A red Ferrari pulled into the driveway. Coleman glanced at it but continued her monologue, blaming herself, lamenting that she had left Dolly alone, swearing that if she got the little dog back, she’d never leave her alone again.
Tony got out of the car and ran up the steps. He handed Coleman a Starbucks cup and a blueberry muffin. She didn’t seem to register it, or him, but she sipped the coffee, and nibbled the muffin.
“How did you hear?” Dinah asked.
“It’s on the radio,” he said.
Heyward looked at him. “Police radio?”
Tony nodded.
Mrs. Carter returned with a tea cart loaded with a coffee pot, a teapot, a pitcher of orange juice, and a basket of pastries. She spoke to Heyward. “I don’t think Miss Coleman wants to come inside.”
“Maybe not, but she doesn’t look warm enough. Would you bring her a coat?” Heyward asked.
“Yes, right away. All the telephones are ringing. It’s people who want to help, or the press.”
“Yes, I hear the phones. Thank the callers, tell them we’ll announce any news, but for now we’re trying to keep the lines clear in case whoever has the dog is trying to reach us.”
Mrs. Carter hurried upstairs, returned with Coleman’s fur coat, and draped it over her shoulders. Coleman slipped her arms into the sleeves, and pulled the coat closed.
One of the maids came to the door carrying a telephone. “Mr. Bain, there’s a man on the phone who says he has your dog. He wants to speak to you.”
Heyward took the phone and pressed the button to put it on speaker. A gravelly voice with a heavy Scottish accent spoke. “You want your dog? How much will you pay?” Heyward exchanged glances with Tony.
“A Ross,” Tony whispered. “Keep him on the line. I’ll make some calls, see if the police can locate him.” He went inside. Coleman could hear him talking on the phone.
Coleman stared at Heyward. Were they saying it was that nasty old Ross man who’d taken Dolly? What a fiend. She’d like to go after him, but it was impossible. If she were a man, she’d beat him up. Someone should.
Heyward moved into the house and joined Tony. Coleman could hear the two of them speaking, in separate conversations. She started to follow them inside so she could hear better, but when she tried to move, her coat caught on something, maybe one of the evergreens in the big pots on the porch? She pulled hard, but she couldn’t get it loose. She reached down to untangle it, and a wet tongue licked her hand.
“Dolly!” she said, “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. How’d you get here? Look, Dinah, Dolly chewed through her leash. Look at her leash—only a short bit left. That’s how she got away. Smart Dolly.”
Coleman picked up the little dog and cuddled her, but Dolly wriggled and was impatient to get back down.
“What is it? Are you hungry?” Back on the ground, Dolly grabbed the hem of Coleman’s coat in her mouth again and pulled it—and Coleman—toward the street.
“She wants to go somewhere,” Coleman said.
Heyward, who’d hung up on the foul-mouthed Scot when he heard Coleman cry “Dolly,” was the first to understand. “She wants to take you to the people who abducted her.”
“Of course. I should have known,” Coleman said. “What should we do?”
“She must have been held very nearby, probably in one of the houses in the square,” Heyward said.
“There are a lot of police in the area,” Tony said. “It will be easy to have all the nearby houses watched while she takes us to the right one. But Coleman, you can’t walk alone with her. James and William should walk with you and Dolly. They’re both big men, and can protect you if necessary. We’ll follow you in my car. I want to stay in touch with the police—I can do that best from the car.”
“I’m going with Coleman and Dolly,” Dinah said.
“Okay, let’s go,” Coleman said.
When Coleman picked up what was left of Dolly’s leash, the little dog looked at her approvingly, and dropped the coat. She trotted out to the street, and turned left on the sidewalk. She led them to a house only four houses away. She sat down in front of it, stared at it, and then up at Coleman. Her attitude was clearly “I’ve done my part. Now it’s up to you.”
