A Rather Lovely Inheritance (20 page)

When you are imagining that someone might be in your house, it sounds one way.When somebody actually is skulking around in your house, it sounds quite another way. This was unmistakably that other way. I could tell that he was in the corridor, moving past the sewing room toward the stairs—and my bedroom. I held my breath, hoping he’d go down the stairs. But he didn’t. A second later I heard another creak, closer now.

The telephone was not near the bed, but on the dressing table. I considered just diving under the bed. I couldn’t stay where I was. Slowly, I tried to get out of bed without making a sound, but the second my bare foot hit the ground, a floorboard creaked. I froze.

The intruder froze, too, listening carefully. It’s a very creepy feeling, to pause in the dark listening to someone who’s doing exactly the same thing, listening to you and holding his breath. I knew I would have to try to get to the phone before he got to me.

I suppose this idea occurred to us both at the same time, because a second later a man in a ski mask came barreling into the room and seized me, bundling my arms behind me and clapping a gloved hand that smelled like gasoline on my mouth and nose. He got there pretty fast, which meant he’d been silently creeping up the corridor, farther along than I’d guessed.

“Shut up or I’ll shoot,” he growled. Then he shoved me into the bathroom and banged the door shut. I heard his footsteps scurrying down the stairs and out the door. I was still paralyzed with fear, but when I realized that he hadn’t actually brandished a gun, I stumbled to my feet and pushed open the bathroom door, then raced to the library window in time to see the guy running toward the corner, where he turned and disappeared from sight. Seconds later I heard a car start up quickly and go roaring off.

The street was silent and deserted, as usual. Maybe I really did live in a ghost town, after all. Until now I’d thought the seclusion was charming, elegant. Now I felt like the last living creature on an earth that had been invaded by weird men in stinky gloves.

I picked up the telephone, dialing shakily. Naturally I got Jeremy’s answering machine.

“Damn it, Jeremy!” I cried. “Somebody just broke into the apartment.” I hung up, trembling in a surprisingly uncontrollable way. Finally I forced myself to get up and search for the police number that Rupert had given me. Jeremy called back just as I found it. It was probably only about twenty minutes, but it felt like years.

“Penny?” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?” I told him, in a gulpy voice, what had happened.

“He’s gone now, but—he was here—right here in the bedroom—” I quavered.

“Did he hurt you?” Jeremy asked, horrified.

“He threw me in the bathroom. I’m okay but—fuck—I’m scared,” I said.

“Could you tell who he was? Was he alone?”

This last idea had never occurred to me.“I don’t know. I’ll check,” I said, dropped the receiver, and tore through the house flinging open closet doors, turning on the lights everywhere. By the time I came back to the phone Jeremy was saying,“Penny? Are you there? Are you all right? For God’s sake, pick up the phone, Penny . . .”

“I’m here,” I said breathlessly.“Nobody else is here. I was going to call the police—”

“I’ll do it. Sit tight and wait for me. I’m coming over. Did anybody else see him?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Did he take anything?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Look around carefully, but don’t touch things.”

“Forget it,” I said. “No fingerprints. He was wearing gloves.”

“Never mind. I’m on my way.” We hung up. I tiptoed around as if I were the intruder. Nothing appeared to be missing. Bedroom, kitchen, library. Everything seemed exactly as I’d left it. Maybe the thief had been surprised too soon, before he had a chance to figure out what he wanted.

 

When Jeremy arrived with a policeman whom he knew and trusted and introduced as Danny, they made a more thorough search of the place, comparing what was there to Rupert’s list. Nothing was missing. The young cop dutifully filled out a report, shook his head, and said there hadn’t been any robberies in this neighborhood lately but you never could tell.

He said he found a gardener’s ladder on the ground by the side of the house. And he’d figured out that the point of entry was the kitchen window, because it had been left ajar. He showed me the window, which had an old-fashioned handle that raised and lowered the lock. Had I ever noticed that it was unlocked? No, I hadn’t. He demonstrated how it might look as if it were locked when it was not quite closed.

