The Danger Next Door (Anne Lambert Mysteries)

by Kris Langman

  “Jail time! I can’t. I won’t. You can go to hell. A bunch of emails aren’t going to make me turn myself in to the police.”

  “It’s true that they aren’t much by themselves. Of course, I could always point the police to the eyewitness. The one who saw you hit Jimmy with that paperweight and push him into the Thames.”

  “That’s a load of crap, and you know it,” sputtered Daniel. “There’s no eyewitness who saw me kill Jimmy, because I didn’t kill Jimmy.”

  Dr. Davidson said something which Anne couldn’t catch. She leaned in closer to the wall of the tent, jerking back suddenly when she realized that she was pushing against the canvas, possibly making her outline visible from within the tent.

  “Anne! What are you doing here?”

  Anne spun around, heart pounding. She was face to face with Lindsey, who was sporting a tailored trench coat, knee-length suede boots, and a very surprised look.

  Anne gaped at her, painfully aware that she hadn’t prepared an excuse for her presence at the castle. Even worse, she suddenly realized that the conversation inside the tent had ceased.

  They came around the corner of the tent before she had time to react. Dr. Davidson was in the lead, with Daniel Soames following him like an out of temper sheepdog. Daniel’s hair was sticking straight up and his rumpled suit was covered in what looked like bits of hay from the pony ride. The doctor was his usual dapper self in a spotless cashmere overcoat. He started at the sight of her, but recovered quickly.

  “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said, sliding an arm around Lindsey’s waist. “I didn’t realize you were down in this part of the country, Anne. Did Lady Soames invite you to her little gathering?”

  Anne was spared from having to reply by the appearance of Lady Soames herself, looking extremely irritated at having to tromp through the wet grass.

  “Daniel! What on earth are you doing skulking about like this? The Earl of Wessex has been asking for you. He’s up at the banqueting hall, having a civilized cup of tea, not out here playing crude fairground games, or whatever it is you’ve been up to.” Lady Soames paused, peering nearsightedly at Anne. “Miss Lambert, isn’t it?”

  Anne nodded, watching as the expression on Lady Soames’ face changed from irritated to wary. Anne realized that Daniel’s mother must have remembered who she was, i.e., the person who’d been run down by her son’s car. It looked like Lady Soames was still on guard against imaginary lawsuits.

  Lady Soames cleared her throat and fixed on a strained smile. “Miss Lambert, why don’t you join us in the banqueting hall? The caterer has done some lovely petit fours.”

  Much to Anne’s surprise Lady Soames linked arms with her and led the way toward the castle. As they merged into the crowd Anne looked back. Dr. Davidson and Lindsey were following arm in arm. Daniel stomped behind them, shooting enraged glances first at her and then at the doctor. They skirted the croquet lawn in front of the manor house and passed through a small person-sized door cut into the heavy oak of the massive medieval doorway.

  Lady Soames led the way through a maze of corridors and into the banqueting hall. The huge room had a walk-in stone fireplace and a heavy-beamed ceiling. Its walls were covered with portraits of long dead royalty and a large bow window overlooked the grounds. Round tables with six place-settings each were draped in spotless white tablecloths. Centerpieces of pink roses added to the civilized ambience. As they took their places at an empty table Anne couldn’t help wishing that the company was as civilized as the setting.

  Daniel sprawled in a chair, picking his nose. Lady Soames patted her carefully coifed hair and muttered half-audible remarks about the rudeness of the Earl of Wessex and his disappearing act. Dr. Davidson threw his cashmere overcoat across an empty chair and stared at Anne with a mocking expression while stroking Lindsey’s arm with a pale hand.

  “Tea!” shouted Lady Soames suddenly at a passing waiter, causing him to drop the tray loaded with scones and clotted cream he was carrying. It crashed onto the wooden floor, scattering blobs of cream in all directions. Lady Soames shrieked as a splodge hit her in the face, while Daniel casually scooped up a scone off the floor and proceeded to munch on it. Dr. Davidson, whose elegantly tailored suit had escaped the carnage, rushed to Lady Soames’ side, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief he whipped out of his breast pocket.

