Chapter Ten
TEN
The next morning, Iris packed her small suitcase for the two-day trip. She thought about their cover stories, then added her binoculars and the water beetle book.
She had planned to stop by the hospital to see Tony before meeting Gwen at Paddington station.
She spotted the Brigadier’s man as she checked in at the visitors’ desk, monitoring the area once again in his porter’s outfit.
He made no signals, so she continued on to the lift to the intensive care ward.
A different constable was standing guard outside Tony’s room. He checked her ID and waved her in.
Tony was awake, though his eyes were somewhat unfocussed this morning. Still, he saw her and immediately lifted his hand in greeting.
‘Good morning, my angel,’ he said hoarsely. ‘How goes the avenging? And why the suitcase?’
‘I’m off to the country for the weekend,’ she replied, pulling up a chair next to his bed.
‘Because of me?’
‘Even Vengeance needs to go on holiday once in a while,’ said Sparks. ‘I’ll be refreshed and ready for more bloodthirsty pursuits come Monday. How are you feeling?’
‘They’re not letting me feel much of anything, yet,’ he said.
‘I dread the eventual reawakening of my nerve endings. It will be like opening a stack of unanswered letters, each containing a scream of pain saying, “Hello, remember me?” Oh, speaking of which, I received a lovely note from Miss Lowle. She said she knows the worst, but doesn’t care.
She wants to see me. The nurse who read it to me has quite taken her side in this.
She’s already cast Wendy Hiller in the movie version. ’
‘Hiller’s too old,’ said Sparks. ‘You need a fresher face.’
‘I’m sure anyone’s face would look fresher next to mine at the moment,’ he said.
‘In any case, I’m thinking of relenting and giving the poor girl a chance.
If she doesn’t flee screaming from the room when she sees me, then I might consider charging the general public admission to the one-man freak show. ’
‘I think you’ll find she’s tougher than she looks,’ said Sparks.
‘Again, she resembles you in that.’
‘Oh, I’m plenty tough,’ growled Sparks. ‘I could take you in a fight.’
‘At the moment, a four-year-old could take me in a fight,’ said Tony. ‘So, where is your weekend adventure?’
‘Off to the west to look at some beetles,’ said Sparks.
‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘A group of ponds in the Cotswolds. I hear they have a good selection.’
‘Have you got a bottle of chloroform and a stack of specimen boxes in that suitcase?’
‘There are specimen boxes in there,’ she said. ‘The chloroform bottle I carry in my bag at all times. You never know when it might come in handy.’
‘You really are a tough one,’ he said. ‘Thank you for visiting. Have a restful respite this weekend. And thank Miss Lowle for me. Tell her that I think I might be up to seeing her by Tuesday. They’re scheduling me for some debriding over the next day or two.’
‘I will,’ she said. ‘Good luck with that. I’ll be thinking about you.’
‘Hey, it’s no skin off your back, Sparks.’
‘Ouch. When the jokes get worse, I know you’re getting better. Goodbye, Tony.’
She risked a light kiss on the bandage covering his cheek. She doubted he could feel it, but she hoped he’d appreciate the gesture.
On her way out, she veered towards the Brigadier’s man.
‘Lowle can visit on Tuesday,’ she muttered.
‘Good work,’ he replied.
Gwen and Mrs Billington arrived at The Right Sort at the same time.
‘Good morning, Mrs Bainbridge,’ said Mrs Billington as she unlocked the reception room door.
‘Good morning, Saundra,’ said Gwen.
‘Off to the country this weekend?’ asked Mrs Billington, noticing Gwen’s suitcase.
‘I am, but a different part of the country,’ said Gwen. ‘Miss Sparks and I are going to be travelling together, and we’ll be leaving early. I’d like you to stay until two to take calls, then close up the shop.’
‘Oh? Is this a business trip?’
‘Not quite. We’re looking into a criminal matter for a client of ours.’
‘Oh dear, not another investigation,’ said Mrs Billington. ‘Those never pay anything.’
‘We’ve been paid for a couple of them,’ said Gwen. ‘In fact, one led to our being able to afford a second office and you.’
‘Well, in that case, good luck, and I hope you turn a profit on this one.’
Not likely, thought Gwen.
She spent the early part of her morning answering letters and paying bills. Then the telephone rang. A moment later, the intercom buzzed.
‘It’s DS Parham,’ said Mrs Billington. ‘Are you available?’
‘Of course.’
A moment later, the call was put through.
‘Good morning, Detective Superintendent, it’s Mrs Bainbridge,’ she said. ‘How may I be of assistance to you today?’
‘No assistance needed, Mrs Bainbridge,’ he replied. ‘I wanted to let you know that I interviewed your Miss Lowle yesterday.’
