The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  Two-way river did not disappoint us with its late morning face. Under the shadows of the trees that lined that little glade it was cool, but in the sunshine the air was perfect. I plopped down, adjusted my sunglasses that popped up when I laid down, and proceeded to reread my notes. Noelle as promised waded out to a large flat rock and sat up on it with her book cradled in her lap.

  We could have stayed there for hours. Although fate didn’t wait for two women to recharge their batteries, it arrived bounding out of the woods in the guise of an out of breath Paisley Price.

  “Cin, thank god I found you. I have some important information. You will not believe this.”

  “Slow down,” I waved at Noelle to come over, “what is so important that it couldn’t have waited till we returned?”

  “I suppose it could have waited, but I’m in a quandary. Part of this I don’t know if Angie can see or know or...argh!” Paz nearly sat on my lap as her bottom found ground.

  “Wait for me,” Noelle demanded. She sat on my other side. “Okay, now.”

  Paz handed me a scrawled list of names with information jotted to the side of each.

  Horace Beaufort: Montreal Canada; deceased April 15, 2001 - hit and run, driver left scene.

  Ivan Bendonovich: Missing, presumed dead; last known address Berlin, East Germany 1960.

  Bentley Hughes: Owner of Classic Compositions; living in Primrose Hill; married, two children, four grandchildren.

  Maurice Sherborn: Conductor/Composer; short-listed for knighthood; Kensington, London; widowed, no children; wife deceased – June 30, 1981.

  Michael Sherborn: Head gardener, Regents Park; single; Marylebone, London.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. Is this right?” I pointed to Michael Sherborn’s name.

  “I gave my bloke all the names on the list Father Michael gave me. I didn’t remember till after Michael was dead.”

  “Same Michael?”

  “He don’t make mistakes. I asked him, and he confirmed it. That’s the problem. Angie was told this bloke was dead. He’s not.”

  “Bloody hell, did he dump her and tell his brother to tell her he was dead?” Noelle asked.

  “Maybe he killed Donald. Went into hiding,” Paz theorized.

  “Let’s not make any sudden conclusions. Perhaps I better go to London and talk to this Michael, find out his story.”

  Noelle tapped the top of the paper. “Mom, when was Bobby Bathgate attacked?”

  “I think it was the middle of April this year.”

  “Looks like Horace was killed just before Bobby’s attack.”

  A bad chill went through my body. “Paz, do you have any friends that can get more information on Horace’s hit and run?”

  “Someone I know must know somebody, why?”

  “It appears that our killer has targeted the class that Donald was in. It could have been any of the remaining men. Or any of these remaining men could be in danger. I’m not going to assume that Ivan is dead right now. If he were dead then it would explain the use of his music. He’s killed before he can leave the Soviet Union to make a claim. Or if he is alive, is he in hiding for his life or the mastermind behind all these crimes?

  “I need to also discuss with you two the possibility that Donald may have been in on the theft. And what about Michael, damn it, he better have a damn good reason for being or playing dead.”

  “I think we need to go to London. The answers are there. I am sure of it,” Noelle said firmly.

  “The killer is there too,” I reminded her.

  “What about Angie? She can’t stay here alone. She’s still at risk.” Paz thought a minute. “Angie wants to talk to Maurice, but we want to talk to Michael first. Father Michael will be going to be with his aunt in London. I don’t suppose he’ll want to be left out.”

  “No, I don’t think he would. Do you think that Billy would go along with us, Paz?”

  “I could ask him. Why?”

  “Somewhere, we will have to separate to get to Michael before we all talk to Maurice. If we had Billy he could stay with Angie for that time. We will have to be clever when we split up. I can’t think that far in advance, but I’m sure we will figure something out.”

  “Where will we stay? Angie has a flat, but I imagine it’s small. Father Michael will no doubt stay close to his aunt. That leaves Billy, Paz, you and I,” Noelle figured.