  Seeing her chance, Anne leaned toward Lindsey. “Tell them you have to use the restroom.”

  “What?” asked Lindsey absentmindedly, absorbed in checking her sea-green silk dress for spots of cream.

  “You have to use the restroom,” hissed Anne more insistently.

  “Oh, no thanks. I’m fine,” responded Lindsey, pulling a compact mirror out of her purse. “You go ahead if you want to. I think it’s down the hall to your left.” She scanned her flawlessly made-up face for cream damage. Finding none, she lowered the mirror. “By the way, it’s kind of weird, isn’t it, both of us spending our weekend down here. I’m beginning to think John was right about you. He says you’ve taken to following him about.” Lindsey’s wide blue eyes looked up in concern, as if she was having doubts about Anne’s sanity. “Of course, being a psychiatrist he’s used to having patients become obsessed with him, but you’re not a patient. You should know better. I know I helped you sneak into his office, but that was wrong of me. I realize that now. John has mentioned that he’s starting to feel harassed by you.”

  Anne let out a small groan of frustration. “Lindsey . . .” she said, but was interrupted by the arrival of a waiter bearing a pot of tea.

  Dr. Davidson took it upon himself to pour. He served Lady Soames, Lindsey and Anne, leaving Daniel to fend for himself. As he passed Anne a cup of steaming Earl Grey his transparent grey eyes stared into hers. “So,” he said, “why are you down here in Kent this weekend? It’s quite a coincidence, finding you here.”

  “I saw a notice in the paper,” said Anne, thinking quickly while taking a sip of tea. “About a fundraiser for the RSPCA being held here at Leeds Castle. I’ve always wanted to see the castle, and I’ve heard good things about the RSPCA from Lindsey, so I just hopped on the train and came down.” She paused, sniffing at her tea. It tasted strange. Earl Grey wasn’t her favorite, but this tasted even worse than usual.

  “Is something wrong?” asked the doctor.

  “Yes,” said Anne quickly. She noticed that both the doctor and Daniel were staring at her intently, but there wasn’t time to wonder what they were up to. This was her chance to get Lindsey away from them. “I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. A bit dizzy. I think I’ll just splash some cold water on my face. Lindsey, would you come with me to the Ladies Room?”

  Lindsey immediately looked concerned, her previous irritation disappearing without a trace. “Of course,” she said, putting a hand on Anne’s arm to help her up.

  Anne tried to fake a wobble in her step, but found to her surprise that there was no need. A genuine dizziness was engulfing her, as if she’d been drinking heavily. She was vaguely aware of leaning on Lindsey as she stumbled out of the banquet hall. The last thing she remembered was the sign on the door to the Ladies Room. It was floating in the air, its letters stretched like taffy.

  * * * *

  “Four minutes,” said Daniel, sounding pleased about something. “Fast-acting stuff.”

  “What is?” Anne managed to choke out. Her tongue felt thick, her mouth dry.

  “The drug. GHB. Hard stuff to get hold of, you know. It’s illegal in the U.K. But it was easy for him, being a doctor and all.”

  Anne felt a hand grasp her hair, lifting her head up. She tried to reach up and swat it away, but her arms wouldn’t move. Her body felt like molten lead poured into a misshapen mold.

  “It was Mum, you know,” Daniel whispered in her ear. “She’s the one who bonked Jimmy on the head and pushed him into the river. My Dad was getting wise to her and the doc siphoning off the family funds. Dad started putting things in Jimmy’s name. Mum couldn’t have
that. Neither could I.” The whisper turned to whine. “I mean, a chap’s got to have cash, doesn’t he? Why should that twat Jimmy get it all?” The hand slammed Anne’s head on the ground for emphasis. “Course, I wasn’t too happy when the doc tried to pin things on me, with that paperweight from my desk. But we’ve worked things out. The doc’s a wanker, but I gotta hand it to him, he’s got real talent when it comes to getting money out of people.”

  Anne felt the hand release her hair.

  “Time to go. They’re going to open the weir. Irrigation, you know. It always causes a bit of rise in the water level around these parts. The river’s already coming in, and these are brand new shoes. Five-hundred quid. Wouldn’t do to get them wet.”

