by Amy M. Reade
The next few days continued in much the same pattern—working in the shop and studio during the day with Eilidh and Seamus, then dinner alone in the evening. I was getting rather accustomed to it, though I had to admit that some company would be nice now and then. After the incident with Alice, neither Eilidh nor I was in much of a mood to go to the pub to watch people play darts or have a go at a game ourselves.
The constable came into the shop one day late in the week. “I wanted to give you an update on our progress with Alice McDermott.”
“What have you found?” I asked.
“She has been examined by a psychiatrist and is now saying she was not in the right frame of mind when she broke into your house and attacked you. The psychiatrist agrees.”
“I could have told you that,” I answered frankly.
“She’s been released to her home in London pending trial up here in Cauld Loch. She’ll be required to return for that. For now she has to stay in London, so I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with her.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” I said. What made him think Alice would stay in London? Her doctor apparently acknowledged that she wasn’t mentally stable.
“What about the painting? Has there been any progress locating it? Or any progress in finding out who killed Florian McDermott?” I asked.
“I’m afraid there’s been no progress on either count,” he said. “Since Scotland Yard took over the investigation of Florian McDermott’s death we haven’t had too much to do with it—we’ve conducted some supplemental interviews, as you know, sent over transcripts of interviews and the like, but nothing more. And as for the painting, it appears to have fallen off the face of the earth. But once Scotland Yard determines the identity of the killer, I think we’ll move quickly on finding it.”
“It’s that painting that has caused all the trouble for me and Seamus,” I noted. “It’s been at the root of the physical attacks, the nasty phone calls, the threats.”
“I realize that, Mrs. Carmichael. It’s just that our hands are tied. It’s technically the Yard’s case now.”
“I understand. I just wish we all had more answers.” I thanked him for coming by and saw him to the door.
As I locked the door behind him, then set the alarm system, I could feel the anger and anxiety rising in my chest. Why couldn’t Scotland Yard give this case more attention? Surely the suspicious death of Florian McDermott, a prominent member of the London financial and art scene, deserved more attention than it was receiving. And surely the local police could do more to find the Leitch painting. It sounded like they were sitting on their hands waiting for Scotland Yard to find the killer before they made any attempt to look for the painting that was at the root of all the trouble we’d experienced in the last several months.
Suddenly I had an idea. I called Eilidh and asked if she and Seamus could mind the shop and the studio for a few days. Then I called Chloe.
“Do you think I could stay with you for a couple days?” I asked.
“Of course. That would be wonderful,” she said. “What’s the occasion?”
“I’m coming down there to talk to Hagen myself.”
There was hesitation in her voice. “Do you think it’ll do any good?” she asked. “I mean, do you think he’ll talk to you?”
“I can only try,” I admitted. “But I feel like I need to talk to him face-to-face to ask him more about the painting. Why he thinks we have it, where else he’s looked for it, those types of questions. Scotland Yard doesn’t appear to be getting very far, and I think Hagen might have some information that I know is important.”
“That’s fine.” Chloe sounded doubtful. “I can take you to where he’s being held as soon as you get here.”
I thanked her and rang off after letting her know that I planned to take the train down the next day. I would be able to talk to Hagen in less than forty-eight hours.
I hastily packed a bag and went to sleep with a feeling of positive energy. I finally felt like I was taking steps to get to the bottom of the problems and threats that had plagued me, Seamus, and our friends and family for months.
Eilidh and Seamus came to Gorse Brae the next morning before dawn. I had already eaten breakfast, so I was ready to leave when they arrived. I waved to them as I pulled away from the house, anxious to be on my way. I had tried to get a ticket on the train, but there were no seats. I didn’t want to wait for the next one, so I decided to drive. Though it was a long trip, it seemed to go quickly. I was focused on trying to distill the information I wanted most from Hagen—how he heard about the painting, what made him think it was still at Gorse Brae, and whether or not Thea had known anything about the painting. I didn’t know how long I would have to talk to him, so I needed to make sure my questions were succinct.
It was lovely to see Chloe and Felix when I arrived late that afternoon. Chloe had left work early to greet me and help me settle into their gorgeous flat, and then she and I walked over to the Lundenburg to see Felix. He greeted me with a big hug and a wide smile, wanting to know how Seamus was doing and when I thought would be a good time for him and Chloe to visit us again. I told him reluctantly that Seamus and I were still living apart, but that maybe in the spring things would be better.
They took me to dinner at a posh restaurant near the gallery, then Felix went back to work. Chloe and I returned to their flat and sipped glasses of wine while I told her what I intended to find out from Hagen.
“You know he’s not going to be very happy to see you,” she warned. “He thinks you and Seamus are the cause of all his troubles.”
“Hagen is the cause of his own troubles,” I said wryly. “Seamus and I happened to get caught in the middle of everything. Have you told Hagen I’ll be visiting him?”