Within minutes the house was surrounded by police. One of them knocked on the front door, which was answered by the old Ross man who had screamed at Coleman and Dinah the day before. An argument ensued, while Coleman, Dinah, James, and William watched. Heyward and Tony got out of the car and joined them for a better view.
One of the officers came out to speak to them. “This man’s house is full of dogs and drugs, and red-headed men who all look alike,” he said.
“Are the dogs all right?” Coleman asked anxiously.
“They’re not happy. They’re in small cages, and some are big dogs. They miss their families. Some of them have ID tags. We’ll try to get all of them back to their owners as fast as possible.” He leaned over to pat Dolly, and Coleman saw a light flash—a photographer? “You’ve made some dogs and their families mighty happy, Miss Dolly. You ought to get a medal.” Coleman saw more lights flashing. The London reporters had arrived.
“Is it a major drug discovery?” Heyward asked.
“Yes, and it’s all heroin. Quite a haul.”
“Thanks for the update. You can find us at my house, if you need us for anything. Here’s my card,” Heyward said.
“Let’s go home,” Coleman said. It seemed as if weeks had gone by since she got up this morning. She wanted to sit down and cuddle Dolly.
Heyward looked at her and smiled. “Ride with Tony,” he said. “I’ll walk. When you get to the house, go inside and sit down in the dining room. Mrs. Carter and the kitchen have prepared a feast. I’m hungry, and I suspect you are, too, Coleman.”
“Starved,” she said. She turned to Tony. “That bite of blueberry muffin and the coffee you bought me probably kept me from fainting. Thank you! I’m ready for a huge meal now.”
The dining room table was loaded with food: smoked salmon, prosciutto, sausages, and, Coleman saw . . . American bacon?
Scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, and deviled eggs. Several kinds of bread. Jams, jellies, peanut butter, marmalade. Pastries. A big bowl of fruit—orange pieces, melon balls. Sautéed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes. Yogurt, cream, milk of several kinds. Coffee, tea. Halved grapefruit, baked apples. And on the nearby buffet, a waffle iron and an electric griddle for pancakes stood ready.
Dinah went into the corridor to telephone Jonathan, asking him to come join the celebration. When she returned, she was big-eyed at the sight of the table. “Heyward, where did you get that bacon? I’ve been craving crisp bacon.”
“I have it sent from New York,” he said. “Help yourself.”
Dinah whipped out her iPhone again and took pictures of Coleman, with Dolly, who was sitting between Heyward and Tony, in front of the mountains of food.
Mrs. Carter came in. “Excuse me, Mr. Bain. There are reporters on the porch who want to talk to Miss Coleman and get a picture of her and Dolly.”
“Oh, heavens,” Coleman said. “Must I change clothes?”
Heyward looked at her. “No, don’t. That kelly green tracksuit is becoming, and they’ll want Dolly with the broken leash and you in the clothes you were wearing during the recent events. We’ll invite some of them in shortly to share our feast, and take pictures, and ask questions, but first, while we’re just family, I want to ask for your help.”
The group at the table stopped eating and looked at him. “What is it?” Coleman asked.
“You’ve all met Rachel Ransome, and you know she’s a good person who’s had a lot of bad things happen to her. She’s in trouble again, and I’d like your help in getting her out of it.”
Heyward went on to explain Rachel’s association with Lady Fitzgerald and Princess Stephanie, the murders, and the police suspicion of her.
“The police seem to think the murderer is Stephanie, Lady Fitzgerald, or Rachel, or may
be Jane Ross,” said Heyward. “They have no proof that it’s any of them, but they’re not giving up. I’ve put together a package of all the background for you, Coleman, and you, Dinah. Put your minds to these murders. The police have narrowed their investigation in a way that may be keeping them from seeing all the evidence. If you can see something they haven’t, it may help remove the cloud that’s hanging over Rachel. You can tell Jonathan about it, Dinah, but no one else. Tony, if you’d help, too, I’d be grateful. Will all of you help?” he said, looking at them.
“Of course,” Coleman said.
