“Of course I do, but it hadn’t occurred to me to make the connection. How are you, Sir James?”
“Quite well. I still wish to find quiet time to spend with you while you are here in Loridon. I have some things to discuss with you.”
“Sounds terribly weighty.”
He broke into a smile; he had a wonderfully pleasant face. “Nothing of the sort, although I think we might benefit from a frank discussion about the possibilities of who murdered our dear friend and colleague. No, I just thought that you and I might find some common ground on a personal level, some pleasant dinner conversation, perhaps a spin around the dance floor at the Dorchester or Savoy, whatever would make the world’s most famous mystery writer happy.”
“You’re very flattering,” I said. “Yes, I would enjoy that. Please call.”
“I certainly shall. How long since you’ve seen Who Killed Darby and Joan?”
“A few years.”
“Would you enjoy seeing it again? Somehow I find watching the play puts me in touch with Marjorie. I suppose that will become increasingly important now that she’s no longer physically present.”
His comment touched me.
“Shall we go together? As the producer, I have two of the best seats in the house reserved for me at each performance. I would consider it a great privilege.”
“Sir James, I have no idea of my schedule for the rest of this week. I have responsibilities at the convention, and there are so many people I must see while here. But, of course, I would love to accompany you to the play if I can work it out.”
He swallowed his disappointment and looked up into the gray sky, then back at me. “The gods are not happy that she’s gone.”
As I walked to my car, Inspector Sutherland of Scotland Yard nodded. That was all-a simple, un-smiling nod. I joined Lucas in the backseat and said to the driver, “Please take us into Crumpsworth.”
“Why are we going there?” Lucas asked. “I have to get back to the convention.”
“It won’t take long, Lucas. Indulge me a half hour.” I looked through the rear window as we pulled away and saw Sutherland still standing in the rain, his eyes fixed upon us. A strange change in him, I thought. What could have caused it?
We reached the center of Crumpsworth within a few minutes and circled the small main square until I spotted a shop whose sign read JEWELRY. “Stop here,” I said. Then, to Lucas: “Won’t be a minute.”
He followed me out of the car-of course-and we entered the tiny shop. A wizened little old man wearing a jeweler’s loupe and a green eyeshade looked up. “May I help you?” he asked in a shaky, raspy voice.
“Yes. My name is Jessica Fletcher. I was a close friend of Marjorie Ainsworth.”
“Oh. Just come from the planting, have you?”
“Planting? Yes, she’s been buried. I understand one of her gardeners tried to sell you a watch belonging to her.”
“That’s right. Those bloody foreigners’ll steal the gold from your teeth.”
“Yes… I also understand you turned the watch over to local authorities.”
“Coots. I gave it to Coots.”
“How did you know it belonged to Ms. Ainsworth?”
“I fixed that watch before, I did. Saw whose it was right off.”
“That was very astute of you.”
A smug smile came to his lips.
“Is the man who tried to sell it to you in jail?”
“Should be. You’ll have to ask Coots about that. I told the other bloke this morning the same thing.”
“Other bloke? Who might that have been?”
“Read his name yourself.” He pointed to a business card on top of the glass display case.
JIMMY BIGGERS
PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS
Discretion Assured.
“He moves fast,” I said to Lucas.
“Let’s get out of here,” Lucas said.
“Yes, I’m ready.” I thanked the jeweler and we headed for London.
My thoughts during the ride were divided between the conversations I’d had that morning at the burial and trying to shake off an intense chill. My raincoat, good as it was, had merely strained the rain. My feet were soaked; all of me was wet, and I looked forward to a hot bath.
“Mrs. Fletcher, we have messages for you,” the desk clerk said as I asked for the key to my suite. I wasn’t surprised; I’d never had so many people trying to reach me at once in my life.
She handed me a pile of telephone message forms, and I skimmed them. There were many familiar names written on the small slips of paper, but one message caught my eye. It was from my dear friends from Cabot Cove, Dr. Seth Hazlitt and Sheriff Morton Metzger. The message read
Arriving by Pan Am World Airways at eleven tonight at Heathrow Airport. Will arrange own transportation to hotel. Please don’t wait up for us.
“I can’t believe this,” I said to Lucas. I handed him the paper.
“Who are these people?”
“Very good friends from home.”
As we rode the elevator to my floor, I suffered mixed emotions. On the one hand, the idea of seeing familiar faces from Cabot Cove was as welcome as roses in May. On the other hand, my life seemed to have become so complicated since arriving in London that having more players involved was overwhelming.
We were no sooner inside the suite than Lucas said, “I found out more about that lunatic who attacked you last night.”
“Really? Tell me.”
“A certifiable madman. He attacked the London postmaster two years ago when he suggested the color of post boxes be changed. They let him go because he was obviously so demented that he couldn’t be held responsible.”
“That sword looked serious enough to me,” I said.
“He’s fruity, that’s all. I consider your friendship with Jimmy Biggers to pose a greater threat.”
“My friendship? I haven’t established a friendship with him. We’ve agreed to meet, that’s all. How did you know about that?”
“I have my sources. Keep your distance from him, Jessica. He’s nothing but trouble.”
I put my hands to my temples and said, “I know, I know, Lucas, and I promised I would heed your advice after what happened to me the other night on the street, but you can’t preclude me from making contact with people.”
“You’re willing to risk your life for that principle?”
“Risk my life? Lucas, I don’t wish to discuss this any further. I would like to attend some of the seminars and displays that are going on in the hotel. What are your plans?”
He sighed and huffed. “My plans were all carefully scheduled weeks ago, and on paper. The funeral has disrupted them. I might as well accompany you to whatever it is you decide to do. Damn, Jessica, things have gotten bloody wimpled. I detest complication.”
“Well, you don’t have any choice, do you? I need a hot bath to get rid of this chill. Shall we meet downstairs in an hour?”
“I suppose so. Why did you want to stop in that shop on Crumpsworth?”
“I was curious, that’s all.”
“I thought since you’d become so chummy with that Scotland Yard inspector, you’d be up on the latest through him.”
I was becoming increasingly annoyed with Lucas, and my face reflected it. He grinned sheepishly and said, “You have that good hot bath, Jessica. See you at the weapons display in Room 707 in an hour.”
I sank into the hot water foaming with bubbles and let out a long sigh, my tensions evaporating as the warm water worked its magic. My body felt instantly better, but I couldn’t shut off my mind. Most of all, I wished Frank were alive. I missed him every day of my life, but there were times when that desire became acute, and this was one of them.
The phone rang. I was glad I wasn’t in the living room to answer it. It rang again. And again. Someone was persistent in trying to reach me.
Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in a luxuriant terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel, I padded barefoot into the living room. The phone rang again.