A Debt Is Finally Paid (A Marsden-Lacey Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Sigrid Vansandt

  “Oh my God! Alistair, do you think they’re on those boats?”

  “That’s the tricky part. Maybe and maybe not, but one thing’s for sure, we aren’t the only people who are onto the same idea. What did you think when Helen mentioned Albright’s name and then Johns going to see him?”

  Perigrine’s mouth tightened into a grim, thin line. “That was a shock. I thought Tom had gone underground, but when Helen Ryes said she knew someone in Nottingham who worked on translations, it isn’t any doubt that’s him. He’s not someone I want to know about our whereabouts.”

  “Well,” Alistair continued with Perigrine’s thoughts, “that means we have to move fast. Do you think Helen Ryes is who she says she is?”

  “It’s hard to tell. Albright is a dirty deal if there ever was one. Have you checked her out, yet?”

  Alistair plunked around on his computer key board. “She seems squeaky clean, but if she’s ever been one of Albright’s people, then she’d be like your sister; hard to find in legal records.”

  Perigrine raised his gaze to the ceiling as if the answer for the questionable enigma of his sister resided somewhere up in the rafters. “How fast do we need to move and when?”

  “Very fast. Tonight perhaps. Sound feasible?”

  “I like it. Let’s get it together,” Alistair said with a grin.

  Perigrine studied the document photos on Alistair’s laptop screen. “How did you get these photos? Did Johns give it to you?”

  “No. I snapped it with my phone when he turned his back to make tea. Modern technology can be so convenient.”

  “Al, do you think we might really find those eggs?” Perigrine asked.

  “Well,” chuckled Alistair as he swiveled around in his chair to smile rakishly at Perigrine, “that, my dear old friend, is the million dollar question or should I say the millions and millions of dollars question.”

  Chapter 19

  THE POLICE UTILITY VEHICLE’S WINDSHIELD wipers flipped back and forth trying to cope with the deluge of rain falling from the dark, cloud filled sky. Johns and Detective Richards bumped down the muddy, root-tangled road, and over an open space of pasture till they reached the spot where the water travelers were tied up. A couple of men were working on the embankment cutting up wood and tossing it to another man on deck who stacked the pieces.

  “How do you suppose these people make a living?” Richards asked as Johns slowed the vehicle and put the hand brake on once they were completely stopped.

  “That’s a good question. There isn’t much work anymore for cargo along these canals like there was seventy years ago, but some people do odd jobs, make jewelry to sell, or it’s possible they’re on the dole.”

  Johns twisted to see in the back and pulled out two pairs of Wellington boots. “Here. You’re going to need these.”

  They put on the rain gear and headed off down the slope to the place where the men were working. As they came across the stile, one of the men saw them and waved. Johns recognized Stephan Rossar-mescro and returned the greeting. Stephan walked down the bank away from the boats to meet them. The other family members went about their work and only occasionally glanced over to where the three men talked.

  “I see you’ve moved up the river, Stephan,” Johns said.

  “Yes, we won’t go back to the other place. It’s better for us in the countryside. Do you know who killed Laura?” Stephan asked.

  “Mr. Rossar-mescro, there are dangerous men tracking your family. In fact, I know they’ve found you here. They’re either eastern Europeans or Russians. Is there anything you may be involved in that you haven’t told me?”

  Fear drained the older man’s face of all color. “What can I do to protect my family? What do they want?”

  Johns hoped for this reaction. “Stephan, I’d like to put your boats under police protection by bringing them back to Marsden-Lacey. We’ll take your family to a safe house until we catch these men. I’ve requested additional men from our Nottingham Headquarters and from Interpol. It should only be a matter of time until we catch the killer or killers.”

  Stephan shook his head. “I don’t know. The Rossar-mescros haven’t left their boats in over ninety years. They’re our only home. Would we be safe back in our home waters below London?”

  “No,” Johns said adamantly. “These men want something which brings me back to the document you gave Helen Ryes. Who else has seen the letter besides your family?”