“No forced entry, you see,” the cop said. “So it may have been someone who had access to the house and deliberately left it unlocked, knowing he’d return.” He peered at me. “Anyone come to mind?” he asked.

I just looked at Jeremy. “Rollo,” I said. “Before he dragged me off to see his mother, he got the maid to let him into the apartment.”

The cop glanced at Jeremy, who explained that we were engaged in an inheritance dispute. “I could look in on him, but without any real evidence . . .”Danny said doubtfully.

Jeremy shook his head.“His mum will give him an alibi. She’ll say he was there all night playing bridge with her,” he predicted. “She’s done it for him before, when he’s been in scrapes.”

“Well, I could keep an eye on him,” the cop said. “And he won’t know that we suspect him. Now what about this maid? Shall I check her out?” I told them I truly didn’t think that she had anything to do with it, and explained what I’d overheard Rollo say to Aunt Dorothy.

“He’s after something. He must think it’s here,” Jeremy said. It was at this point that the cop told me it was okay to touch things again, so I went through everything thoroughly, even the drawers in the bedroom. I saw that the gowns were still there, but they were not as carefully folded and their tissue-paper wrappings had been shoved around, as if someone had been searching for something in great haste.

“He’s gone through the drawers,” I said. “My God. That means he’d already been in this room, looking around while I was asleep.” Involuntarily, I shuddered.

“Anything missing?” the cop asked.

“No,” I said. “But it was a lot neater than this. That’s how I know he was here.” Jeremy registered this gravely, but the cop looked at me doubtfully, as if I were some dotty female obsessed with neatness. Then I saw something on the floor near Jeremy’s foot, glinting in the light. I pointed it out to the cop, who picked it up with a cloth and held it out so that I could look at it. A glass cube, rimmed in metal, with a metal hinge so that you could open the cube and use either side to peer through one half of the heavy glass.

“Do you know what it is?” the cop asked.

“A magnifier,” I said. “See? Each half has a different strength of magnification. People carry it around like a jackknife because it’s handy, and you can use it to look more closely at newsprint or photographs, anything you want to see the details of,” I said.

“Have you seen it before?” the cop asked. “Could it have been here all along and just fallen out now, when you were looking at things?”

“I don’t think so,” I said uncertainly. “I did go through a box of clippings and photos today, but I’m pretty sure that this wasn’t in it.” But Jeremy looked at Danny, unimpressed.

“Not much to go on,” Danny said as he went out. He’d come in a plain car, Jeremy explained, so as not to excite the whole street, but he would still have to talk to the other people in the building, to ask if they’d seen or heard anything. As it turned out, he didn’t even have to ring their doorbells. Because there they were, hanging about in the vestibule like four elderly magpies. One couple—whom I’d met when Rollo ambushed me—were in their robes and slippers; the other couple wore very formal evening clothes. With the prescience of busybodies, they’d figured out that something was amiss. No, they hadn’t actually heard or seen the intruder, but they heard Jeremy arrive with the cop. The couple in the evening clothes had just come home from a party after the opera. The others had been in bed, and they looked at me as if they’d never seen me before.

All four of them, actually, were looking at me suspiciously, as if, being an American, I was the cause of this. I heard the dressed-up lady tell the cop as he was leaving, “My family has been in this building for a century and a half, and this is the first time
anything
like this has happened to people from
this
street!” And she glanced at me again. I could see that tomorrow the whole street was probably going to know about it.

On the way back inside, Jeremy took a deep breath. Apologies, apparently, don’t come easy to this breed of fellow, but it appeared that one was on its way right now. “I’m sorry about the way I talked to you when you came to see me,” he said hurriedly. Then he added defensively, “But you
would
show up unannounced when I made it patently clear that I didn’t want you to!”

“Was that an apology?” I asked. “It sure was a stingy one.”

He paused, and his voice was more penitent.“I know it. I behaved like a dog and I am sorry, really. Please just forget everything I said to you, will you?” He looked thoroughly mortified at the possibility of yet another scene.

“Humph,” I said. “I suppose that will do.”