  His footsteps moved away, making a squelching sound. Overhead there was a muffled boom, as if something heavy had been dropped. Even through her closed eyelids Anne could tell that the light had been shut out. She slowly opened her eyes, but it was as dark with her eyes open as with them shut. Slowly she raised herself to a sitting position. Her head was throbbing, and her legs were shaking. The drug must have been in the tea, she thought fuzzily. Dr. Davidson had somehow managed to slip it into her cup when he’d passed it to her.

  She tried to stand but her head collided with something - the place she was in had a ceiling only a few feet high. Anne felt along the wall behind her. It was made of rough stone blocks at least a foot square. She was most likely still in the castle. Down near the river, judging by the rank smell of rotting weeds and algae. The ground felt sticky underneath her feet - she was standing in mud.

  “Hello?” she shouted as loudly as she could. “Can anyone hear me?” Her voice sounded deadened, as if she was in a sound-proof room. No one answered. “Help!” she screamed. Nothing.

  Anne moved along the wall in a crouch, one hand tracing the stones. There had to be some kind of exit. After all, Daniel had gotten out.

  Her foot found the answer before her hand. Swearing at the pain in her toes, she felt along the ground. It was a stone step. She cautiously climbed up onto it, stretching one arm above her head. The staircase wasn’t long, only five shallow steps. The low ceiling descended upon her as she climbed. At the top of the stairs the ceiling changed to rough, splintery wood. A trapdoor. That was what had made the booming sound when Daniel left. Anne pushed at it, first with her hands and then by bracing herself against the wall and shoving with her shoulders. At first she thought she was making progress. The wood creaked and groaned, raising up half an inch or so. But she couldn’t raise it any further. A weight, a latch, something was holding it down.

  Anne banged on it with her fist. “Help! Is anyone up there?”

  No answer.

  She sat down shakily on the stairs and tried to think. How long had she been unconscious? If it was only an hour or so then there would still be lots of people milling around the castle and the grounds. Leeds Castle was not that big. Surely someone would eventually happen by and hear her. She would just have to keep shouting. She opened her mouth to take a deep breath when a sudden rush of water from down below in the dark caused her to gasp in surprise. The cold water washed over her legs, soaking her shoes and jeans before receding again into the darkness. Anne scrambled up as far as she could, her head bumping against the trapdoor.

  “Help!” she cried. “Down here!”

  She had just twisted around to try and shove at the trapdoor with her feet when the water rushed in again. This time it submerged the entire chamber, washing over Anne and lifting her up until her head bumped painfully against the ceiling. Before she had time to panic the water receded as quickly as it had come, dumping her back onto the steps where she lay gasping for breath. As she pulled herself to a sitting position she realized to her horror that one hand was still underwater. The water hadn’t emptied completely this time. The next onslaught might fill the room for longer than she could hold her breath.

  She kicked ferociously at the trapdoor, pounding on it in frustration. “Down here! Anyone! Hurry!”

  A murmur of voices suddenly floated down into the chamber. Anne froze. Someone was nearby, directly over her head by the sound of it. The heavy wood of the trapdoor muffled the voices, but someone was definitely there.

  “Did you hear that?” said one of the voices. The voice was faint and hard to make out, but it sounded like Lindsey.

  Anne sobbed with relief. “Lindsey,” she shouted hoarsely, “I’m down here. Open the trapdoor. Hurry!”

  “No darling,” said another voice. “I didn’t hear anything.” It was the doctor.

  “Are you sure?” asked Lindsey’s disembodied voice. “I could have sworn I heard someone shouting just now. They sounded distressed. Maybe we should notify someone. A security guard or something.”

  “No need for that,” said Dr. Davidson soothingly. “It’s probably just someone partying a bit too hard. One of the booths at the fair is selling shots of Scotch. Glenlivet, I believe. I told Lady Soames that having hard liquor at the event was a mistake, but Daniel managed to convince her otherwise.”

  “Okay,” said Lindsey doubtfully. “I’m sure you’re right. We’d better get back. Lady Soames is probably wondering where we’ve disappeared to.”

  “No!” shouted Anne, pounding on the trapdoor. “Lindsey, it’s me! I’m trapped and water’s coming in. You need to get me out of here!”

