Chapter 5
Sir Anthony Renville had been in the military, served in Parliament and even ran with the bulls in Pamplona. He had survived his wedding, every single one of his anniversaries, the birth of his children and the Labor Party. However, no distraction, be it remaking his tie or picking at imaginary lint, could hold at bay his growing dread and dismay. He awoke this day to realize that he was faced with his newest and most formidable foe - stage fright.
"How did you ever talk me into this, Portia? This is ridiculous, all of it." Sir Anthony paced from the window to the fireplace and back again. "I am not a professional actor. What if I blow myself up?"
"I'll still love you, darling, no matter what." Lady Portia Renville sat on the sofa reading the "mystery script" for the umpteenth time. She and her husband both had parts to play. Though her husband was decidedly tense, she had every intention of being relaxed and enjoying it all to the hilt. "Darling, you'll do fine. Just pretend you're giving a speech."
"Speech! Speech! This is no laughing matter, Portia. Timing is absolutely critical." Sir Anthony looked down at this shoes inspecting for any scuffs. The shoes had been polished yesterday within an inch of their lives and no scuff would dare to mar their surface now.
"Darling, you have perfect timing in everything you do. I'll swear to it if you want." Portia was writing herself some reminders on a small index card. She could hardly carry the script on her person what with all the running around expected later on. She thought the whole mystery event was quite intriguing and even envied the participants a tiny bit. Oh, well, perhaps next year she could inveigle Anthony to join her on a mystery event. I must put that thought in my journal tonight, she thought to herself.
Sir Anthony strode to his wife, sat down beside her and gallantly kissed her hand. "Thank you, darling, but I don't believe such extreme measures will be necessary."
The study door opened and Oswald poked his head in. "Mr. McAdoo's just started his announcement. It won't be long now. Are you ready, sir, my lady?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Lady Portia squeezed her nervous swain's hand. Her butterflies were beginning to make their presence felt.
Sir Renville added. "We both are, Oswald."
"Very good. Just wait for my knock then. If everything is going according to plan, it will be three short knocks then a pause then another knock." Said Oswald.
"And if things go badly and it's on to Plan B, it will be two knocks." Lady Renville clarified.
"Yes, milady." Oswald closed the door. The Renvilles prepared to take on the roles of their lives.
Oswald came back to the roof terrace and gave Mr. McAdoo a quick nod and a smile. He opened a large envelope and took out several smaller envelopes. As Oswald began distributing envelopes of various colors to each detective, Mr. McAdoo continued. "It is now 4:00pm exactly. Oswald is handing out envelopes to each of you. On each envelope is a location. I would like for all of you to go to your specified location in the next ten minutes."
Envelopes were torn. Expressions ranged from puzzled to calculating. But none would deny the quickening of pulses, the thrill of anticipation nor the subtle yet ever present competitiveness they all felt.
Spencer McAdoo glanced quickly at the more experienced sleuths gauging their reactions. As he had expected, he had caught them off guard. They looked just as startled as the first timers. Very good, McAdoo thought, this should make for some very interesting interactions. "As of right now consider the game afoot and the clock ticking away. Off you go!"
The would-be sleuths scattered.
Hermione lost track of the others as she concentrated on finding her way to the room assigned to her. She had been one of the first to leave the rooftop along with Mr. Ironside, Mr. Wright and Mr. Claymore descending down the broad stairs to the second level. She passed a storeroom on her right and the Blue Room on her left. She kept on straight down the long hallway passing another set of stairs leading down into the first floor. She passed a closed door labeled Study on her right opposite from the library.
She went down a few more meters and reached her destination - the Chevy Chase room. She took stock of the room. The initial tour had been a rushed affair and now she itched to explore. Her eyes traveled from the beamed ceiling and the heraldic pennants hanging from them to the long narrow trestle table in the center of the room. Benches lined each side of the table. She came to note several pieces of paper lying on the table. As usual, she gave in to her innate curiosity.
As Ms. Stevens' gracious form got further and further away from them, both Mr. Wright and Mr. Ironside arrived at the study at nearly the same time. The two men had fairly raced each other from the roof terrace. They had not run but they had not walked either. Each eyed the other along the way waiting for the other man to veer off and head in a different direction but both were sorely disappointed. They stood facing each other in front of the closed door to the Study.