“Look,” he said, “I had a talk with Danny—the cop, he’s a friend of a friend—and he said he’ll drive by this place tonight to make sure that nobody shows up again. Still, I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”

“The whole apartment house will be on the lookout now,” I said, trying to appear brave but feeling scared anyway. Jeremy saw right through my bravado, of course.

“Right, well, all the same, I think you should stay at my place, just for tonight,” he said. He glanced at his wristwatch. “What’s left of tonight, that is. I would stay here with you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea with the neighbors keeping watch, as you said. Unless you prefer a hotel,” he added.

“Thanks, but the truth is, I’m sick to death of hotels,” I said.

“At least this way I can keep an eye on you,” he agreed.“Give you coffee and breakfast. Then we can get some new locks put on these doors and windows, so you’ll be okay.” He paused, and added with some of his old, gentle amusement, “And bring the peach tarte.”

I packed a few things and then we went back out. He led me to a car parked just a few yards down the road at the curb. “Wow!” I said when I saw it. “What is
that
beauty?” It was a sporty-looking auto, very old-fashioned but vaguely familiar.

“That’s
my
Dragonetta,” Jeremy said proudly. “It’s a modern version, a repro of the one you inherited, my dear. Had to be on a wait list for two and a half years for it.They only make about four hundred of them a year nowadays.”

“I’ve got the original of this car?” I asked, slipping into the pale leather upholstered seat.The exterior looked just like Aunt Penelope’s auto, except the color was different; this one was forest-green. It had a manual drive, and it took off like the wind.

“I feel like we’re flying instead of driving,” I told him admiringly.

“That’s the power-to-weight ratio,” he explained proudly. “It can do a hundred fifty-five miles per hour.”All the way to his apartment he regaled me with the details of how the powerful modern engine and the traditionally handmade wooden frame were a perfect marriage of today’s technology to yesterday’s elegant craftsmanship and style.

When we arrived at his apartment, he snapped on the lights. I saw that it was as messy as before—more so, in fact, since he’d got dressed in a tearing hurry and flung off his pajamas. “The guest room is this way,” he said quickly. “I use it as an office most of the time.”

“Is it as pristine as the rest of this place?” I could not resist teasing, as I followed him.

“It’s quite clean, actually. I have someone come in every week, so fear not,” he said. In a neutral tone, he pointed out where the guest bathroom was as we passed it in the hallway.

His “office-slash-guest-room” was really a small but pleasant room with a brass double bed, a stark modern computer desk, lamp, file drawers, bookshelf, closet, and a framed old print of the Thames.The bed had a nice dark green chenille bedspread and two pillows.

“Do you need some—pajamas or—” he paused awkwardly.

“No, it’s okay. I brought my stuff,” I said, nodding toward the overnight bag I’d packed, which he’d carried up and was still holding. He set it down now, and took the tarte from me.

“Let’s eat it tomorrow with good coffee,” he said gently. “You look exhausted.” I shuddered involuntarily again, thinking of someone sneaking around me as I lay in bed. Jeremy went to the closet and reached for something.

“Spare blankets over here if you get cold,” he said, then added somewhat awkwardly, “Well, good night, Penny dear. Sleep well.You can still get a few hours in.”

“Thanks, Jeremy,” I said.

“Least I could do,” he said.

I
OVERSLEPT. IT WAS AN APPALLING ELEVEN O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING when I woke. I washed and dressed quickly. As I came down the hallway toward the living room, I could hear Jeremy’s low murmur, as if he were on the telephone somewhere. He’d obviously been up and about for some time, and I smiled when I saw the living room. He had completely straightened it up, soundlessly, too. He wasn’t there, but I followed his voice to the kitchen, a shiny affair gleaming with the latest silver gadgets and appliances.

When he saw me he got off the phone quickly. “You snore,” he announced. “Like a logger. They could have heard you in Twickenham.” Then, resuming a more businesslike tone, he added, “That was Rupert on the telephone. He’s taking care of getting the new locks put on the apartment for you.” He grinned. “Well, Detective Penny Nichols? You’ve had a night’s sleep. Any new ideas about what Rollo’s up to?”

“Without coffee in the morning I am incapable of thought,” I said.