“Oh, yes,” Dinah said. “I know what it’s like to be suspected of murder.”
“Yes, sir,” Tony said.
“Great. The sooner we can clear Rachel, the better for her. Now, how many people are waiting outside? Would you take a look, Tony?”
Tony left for a few minutes and came back. “Only five,” he said. “I know them all by sight, two of them well. They’re okay. Shall I invite them in?”
A few minutes later three men and two women joined them, and the noise in the room rose. They questioned Coleman, petted Dolly, photographed everyone, and ate hugely.
Jonathan arrived and Dinah filled him in. Tony managed to have a private word with Coleman. “Are we still on for tonight?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I can hardly wait. A good evening is what I need to get over how I felt when Dolly was gone.”
“I’ll see you at seven,” he said.
The room grew hot and noisy, and he slipped away, followed by Dinah and Jonathan, and the reporters. Only Coleman, with Dolly on her lap, and Heyward were left.
“I can’t believe all that food is gone,” Coleman said.
Heyward smiled. “The reporters were hungry,” he said.
“That was nice of you, inviting the reporters in,” Coleman said.
“It’s always good to be friendly with the press whenever possible. They can be very helpful,” he said. “What are you going to do today?”
“Have a quiet day,” she said. “I want to go see Jane Ross’s garden, if I can have the car. When I come back I want to go over these papers on poor Rachel’s problems. Write in my diary. Enjoy my beautiful office.”
“The car is yours. If you want or need anything else, let me know.”
“Before we part, you said the police wouldn’t come, because they didn’t investigate missing dogs unless you could prove a crime has been committed, but they were here. What happened?”
“Your friend Tony happened.”
“Wow! He has that kind of influence?”
“Oh, yes, and far more,” Heyward said. “He’s the next Duke of Omnium—that makes him a big deal. In addition, he’s served the Kingdom in many ways. He’s a truly remarkable man.”
“I can see that,” Coleman said.
•••
Coleman felt drained after the emotional sweeps of the morning: Dolly’s disappearance and Dolly’s return. She had no desire to do anything rigorous, but she wanted a little fresh air. This was a good time to visit Jane Ross’s garden. Jane had invited her to come, and the car was available.
Jane looked different in her work clothes, and she seemed troubled by Coleman’s arrival.
“Am I here at a bad time?” Coleman asked.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, not very convincingly. She must be concerned about her relatives’ arrests, but did those arrests affect her? She couldn’t believe Jane was involved in drug trafficking or dog stealing.
“I want to see your garden, of course, but I also want to buy some flowers for Heyward’s library, which I think you know is also his office. What would he like?”
“He likes blue hyacinths for that room. Come in and I’ll get you some,” Jane said.
Jane did not offer her a place to sit, nor did she suggest a tour of the house or the garden. Jane was a different person today—not exactly hostile, but definitely unfriendly. So be it. Coleman paid for the hyacinths, thanked Jane, and said, “Perhaps another time?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Jane said. She was quick to close the door behind Coleman.
Coleman was puzzled, but she put aside Jane’s attitude, while she turned to the material Heyward had given her about Rachel.
An hour later, Coleman had been through all the material Heyward had given her. She was deeply puzzled. She could find no reason why Rachel should be suspected of anything, let alone murder. She had put the material in table form, but there was little to list:
Background: No known criminal activity or offenses.
Motive for murder: None that I can see. Rachel claims she never met the victims. No reason to doubt her.
Suspicious behavior: She went to the Little Palace to view the bodies and crime scenes. Strange, and perhaps unwise, but not criminal.
Why do they suspect her? It can’t be about her playing detective.
Why do they suspect Princess Stephanie? The first murdered man left her money. What about the second one?
Alibis: Rachel has a very good alibi for the first murder. What about the second one?
•••
She called Heyward. “Do you have any new information about the second murder?”