"After you, Mr. Wright." Said Mr. Ironside.
"No, no, after you. You did get here first." Said Mr. Wright.
"Just by a whisker surely." Said Mr. Ironside.
"I insist." Said Mr. Wright.
Mr. Lewis and Mrs. Moss saw them standing there like two bristling fighting cocks in an arena stare down. As they turned left into the corridor, Mr. Lewis called out to them "Just get on with it you two!"
As the two drifted past, Mrs. Moss added. "No time for silly contests. We only have until 4:45."
Sheepishly, Mr. Ironside opened the door and Mr. Wright followed him in.
Mr. John Moss had been quite relieved after finding that his room assignment was so close by. He gratefully sat on the sofa in the rococo style Blue Room. The traipsing about the castle had tired him out. While he had enjoyed it, he knew that his wife had enjoyed it more. He put his feet up and laid prone on the sofa closing his eyes for a brief nap. He was soon snoring lightly.
Adam Claymore had left the roof in a tearing hurry close on the heels of Mr. Wright and Mr. Ironside. Besides getting to his location, Claymore had another reason to be quick. He was trying his best to shake Ms. Danforth. Ever since the tea break at the Chymorvah, Ms. Danforth had clung to him like a barnacle to a boat's hull. He had no wish to be rude to the woman but she was not getting the message that he was not interested. There was simply no chemistry or spark between them. In fact, were she less affected in manner and tone than she was, he might have been interested in some measure of companionship. As it was, he simply wanted to be left alone. As he passed the Library on his left and the Study on his right, he could see that he hadn't shaken his shadow. She had just descended the stairs from the roof and accelerating quickly towards him. Could they possibly be heading for the same location?
He turned left into a corridor and immediately saw the Armory on his left. With a grateful sigh he entered and closed the door once again. The door clicked reassuringly. He was rather glad he been assigned this room. He had been fascinated by all the displays during the brief tour earlier. He walked around getting a closer look at the arms hanging on the walls and the various suits of armor standing on pedestals about the room.
Deeper into the room he saw a rolled up London Times left carelessly on the floor. He picked it up and was about to put it in a nearby trash bin when he saw a featured article of a past story with a headline that said "Firm Found Guilty in Worker's Death." He took a corner chair as his eyes read on. The lengthy story described how the court had settled a case where the architectural firm of Palworth, Levinson and Dingle was sued in the wrongful death case of a worker in their employ. The last section of the article was devoted to the family's ordeal in pressing their case. Interestingly, the case had been handled by a young lawyer - David Wright. Mr. Wright had thereafter become known as a bit of a crusader taking on cases that other barristers and solicitors had refused out right.
The feature had won a journalism award. And justly so, Claymore thought, fine piece of investigative reporting. Now, this kind of exposure was what his career needed. He had been at the Chronicle for three years. He had had an offer from the Times and he planned to use his vacation to make his decision.
Mr. Lewis paced the length of the Yellow Room and back. He had accompanied Mrs. Moss and they had found themselves in opposite rooms. He was in Yellow and she in Green. It was always the waiting he found the hardest to bear. His thoughts returned to the conversation he had overheard a few minutes earlier as he had entered the Yellow Room. Lewis had stopped at the threshold and looked around to see where the voices were coming from. It was an agitated Lady Portia speaking to her husband. The Renvilles were approaching from his left. Sir Anthony looked like he was trying to calm his wife. He had caught snatches of their conversation as they got closer and closer.
"What could he want now?" Lady Portia asked.
"Perhaps nothing. Let's not worry about -"
"I knew that you serving on that commission would lead to no good." Lady Renvill interrupted.
"It was my duty, Portia. Unpleasant, true, but it was necessary. Oh, dash, I left my reading glasses in the Red Room. I'll meet you in the small parlor for tea, shall I?"
They paused in the middle of the hallway and separated. Lord Renville turned back the way he had come and turned right. Lady Renville continued down the hall. So preoccupied was she that she literally collided with Mr. Timmons. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Timmons."
"My fault, Lady Portia. I've been wandering about looking for the facilities." Said Mr. Timmons. "If you would be so kind."
"Of course, Mr. Timmons. It's straight down this corridor past the Chase room and turn right. It will be the first door on your right." Lady Portia informed him.
