Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5)

by Irina Shapiro

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” Simon replied. “I spent a lot of time playing video games after Heather and I split up. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around anything for a while. It was mindless, but in some small way it helped me to finally deal with the situation and move forward.”

  “Have you?” I asked.

  “Yes, I think I have. Loss teaches us to appreciate things, and having lost Max and then Heather helped me realize how careless I’ve been of other people’s feelings. I plan to do better next time. I will be the best boyfriend anyone’s ever had. And I will be a good friend,” Simon added. “I promise.”

  I was about to reply when I heard Valentine’s voice coming from the bathroom. “Mama, I need help.”

  Valentine was staring at the toilet with deep suspicion. I’d helped her in the morning, but she wasn’t sure how to approach the toilet on her own. She was used to a chamber pot which she was comfortable using herself since it was low to the ground.

  “And what’s that?” she asked, glaring at the shower while she did her business. Simon didn’t have a tub, only a sleek, modern shower stall. Bathing the children tonight would be an experience to remember.

  “Come, let’s wash your hands and go have some supper. Simon has ordered us a pizza.”

  “What’s a pizza?” Valentine asked as she gave me a sidelong glance. “Is it as good as ice cream?”

  “It’s different, but very good. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Will Michael like it?”

  “I’m sure of it. Let’s go see if he’s awake,” I suggested.

  Michael was sitting up in bed, his wooden horse held tight in his hands. He smiled when he saw me, obviously relieved that he wasn’t alone.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked cheerily. Michael nodded. “Come on then, sleepyhead.”

  I cut the pizza into small squares and set it in front of them. They weren’t accustomed to eating with their hands or with forks, so I gave them spoons, which they used to pick up the squares of pizza to bring to their mouths. This seemed to do the trick. Simon had ordered some Coca-Cola as well, but I wasn’t ready to let the children try it. They weren’t used to sweets like modern children and didn’t crave them. I gave them each a glass of milk instead.

  “This is good,” Valentine observed as she chewed carefully. “I want to take some home to Archie.”

  I tried to picture Archie sitting on the sofa with a beer and a slice of pizza, and an involuntary smile appeared on my face. He would fit right in. Frances might not like either, but I was sure that Archie would take to modern food like a fish to water.

  May 2015

  Surrey, England

  Chapter 32

  Detective Inspector Robert Knowles hurried to his car and got in before the throng of reporters outside Everly Manor had a chance to get a clear picture. He had no desire to appear in some rag, cited as the investigating officer. Had this been a favorable outcome to a homicide investigation he might have been proud to have his role acknowledged, but this particular case had been a disgrace from start to finish. DI Knowles put on his sunglasses and drove through the gates faster than he should have, but the explosions of camera flashes left him disoriented and angry. He pulled over just as he entered the village and pulled out his mobile, dialing the constabulary.

  “Chief Superintendent Cummings’s office,” a perky voice answered.

  “Hey, Jess. I need to see the super. Is she available at any time this morning?”

  “Oh, hi Bobby. Let me take a look at her diary,” Jess said. “She has a small window in about forty-five minutes. That do ya?”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. See you then.”

  Bobby’s anger dissolved after hearing Jess’s voice. She was fresh out of the academy, only twenty-two, and cute as a button. These days she was the only bright spot in this otherwise stressful life. He knew it was wrong, especially since they worked together, but some stubborn part of him simply couldn’t give her up. They’d been seeing each other since the Christmas party, when he found himself in the back of his car with Jess’s dress pushed up to her waist and her long legs on his shoulders as she raked her nails down his back. What a rush that had been. Bobby assumed that Jess would sober up and hate herself in the morning, or worse, hate him, but she called him on his mobile and asked him out for a drink instead, a meeting which resulted in another round of wild shagging.

  For the first few weeks, Bobby wondered what Jess saw in him, but forced himself to stop overanalyzing. Whether Jess liked older men or sought some sort of father figure didn’t matter. She wanted him, and that was enough for him. Eventually, the infatuation would wear off and he’d be exactly where he started, as long as Carol never found out about the affair. He was a happily married man with a second baby on the way, a son this time. It was just a fling, nothing more, he told himself.

  DI Knowles drove to the constabulary in Waverly after making a quick stop at a local bakery where he picked up a couple of scones and a decaffeinated cappuccino, then presented himself at CID. Jess was at her desk, her pert smile laced with hidden desire. Bobby was shocked anew by the lewd thoughts that always seemed to spring to mind upon seeing Jess, but they had to keep their association out of the office. He smiled noncommittally as he handed Jess the box of scones and the cappuccino.

  “Just the way you like it,” he teased. “Decaffeinated, extra foam.”

  “Oh, Bobby, you shouldn’t have,” Jess replied, blushing prettily.

  “It pays to keep the Super’s assistant sweet,” Bobby said, inwardly cringing. He really had to control his desire to flirt with Jess at work. It was unprofessional and dangerous. Carol, in her current hormonal maelstrom, would cut his bollocks off if she caught a whiff of his interest in a girl young enough to be his daughter.

  Jess picked up her ringing phone. “Okay, I’ll send him right in,” she chirped. “She’s ready for you.”

