by K C West
“Believe me, Doctor, I didn’t plan on doing that. I just couldn’t make my legs move fast enough to avoid it.”
He finished the dressing and had Gwen retie my gown. “I think we’ll continue on with the painkillers,” he told her. “Give her a good night’s sleep. She’s healthy and fit otherwise, and rest will do her a world of good.” He made a notation on my chart and handed it back to Gwen.
“I’ll see to it, Doctor.”
He smiled at me. “Right you are then, young lady. We’ll have you up and about in a day or two. In the meantime, try to limit your visitors. We haven’t had this much excitement around here since the Queen’s last trip.”
He and Gwen walked out of the room discussing my convalescence and possible physical therapy.
I gave my shoulder a gentle twist and winced. I wouldn’t be throwing darts at the pub anytime soon, that was for sure.
There was another rap on my door, and two uniformed policewomen entered. I recognized Sergeant Jones from the Aberystwyth area station. She gave me a cheery smile and a thumbs-up. Her companion was also a woman, but rather austere in appearance. A young man rushed in carrying a tape recorder. He set up the machine on the side table and pinned a microphone to the neckline of my gown with trembling fingers. A faint scent of peppermint hung in the air between us. My mind flashed back to odors of garlic and the fragrance of pine. Peppermint was a decided improvement.
“Begging your pardon, miss. I trust I didn’t pinch you,” he said, his cheeks pink-flamed.
“You’re doing just fine, thanks.”
He took out a steno pad and prepared to take notes.
“Good morning, Dr. Curtis. It’s good to see you looking so much better.” Sergeant Jones began the interview by introducing me to her superior, Deputy Chief Inspector Edwards.
The DCI nodded in my direction, then cast a harsh glance at the young man. “Phillips, are you ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very well, then. Let’s proceed, shall we?” She and Sergeant Jones took seats and identified each other, and me, for the record “Tell us what happened to you from the time you left your room at the inn to go into Dolgellau for medicine for Dr. Blair. Don’t rush. We want to know everything you can remember.”
“I’ll do my best,” I told them and began my story.
An hour later, I sank back into my pillow, drained. My throat was dry, and my head pounded with the strain of reliving the events of those days. I even told them of my strange dream and the Celtic warrior who appeared in it. Once the police had finished with me, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, pondering each question, each response, and then releasing it. I remembered how this day had started for me, how happy I had been to regain consciousness and see Kim waiting for me.
There was a rustling beside the bed, and I opened my eyes to find my partner slipping out of her jacket and removing her shoes.
“And where the hell have you been?” I asked, my voice showing more irritation that I meant to reveal.
“Hey. Do you have any idea how popular you are around here? The doctors, the police, your father, the bodyguards - I had to line up and get a ticket to see you.”
She let out a hefty sigh and stretched out on the bed beside me, then gave me a long, lingering kiss.
“Mmm. That’s the only ticket you’ll ever need.” I opened my mouth and welcomed her tongue. My body relaxed, and my concerns about Terry Simms disappeared. All my tension vanished, replaced by the warmth and comfort only my soul mate could provide. “I hope it was worth the wait,” I whispered into her neck before kissing it thoroughly. “I didn’t mean to sound so cranky.”
“You’re cute when you’re cranky, and it was absolutely worth the wait.” Her hands caressed my face and brushed my bangs from my forehead. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
“You’re not,” I murmured.
“Did you answer all the questions the police had for you?”
“I did.” My throat was parched from all the earlier talking. “Can you slide that water glass over, please? I need a sip or two.”
Kim held the straw for me so I could drink. “Huh. That’s funny. Your throat may be dry, but your tongue is nice and wet.”
I chuckled. “Trust you to notice that.”
“Of course. Wet tongues are important.”
“Mmm. They are indeed.”
“So, what did they ask you and what did you tell them?” She leaned her cheek against my chest.
“They wanted to know all about my trip into town for cough medicine and how I spent the week away from you. I told them that I ran off into the woods with a couple of bards, and we made up poetry and drank hot cider from bubbling cauldrons all week long.”
Kim giggled. “Okay. I guess I should know better than to ask for details so soon after your formal interrogation. You will tell me everything eventually, won’t you?”
I stroked her cheek with my free hand, curling a strand of her hair between my fingers. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” I hoped she was willing to do the same.
We dozed then, together, my mind forming a couple of unsettling questions before surrendering to sleep.
I trusted Kimmy, and I knew she trusted me. But I really wanted to know how her former lover got involved with this case, and just how busy the two of them were together during my absence.
Chapter 23
While PJ recovered enough from her surgery to be discharged from the hospital, Frederick and I spent our days scurrying from one police briefing to another. News came at us from all directions. I remembered feeling frustrated because I knew so little of what was happening while PJ was missing, but now I was bombarded with information from all sides.
We spent all of one morning in DCI Edwards’s office with Sergeant Jones and various constables, listening to the most current findings. Frederick pulled his chair close to mine so that he could reach out and give my knee a reassuring squeeze from time to time.