As they stood there by the stairs, Ms. McFadden was slowly advancing from the roof top stairs and reading every name on every door. She seemed to be making notes as she went. Mr. Timmons left to follow the directions given to him. Mr. Maclemore approached and asked Lady Portia the way to the Chevy Chase room.
Mr. Ironside spotted the clue first much to Mr. Wright's discomfort at being bested in their unspoken game of one-upmanship. It was a scrapbook with text and pictures lying open on the sofa. On the open page was a picture of a Sir Renville when he was serving on the British Special Forces hearing committee. The hearing committee acted as a first forum to discuss and settle challenges to military law, discharges of duty and criminal cases within the military services. Underneath the picture was a small scrap of a news article. It said "The military tribunal has adjourned for the year after settling three military cases. Sir Anthony Renville and retired Lord Admiral Alfred Lynch served as co-chairmen of the committee. Of the three cases tried only one case resulted in a negative verdict. The case against RAF Major Ian Timmons ended with his forced and immediate discharge from her Majesty's service. Major Timmons was charged with unethical conduct during a training mission in the Seychelles." The article continued on to detail each case tried before the tribunal.
"Does he harbor a grudge?" asked Mr. Ironside. "Perhaps he has returned for a bit of retribution."
"It seems too obvious to be credible." Severus observed. He remembered Timmons laying court to Ms. Stevens. "Mr. Timmons seems to be enjoying the civilian life especially its freedoms."
"Really? What about you? Are you so lily white?" Mr. Ironside asked looking intently at Mr. Wright.
Snape had a quick flashback of déjà vu. He mentally cleared his mind and concentrated on his pretend persona. "I assure you my connection with the Renvilles is completely professional. I do not know them personally at all. Long ago, I represented a case against a company in which they were investors. I simply know them as a name on a listing."
"What was the case?" asked Mr. Ironside.
"Improper termination. An executive was dispatched without completing the terms set forth in her employment contract. We settled out of court by the way." Mr. Wright explained. "Ah, no, you may not ask who my client was. While we are investigating each other, how do you know the Renvilles? You told me you were a portfolio manager. Do you keep their investments?"
"You have nothing on me. I know them not at all. I did not tend to any of their investments to the best of my knowledge." Said Mr. Ironside confidently. "I've never heard of them before coming here."
Severus stood looking out the window while he asked out loud "I wonder what retired military types do in the civilian world, especially one under a cloud of disgrace?"
"Timmons doesn't dress poor. I know quality when I see it. I'll bet the clothes he has on is Turnbull & Asser from head to foot." Added Ironside.
Ms. Danforth reached the Armory at last. The door was locked. She read her instructions again. Her note definitely said "The Armory." Well, it didn't specify that she had to be inside the room, did it? She leaned against the wall and waited. Some time later, Mr. McAdoo and Oswald walked by. Fortunately, they had keys to the Armory. Mr. McAdoo let her in and left on another errand. Inside, she found Mr. Claymore sitting in a chair engrossed in his reading.
"Chivalry is obviously dead." Ms. Danforth commented.
"What?" asked Mr. Claymore.
"I was knocking on the door repeatedly." She explained. "Why didn't you let me in?"
"Were you? I didn't hear anything. Sorry." Claymore bowed his head and continued to read the paper. He debated about letting her know about the newspaper. However, he reasoned that there was nothing in the game rules that said he had to share evidence. So, he kept his find to himself. Ms. Danforth walked around the Armory killing time. ----- Hermione fingered the business card which said "David Wright, QC" on the first line. The rest read "Chambers at 339 Torremain Road, London, England." There was an area of text below that which said "Specializes in commercial and Chancery litigation." She found several sheets of paper on which was spread out one newsworthy story "Lewis International Industries Facing Insolvency."
Hermione had just about finished the news article when Mr. Maclemore entered the room. "I found these on the table. Take a look."
Hermione slid the card and the article to the Scotsman. As Maclemore sorted through these new artifacts, Hermione thought long and hard about David Wright.
"I say this is getting very serious." Maclemore addressed Hermione from across the table. "Very serious."
