London

by Carina Axelsson

  And yet his photo—his clue—was only a small part of this mystery. The photo I had been sent was related to a different long-buried secret, and yet both secrets were connected.

  I felt sick to my stomach and had to sit down on my bed. I took some deep breaths and thought about everything I’d have to do in the morning.

  I was seeing Mr. Rivera again first thing, and I needed him to verify something that he’d said. I also needed to meet Georgie as soon as possible. And I’d need Agnieszka’s help later in the day—not to mention Sebastian’s and Ellie’s—that is, if I was going to get Johnny, Georgie, Caro, and Jane together the next evening. It was time to confront them all with the truth. What was it my grandfather used to say? The truth always comes out in the end. You may have to wait a long time, but a secret doesn’t remain secret forever.

  I was about to prove my grandfather right.

  FRIDAY MORNING

  More Pieces of the Puzzle

  I woke up in a panic as the water pulled me down. Cold and clammy, it pressed against my throat, choking all the breath out of me. With all the force I could muster, I pushed myself up and out of it. It took me a minute to realize that I was sitting up in my bed, in such a cold sweat that my pajamas were clinging to me. Halley snuggled closer and slowly the nightmare receded. It was light outside, and according to my alarm clock, it was five o’clock. Just as well, I thought as I got out of bed. I’ve got a long day ahead of me. I could use the early start.

  I picked up my phone and was relieved to see that Josh’s obsessed fans finally seemed to have stopped messaging me. I then wrote to Tallulah, saying I hoped to have good news for her later that night. If I didn’t, then I strongly suggested we should update the police on what I’d pieced together. But one thing at a time, I told myself.

  I also asked her to keep me updated on Gavin. He was, after all, supposed to come out of his induced coma today.

  Next I sat at my desk and went through all my notes, starting with the ones I’d taken on Tuesday morning when I’d met Tallulah for the first time. There was one more niggling point that kept playing on rewind in my mind. It was a question Sebastian had also raised. Why had Clarissa gone down the stairs at that moment on that afternoon? Mr. Rivera had said that everyone in the household knew Clarissa rested for a couple of hours after lunch every day. So something must have caused her to get out of bed…

  I sat at my desk, thinking about this as the dawn light burned through the morning mist. The songbirds were busy in the garden, trilling and chirping, filling the air with music. I got up and gazed out of the window for a while, thinking and thinking, until finally, after putting myself in Clarissa’s place, I came to an answer that I thought made sense.

  I took my phone and called Sebastian, hoping he’d be awake. He answered right away.

  “Yes, I’m awake, Holmes. And if you’re calling this early, it can only mean one thing. Case solved?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “But you need help to tie up the loose ends?”

  I laughed. “How’d you guess?”

  “That, dear Holmes, is because I know you. And I’m ready whenever you are.”

  After looking at my schedule we decided that the best idea would be to meet at the Johnny Vane offices, right after I’d (hopefully) seen Georgie.

  “So eleven a.m. at Holborn Tube station it is,” I said.

  “Fine. See you there.”

  “Wait! Hold on, not so fast! In the meantime, can you do a couple of things for me?”

  “No problem, I’m all yours. What do you need?”

  “This might sound odd—”

  “I’m used to that from you by now, Holmes.”

  “Ha-ha. As I was saying, this may sound odd, but just trust me, will you? I’d like a list of the locations of the pay phones closest to the Dawson Place mansion at the time of Clarissa’s death. Do you think you can help with that?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll try to have it by the time we meet. What else?”

  “Can you buy a small can of paint? A sample size in a bright color. Brick red would be good—but not too dark. And could you get a sort of painter’s uniform? Cap, splattered shirt, that sort of thing?”

  “Are we still working on the same case?” I could practically feel Sebastian smile from across town. “Or are you just two steps ahead of me?”

