“This is typical,” she said, holding up the magazine. “Five bedrooms and two baths. How does that work?”
“One for guests, I suspect. And a few years ago, they wouldn’t have had central heating.”
“And yet your house, despite its size, is quite cozy.”
“But the gas bill would be enormous if the staff didn’t turn off the heat when I’m not in residence. I have to give them a couple of days’ notice that I’m coming.”
Viv was quiet for a moment. “Rose seems nice,” she said.
“Oh, she is.”
“I didn’t mean in bed. I meant, generally speaking.”
“She is that, too.”
“How did you meet?”
“I was involved in a minor accident in Scotland...”
“You mean the one in which you totaled Felicity’s Aston Martin when it fell twelve feet off a bridge?”
“Well, yes.”
“How did you happen to have Felicity’s car?”
“She drove it up there on an inspection tour of the camp. She loves to drive. I was to drive it back for her. I like to drive, too.”
“I’m sorry, how did the accident involve Rose?”
“I came to in their infirmary and she...” He stopped and thought for a moment. “I was going to say that she was in charge of treating me... but she wasn’t. There was a male doctor in charge, but I didn’t see him again after she arrived on the scene.”
“What was she doing at a training camp for MI-6?”
“She was on a locum. That’s where one doctor fills in for another, while he’s on vacation.”
“What was the place like?”
“Not what you’d call comfortable,” Stone said. “In fact, the training seemed designed to make everyone uncomfortable. It was very military.”
“And why would Rose want to do a locum at such a place?”
“You’d have to ask her that. Her reasons never came up in conversation.”
“If I know you, Stone, there wasn’t a great deal of conversation. On any subject.”
“Now, now. I can be quite chatty, you know.”
“Well, you’re a great chatter-upper, as the Brits would say, but conversation?”
“You and I are having a very nice conversation, aren’t we? And I’m holding up my end.”
“I suspect that you spent most of your time holding up her end,” Viv said, archly.
Stone laughed. “You remind me of Felicity sometimes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
The door opened and Rose and Dino came in, still in their riding clothes.
“Dino,” Stone said, “where on earth did you find the riding gear?”
“In the village,” Dino said, “at your suggestion, the last time I was here. I just left it in the closet when I went home, and when I came back, it was still there, cleaned and pressed.”
Geoffrey came in and announced lunch, and they moved to the table.
“Rose,” Viv said, “Stone was just telling me you did a locum at the training camp in Scotland.”
“I did,” Rose replied.
“And where are you based in London?”
“I’m on a sort of rotation,” she said, “something like your judges used to be.”
“You ride a mule from village to village?”
“I drive a mini from hospital to hospital,” Rose replied. “Next week I start at St. George’s for two weeks.”
“Oh, yes, at Hyde Park Corner.”
“That’s the one,” Rose said. “You know your London, Viv.”
“As long as I have an A to Z Guide in my handbag,” Viv replied.
“Did you have a good ride this morning?” Stone asked.
“Oh, yes,” Rose said.
“I could hardly keep up with her,” Dino added.
“I’m a farmer’s daughter,” Rose said. “There were always horses.”
“Where was the family farm?”
“In Rutland, in the north of England. It’s the country’s smallest county.”
“It sounds lovely,” Viv said. “Does your family still live there?”
“Yes.”
After lunch and some wine, everybody adjourned for a nap.
Viv, after Dino was asleep, called her London office at Strategic Services, spoke to her assistant and made a request, then she went back to the bed.
“What were you doing?” Dino asked.
“Oh, go back to sleep,” she said.
“I was thinking, maybe a matinee?”
“Dino, do you know how long it’s been since we had a matinee?”
“Well, we don’t often have an afternoon in bed, do we?”
Viv rolled over and explored his crotch. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
Stone and Rose had finished their matinee and were getting drowsy.
“Stone,” Rose said, “do you think Viv likes me?”
“Sure she does,” Stone said. “Believe me, you’d know it if she didn’t.”
14
Stone woke later than usual and felt groggy. There was an empty brandy snifter on the bedside table, and he vaguely recalled Rose pouring them both one at bedtime. He got up, pulled on a robe, and made his way unsteadily to the bathroom, used the toilet, and splashed some cold water on his face, then returned to the bedroom. He had expected Rose to be asleep; there was an envelope on Rose’s side of the bed, but no Rose. There was an empty snifter on her side, too.
He sat down on the bed, opened the envelope, and found a letter, handwritten on Windward Hall stationery.
My dear Stone,
Forgive me for sneaking out early this morning, but I had an e-mail, requiring me to be at St. George’s in London today, so I called an Uber to get to the station.
I had a wonderful time at Windward and enjoyed meeting Viv and Dino. I’ll give you a call later in the week.
Love,
There was a sharp rap on his door. “Stone?” Sounded like Viv.
“Come in,” he called.
Viv came in, dressed for the day. “You’re usually an early riser, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s nearly ten o’clock. Are you all right?”
“I guess I slept a little too well,” he said. “Have you and Dino had breakfast?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
Stone picked up the phone and ordered breakfast for one.
“Where’s Rose?”
“She had to go back to the hospital in London,” Stone said, handing her the note.
Viv read it, then pulled up a chair next to his bed and sat down. “I’m not surprised,” she said. She picked up the brandy glass on his bedside table and sniffed it.
“Why not?”
“Do you recall our conversation of yesterday? Rose’s and mine?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I was suspicious of some of the things she said, so I did some checking.”
“Checking what?”
“To begin with, St. George’s Hospital at Hyde Park Corner closed in the late eighties and moved to South London, to a place charmingly called Tooting. I called them, and they have no record of a Dr. Rose McGill. The building at Hyde Park Corner, which was a stately home called Lanesborough House before it was a hospital, was renovated, redone, and reopened as a hotel of that name in 1991. It’s said to be the most expensive in London.”
“That’s odd,” Stone said.
“Also, the county of Rutland is not the smallest in the country, as Rose stated. The Isle of Wight is.”
“You’d think Rose would have known that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would. I also had a check done of the property records in Rutland, going back a couple hundred years, and there is not now nor has there ever been a farm in the county owned by a family named McGill, Rose’s name. Indeed, there is only one McGill family in all of Rutland. They have operated a betting parlor in Oakham for four generations and do not have a family member named Rose.”