The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1)

by Loy Ray Clemons

  Freddie paused and pressed the intercom button on the back seat console. “Charles, we should be coming up to a lay-by with a convenience facility just past the Oxford turnoff at Bicester. Could you please stop there?”

  The three men left the limo and walked up a footpath to the men’s restroom. Thorne dropped back and let the others lead the way. As he did, he dropped a piece of paper and casually bent over to pick it up, and glanced back up the road. The gray Vauxhall sedan had stopped and was parked at the entrance to the lay-by. The driver had his face covered as he looked at a map, and the passenger in the car had his hand up partially blocking his face.

  When Thorne returned to the limo from the rest room, he raised both arms above his head and stretched. In the process, he glanced around casually, and noticed the driver of the Vauxhall, and his passenger, had remained in the car while Thorne and the others were in the restroom.

  The Vauxhall followed when the Bentley pulled out onto the roadway.

  Five minutes later the Vauxhall, with Weigard driving, pulled alongside the limo. Graham turned around from the passenger’s seat and pointed a handgun out the open window of the Vauxhall. He squeezed of four quick shots, two missing the limo to the rear, one went over the top on the limo, and the last ricocheted off the roof just above the rear window. Weigard jerked the front end of the Vauxhall sharply to the left, crashing into the front fender of the limo.

  Charles fought to maintain control of the Bentley and slid onto the gravel shoulder, stopping just short of plunging down a deep ravine. He turned around and asked, “Are you all right?”

  Freddie looked in Thorne’s direction and back to Charles. “Yes, we’re all right. Why do you think he did that? Who are those guys?”

  Charles shrugged and said, “I have no idea. Maybe some kind of nut or he could have been a—”

  Freddie looked again at Thorne. “What do you think, David?”

  Thorne watched the Vauxhall weaving from lane to lane as it sped off erratically into the distance. “I have no idea, maybe he was upset about something. He must have been really upset to pull a gun on us. Looks like he’s having problems up there.”

  Suddenly, the tire that had collided with the Bentley shot off from the Vauxhall, and the car swerved and began to roll. It rolled to the shoulder two times and crashed into a concrete culvert, slid sideways and ended up on its roof in the roadway.

  Charles pulled the limo back slowly onto the roadway as red taillights up ahead stopped traffic. After a short interval, an ambulance and police vehicle sped by on the shoulder of the crowded roadway and stopped at the overturned vehicle. The bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled along and ten minutes later the limo passed the overturned Vauxhall blocking one lane of traffic. Two blanket-covered bodies lay off to one side of the wreck.

  Charles rolled down a window and asked a policeman directing traffic, “What happened?”

  The policeman said, “Evidently the car lost a front wheel and rolled. Move along, please.”

  Charles turned around and asked Freddie, “Do you think we should stop?”

  Freddie turned to Thorne and back to Charles. He shrugged, “I don’t know what we could do. I think we should move on.”

  The limo continued down the parkway and after a lapse of silence, Freddie said, “That was horrible. What were they trying to do?”

  Charles said, “As I said, maybe they were just nuts, or as Mr. Thorne said, they were upset about something—who knows what. Some people resent limousines.”

  Freddie was silent before continuing his story. “To get back to what I was saying, I’ve also studied the origin of the Moldar family. Thomas Moldar’s’ father, Geoffrey, was an obscure figure and seaman. Little else was known about him.

  “Thomas, known as Black Tom because of his long black hair and beard, endeared himself to King Henry VII and later his son, Henry VIII, by his fealty to the Crown with gifts of gold taken from the Spanish by acts of piracy upon the high seas.”

  Freddie was becoming immersed in his story and appeared to have forgotten about the incident with the Vauxhall. “King Henry VIII was grateful and gave Black Tom immunity—as a pirate—or privateer. A privateer was just another term for pirate—a sea thief—but in many cases, was hired by a king to attack and loot other countries’ ships. King Henry was pleased with the bounty Black Tom returned to England, and ignored the protests of the Spanish Crown.