  “I’m many more than that, Watson!” As I said good-bye and put down the phone, I thanked the detective gods for Sebastian’s help. It was crucial that I found out the locations of the pay phones. I knew that wouldn’t take Sebastian long, but it’s the sort of thing I’m not very good at. As for the paint and painter’s outfit, well, he didn’t know it yet, but that was also something I thought he’d be good at.

  I went back to my desk and quickly riffled through my notes again, and then I wrote a new list:

  Mr. Rivera

  Georgie

  Sebastian: pay phones, paint

  Jorge Cruz: show at Hampton Court (with Sebastian)

  Dawson Place tonight: Johnny, Georgie, Caro, and Jane. (Plus Agnieszka (?), Ellie (?), and Sebastian)

  Yes, that was better, I thought as I turned and walked to my bathroom. Hopefully everything would go according to plan.

  Halley was on my bed and barked as I shut my laptop. “What is it, Halley?”

  She answered with a few whimpers.

  “Are you ready to help me again today?” I asked as I pulled my outfit together.

  She barked.

  “Good. Then let me finish getting dressed and we’ll go.”

  Dark-blue jeans, another T-shirt (this one from Jorge Cruz, and appropriate, I thought, considering I’d be doing his show later that day), and a really cool jacket I’d found at H&M. It was black and had the most amazing razor-sharp shoulders. I topped the outfit off with my glasses. Then I went in to say good-bye to my mom and to tell her that I’d be gone—with Halley—for the day.

  “She seems to like doing your fashion rounds with you, doesn’t she?” my mom asked as she tickled Halley’s belly.

  “Yes, she does,” I answered. Needless to say I didn’t mention how much Halley was enjoying the extra walks and adventures my sleuthing took us on.

  “Well, enjoy your day, Axelle darling. It sounds like it’s going to be exciting. Jorge Cruz should be fun.”

  If only she knew, I thought. Then, without going into detail, I mentioned that I had plans for that evening with Ellie (hopefully—I still had to ask her) and Sebastian. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  “Well, it is Friday, so as long as you stay with Ellie and Sebastian and one of them brings you home, then I don’t see why you shouldn’t stay out till midnight. I’ll be waiting for you though.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I had a feeling my night would go on much later than that, but I’d cross that bridge when I got to it, I told myself.

  “And what about Josh? And the photo situation?” my mom asked. “I don’t see any photographers outside this morning,” she said as she walked to my dad’s study and looked out along the street.

  “Well, it does seem to have calmed down,” I answered as I checked my phone again. There were no new messages since I’d checked earlier. That was a good sign! “Plus I’m going to see Josh later—he’ll be at the Jorge Cruz show. He sent me an email late last night about the ‘photo situation.’” I had a missed call from Josh too, but I didn’t tell my mom that part. “His lawyers have managed to get the papers to admit that they were in the wrong. An apology will be forthcoming, which is great, isn’t it?”

  “Thank goodness for that!” my mom said as she planted a kiss that landed half on my forehead. “Darling, really, it’s hard to kiss you with those glasses covering half your face.”

  I pushed them back up my nose. Honestly, would my mom ever get over my glasses?

  “Anyway, I’ll se
e you tonight.”

  “Absolutely, Mom.” I put Halley on her leash and left.

  Mrs. Sobecki was just going up the library steps when Halley and I arrived. Mr. Rivera was waiting for me at the bottom.

  “Good morning, Axelle, and good morning, Halley. We don’t need to go in the library this morning. We should get to Dawson Place as soon as possible. Follow me,” he said with a wave of his hand. “By the way,” he continued as I walked beside him, “how did it go with Agnieszka yesterday? Did she show you everything you wanted to see?”

  “Yes, she did, thank you. And it’s given me a clearer picture of how Clarissa fell.”