Sergeant Jones sat off to one side, taking notes in her usual quiet and efficient manner. Edwards, her superior, was a cold fish and a chain smoker. She appeared competent, though, and wasted no time in getting down to business. Since we weren’t there to pass the time of day, that was fine with me.
“The one that Dr. Curtis nicknamed Designer Suit is really Martin Patterson.” DCI Edwards exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke. “By his own admission, we now know that he was the individual who impersonated Lord Morrison. That’s probably why Dr. Curtis thought she knew him from somewhere.”
Frederick and I murmured our surprise.
“He kept his face covered and made no attempt to use an English accent while speaking, to prevent her from recognizing him.”
Edwards crushed her cigarette butt into the already overflowing ashtray. After pulling a pack of Players Cigarettes from her pocket and laying it open on the desk in front of her, she continued. “Interpol is quite familiar with him. He has a long record of extortion and armed robberies.”
I watched her fiddle with the wrapper on her cigarette pack until I wanted to jump up, snatch the vile-smelling things out of her hands, and hurl them across the room.
High stress level? Not me.
“Despite having two jail terms under his belt,” she said, “he latched onto an opportunity to move into the big time with murder as the bottom line. In addition to all of that, he’s suspected of being involved in antiquities black marketeering. So far, he’s outsmarted us on that score. We haven’t been able to prove anything, nor have we been able to identify any other gang members.” Edwards placed a fresh cigarette between her lips and lit it, giving the match a brisk wave to extinguish it.
“During our interrogation, he admitted forcing Morrison, at gunpoint, to write to you,” Edwards said, looking at Frederick, “to request your daughter’s help with a personal problem.”
Frederick grimaced. “No wonder the letter looked authentic to us. Poor John.”
The DCI consulted her notes. “The or
iginal idea was to grab Dr. Curtis when she arrived at the estate and hold her for ransom, but he was forced to rethink his plan when she arrived with Dr. Blair.”
“Then why didn’t he just kill me, too?” I asked. “He’d already killed or been responsible for the deaths of four people that we know about, so what’s one more?”
“I can’t answer that,” Edwards said, tapping the ash from her cigarette.
She protected us from the criminal element, I thought, but who protected our lungs from her habit?
“We’ve found that the criminal mind can be both brilliant and stupid at the same time, Dr. Blair. The ironic thing is that if he had killed you, we very likely would never have found Dr. Curtis.”
I gave an involuntary shudder and thanked the Goddess for stupid criminals.
“We were concerned all along that he planned to kill Dr. Curtis and disappear with the ransom. Her report verified this.”
Finding the DCI’s comment too painful to accept, I stopped listening for a moment and watched her instead. She took a final drag on the cigarette, expelled the smoke from her nostrils, and snuffed the butt alongside the others in the ashtray.
Dragon Lady belching fire, I thought. PJ’s sometimes-misplaced sense of humor was rubbing off on me.
“There is no honor among men like that,” Edwards was saying. I wondered if I had missed something during my lapse of concentration.
“And the other two?” Frederick asked. “Who are they?”
“Small-time hoodlums who have been in and out of county jails. They were lured by Patterson and the promise of big money. Now they’re implicated in these murders, so they’re going to spend a long time in more secure surroundings.”
“I’ve been wondering,” Frederick said, “if there was some connection to any of my business ventures. I’ve made some enemies along the way.”
“I don’t think so,” Edwards said. “Rich and successful men are always targets, but it’s my belief that Patterson is an opportunist who found other willing parasites to go along with his scheme.”
Frederick stood as our briefing came to a close. “I’m very grateful to you and all who were involved in Priscilla’s recovery. My daughter is very precious to me.”
“We didn’t do it alone,” Sergeant Jones said. “You and Dr. Simms found the clues on the tape and presented us with a viable lead.”
“Everyone working together resulted in a successful investigation,” DCI Edwards said. “The police cannot always do it alone.”
“It appears,” I said, my mind racing ahead of my words, “that these people went to great lengths to get PJ out of the country… to get her here. Why? Why didn’t they just grab her in the States? Why involve the Morrisons?”
“No doubt,” the DCI reached for another cigarette, “they did their homework and were aware of the Curtis Corporation’s security, which is known to rival even your own government’s security measures. They didn’t plan on being caught, hence the elaborate scheme.” She paused to light up. “Their mistake was in underestimating your ability to discover their hideout and our ability to launch a successful rescue.”
I found it difficult to believe that these people were capable of such elaborate planning all by themselves. It had crossed my mind that perhaps Terry was involved, but I had no real evidence and dismissed the idea as too outlandish.
“I… we will be forever indebted to you for providing a successful conclusion to a traumatic event in our lives. Thank you for your help.” I looked toward Sergeant Jones, who was closing her notebook and sliding the pen into its sleeve. “And thank you for your support.”
We started to stand, but Edwards waved us back to our seats. “Before you leave, there’s one more thing, and this will be of special interest to you, Dr. Blair. You were right when you said there were ancient remains in that glass coffin.”
“Oh?” I leaned toward her.
“They were removed. Part of Patterson’s plan, I suppose. We found them, mostly disintegrated, in a cardboard box.”