  “King Henry’s gift to Black Tom was a large tract of land bordering on the east bank of the River Avon. The king hoped this would encourage Tom to continue providing the Crown with gold—and it did. Eventually Black Tom left the sea and became a merchant, businessman and gentleman farmer. He was given the title the first Earl of Hofley by King Henry and continued to prosper—and contribute to the Crown.

  “King Henry VIII died and Elizabeth eventually ascended to the throne after that confusing business with Edward VI, Lady Jane Grey, and Mary. Black Tom died a short time thereafter, and his son Richard took control of the Moldar fortune. Richard Moldar eventually became the richest man in Western England.”

  Thorne’s mind flashed back to the incident on the road with the Vauxhall. He knew it wasn’t just chance encounter with a disgruntled driver. He recognized it as another attempt on his life—but, were they after Freddie, too?

  Chapter 17

  As the Bentley proceeded to Stratford, Freddie continued with the story of how Kilshire castle came into being. “Richard Moldar, the 2nd Earl of Hofley, continued in the tradition of his father by currying favor with the Crown. His contributions to the Queen Elizabeth had been formally accepted, but unfortunately, he lacked the grace, wit, and courtliness that was required to be a favorite—or even a semi-favorite—of Queen Elizabeth when she ascended to the throne. His final attempt for acceptance by his queen was his construction of Kilshire Castle for her on the East Bank of the River Avon.

  “In 1575, Queen Elizabeth visited Kenilworth Castle, six miles south of Coventry and fifteen miles north of the then small village of Stratford-upon-Avon with Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester. Dudley, the favorite of the Queen at the time, had transformed Kenilworth for her visit and she spent an unprecedented thirty days of relaxation there with him.

  “In private, Richard Moldar was depressed and confused at the slight given him by his queen. He did not offer gold to the queen directly, but he assumed the queen was told of his generous gifts by her ministers. As the wealthiest man in the West, Moldar could well afford to build a castle the equal—or superior to Kenilworth. His decision was to do so—and it would be built for his queen.

  “In the same year, he traveled to London to seek out the most famous architect of the day, Robert Smythson. Smythson said he was too busy, and referred Moldar to Richard Llewellyn, an architect, engineer, metallurgist and castle expert from Wales.

  “Llewellyn was considered by many to be one of the preeminent Master Builders in Europe at the time, and an authority on medieval castles. Llewellyn was also from Wales and Queen Elizabeth was sympathetic to Wales. This was another strong reason for Moldar using him as the castle’s master builder.

  “Llewellyn was an innovative engineer as well as a builder, and had developed defense systems utilizing iron as a major component. When building a fortress, Llewellyn insisted a forge and foundry be built on the property where he could manufacture his metals on-site. Moldar was sure Llewellyn, with his knowledge of the newer types of defense-oriented construction could produce a superior castle, a bastion where the queen could feel secure and comfortable.

  “The elaborate design was that of a fortress. Moldar wanted the castle built in less than five years, a task unheard of at the time. He insisted on the time-line and said money was no object.

  “By using hundreds—at times thousands—of workmen laboring night and day around the clock, Kilshire Castle was finished in less than five years and was reputed to be the most expensive building ever built in England. To achieve his time-line, he had hired hundreds of stonema
sons, iron wrights and smiths, carpenters, cabinetmakers; earth works engineers, weavers, craftsmen, and artisans of all kinds from all over England, Ireland, Wales and Scotland. With the permission of the Crown, he moved other tradesmen and workers, along with their families, from as far away as Amsterdam, Paris, and Rome.

  “Much of his funds to build the castle—and to bribe officials—came from the gold privateers and pirates taken from Spanish Galleons returning from the New World. He had his own private smelter in Liverpool where he melted down the Spanish gold and contributed it to the Crown.

  “Moldar insisted Llewellyn’s design include a Keep as the main element of the castle. The Keep was to serve as a fortified bastion as well as quarters for the queen, her guards, and staff. It was designed to be the last line of defense when attacked or laid siege to.