  “That’s an easy one, yer going to stay with me mum and dad. It is just outside of London. Billy can escort Angie in so she can be settled, we will go directly to Regents Park and Billy can meet us there after he checks out her flat.”

  “Are you sure your mother isn’t going to mind?”

  “I’ll go and call her now. She loves to play hostess. You might have to double up, but she has room.” Paz got to her feet.

  “Wait. I want to go with you.” Noelle looked down at me. “Mom, will you be alright alone?”

  “Please go. I really need to think. I think we should start off as soon as we can.”

  “Once we get a hold of Billy and Mrs. Price, I will make us all train reservations. It’ll be expensive.”

  “Don’t worry. Maybe I can line me up some more freelance work when I get home.”

  After the girls left I laid back on the grass and closed my eyes. I didn’t look forward to what we were going have to do. Confront Michael, the love of Angie’s life. What if he was the killer? I couldn’t put the girls in any more danger. I didn’t want to go alone, but I would if I had to. I stretched out in pure feline fashion, and I let the sun warm my bones. A shadow crossed the sun, and I looked up. Father Michael stood before me.

  “Paz sent me down, said you had some information for me?” His voice was odd, stilted. Maybe he was still mad at me. Hell, I would be mad at me.

  I tried to sit up. It was difficult considering I let my abs go to rot for the last few years. I ended up rolling over on my knees.

  “You’re not going to confess something are you because I should tell you...”

  “No, of course not. I am just having a hell of a time getting to my feet,” I said as I stood up. I brushed the grass off my behind.

  “Ah, could you...you know...button your shirt?” he said in the same tone as before.

  I looked down, and during my cat stretch a couple of buttons on my shirt had opened. It wouldn’t have been an issue had I been wearing a bra, but... I whipped around in embarrassment and fumbled with the buttons. Oh, what a pretty picture to come upon: me lying in full stretch, my shirt opened displaying skin and the necklace.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I said humiliated.

  “It’s okay, but you make it awfully difficult sometimes. The bed smells like you. I dreamt all night about you. Your underwear is all over the room. I am having a hell of a time maintaining my control, and you walk in wearing that beautiful dress. Sure, I’m all prepared with my ‘I am a man of the cloth’ speech, and you don’t even hit on me. You come in and tell me my religion is crap. You sit too close to me. I feel like I’m fourteen years old. So I come down here, and there you are, lying down on the grass with practically nothing on but that pagan necklace. You look like a sacrifice to the sun. Your curls are spread around you, and I want to take them up in my hands. I want to smell your hair, and I can’t even tell you what this fourteen year-old has in mind for the rest of you.”

  “Wow. Hey, you aren’t an easy man to keep out of my thoughts either. I’m not going to feed your ego any further. You made a commitment to God. Your friendship is too damn important to ruin over sex. Although I am sure it would be wonderful sex, anyway, where was I?”

  “Thinking about having sex with me.”

  “Thank you and my inflated ego thanks you too. Now that’s out of the way, let me fill you in on the information that Paz got.”

  I told him everything I knew. I showed him my papers, and let him into my head concerning the risks I didn’t want to take with the girls or Billy for that matter.

  “I’ll go with you to ta
lk to Michael. It would be very easy. I wanted to meet my namesake. We’ll ease into telling him about how my uncle died, and then we tell him how surprised we are that we have found him alive since his true love was told he was dead.”

  “Why does it sound so simple when you say it?” I wrinkled my brow.

  “I’m the priest. The priests always know what to do in the movies.”

  “I don’t have to remind you what happens to priests in the movies, do I?”

  “No, and I do accept the risk you and I will take. I have one condition that you must follow.”

  “Condition? Okay I see you’re serious. What?”

  “Before we leave this farm, will you put on a bra?”