  Bobby smiled at Jess and stepped into the inner sanctum. Chief Superintendent Joyce Cummings was his boss; an intelligent, efficient woman who was as comfortable with interdepartmental politics as she had been in the field when she’d been a DI herself. She tolerated no crap from her underlings and could administer a bollocking that left one completely eviscerated. And, she was damn attractive.

  Joyce Cummings was in her early fifties, but she had that inborn chic that few women achieved naturally. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut into a neat bob, and her navy-blue suit was accessorized with a silk scarf in shades of lavender, gray, and turquoise, giving her just enough color to make her appear more stylish than severe.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” Bobby said as he settled into the proffered chair.

  “What brings you here, Detective Inspector?” the Super asked. “I thought you were working the Everly case again. An embarrassment for this department if I ever saw one,” she added with disgust.

  “That’s why I’m here, ma’am. I’ve just come from Everly Manor, having spoken with Lord Everly at length about his little jaunt.”

  “What say you, Bobby?” Joyce Cummins asked, leaning forward with undisguised interest. They’d all been shocked to find out that Maximilian Everly was back, having given him up for dead. It was always good to see a case solved, but not when they weren’t the ones to solve it.

  “He answered all my questions, a little more vaguely than I would have liked, but he was able to paint a clear picture of his movements.”

  “A nervous breakdown?” Joyce Cummings asked, shaking her head in dismay. “How could he have had the presence of mind to elude such a widespread investigation in his condition?”

  “I’m not sure, but what I am sure of, is that the man I spoke to is not Max Everly.”

  The Super gaped at him, her composure shaken for once. “Are you certain?”

  “I am. I grew up with Max Everly. We were at school together until he went off to Eaton. We played on the same cricket team in Cranleigh, had pints at the pub after every game. I know Max Everly, and the man claiming to be Lor
d Everly is an impostor,” Bobby Knowles said hotly.

  “Do you have any proof?”

  “No, but I have my gut instinct. I’ve been a copper for nearly twenty years, and I know a lie when I hear it.”

  Joyce Cummings shook her head in disbelief. She didn’t need to hear this right now, but had no choice but to address DI Knowles’s concerns.

  “Spell it out for me, Inspector. What exactly led you to believe that the man is not Max Everly? I need more than a gut feeling. This department dedicated countless hours of manpower and a great deal of funds to this case, and came up empty-handed, to our great shame. I can’t allocate any more resources to this, Bobby, not unless I have proof. Are there people who are ready to vouch for Lord Everly’s identity?”

  “The housekeeper, Mrs. Harding, and her son, Simon Harding, who is actually Max’s half-brother, both swear that the man is who he claims to be.”

  “Bobby, Simon Harding has much to lose now that his half-brother has returned. It would be in his best interests to prove the man an impostor, if that were the case. There’s a title and the Everly fortune at stake.”

  “I think they are house rich and cash poor, ma’am, but I see what you mean.”

  “Bobby, what evidence is there that this man is not who he says he is? Does he look like Max Everly?”

  “He does resemble him a great deal, and he seems to know much about Max’s life and habits, but there’s just something not right. His mannerisms have changed, and he’d forgotten I had a daughter; a child whose baptism he’d attended shortly before going missing.”

  “Is that all?”

  “There are other things as well. His voice is different, and pronunciation of certain words. He just feels wrong, ma’am.”

  Superintendent Cummings leaned back in her chair, her gaze lingering on Bobby’s face. She seemed to be considering something, but then shook her head as if she’d come to a decision.

  “I can’t authorize an investigation based on a hunch. The man had suffered a nervous breakdown and spent over three years living alone in the Highlands. Of course, he’s different. He’s bound to be. Had I been banished to the Highlands for such a long period of time, I’d be different too,” she added with a comical shudder. “Can’t abide the place. It’s like going back in time, especially in some of the more remote areas. Leave it be, Bobby. There are more important cases we are working at the moment. There’s been a string of bank robberies throughout Waverly and Godalming. Six robberies, similar MO, and not a single clue. I’m assigning you to the case.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bobby Knowles said as he took his cue to leave.

  “Oh, and Bobby. I wouldn’t look kindly upon a sexual harassment complaint coming across my desk. Is that understood?”

  DI Knowles stared at his boss, his mouth open with shock. Had Jess accused him unofficially of sexual harassment? She couldn’t have.

  “No, she hasn’t,” the Super replied as if he’d spoken out loud. “But, I do have eyes in my head. Give my regards to Carol,” she added for good measure.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bobby picked up what was left of his pride and made his way out of the office, walking past Jess as if she were invisible. Cummings hinted that he was sexually harassing Jess, so either she didn’t know about the affair, or she did and hadn’t wanted to embarrass him further. Either way, the cat was out of the bag.

  “Thanks for the scones, Bobby,” Jess called after him, but he didn’t respond. He felt humiliated, and angry. The warning about Jess was fair enough, under the circumstances, but the way his boss dismissed his supposition was maddening. He knew he was right about Everly; would stake his career on it. The Super might not authorize any more funds or uniforms to the case, but she hadn’t forbidden him from making inquiries on his own time.