  “Moldar was sure when the fame of the virtually impregnable grand castle, built especially for her and her alone, spread throughout England, the queen was sure to visit. He appealed to Lord Cecil Burghley, chief spokesman and administrative head of Queen Elizabeth’s government, to suggest she come to Kilshire, but to no avail. Moldar was confused. Surely, Lord Burghley was aware of the value of the generous contributions by the House of Moldar to the Crown.

  “Unfortunately, for Moldar, and despite Lord Burghley’s urgings, Queen Elizabeth continued to ignore him, his wife Diana, their grand manor—and the castle. She told intimates she simply didn’t like the commoner Moldar and his dull, graceless and unpleasant personality.

  “Because of her disinterest, the queen’s Keep remained unoccupied for the remaining fifteen years of Moldar’s life. Even though the queen’s chambers were never used, Moldar insisted they were to be kept spotless. Linens were changed daily, the floor was swept and firewood was kept at the ready next to the fireplace. Moldar spent many hours alone in the Keep looking out the window in the direction of the main gate. To the consternation of his wife, he eventually moved his bed into the apartment and spent the nights there alone.

  “When Moldar referred to it as Queen Elizabeth’s Keep or the queen’s Keep, the servants laughed behind their hands and referred to it as Moldar’s Keep. Ever hopeful to the end, he was said to have asked on his deathbed—there in the queen’s Keep—‘Is there any word from my queen’?”

  “The rumor that Richard Moldar’s ghost still haunts the upper floors of the queen’s Keep is well-known among the people of the surrounding countryside. It is said to this day he still roams the Keep with a candle on dark nights, preparing for Queen Elizabeth’s eminent visit.

  Chapter 18

  STRATFORD-UPON-AVON

  Monday, November 29

  3:15 PM

  The imposing Bada manor house was set back from the main road at least a thousand feet and was built in the Tudor style, prevalent during the Elizabethan era. The four-story high structure was clad in white stucco with exposed dark half-timbers, strap works, and twisted masonry chimneys in keeping with the Tudor style. It was set on a low hill, and was the most imposing structure in the area, and was prominently visible against the blue sky to the east of the castle .

  The brooding hulk of Kilshire Castle was set down the hill next to the River Avon, a quarter mile away from the manor house. There were wharves up and down the river from the castle, and were once used for commerce. Now they only accommodated tour boats. The large quay was made of the same stone as the castle.

  A curved driveway lined with now leafless two hundred year old majestic Black Poplars, wound its way up the hill to the manor house. It ended at a spacious cobblestone motor court at the entrance to the covered Grand Portico. In the center of the motor court, marble Italian figures frolicked in the center of a large quatrefoil-shaped stone fountain. The portico and the Italian-style fountain were not in the character of sixteenth century Tudor architecture, and were obviously added later.

  The Bentley pulled to a stop at the foot of the wide marble stairway leading up to the covered portico. The driver unloaded the luggage as Thorne and Freddie stepped from the car.

  A tall, straight-backed man in a butler’s uniform was standing under the covered portico. He directed two men to help the driver with the luggage.” Pleased to have you with us, Mr. Thorne. I do hope you’ll be comfortable,” he said with a broad smile.

  This was the second cheerful and pleasant English butler he had met recently. He even knew Thorne’s name. Maybe the movies had it all wrong about English butlers being unsmiling, stiff-necked snobs. The butler said, “Mr. Bada wanted you to have ground floor accommodations since you’ll be visiting the castle at odd times and may not want to be disturbed in your comings and goings.”

  Freddie walked down a long hallway with Thorne to a large room at the rear of the house. “Gil wants to welcome you to dinner tonight. I have business in the bookstore and I can’t be here tonight. Gil will have returned from Birmingham in time for dinner, and after dinner, you’ll get lined out on the upcoming meeting at the castle. I’ll see you tomorrow at the castle.”

  Thorne said, “Thanks, Freddie, I appreciate all your efforts.”

  Thorne surveyed the large bedroom. An entire wall was covered with oak bookcases full of leather-bound books. An imposing king-size bed faced a view of the wood out the rear of the house.