  “Find me distracting?” I arched my back and sucked in my stomach as I walked backwards giving him my best poster-girl profile. I was so caught up in my teasing that I fell backwards into the Two-way River. Karma.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fortunately for my American Express account, Paz knew a guy that got us a great deal on our overnight tickets to London. Angie and I doubled up, as did the men and the girls. I was able to fill Chief Superintendent Browning in on our immediate plans. He said he would call ahead and someone from the Met would meet the train at Paddington station. The constable would escort Angie to her flat and stay with her until our appointment. He didn’t want us interfering with his case and recommended strongly that we stay away from Maurice Sherborn. He had planned to be in London that evening and would be talking to Maurice the next day.

  Father Michael decided that we would have to talk to him tonight before Maurice knew that he was a person of interest in the investigation. He had set up the appointment with Sherborn’s secretary, using his aunt Diane’s married name, to talk to the composer about getting permission for Savannah’s symphony to play some of his earlier work. He felt by using her name we wouldn’t show our hand if Maurice was indeed involved in this “nasty business.”

  We arrived at Paddington Station at eight o’clock, which left us four hours before our appointment with Maurice. Constable Marie Davis met us, and even though Angie wasn’t too pleased that we would be split up, she was still in good spirits when she left with the officer.

  “I guess I will have a chance at a nap before we meet up.”

  I walked over to her and looked her in the eye. “Please be careful. If anything looks suspicious...”

  “I know, let the constable know. I feel better knowing that Billy is going with you. Father Michael is a big guy but not as strong and resourceful as a good Cornwall boy.” She paused and continued, “Billy is sweet on our little Paz. Don’t the two of them make an interesting pair?”

  “Here you are matchmaking at a time like this, honestly.” I kissed her on the cheek and returned to the group. She walked along playing tug of war with the constable over who was going to carry her bag. I wished that I would have that much energy when I turned her age.

  “Paisley!” A tall thin blond young man ran up and grabbed Paz in a big hug. Billy’s eyes clouded and his hands were flexing.

  “Everybody, this is my cousin Peter. He’s our contact at the Royal Conservatory.” She looked up at him. “He comes from the tall side of the family.”

  “Hullo.” Peter nodded and shook hands with the men. “I have been doing some digging for Paz here on Maurice Sherborn. Besides having an eclectic assortment of musical styles, the only other thing I could find is that everything that he has done has been published or arranged through Classic Compositions.”

  “Isn’t Bentley Hughes still running Classic?” I asked him.

  “Yes he is. Classic Compositions has been keeping the Hughes family in high style for a long time now.”

  “I thought the Hughes family was wealthy?”

  “Were wealthy. Turns out Bentley’s father was mixed up in some deal with the Germans. After the war the family was ruined. Then Bentley comes to the rescue by signing Maurice to a contract, and they rebuilt Classic’s reputation. Maurice was married to Bentley’s sister. She died some time ago.”

  “Where did you come up with all this?” Noelle grilled him.

  He looked down at my very serious daughter and smiled. “Gossip, professors love to recall gossip. In London it’s all about gossip. It sells papers, builds and fells empires.” He winked at her. “I have a cab waiting, Paz says I’m to take your bags to her house. Paz, your mother is driving everyone nuts getting the place ready.”

  “She likes to fuss. Thank you Peter, I owe you one.”

  “You can pay up now.”

  “Bloody hell, what do you want.”

  He bent over and whispered in her ear.

  “Oh, sorry I have to ask. Noelle, the giant wants your phone number.”

  My daughter blushed. “Go ahead give and it to him, and Peter...”

  “Yes?”

  “Make sure you use it,” Noelle said and flipped her hair as she turned around and went to look at a newsstand nearby. Now, that was a performance. I wonder if she was hyperventilating over there.

  Peter looked very pleased and grabbed our bags. He reminded Paz which line of the underground to get on to take us to Regents Park. This being rush hour it was much quicker than taking a cab.

  I walked over to get Noelle. She was paying for a paper.

  “He’s pretty cute,” I said.

  “Oh, he is a charmer, as Paz would say. Penniless musician probably, but he seems pretty smart. Don’t get that look in your eye.”

  “What look?”