  “Like I said earlier, it was Laura who handled the business with the letter. I’m frightened for my family. Since Laura’s death we’ve been followed. Yesterday, a dark headed man with sunglasses watched us from the wood over there. Miri said it was the hunter, but I shot at him and he fled so it was no more ghost than you or me.”

  “Stephan, you know it’s against the law to shoot at anyone. I’ll need to see your gun permits. I don’t want you getting into trouble by letting your fear take over.”

  Mr. Rossar-mescro hung his head. “It’s my duty to protect my family. I’ve already failed once.”

  “You are the father to your people, so I can offer you safety, but you need to turn those boats around at the bend up the river and head back to the village,” Johns said.

  “Okay. We will leave in an hour. This will take us some time, but I think we can be in Marsden-Lacey by nightfall.”

  Johns thanked him for helping the investigation in this way and the two policemen climbed the embankment and got in the police vehicle.

  “That’s a relief,” Johns said as he started the engine. “If we lost another one, someone from Headquarters would be climbing down my throat.”

  “You did the right thing. Getting them away from those boats will stop the killings,” Richards said.

  Johns nodded. “Let’s get back to the constabulary and change cars. I need to call Albright to make sure he’ll meet with us today. Helen Ryes knows him. She’ll have his number.”

  Chapter 20

  “YES, CHIEF I WILL SEND it to you. I haven’t seen Thomas in about three years, but I know he still takes odd jobs. Good luck and please let me know what you find out.” Helen tapped the glass screen to end the call.

  “What’s going on?” Piers asked. He was holding the door open for Helen to get into his Jaguar. She was trying to hurry and get in before the rain completely soaked her to the skin. They had finished a light lunch at Healy when Helen received a call from the Chief filling her in on the situation at the farm.

  “I’m sending a contact to Chief Johns. He needs the name of a gentleman in Nottingham who used to work for the Government Communications Headquarters. Hopefully, Mr. Albright will be able to help us translate the letter. By the way, Martha never made it here because she’s been in a bit of a rough and tumble over at Johns’ farm.”

  “Is she okay?” Piers asked.

  “She’s fine, but she and Polly want to stay at the farm. They’ve got Sergeant Endicott with them and want me to come back over there. Are we ready to go?”

  Piers and Helen were sitting in the warm car with the heater blowing and the wipers working to beat off the heavy rain. Coming around the side of the house they saw Mr. Chattersworth, the gamekeeper, walking toward them.

  “I’d better see what Chattersworth wants. I can tell he’s got something to tell me. I’ll be right back.” Piers got out and quickly flipped open an umbrella then tried to hurry and meet the older man.

  “Hello, Mr. Chattersworth. Any luck seeing boats down on our embankments?”

  The older gentleman dressed in a knee-length rain jacket, big-brimmed hat and water-proof boots was carrying a bee smoker in one hand. He hurried to Piers with his head down to keep his face from being pelted by the rain.

  “Mr. Cousins, Sir, I’ve been to the bee yard and I think they may be ready to start quieting down for the season. We won’t be taking anymore honey till next spring but Senior Agosto is fit to be tied and feels I’ve shortened the season. That bull-headed Spaniard is threatening to cut me off on my f
ood rations. You’ve got to talk with him, Mr. Cousins. I won’t be harassed about me bees.”

  Piers waved his hand in the air in a gesture to diffuse the domestic riff often caused by Agosto’s hot temper. “I’ll talk with him, Chattersworth, but do tell me what you saw on the river?”

  The older man pulled on the brim of his rain hat. He struck a pose that older men will do when about to digress into a much longer story than most younger men want to hear. Piers, being in a hurry but not wanting to offend his faithful gamekeeper, inwardly took a silent pause and waited politely for the long-winded answer yet to come.

  “I was down by the old oak trees near the lower field where we’ve set the fox trap and I see this youngster messing about the place and I say to him, ‘What are you doing here, child?’ and he stares me down like I’ve stole his tongue. I say again, ‘This is a private piece of ground and you need to state your business.’”