‘How did that go?’
‘She’s in the clear as far as I’m concerned,’ he said.
‘Her landlady verified the time of her return from her date with Mr Danforth, and that she remained in her room for the rest of the evening. I believe her landlady. In fact, I would put that landlady on guard for the Crown Jewels with her talent for vigilance. Miss Lowle herself was quite distraught over what happened to Mr Danforth, I must say. Professionally speaking, I think your firm may have made a connection there.’
‘That’s what we do,’ said Mrs Bainbridge. ‘I’m glad she’s not on the suspect list. Any luck otherwise?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid,’ said Parham. ‘I did put in a call to the Cambridge Police. There was nothing in their file for Miss Spurlock’s drowning indicating that she had left any note behind.’
‘Isn’t that unusual?’
‘Not particularly. In any case, it was one of the reasons for the verdict of death by misadventure as opposed to suicide. There wasn’t much else of interest. It sounds like a dead end to me.’
‘Miss Sparks and I are still following up on a few aspects of it,’ she said. ‘We will let you know if we turn up anything useful.’
‘I appreciate it, Mrs Bainbridge,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate, given the delicate nature of Mr Danforth’s employment, but I wanted to let you know that Miss Lowle was in the clear in case you wished to set her up for any other matches should things with Mr Danforth not work out.’
‘Thanks again, Detective,’ she said. ‘Good luck to you.’
She hung up.
Should things with Mr Danforth not work out, she thought. A nice euphemism for his death.
She shuddered at the thought, then glanced at her watch. She collected her hat, umbrella and suitcase, and left The Right Sort.
They boarded at Paddington and found an empty compartment. Gwen put her suitcase up on the overhead rack, then turned to her shorter partner and held out her hand.
‘Do you think I’ve never done this before?’ asked Iris as she easily tossed her suitcase onto the rack next to Gwen’s.
‘What about getting it down later?’ asked Gwen.
‘I’ve been known to make helpless eyes at tall, attractive men in just that situation,’ said Iris. ‘Otherwise, there are some gymnastics involved.’
‘I picked up a travel guide for the area,’ said Gwen, pulling a book from her bag.
‘Bradford-on-Avon rates a travel guide?’
‘Well, no, it’s for Bath, Bristol and environs,’ said Gwen, flipping through the pages until she reached a bookmark. ‘But there are a few paragraphs on Bradford-on-Avon. I thought we should be conversant with the local points of interest.’
‘Are there any?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Gwen, perusing it. ‘It says it’s very much like a smaller version of Bath, only without the, you know—’
‘The baths.’
‘Yes. But there’s supposed to be a Saxon church dating from the eleventh century—’
‘Still an atheist.’
‘And what is described as a stunning and massive tithe barn from the fourteenth century. Its threshing floors are still intact. How do you feel about threshing?’
‘I do like a good thresh every now and then.’
‘I’m not sure you’re using the word correctly.’
‘I’m a city girl, forgive me. Fine, we’ll visit the tithe barn. But you have to go beetling with me in exchange. That’s my cover story for the expedition.’
‘Speaking of which, I made the reservation under Mrs Bainbridge and companion,’ said Gwen. ‘I wasn’t sure if you wanted her to recognise your name.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Iris. ‘She only met me the one time, and it was over eleven years ago. But it was a memorable occasion.’
‘I doubt that you’ve changed in appearance that much since you were eighteen.’
‘That is very kind of you,’ said Iris. ‘I always think I can still pass for a teenager until I meet actual teenagers and realise what war and the ravages of time have done to me.’
‘Wait until you experience motherhood,’ said Gwen. ‘What name will you be using?’
‘I’ll go with Mary McTague,’ said Iris, pulling a pair of black-rimmed glasses from her bag and donning them.
‘I still carry that ID for special occasions. That way, Mrs Dorter won’t have advance notice of my presence until we come face to face.
That should give me some advantage, and maybe the spectacles will throw her off. ’
‘Very well, Mary,’ said Gwen, settling back in her seat. ‘I am going to continue to study up on Bradford-on-Avon. I’ll leave the beetles to you.’
The trip from Paddington took some three and a half hours with a change to a local train that stopped at a station in the part of the town south of the river. When they got off the train, Gwen consulted her directions.
‘It says we need to go to an establishment called the Three Horseshoes on Frome Road,’ she said. ‘There’s a telephone there from which we can ring the inn to send someone to pick us up.’
‘Is there a pub inside where we can purchase refreshments while we wait?’ asked Iris hopefully.
‘There will always be a pub so long as there is an England,’ said Gwen, picking up her suitcase. ‘Shall we?’