  “The one that says, ‘Grandchildren.’”

  “Come on, I am too young to be a grandmother, it’s your father...”

  “Oh, speaking of Dad, I think that he’ll be kicking himself for letting you go.”

  “Dumping me.”

  “Anyway.” She opened up the paper and pointed to a small headline: International Detective Cin Fin-Lathen survives murder attempt. “Well it looks like our stealthy mission has been announced.”

  “What else does it say?”

  “I’ll read it to you. Really, you ought to get reading glasses.”

  “I have reading glasses.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In my purse.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing them.”

  “They make me look old.”

  “Honestly. Ahem. Cornwall: According to our sources Detective Fin-Lathen found a missing American serviceman after being drugged and thrown into a quicksand bog. She was saved by her daughter and friends. The corpse has not been named at this time. Detective Fin-Lathen, a United States resident, was unavailable for comment.”

  Noelle waited until we were on the tube train to show the others the article. When Father Michael read it he asked, “Who’s the source?”

  We all answered at once, “Constable Cayne.”

  “At least there isn’t a picture of you Cin, but we can be sure that whoever was behind this knows for certain that you’re still alive and Donald was found.”

  “Father Michael, did you ever find out what happened to your uncle, I mean besides being dumped in that bog?” Billy asked.

  He took a deep breath and looked hard at me as if to say he was going to be all right. “My uncle had been in a fight. He was shot in the stomach and dumped in the bog alive to drown.”

  “I’m sorry if I am being indelicate,” Noelle started, “Did they know what kind of bullet it was. I mean could they tell if it was a Russian bullet or an American bullet?”

  “I didn’t ask. Why?”

  “Considering the time period, I was just thinking if it was a Russian bullet then it seems to me that Ivan killed Donald. But if it was a bullet shot from an American weapon, your uncle could have been shot by his own gun. In that case we wouldn’t be able to tell who killed him.”

  “I see where you’re going with this,” I jumped in. “We could apply the same logic to our other suspects.”

  “But if it was a civilian gun then Maurice didn’t have to be strong to subdue my unc
le. He just shot him and kicked the hell out of him before dumping his body. I’ll call my aunt when we get to the Baker Street station and have her follow up on this.”

  “Give her this number.” Paz handed him a slip of paper. “Peter loaned me his cell phone,” she explained as she stared at the phones screen. “Oh bloody hell, the cell won’t work in here. We’ll have to wait till we get topside.”

  “Penniless musicians don’t have cell phones,” I hissed at my daughter. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

  “I have a question, Ms. Fin-Lathen.”

  “What, Billy?”

  “Does anyone know what this Michael Sherborn looks like?”

  “No.”

  “Then how are we going to find him? Walk around the park and yell his name? Seems like a way to get us or him killed.”

  “Can I?” Noelle asked and didn’t wait for permission. “We go to the park office and ask where he’s working today.”

  I was glad she was around. I had planned on running around the park yelling his name. “Remember the plan is that once we locate him, Father Michael will approach him. We don’t want to tip him off if he is in on this or if he’s innocent give the old guy a heart attack.”

  “He bloody well deserves a heart attack for abandoning Angie. Broke her heart, he did. Ruined her life.” Paz put her arm through Billy’s. “You wouldn’t do that to me would ya?”

  “Only if you were pregnant.”

  She pulled away and almost slugged him. The twinkle in his eye stopped her. “Damn comedian. You were almost sporting a black eye.”

  “Please, let’s keep cool heads on our shoulders. I don’t have to remind you that this isn’t a picnic we’re going to. First sign of trouble call the constables. What is the emergency number here, at home it’s 911.”

  “999,” Paz, Noelle and Billy said in chorus.

  “Okay, 999.”

  We got off at Baker Street, crossed Park Road and walked into the park. Michael called his aunt while we were walking. Noelle having studied a semester in London spent a lot of time in this park. She knew where the office was and ran ahead of us to get the information on Michael Sherborn. We all stood around until she came running back.