  Chattersworth nodded at Piers as if that answered the original question completely. Piers, unsure, wondered if it was time to delicately discuss retirement with Chattersworth, but as he was ticking that idea into his mental calendar of events, the gamekeeper caught his breath and continued.

  “The child stood tall and said to me, ‘You shouldn’t be killing foxes and trapping them. They’re born to do their work like you and me.’ Well, that’s when I said, ‘And my work, young man, is to see to it that those foxes don’t take another of my chickens.’”

  Again, Chattersworth nodded and pursed his mouth in such a way as to indicate the trials he dealt with daily. Piers waited, giving it time and soon his patience was rewarded.

  “I asked the child where he hailed from and he says as nice as you please that his name is Tallant and he was living with his family downstream on the Empire. I told him I’d leave him to manage foxes as he pleased in his Empire and I’d manage mine the way it pleases Mr. Cousins in his. Haven’t seen him since, but the fox trap was fiddled with and that means I’ve got to go down there, after I put the bees to sleep, and put it back together.”

  Piers sighed inwardly and hoped the diatribe was finished. He dared to ask the question one last time hoping to get a firm yes or no for an answer. “So, no boats on our embankments, right?”

  “Not a one, Mr. Cousins, and if I see one I’ll let you know,” Chattersworth said with a big compliant smile.

  “Thank you, and as always, you do such good work for us and for Healy, Mr. Chattersworth. Sometime soon we might have a talk…over tea.”

  Piers backed toward the car and waved to the man who was already walking briskly down to the bee yard.

  Opening the driver’s side door, Piers sat down.

  “Are we leaving?” Helen asked.

  Piers sat with his hands on the steering wheel thinking about what Chattersworth said. “Helen, do you mind if I run upstairs for a moment? I want to check on something with Emerson and Celine.”

  “Absolutely. I’m fine waiting. Take your time. I’ve some emails to answer.”

  “Great. I’ll be right back.”

  Piers again jumped out of the car and into the storm. He ran up the steps to the front door and shot up the inside stairwell, down a long corridor and up another flight till he was standing in front of the nursery door.

  “Is that you, Uncle Piers?” a small voice said from inside. The old mahogany door creaked as it slowly swung open to only a small crack. One round blue eye at about elbow level gazed at him. The game was on, so Piers puffed up in a playful gorilla posture and said, “I’m going to get you!”

  The child squealed and ran from the door as Piers stomped into the nursery to see Celine smiling at the fun and Emerson running to the far corner of the room to hide inside the closet.

  Piers put his index finger over his lips to indicate to Celine to stay quiet as he approached the door with each of his feet coming down hard on the carpet like a giant. With each thump of his foot, the child in the closet let out a happy screech until Piers swung the door open to be mauled by a springing Emerson.

  The man tossed the boy into the air. Tucking him under one paternal arm, he hauled him across the room laughing till he plopped him down on the daybed. This game had begun only a couple of weeks ago in a moment of fun but now it was the gold standard for every time Piers came up to the nursery.

  “Again! Uncle Piers, please! One more time!” Emerson begged.

  Piers complied and twirled the child around like a merry-go-round and again gently flung him onto the bed.

  “Whew! You weigh a ton. Did you grow since yesterday?” Piers asked.

  “Yes, Sir. Everyday Celine says I’m getting bigger,” the small boy said with a huge smile.

  “Well, good,” Piers said in playful-seriousness. “Emerson, I talked with Mr. Chattersworth and he told me he met a young chap down by the fox trap named Tallant. Wouldn’t know him would you?”

  “Yes, I do. We played together yesterday. Celine says if I bring him to meet her, we can have a lovely tea with cake and crisps.”

  Piers shot Celine a knowing grin. “She does, does she? I think that's a grand idea, Emerson, but I want you to stay in the house today and until I say it is okay for you to play outdoors again. It’s important for you to follow my directions. Do I have your word you will stay indoors? Celine may take you to town to play at the village park to make up for it.”

  “That would be wonderful, Uncle Piers! I love the play park. My friends from school go there on Thursdays. May we go tomorrow?”

  “I leave that to Celine to decide.”