Mr. Levinson was a bit late getting to his destination. He had had to ask Oswald for directions to his intended destination. As he went down the stairs from the roof, he saw Mr. Timmons dart into a room in front of him. As he passed it, he saw that the door was labeled the Blue Room. At the fork in the hallway, Levinson turned left. After a few meters he passed the Yellow Room on his right and then he saw his location conveniently on his left just as Oswald had described it. It was the Green Room. He was surprised to see Mrs. Moss peering at a glossy magazine intently.
"Mrs. Moss, a pleasure. What's so interesting?" he asked.
"Ms. Stevens that's who! I had no idea she was so successful or so famous. She doesn't put on airs like one would expect. Though it says here that she might have stepped over a few bodies to get to the top." Remarked the school teacher. "To this day, it says, the industry is amazed at her meteoric rise so quickly."
"Success always has a price, I find. Ms. Stevens seems a very intelligent person. I'm sure that her rise was due more to her character traits than to anything sordid." Levinson agreed. He strolled about the room. He supposed it was named the Green Room after the heavy sumptuous curtains hanging in the windows. It was a pleasant room not too feminine or masculine. It was a nice little parlor to retire to after a busy day. On a small table he saw a picture. It showed four young men in university uniforms. He looked more closely. One of them looked very familiar.
Mr. Timmons ducked his head into the Blue Room. He saw Mr. Moss napping on the sofa. Not wanting to disturb him, Timmons quietly prowled around the room. On a side desk was a current news magazine. The cover subject was corporate whistle blowers. He casually flipped through it. A small picture made him stop. It was Mr. Ironside no mistake about it. A bit younger but it was him. The sidebar identified him as an accountant from a small firm that was found guilty of investment fraud due to evidence he had unearthed. Clients had been defrauded to a total of several million pounds. The company was investigated and forced to close. On a postscript it said that Mr. Ironside now served as an auditing consultant with a very lucrative practice in London.
Ms. McFadden walked into the Yellow Room to see Mr. Lewis studying a shelf full of books very intently. Ms. McFadden laid down her oversized tote bag as well as her small notepad and pen. On the sofa were two open books. Absentmindedly, Mr. Lewis told her to take a look at the author. She noted the title of the book "Mont St Michel a History." Its author was a John H. Moss. Could it be the same as their Mr. Moss? Her answer came when she saw the dedication page which said - "To my inspiration, Emily."
"Mont St. Michel is the sister abbey to this one. Is he researching St. Michael then?" asked Ms. McFadden jotting down this new bit of information in her notebook.
"Perhaps." Said Mr. Lewis cryptically. "Perhaps not."
At exactly 4:17 PM something happened at St. Michael's that rarely if ever happened. The lady of the house let out a bloodcurdling shriek that echoed through the hallways. She kept screaming louder and shriller with every passing minute. The screams were so loud that Mr. Moss woke up. The sleuths rushed out of their rooms and milled about the hallways trying to follow the screaming. Some were faster than others.
On the floor in the Red Room was Sir Anthony Renville unmoving with spots of blood on his person and about the floor. Mr. McAdoo held on to the distraught woman as the others sought to help Sir Anthony. Mr. Levinson immediately checked for a pulse and found one, weak but present.
"He's alive!" Mr. Lewis said.
"Someone get my first aid kit in the Yellow Room!" said Ms. McFadden. She examined him and saw blood on the back of his head. "Someone's brained him on the back of the head."
"I'll go get it!" Mr. Timmons volunteered. Mr. Claymore watched him and followed him out from a distance.
Lady Portia instructed Oswald to go the village and get the doctor on duty. With luck, he may yet still be on the island and not taken the ferry back to Marazian.
Sir Anthony began to stir and moan incoherently. Severus took notice of the others who were fanning out about the room looking for clues. Mr. Ironside was snapping pictures of the "body" and the room in general.
Hermione motioned to a book lying on the floor. "This must have been what was used. Look, it has drops of blood on the spine and cover."
"Only a coward would strike from behind." Said Mr. Ironside.
"Or a woman." Said Mr. Wright. "A man wouldn't turn his back on another man. It goes against instinct."
"Sir Anthony may not have even ken he was being attacked." Said Mr. Maclemore.
Sir Anthony opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "Oh, what happened?"
"Keep still don't try to get up." Instructed Ms. McFadden in a no-nonsense voice. "Where's my kit?"