  He unpacked and found a large comfortable chair in front of the fireplace. He read only part of the front page of the London Times before dropping it in his lap and dozing off to sleep.

  A light knock on the door aroused him and a soft feminine voice said, “Dinner will be served in an hour, Mr. Thorne.”

  He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch and answered,. “Thank you.” He went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and combed his hair. He straightened his tie and went out into the broad hallway.

  As he proceeded to the dining room he passed through the spacious entry foyer with an enormous chandelier that dominated the space. Opposite the large entry doors was a wide central stairway that split at the top and shorter rungs of stairs went up on either side. A large tapestry of a hunting scene framed the top of the stairway landing. A Lalique table holding a large fresh flower arrangement was centered under the chandelier on the black and white tiled floor. The furnishings throughout the house could best be described as tastefully contemporary traditional, not what would have been found in the manor two hundred years ago. The only things that seemed out of place were the dark and aged portraits of past Moldar and Bada family members.

  The dining room was a large wood paneled room with a long table in the center flanked on either side by ornate sideboards. The table was covered with a lace-edged, white linen tablecloth, and mounds of fresh flower arrangements were interspersed between three large brass candlestick holders spread in a line down the center of the table. Three large chandeliers hung from the carved wood-beamed ceiling over the festive dining table.

  Small groups of people stood about, chatting amiably around the large dining room. Conversations ceased as a tall, attractive blonde woman wearing a stylish pink St. John’s Knit suit and lots of jewelry swept into the room.

  She flashed a bright smile of even white teeth behind a red mouth. “Well, isn’t this just too marvelous. All our dear friends in one room at the same time. Who could have wished for more?” She sought out Thorne and extended her hand. “Mr. Thorne, I’m Gil’s wife, Andrea. We’ve heard so much about Gil’s good friend from America. I do hope you’ve found your accommodations to be comfortable.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bada, The accommodations are wonderful.”

  “Oh, please, do call me Andrea—all my friends do,” she bubbled.

  Andrea immediately turned her attention to the direction of heightened activity of the dinner guests gathered at the large double doors. She bent to Thorne and whispered enthusiastically, “Our star arrives.”

  The group parted and a young, dark-haired woman in a wheelchair emerged. It was Gweneth Bada. She was pushed in the direction of Andrea and Thorne by Charles, the driver
who had driven him and Freddie up from London. Thorne moved aside as she approached.

  Andrea looked at a diamond-encrusted watch on her thin wrist. “You’re a bit late. I thought you might not be coming, Gwennie. How did the therapy go today?”

  Gweneth Bada’s dark eyes were fixed on a spot over Andrea’s shoulder.

  “Oh, about the same. My leg still hurts—same as before.” She laughed softly. “The great thing about it is it feels so good when they stop jerking it around.”

  Andrea said with mock seriousness, “Oh, Gwennie, I’m so sorry I couldn’t join you in those marvelous festivities.” Both bent over and sputtered with laughter like a couple of schoolgirls.

  Thorne was perplexed at the casual attitude about the young woman’s injuries.

  After the two had stopped laughing, Andrea turned to Thorne. “Gwennie, I want to introduce you to Mr. David Thorne. He’s Gil’s friend from America.”

  “Hello again, Mr. Thorne. It’s good to have you with us.” Her small round face broke into a warm smile.” Please call me Gwen, everyone does.”

  Thorne was amused by the ever-present “. . . all my friends do . . .” attitude of the usually staid Brits. He assumed the reason was people living a geographically insular life would tend toward similar habits.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Gwen. Please call me David.”

  Andrea moved to the head of the table. “Well, now that we’re all on a first name basis, I think we should separate ourselves from all these formal types. Come over here and sit across from us.”

  Gweneth’s wheelchair was pushed into a vacant spot next to Andrea. “Thank you, Charles. Would you please get me a wrap from the closet?” The big man nodded and left.

  Andrea leaned over and said, “Mr. Thorne—David—we want to capture you for Gwennie’s and my benefit tonight. Down at the other end of the table, they’ll be talking about sport most of the evening. We want to hear all about America.”