  May 1689

  Guilford, Surrey

  Chapter 33

  Frances awoke early in the morning as was her custom these days. She used to like sleeping in, but the noise from the dooryard and her morning nausea prevented her from staying abed. The inn was small and shabby, with only two private rooms on the uppermost floor, and one room on the first floor where travelers slept six to a bed, but it was cheap and provided decent meals, which was all she needed. Frances had come to Guilford nearly two weeks ago now, and spent her days waiting around at the prison to see Archie. Some days she wasn’t allowed to see him at all, but there were certain guards who were kinder and more open to inducements. She got to see him about three times a week, but she never asked him about Liza.

  Archie said that he hadn’t killed Liza and Frances believed him. Archie was a man of violence; she knew that. He’d killed that man in Paris, the one who tried to shoot Hugo, and would just as easily kill Liza Timmins if he felt there was no other choice, but Archie wasn’t a liar. He took responsibility for his actions, and would take the consequences as well, if it came to that. Frances did not condone murder, especially one of a woman who was the sole parent of a small child, but she couldn’t say that she was sorry the woman was dead. Liza was a parasite, a leech who’d bleed you dry till there was nothing left. Whoever killed her must have had their own motivation, since it stood to reason that Lady Everly was not the only person Liza had tried to extort money from.

  Of course, with Liza being the key witness against Neve and the person on whom the entire trial rested, it was easy to point the finger at Archie since Lord Everly was presumed dead and couldn’t be responsible for her death. No one but Archie Hicks would have a motive for killing that conniving slattern. Killing Liza was a way to protect Lady Everly and her children from what was to follow, for if Neve were found guilty, the children would be condemned by association, especially without their father to protect them. They might be sent to live with that nasty little turd Clarence Hiddleston, who would want no part of them. Valentine would be safe enough, but Michael, who stood to inherit the title and estate, would be in grave danger, the only person standing between Clarence and his heart’s desire. Children died all the time, and if a little boy never lived to see adulthood, no one would wonder or care.

  Archie didn’t wish to discuss the future during the few minutes Frances was allowed to see him, but they both knew that the case against him was solid; too solid for the constable to even bother seeking anyone else who might have a motive for killing Liza. His job was done, the dispensation of justice left to the courts. And justice for an accused murderer meant only one thing— death by hanging.

  Frances bolted from her narrow cot and retched violently into the chamber pot. Her breathing was ragged, her stomach heaving as it tried to force out contents that weren’t there. She wasn’t eating much these days, and what she did eat, she could barely keep down. Frances took a sip of ale and sat on the bed until the nausea passed and she felt well enough to get up, get dressed, and begin another day. Since coming to Guilford two weeks ago, Frances lived life day by day, hour by hour, never looking past waking the next morning and doing it all over again. Archie kept imploring her to return to Cranley, but he didn’t realize what he was asking. There was no going back, not now, not ever.

  Returning to Everly Manor after Archie’s arrest had been something of a shock. Frances stood in the road long after the wagon taking Archie away from her disappeared from view. She felt rooted to the spot, instinctively realizing that once she walked away, reality would set in, and she would be on her own. She stood by herself as the villagers left the church, some ignoring her, others hissing insults under their breath. A few women even brushed past her, pushing her just enough to let her know that it wasn’t accidental. Frances was the companion of a woman who was now widely believed to be a witch, and the wife of the man arrested on suspicion of killing her accuser. There was only one person she could turn to for help, but there was nothing Horatio Hicks could do either for her or his son.

  Frances finally tore her eyes away from the road and looked around. Jem had been at the church earlier, but he must have gone back to the house. Th
ere was nothing for her to do but follow suit. Frances walked up the ridge slowly, suddenly too exhausted to make the climb. She stopped several times to rest before finally reaching the gates of the manor house.

  The door was partially open, and Frances walked into the foyer. The silence enveloped her like a thick blanket. Even Mark Watson was gone from his post, his services no longer required. Frances shrugged off her cloak and started up the stairs, eager for the sanctuary of her bedroom. She needed to think things through and come up with a plan, but first she needed to lie down for a bit. She felt like she might faint.

  Frances looked up as she saw Harriet coming down the stairs. She looked unusually tense, her face pinched and pale. Polly was behind her. The two maids blocked the way, forcing Frances to take a step back.

  “Let me pass,” Frances said, but neither girl moved.

  “Come into the parlor, if you please,” Harriet demanded. “We’d like a word.”

  Frances had no choice but to do as they asked. She held on to the banister for support and returned downstairs where Cook and Ruby were already waiting. Frances took a seat and leaned back, looking up at the angry women towering above her. She could understand their uncertainty and suspicion, given the morning’s events, but she’d never expected the type of hostility that emanated from people who’d been nothing but subservient and polite until that day. Cook had been elected as the spokesperson, being the most senior and the eldest. She stepped forward, hands on hips, facing down Frances as she would never have dared had Lord or Lady Everly still been there. Abigail Fowler was normally a quiet, reserved woman, one who never spoke unless spoken to. Frances was taken aback by the change in her demeanor, and the fury she saw in her eyes.

  “Is she really gone then?” she demanded. “For good?”