"Mr. Timmons is getting it." Mrs. Moss informed her and the group.
"I thought you were a secretary?" asked Ms. Stevens.
"I became a secretary after I left nursing, Ms. Stevens." Ms. McFadden refused to elaborate further.
Lady Portia instructed Oswald to go the village and get the doctor on duty. With luck, he may yet still be on the island and not taken the ferry back to Marazian. Oswald left to find the doctor.
Both Mr. Wright and Mr. Ironside looked at the other. Since Mr. Wright was closest to the door he slipped out and went to look for Mr. Timmons. Just as Mr. Wright got out into the main hallway, Mr. Timmons was coming out of the Green Room.
In one hand was a black medikit case and in the other a magazine. "Here, you might find something interesting about your new girlfriend." He tossed the magazine to Mr. Wright on his way to the Red Room.
Severus spied Ms. Danforth outside of the Red Room leaning against a window looking out to sea.
She saw him looking her way and she said "The room was too crowded for me. Besides, I can't stand the sight of blood."
"A strange weakness for a nurse." Severus said.
"Oh, I'm a nurse and sometime receptionist for a small private practice in London. I don't see much blood fortunately." Said Ms. Danforth. "I was a hopeless wreck at nursing school."
Ms. McFadden patched up the small cut in the back of Sir Renville's head while he described what happened. "Well, I was over by the desk there looking for my glasses. I found them then dropped them. I bowed down to pick them and that's when I felt the pain in the back of my head. I don't remember anything else after that."
"Lady Portia, why did you come back? I'm sorry but I overheard you and Sir Anthony in the hallway and you were on your way to the parlor downstairs." Mr. Lewis said.
"I came back because I remembered where his glasses were. It was in one of the desk drawers." Explained Lady Portia. "Anthony has a terrible time finding things."
"Did you come back immediately?" Mr. Wright asked.
"Ah, no. I chatted a bit with Mr. Timmons and Mr. Maclemore. Mr. Timmons needed directions to the facilities and I told Mr. Maclemore where the Chevy Chase room was." Lady Portia supplied.
Oswald came in breathing heavily with the doctor standing beside him. "Mr. McAdoo, the weather's turning on us. The ferry captain hailed me and said that he needs to leave in the next ten minutes."
"Aye, it's that sea storm coming to land after all." Answered Mr. McAdoo. "All right, everyone! We need to get back to the mainland. Sir Anthony and Lady Portia would you be so kind as to visit us tomorrow at Newquay to answer any other questions we may have of you?"
"I think I can make it through the night, Mr. McAdoo." The doctor examined him and proclaimed that he only needed a good night's sleep. Ms. McFadden was complimented on her expert bandaging.
"We'll be in Newquay by 9:30 AM." Declared Lady Portia helping her husband to his feet.
The sleuths made their way to the dock under gray skies and drizzling rain. The ferry left the dock at about 4:40 PM. The ride back was choppy and wet. The sleuths eyed each other taking each other's measure. Ms. McFadden was once again writing in her notepad. Mr. Wright made sure the magazine was secure in his coat pocket. Mr. Ironside cast wary sideways glances at Mr. Timmons. Ms. Stevens was at the railing of the ferry ignoring the cold sting of rain as she reran the events of the few hours over and over in her head. Mr. Levinson was in the rear of the ferry looking at the castle as they got further and further away.
Even the bus trip back to Newquay was far less boisterous than the trip to Marazian had been. No one played cards. No one joked. No one pointed out the scenery. Instead some of them read their packets more carefully. Some of them doodled madly on notebooks. Some slept. And some kept an eye on everyone else. Mr. Wright kept an eye on Ms. Stevens.
Up front, a chirping mobile roused Mr. McAdoo from a sound sleep. After a few minutes of conversation he sighed and put the phone back into his pocket. He stood and walked to the center of the swaying bus. "Everyone, I regret to inform you that not only has an attempted murder been committed today but also a theft."
"Sir Renville has just informed me that the charter of Edward the Confessor is missing and presumed stolen. Both the castle proper and the ferry have been searched. Since our group was the last known tourists in the castle all suspicion falls on this group. This bus will be searched as soon as we reach Newquay. I would ask that each of you allow us to search your belongings when we arrive."
"I can only conclude that we have among us a murderer and a thief."