  She paused, her breath coming in panicked gulps. There was no sound from above. She yelled again just as another flood rushed in. She barely had time to take a deep breath and put her arms around her head before the water submerged her. It had increased in volume and violence, flinging her from one side of the small chamber to the other. Anne fought an urgent need to open her mouth and fill her lungs with air. In the chaos of the churning water she couldn’t tell up from down. She made a guess at where the ceiling was and tried to surface, but there was no room. Her reaching fingers felt a tiny gap of air between the water and the wood of the trapdoor, but it wasn’t wide enough for her to take a breath.

  The strain of holding her breath was becoming unbearable. Zigzags of colored lights flashed in front of her eyes. She had only a few more seconds before she wouldn’t be able to hold her mouth closed any longer. Water would rush into her lungs, and she would drown. The urge to just get it over with was intense. Anne clamped her teeth shut, biting down so hard on her lower lip that she could feel a warm trickle of blood in her mouth.

  She shut her eyes and tried to calm her thrashing arms. She floated, waiting for the inevitable. Drowning was supposed to be relatively painless.

  A sudden rush of water took her by surprise. She opened her eyes. The chamber was no longer pitch black. A square of light had opened right above her head. Water flooded up and out of the chamber, carrying her with it.

  Hands grabbed her arms, pulling her through the trapdoor and laying her down on wet stone as rivulets of water from the chamber splashed around her.

  “Breathe!” she heard someone say.

  Anne felt hands pulling frantically at her jaw, and she realized that she still had her mouth clamped shut. She opened it, a shuddering gasp racking her whole body. Blood trickled from her mouth and she felt someone press a cloth to her bottom lip.

  “Just lie still. I’ll call an ambulance.”

  Anne squinted up at the person bending over her. Sea-green silk trailed in the puddles on the stone floor.

  “Lindsey?” Anne gasped. “But, you left. I heard you. The doctor said something about Scotch and you both left.”

  “Yes, I left,” said Lindsey. “But I came back. Obviously.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “So Lindsey saved your life. Cool.” Nick gave Lindsey a playful punch on the arm.

  Lindsey raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at him. Nick turned beet red and put both hands behind his back.

  “Junior,” she said, “Gentlemen do not punch ladies. Not even in jest.”

  Nick nodded vigorously in agreement and clasped his hands together even more tight
ly behind his back. He stood at attention while Anne and Lindsey settled themselves on a park bench. It was a rare sunny day in London, and Lindsey had suggested a picnic in the park outside their office.

  Anne took a bite of her sandwich, watching the sun flash off the silver boules rolling along the bowling green in the middle of the park. Every so often a bowler would make an especially good shot and a sharp metallic click would reverberate through the air as two boules collided.

  “So, these two dudes,” said Nick cautiously, glancing sideways at Lindsey to see if he had permission to speak.

  Lindsey gave him a regal nod.

  “So, these two dudes,” Nick repeated, “they’re going away for life?”

  “No,” said Anne, “not for life. Since they didn’t actually kill anyone they can’t be tried for murder.”

  “But what about that Jimmy dude?” asked Nick, pulling a can of Pepsi out of the pocket of his very baggy surfer shorts. “Didn’t they do him in?”

  Anne shook her head. “No, his mother did. Lady Soames. She hit him over the head with a paperweight and pushed him in the Thames. It’s hard to believe that a woman could kill her own child, but she apparently confessed. I read in the paper that she’s trying for a psychiatric defense. Not in her right mind at the time and all that.”

  “But,” said Nick, frowning as he opened his Pepsi, “this Dr. Davidson guy, he needs to be locked up. I met the dude, remember? In the pub. I could tell he was no good just by looking at him. Slimy bugger, I said to myself, soon as I saw him.”

  Lindsey’s cheeks went a delicate shade of pink. “Well, I couldn’t tell he was a slimy bugger just by looking at him. After all, I dated him for more than a month.”

  “It’s a guy thing,” Nick pronounced. “We can tell right away when another guy’s rotten.” The expression of deep wisdom on his face was somewhat marred by the fact that he was wearing a t-shirt which said ‘Save the Ales’.