastily.

  Thomas’s face lit up with pleasure. “I thought you would never ask!” His debonair self was once more in place, but Laura had seen the relief on his face. “I know just the place,” he added. “Quite romantic, actually. I think you’ll enjoy it. They even have tablecloths and candles.”

  “Excellent!” That multi-colored silk tunic worn over deep russet pants with a fake gem-studded belt would be just right, Laura mused, glad now that she had tucked it into her suitcase. It was definitely outré but she had the feeling that Thomas might actually like it.

  He was about as different from Donald as any man could be, she reflected later, as they settled themselves at a corner table and ordered a bottle of wine. That was a big point in his favor. She wondered if, like Catherine, he even knew his Shakespeare.

  “I feel as if I’ve been Beatrice to your Benedick during this last week,” she commented, referring to the heroine and hero in one of Shakespeare’s plays whose favorite pastime was exchanging verbal barbs.

  “The situations we’ve found ourselves in have hardly been Much Ado About Nothing,” Thomas countered.

  Laura was delighted. “More tragedy than comedy,” she agreed. “For tonight, however, we definitely need comic relief. Who shall we be?”

  “Kate, in Taming of the Shrew might suit you,” Thomas suggested. “Or perhaps Rosalind, that stalwart defender of justice,” he amended when Laura glared at him. “What’s the name of that play?”

  “Just As You Like It,” Laura quipped. “You ask the questions and I answer them.”

  Thomas laughed. “Keep in mind, though,” he teased, “that every one of Shakespeare’s feisty heroines succumbs in the end to a determined suitor.”

  “All’s Well That Ends Well,” Laura replied with a grin, and held up her wine glass in a toast.

  ****************

  A note from the author, Joan Dahr Lambert: Thank you for reading Walking into Murder. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I want you to know that the second book in the Laura Morland Mystery Series, Babes in the Baths, will be on-line soon. Be sure to watch for it!

  Here’s a glimpse of the action in Babes in the Baths: Laura Morland, the irrepressible heroine of Walking into Murder, is back again. This time, she walks (or more accurately slithers down a slick stone wall and swims through noxious rat-infested water) into a kidnapping when she rescues a baby in the depths of the world-renowned Roman Baths. All over England babies are disappearing, the papers say. More puzzling, the thefts are connected to Laura’s current research on the treatment of women and girls in areas of religious upheaval.

  When Laura investigates, an alarming assortment of near-fatal accidents almost finish her off, among them entombment in a pitch-black cellar from which she makes a hair-raising (and hilarious) escape on a wobbly bicycle, only to be stalked by a sadist in the dead of night through a safari park full of free-roaming predators.

  The mystery deepens when a woman from Laura’s bus tour is murdered in the famous gardens of Stourhead. Laura’s insatiable curiosity and intrepid spirit shift into high gear. Disregarding the danger, she sets out to find the killer, ably assisted by an elderly umbrella-wielding aristocrat, her talented, metal-studded grandson and an ungainly six-foot redhead improbably named Violet. But are they really on Laura’s side? Violet could actually be a man and, like everyone else on the tour the titled aristocrat has a dangerous hidden agenda that has nothing to do with sight-seeing.

  Laura must summon all her imaginative powers and more courage that she thought she possessed to solve the mystery of Babes in the Baths. But even she cannot be certain of the exceedingly clever villain until the very end. A meeting is called, the trap set, the lure baited. Only when the tension in the room becomes unbearable does a witness step forward. Then, with a dramatic and totally unexpected accusation, the killer is exposed.

  Babes in the Baths is set in some of England’s most history-laden, atmospheric attractions: the ancient towns of Bath, Glastonbury and Wells, with its glorious cathedral; in the sumptuous, mist-saturated gardens of Stourhead, and in Longleat House, owned by a Baron of impeccable lineage who, to the horror of hi
s fellow peers, turned the estate into a Safari Park. The family lives there, too!