  Turning to her, he said, “I’ll be out for a dinner tonight and I need to check afterwards on The Grange, so please keep Emerson indoors and have a pleasant evening. Set the alarm. Thank you.”

  “Have a nice evening, Mr. Cousins, and I’ll do as you say,” she replied.

  “Good night, Emerson,” Piers said. As he was leaving the room, a small tap on his hand made him turn around to see the boy standing close and gazing up at him with big, questioning eyes.

  “What is it Emerson?” he asked.

  No answer from the child, but he wrapped his arms around Piers’ legs in a tight hug.

  A sensation he’d never known before gripped the man’s heart. From his vantage point, he was able to see only the top of a curly blond head and the profile of a chubby cheek.

  He reached down and pulled the child into his arms and hugged him for a long time. Short arms encircled Piers’ neck and Emerson whispered, “I love you, Uncle Piers.”

  Piers’ eyes stung and he said in a husky voice he hardly recognized as his own, “I love you so much, Emmy. I’m so lucky to have you here with me.”

  The little boy lay his head back and smiled up into Piers’ face. “Can we play tomorrow, too?”

  “Of course. Better be ready to play a big game of hide and seek. This old house has some great hiding places.”

  “I’ll be there, if you’ll be there.”

  “I’ll be there. I promise.”

  The child squirmed down and ran over to Celine and sat at the small table again.

  “Goodnight, I’ll see you both at breakfast in the morning,” Piers said and left the room. He ran back out to the car and got in.

  “Is everything alright?” Helen asked.

  “Everything,” Piers said, leaning over and giving her a friendly peck on the cheek, “is beautiful.”

  Chapter 21

  “I’M NOT HAVING ANY LUCK getting Albright to pick up his phone. I’ve left four messages,” Johns said laying his cell phone down again.

  He and Detective Richards were in Nottingham and leaving the forensic lab. They’d waited to talk with Jinks, the head doctor at the forensic lab, but she was called out on an investigation. Cynthia, who was her assistant, gave them the entire report on Laura Rossar-mescro’s wounds.

  The blade that killed Laura was slightly curved and extremely long. It pierced her chest wall nicking her aorta. She had only five to six minutes from the time she was stabbed to the time she d
ied. If and when they found the Rossar-mescro’s family heirloom sword, forensics would be able to match it with the wound.

  “Her killer was close to the boat. Laura wasn’t moving fast. I’m afraid we missed something or someone in all the excitement. He, or she for that matter, may have walked right past us after they stabbed her,” Johns said. “Our men didn’t find any sword or knife when they dragged the canal.”

  “I still think it must be someone who either knew the family or one of the Rossar-mescros. If they fell out over the letter or if there’s some jealousy between clans, we may find the knife that killed Laura Rossar-mescro with another Romani tribe,” Richards said. “Try Albright again, but if he doesn’t answer, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving. It’s past three o’clock.”

  Johns continued to get the answering machine, so he drove to Nandos and they each bought their food in the take-away line. Remembering Michael, the Chief ordered the promised meal for his Sergeant. Once back in the car, they drove to the address where Thomas Albright lived. As the two men got out of the car, Detective Richard’s mobile rang.

  “Chief, can I have a moment? It’s my supervisor,” Richards said.

  “Sure, wait in the car. I’ll be right back.”

  Thomas Albright’s house was situated in a rural area outside Nottingham. A well-maintained garden surrounded the front of the dwelling but there was no sign of life about the place other than a comfortably chubby orange tabby cat sunning itself on a stone bench off to one side of the door.

  “Anyone home?” Johns asked the cat affectionately scratching its head after he pulled the door bell rope.

  For his mannerly approach, Johns was rewarded by the cat rolling onto its back and offering a view of its ample, furry belly. With paws in the air and a tail twitching every so slightly, the tabby waited for a respectable scratching.

  “Hmm? I bet if I take the bait, I’ll probably be sorry.”

  “Nah, I think you’re safe, Chief,” Detective Richards said coming up behind him. “This old fellow is needing some attention.”