  “Good, good. Isn’t the house wonderful on the inside? It’s a shame no one lives there anymore.” Then, as we turned onto Dawson Place, he said, “I’m taking you to meet Nancy Bell. She actually worked at the house as a maid at the time of Clarissa’s accident. She started shortly after Mr. Vane died, so she saw plenty of the drama. And, by the way, she’s another one who didn’t get on well with Mrs. Underwood. Like me, she’s lived around here since she was a child, so she knows all the neighborhood gossip. If she can’t answer your questions, nobody can.” He smiled.

  Nancy was waiting for us at the gates in front of the house. She was petite and quite old—about Mr. Rivera’s age—but her memory was still sharp, especially when it came to the Vanes. “They were our very own reality show! Not that that sort of television program existed back then,” she said. “But if it had, they could have made one called Dawson Place. Drama, beautiful people, addictions, money, affairs—you name it, we had it right here,” she said as she pointed to the house. “Clarissa was lovely though. The day she fell was a sad, sad day.”

  I got to work right away. “One of the former housekeepers, Mrs. Underwood, said that she ‘wasn’t surprised’ when Clarissa fell. Do you know what she could have meant by that?”

  Nancy nodded her head rapidly. “I didn’t like her, and I thought it was incredibly rude of her to talk like that with poor Clarissa not even cold in the ground. Anyway, let’s hope justice has been done up there by now,” Nancy added with an upward glance at the sky.

  “To be honest, everyone in the neighborhood knew that Clarissa liked to drink and sometimes took pills to make her happy. After losing her husband and a son within a few years of each other, is it any surprise? That old trout Mrs. Underwood had no sympathy for Clarissa. She passed her silent judgment on all of us, in fact.” I saw Mr. Rivera nod in agreement with Nancy’s last sentence. “And she always said something would happen to Clarissa—”

  I interrupted Nancy. “Specifically because of her addictions or for any other reason?”

  Nancy was surprised by my question. “I never heard of any other reason but that one,” she said. “Her unhappiness and addictions, I mean.”

  “Mrs. Underwood never explained herself?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “So she could have been referring to something else?”

  Nancy shrugged her shoulders. “If she was, I didn’t know about it.”

  “Mrs. Underwood was out when Clarissa fell, wasn’t she? Did she normally run her errands at that time in the afternoon?”

  Mr. Rivera and Nancy both said, “Yes,” before Nancy explained further. “Once the family and Jane had had lunch and things were cleared up, then Mary—Mrs. Underwood—would leave. She was normally gone for an hour and a half or so. Back then we didn’t have these large delis and enormous supermarkets like we have now. She’d go from one small grocer to another. Markets too. Even to Fortnum & Mason to get tea. She’d take the Tube.”

  “And were you still in the house when Clarissa fell?”

  Nancy slowly shook her head. “No. I always left as soon as Clarissa disappeared upstairs for her nap. That lunchtime was the last time I saw her.”

  This line of questioning had taken me about as far as it could, I felt. I decided to change tack while I still had both Mr. Rivera’s and Nancy’s attention.

  “Mr. Rivera, yesterday you told me that Caro dashed out of the house shortly before her sister’s accident but came back again not long after.”

  Mr. Rivera nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “Can either of you remember any more details about that?”

  Mr. Rivera shook his head. “No. It was as I told you—she was in a hurry, as if she’d forgotten something.”

  “But in a hurry to leave or in a hurry to come back?” I pressed.

  He shrugged his shoulders and stood thinking for a moment. “I’ve never thought of it that way, but I guess I’d have to say both. She rushed out, using the side door, but then hurried back in too—again using the side door.”

  “Which was unusual?”

  “For Caro and Clarissa, yes. They always used the front door. And like I said, she was dressed more casually to go out than usual. It was as if she’d left something somewhere and was dashing out to get it, if you know what I mean.”

  I did know what he meant, but if Caro had rushed out to get something, then why did she rush back in? Unless she’d had a reason to return. An appointment perhaps? And then all her plans changed, of course, when she returned home and saw what had happened. But then why had she used the side door? I had an idea why, but I wasn’t able to confirm it just yet.