“No,” she said. “I thought it best if you just show up. That way you have a better chance of getting the answers you’re looking for.”
“Thank you,” I said. I bid her goodnight.
The next morning we took the Tube to the place where Hagen was being held. When we got there we were told that his sister was visiting and that we would have to wait our turn and be quick once we were in. I had expected that, so I had made two lists of questions: a long list and an abbreviated one. I would have to use the shorter list. “Can he refuse to see me?” I asked Chloe in a low voice.
“I’m sure he can, but let’s see what happens. He wants to get out of here, I know that. He has maintained his innocence from the very start. If he thinks you can help spring him from here by finding out something the police didn’t realize, he might see the wisdom in answering your questions.”
We waited in silence to be called into the room where I would see Hagen for the first time since he followed me in the woods along the shore of Cauld Loch. We sat in a large, rather crowded room facing the office, with our backs to the door through which visitors were admitted to the nether regions of the prison. After many long minutes enduring the room’s stale odor and the pale yellow monotony of the walls, there was a loud clang and the door behind us opened. I turned around to see if I would be called back next, and I inhaled sharply.
Alice was walking through the room. She held her head high and looked straight ahead, and I was sure she hadn’t seen me. Then the officer who had led her through the door called my name. Alice must have been the one visiting Hagen.
Alice was Hagen’s sister.
I stood up hastily, dropping my purse and my lists on the gray cement floor. I waved my hand at the officer to let him know I was coming, then bent down to hiss at Chloe, “Did you see that?”
“See what?” she asked, turning around in her seat.
“Alice just came out of there,” I whispered.
“Alice? You mean your Alice?” she asked, her eyes widening. “I wouldn’t recognize her if I saw her. I’ve never seen her before.”
She was right. She would have no way of knowing what Alice looked like. How many times had she been here to visit Hagen and seen
Alice, not realizing she was looking at the woman who had terrorized me and Seamus? Not realizing what this could mean for Hagen and the rest of us?
Because of my injured arm, it took me several seconds to pick up my handbag and the papers that had drifted to the floor. That gave me a moment to gather my thoughts before going through the metal door. The officer stood with his hands on his hips, clearly impatient. He probably had better things to do.
I clutched my papers to my chest and followed him through the door, looking back at Chloe. She was watching me with worry in her eyes.
When I saw Hagen, I was surprised. I had expected him to look ravaged and scruffy, like prisoners on television and like I had last seen him in Cauld Loch. But he looked trim and clean, much like he had looked the first time I had seen him in London. His eyes narrowed when he saw me, and he made a move toward the door leading farther back into the prison. But a guard in the room held him back. He said something to Hagen, and Hagen turned around slowly to face me through the glass that separated us. I sat down tentatively.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a rough voice, his tone belying his suave appearance.
“I’ve come to ask you some questions. I’m trying to get to the bottom of everything that’s happened recently, and I think you might be able to help me if you can share some information about the painting. If you help me, maybe I can help you.” Could I really help him? Did I really want to?
He stared at me, not answering.
“Is Alice McDermott your sister?” I asked.
He grimaced. “Yes. One can’t choose one’s family.”
“So you two have been working together,” I said.
He turned around and gave the guard at the door a hand signal. The guard came over to Hagen and bent down to his level. Hagen said something into the man’s ear, then the guard looked up at me. “He’s asked to return to his cell, ma’am. That’ll be all for today.”
Without giving me another glance, Hagen pushed his chair back and accompanied the uniformed officer out the door into the prison halls. I sat staring at his retreating back, wondering how this new information fit with everything I already knew.
Chloe was surprised that my conversation with Hagen had gone so quickly, but she wanted to know more about Alice.
“I can’t believe I’ve been passing her all this time and I didn’t realize it!” she exclaimed on our way out of the prison. “How does this change things?”
My mind was working furiously. “Well, for one, it may mean that Alice and Hagen have been working together this whole time. And it means that Alice and Florian probably both knew about the painting before Florian bought it. When Florian told us the painting reminded him of his childhood, he was probably just talking rubbish.”
Chloe nodded.“What do we do with this information?”
“I guess we should tell someone,” I answered. “Either Scotland Yard or the police in Cauld Loch.”
“Will you call them today?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll visit the Cauld Loch police tomorrow when I get home and they can notify Scotland Yard.”
Felix came home early that night and we discussed what we had discovered on our visit to the prison. He couldn’t believe Alice was Hagen’s sister.
“Are you sure she didn’t see you at the prison?” he asked, a worried look on his face. “You know she’s a bit daft, and if she saw you there’d be no end to the trouble.”
“I don’t think she saw us,” I answered. Chloe nodded her agreement. “At least, she didn’t show any recognition.” Now Felix had me thinking. Was it possible Alice had seen us there, knew we made the connection between her and Hagen, and was now planning on stopping that information from getting out? I gave an involuntary shudder. “If she did see us, we’d both better watch ourselves.” I turned to Chloe. “Promise me you won’t go anywhere alone. Make sure there are always people around.”