“Yes. The man—Roberto—was dying of an overdose of heroin, just like the first one, when he was ‘killed’ with the razor. He didn’t leave a will, or if he did, no one has found it. They don’t have a time of death yet—sometime Thursday night or early Friday morning. I talked to Rachel several times on Thursday, but I might have been her only contact that day, except for her employees.”
“The police’s suspicion of her is ridiculous. Why do you think they’re after her?”
“I think most of it has to do with her friendship with Lady Fitzgerald and her association with Princess Stephanie.”
“Absurd,” Coleman said. “How are we going to clear her?”
“I don’t know,” Heyward said. “I hoped you’d have some ideas.”
“I’ll keep thinking,” Coleman said.
“On another topic, I went to Lady Jane’s to see the place and to get some flowers—your flowers are in the library—and she seemed rather stressed—almost unfriendly.”
“Yes, her villainous relatives are trying to make her sell 23 Culross and the nursery—they’re desperate for money, and they say since she’s the head of their clan, she should give them hers. She’s very worried. We’ve had someone watching her trying to figure out whether she’s been a part of her relatives’ criminal activities. She’s clean—but they’ll destroy her if she lets them. We’re trying to figure out how to help her.”
“Okay, good—I’m glad she’s not like her cousins, and I’m glad you’re trying to help her.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dinah and Jonathan
Saturday morning, May, London
On the way home from Heyward’s, Jonathan said, “You look pale and tired, too—almost as bad as Coleman.”
“I know. I felt so bad for her. Now I feel bad for Rachel. We have to help her.”
“I agree. We’ll do all we can.”
“As soon as we get home, I’m going through the papers Heyward gave us. I’m sure Rachel’s innocent. I wonder why they think she’s guilty.”
•••
Dinah settled in the bedroom in one of the big soft chairs, with a kitchen tray on her lap substituting for a table, with the papers Heyward had given her, and studied them carefully. By the time she finished, she was furious. The police had nothing. Why did they think Rachel had anything to do with those two men?
The most interesting information in the folder was Rachel’s summary about the murder scenes resembling the two books, and her belief that the structured scenes were designed to implicate her or Lady Fitzpatrick.
Dinah picked up the latest of Stephanie’s prints, planning to put it away. She looked at it again, staring at the picture. A female nude, standing, facing the viewer; her head turned, obscuring her face. Deliberately blurred anatomical d
etails, saving it from total pornography. But Stephanie had stepped up the heat with the introduction of an ogling male, obviously spying on the woman. The image was familiar. But how could that be?
Suddenly it came to her: She’d first seen the image when she was a student. Stephanie had copied a lithograph by the American artist Arnold Rönnebeck, made about 1930. Rönnebeck had died in 1947, and had never been famous. Stephanie must have thought she could safely copy it, but a friend of Dinah’s had used it as an illustration in a book. It was Stephanie’s bad luck that Dinah knew the image so well. She couldn’t wait to call Rachel—but first, Coleman.
“Have you been through the Rachel papers?” she asked.
“I have,” Coleman said. “The police have nothing. I can’t imagine what they’re doing. Her notes on the murder scenes are interesting. I bet the police haven’t even looked at them. I’m trying to figure out what we should do. I’m going to call Heyward to discuss it,” Coleman said.
“Good! Meanwhile, I have a bomb to drop. The latest etching in Secrets is a copy of a lithograph by an obscure American artist, Arnold Rönnebeck. Our friend Susan Davis used it as an illustration—you’ve seen it in her book. I’ll call Bethany and have her fax the page from Susan’s book to Jonathan.
“I have the newspaper in front of me—I do recognize it,” Coleman said. “What are you going to do?”
“Call Rachel. Go to see her with the evidence. She’ll be livid, and will want to confront Stephanie. I want to be there. Want to come with me?”
“Absolutely! I wouldn’t miss it,” Coleman said. “Will you pick me up?”
“Yes. I’ll call Rachel—she’ll drop everything for this. Pick you up in half an hour.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bloody Royal Prints Page 16