  “Hmm…thank you.”

  Nancy hadn’t seen Caro leave, but she had plenty to say about the argument between the sisters. “Caro was engaged to be married, though for the life of me, I can’t remember the name of her fiancé. Anyway, when the fiancé met Clarissa he really fell for her. Needless to say this all happened long after Mr. Vane had died. Caro’s fiancé was her first love, and goodness she was furious when he left her for Clarissa. Then again, who wouldn’t be? And when Clarissa turned around and left the man, well, Caro was fuming. She couldn’t get over it.”

  “Hmm…” This echoed what Jodi had said about the sisters and what Sebastian had found in the newspapers. But now I needed answers to two more specific questions, questions that were important to my theory about the day she died.

  “So Clarissa was definitely in her bedroom before she went down the stairs?”

  Nancy nodded. “Yes, I believe so,” she said. “After she’d been through rehab, Clarissa always rested in her bedroom after lunch. Doctor’s orders. I saw her go up before I left.”

  “And how was she normally dressed when she was resting?”

  “She always changed into a robe,” Nancy said. “She had some lovely ones. She liked to be comfortable because she’d either lie on her bed or write letters, and sometimes she’d sleep. I’d lay the robes out for her and then she would dress again before she went out in the evening—and she went out nearly every night, by the way.”

  “And how was she dressed when she fell?” I asked.

  “She was dressed to go out, actually,” Mr. Rivera answered. “I remember that because at the time I thought it was proper that the police saw her fully dressed.”

  “But she would normally have been in a robe at that time?” I said, wanting to be completely clear.

  “Yes,” Nancy answered. “Absolutely.”

  I was buzzing. The answers to my last questions were just as I’d expected. I thanked Mr. Rivera and Nancy for their help, and then I left. Time was ticking on.

  As Halley and I caught the Central line from Notting Hill Gate, I quickly messaged Ellie, asking her to help me that evening. She wrote back with a laughing emoji:

  I had a feeling this might happen, so I’ve kept tonight free for you—and the weekend too!

  I thanked her and said I’d explain more at the Jorge Cruz show that afternoon. Fifteen minutes later my train stopped at Holborn. Sebastian was waiting for Halley and me when we stepped out of the station and into the light. Without a word he handed me an envelope. I opened it and pulled out a folded map.

  “The dots represen
t the neighborhood phone boxes at the time of Clarissa’s death,” he said.

  “Watson, you’re amazing! Thank you,” I said. We stood to the side of the pavement, and I laid the map out on a stack of boxes next to a magazine vendor’s stand. A quick glance told me that some of the phone boxes were still there, while others were long gone. But the one that seemed most relevant stood on the same corner today as it had in the 1970s.

  “Axelle, can I ask what this is about? Why the phone boxes? What have they got to do with anything?”

  I smiled. “That, Watson, you’ll find out this evening.”

  “You never let the cat out of the bag, do you?”

  “No, Watson, I don’t. It was one of my grandfather’s cardinal rules: don’t reveal your hunches until you know they’re right.”

  “Fine. I’ll be patient.”

  “Good things come to those who wait, Watson.”

  “They’d better.” He smiled.

  “And what about the paint? And the clothes?”

  Sebastian held up a plastic bag. “I found a one-stop paint shop and voilà! I got everything you wanted, but it would be good to know what it’s for. Or, let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

  “Actually, this time I have to tell you—because you have a crucial role to play.”

  “I thought my role was always crucial to you.”

  “Steady, Watson. Let’s concentrate, please.”

  “I am concentrating.”

  His gray-blue eyes seemed darker than usual this morning, and frankly, he smelled amazing. Let’s face it, Axelle, I told myself. If anyone around here is having a hard time concentrating, it’s you.

  “I’m glad.” I smiled as I folded the map and put it in my shoulder bag. As we walked toward the Johnny Vane headquarters (I was on my way to see Georgie), I explained.