“I promise,” she said solemnly. “Promise me you’ll do the same.”
“I will. I already know what madness Alice is capable of,” I said.
I didn’t sleep well that night. I was worried about the implications of what I had learned at the prison. When I stumbled out of bed groggily in the morning, the last thing I wanted to do was get in my car and drive for hours. I couldn’t bear the thought of being behind the wheel for so long when I was so desperately exhausted, but I had to get back to the shop. I accepted a cup of coffee for the road, then drove away from Felix and Chloe’s flat with a wave and a tired smile. I had promised Chloe I would pull over and text her periodically so she would know I was driving safely.
I didn’t think anything of the car that pulled away from the curb behind me as I left.
Getting out of London on a busy weekday morning was dodgy. I fought the traffic while sipping my coffee, grateful that the caffeine would soon be working its magic and I would feel better. But until then there were the ceaseless noises of London traffic to keep me awake—honking horns, idling engines, the occasional shout from a street corner.
It was over an hour later when I finally got on the road headed north. The traffic dispersed as I drove father and farther from London, and by afternoon I could go several minutes without seeing another car on the road—except the one in my rearview mirror.
I pulled over at a deserted rest stop and the car behind me pulled in, too. Before I got out I texted Chloe that the trip was going well. Then I reached for the door handle, and as I opened the door it was yanked out of my hand.
I hadn’t seen Alice standing next to my car, waiting for me to get out. I tried getting back in and pulling the door shut behind me, but she was too strong, even with the injuries Eilidh had inflicted upon her. She pulled the door open again and grabbed my arm, jerking me out of the driver’s seat. I dropped the keys and she gave them a vicious kick out of the way.
“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You had to go down to London, poking around where it’s none of your business. You had to go see Hagen. You had to ruin everything!” Her voice had gotten steadily louder, and now she was shouting. I tried backing away, but I backed into the side of my car.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to speak in a reasoned tone so she would calm down. “I just wanted to ask him how he learned about the Leitch painting and how he found out Seamus had bought it.”
“Does it matter?” she asked. “All that really matters is where the painting is now.”
Until I realized Hagen and Alice were siblings I had continued to hold out hope that one of them had the painting and the other one was trying to find it. Knowing they were possibly in cahoots with each other made that assumption less likely.
“So you really don’t know where the painting is?” I asked. I flinched, expecting an explosion of anger. But instead she gave me a thoughtful look that made her seem even more unglued.
“Of course I don’t know where it is. Why do you think I came to your house looking for it? Why do think Hagen came?”
So the other person who broke in had been Hagen?
She made a good point. But if she was telling the truth—and I had no reason to think she was—where was the painting?
“I thought you came looking for it because I didn’t know you were working together to find it. I figured one of you had it and the other was looking for it to try to throw suspicion away from yourself.”
“That’s stupid.”
“No more stupid than attacking someone who knows nothing about the painting.”
Without warning, she slapped me across the face. “I’m going to find that painting, and when I do neither you nor Hagen is going to be able to do a thing about it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. The realization that she didn’t intend to let me escape from this was slowly dawning.
“I mean you’re coming with me. In my car.”
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“You’re mad if you think I’m going anywhere with you,” I said, glaring at her in defiance.
“Oh, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” she cooed in a soft voice. She was becoming more frightening by the second. Her moods shifted like quicksilver.
I only hesitated a moment before running toward the restrooms. I would find safety inside, I hoped.
But Alice was as quick as she was strong. She caught up to me in no time, sticking out her foot and tripping me before my brain had a chance to process what she was doing. I sprawled onto the ground, my palms and knees stinging from the impact and my injured arm protesting in pain. She hoisted me to my feet roughly, then grabbed my good arm and marched me to her car, where she pushed me into the back seat and slammed the door. I tried to twist away from her, but her grip was too strong. My mobile phone was still in my car and my keys still lay on the ground somewhere in the parking lot. I had no way to contact anyone.
She gunned the engine and sped off in the same direction we had been traveling.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Cauld Loch. Where else?”
My hopes rose. If we drove into Cauld Loch, perhaps I could get the attention of someone who would recognize me. Then that person would know to alert Seamus, who would do anything to free me from this madwoman.
We drove in silence for a long time. We were still several hours from Cauld Loch. Alice alternated between heavy metal, classical, and pop music on the radio until I thought I would scream.
“You’re not going to find the painting in my house,” I finally told her. “You’ve searched, Hagen has searched, and you’ve both found nothing.”
“I’ll decide where to search,” she said. “When I find it I’m going to follow the map, get the gems, and get out of Scotland.” She gave a loud laugh. “I’m moving where no one will ever find me, and I’ll live in luxury for the rest of my days on what those crown jewels are worth.”