“Exposure to the air and mishandling would have done that,” I said. “What a shame.”
“Despite their condition, they’ve been sent to London for forensic studies. Perhaps you would like a copy of the report when we receive it.”
“Thank you, yes. I would.”
She looked toward Blodwyn. “Make a note of that, Jones.”
“Yes, Chief,” the sergeant said, opening her notebook again.
“We’ve processed a lot of evidence at the Morrison estate,” Edwards said, as we were leaving, “and located the stolen car in which Dr. Curtis was transported. That, plus her testimony, would have certainly convicted them, but it looks as though this trio will save us the cost of a trial. They’ve been singing like canaries ever since we incarcerated them.”
Frederick frowned. “I’ve been focused on Priscilla and her injuries so much I hadn’t thought about anything else. What will Patterson get at court?”
“Probably several mandatory life sentences. We don’t have the death penalty here.”
I glanced from one to the other. “It doesn’t seem right. Among them, they’ve taken four, maybe five lives. We know for sure that he murdered the Morrisons and the two servants whose bodies were discovered in the garden pond.”
“Yes, he’s already confessed to the killings. I agree with you both, but all those crimes were committed on British soil.”
“But there may be another one, here. PJ told us about a younger woman who took care of her for the first couple of days. She was a captive, too, and disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Her name was Sarah something.”
“Yes, I know. It’s in her report.” Edwards sighed as if she had enough to deal with without another body to account for. “You have to remember that Dr. Curtis is not yet herself; she could have imagined the threat to the young woman.”
“Priscilla may not be herself at the moment,” Frederick said, “but I know her. If she thinks this woman was a victim, I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility.”
“I didn’t intend to dismiss anything,” Edwards said, softening her voice. “I only meant to caution you about the accuracy of facts obtained from someone who has suffered severe mental and physical trauma. We will, of course, investigate all possibilities.”
“And what about the servants who greeted us at the estate that day?” I asked. “There was a gatekeeper, a housekeeper, and a maid that we know about, and there was someone in the groundskeeper’s cottage. They must be part of this whole thing, and adding them into the equation makes for quite a gang.”
“Minor players,” she said, “but we haven’t overlooked them. We’ll find all who were involved. It might take a little time, but we will catch up with them.”
For the first time in many days, I broke into a broad grin. “I believe you will, Inspector. I do believe you will.”
*
Sergeant Jones walked out of the building with us. Frederick thanked her again for her assistance and left to attend to some business matters. I knew PJ would be resting, so I invited the sergeant to join me for lunch at Sally’s Cafe. She accepted without hesitation.
While we waited for our order to arrive, I noticed that the sergeant acted a little shy now that she was outside her law enforcement environment. She stirred her tea, added a little more sugar, and stirred again, staring in silence into her cup. When she removed her hat and put it on the empty chair, I saw how brilliantly her red hair caught the light. She was a homespun beauty; slightly reserved, but salt of the earth.
We maintained a companionable silence while she continued stirring her tea, staring into her cup.
“Sergeant - ”
She looked up. “Blodwyn, please.”
“All right, Blodwyn, I want to thank you for being there for me. I was having a tough time handling everything.”
“I know you were,” she said, smiling.
At that moment, the waitress arrived with lunch, and we realized how hungry we were. Blodwyn ha
d ordered steak and kidney pie, which looked and smelled delicious. I, being less adventuresome, had the sausage roll. Spiced to perfection, the sausage was wrapped in a cocoon of flaky pastry. Both entrees were served with thin-sliced cucumbers and tomatoes on a bed of crisp lettuce leaf.
Blodwyn asked for my fork. “You mentioned that you’d never eaten steak and kidney pie, so I want you to taste this. It’s very good, and I guarantee you’ll like it.” She dug the fork through the crust into the rich brown gravy, and speared a piece of steak and a piece of kidney. I hadn’t been too sure about the kidney until I tasted it. That one bite was sufficient to convince me that I had to have one of those delicious entrees before I left Wales.
“Mmm-mm. That is good.”
“Told you so,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, each of us savoring our entrees.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I said.
“Not much to tell, really. I was born in Haverfordwest - that’s down south. My parents were killed in a motorcar accident when I was quite young. I always wanted to be in law enforcement, so here I am, working my way up the ladder.”
“How do you get along with Edwards?”
“All right. She doesn’t share much of herself, and she’s a stickler for job performance,” Blodwyn said and grinned, “but that’s all right, too. I’ve learned a lot from her.”
“I wish for her sake she’d stop smoking like she does.”
“I do, too. We all do. We’ve tried to convince her of the benefits of stopping. But she says, ‘It’s my life, and my lungs.’”
I set my fork down and wiped my mouth on the cloth napkin. “Then it’s not for us to worry about her.”
Blodwyn sighed. “I suppose not.”
“But you, now. I have no doubt you’ll reach the top of that ladder.”
A rosy flush enhanced the sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. “Thank you.”
We had both decided on the Chocolate Log Roll for dessert. When it arrived, we took one look at the rich cream oozing from between the circles of moist chocolate cake and grinned at each other.