The Blue Virgin (27 page)

Chapter Sixty-Eight

“
The Ray Charles concert was over though it had been—and still was to be—a strange, bizarre evening.
”

—
Cyrus Colter,
Night Studies

12
noon

“Don’t even ask me to go near the Belcher studio. We’re heading to see Declan Barnes immediately.” Simon said, backing out the Volvo to the delight of the woman in the blue Mini waiting for his spot. “Who knows when Wheeler will decide to get around to telling him about Belcher?”

  For once Nora didn’t argue. “I still feel like I’m missing something here, Simon. Do you think Miles Belcher would kill Bryn because she didn’t carry out a plan to get him the college contract? And then kill the man he thought was Wheeler to cover up his attempt at blackmail?”

  “Perry Mason would say people have murdered for far less,” Simon said, winding his way through the town’s convoluted restricted-access roadways.

  “Tickets on sale for
Twelfth Night
under the stars,” Nora read aloud. “Maybe next time we’re here.”

  “Maybe the next time we’re here murder won’t get in the way of our visit,” Simon said. Traffic slowed to a crawl along the High, the sidewalks overflowing with shoppers. Simon had to stop frequently for pedestrians in zebra crossings and buses with the right of way. Nearing St. Mary’s, he slowed to allow a squat yellow Volkswagen Beetle to back out of a parking slot.

  “Simon, pull in here. We’ll stop to talk to Lottie about the
canal boat, and I can use the loo,” Nora said, gathering her bag and her cell phone. She didn’t add that she wanted to follow just one more hunch.

  Simon did as asked. “Not trying to avoid Barnes, are you?” He was pleased at Nora’s disconcerted expression.

  “Not at all, just trying to use the ladies’ and accomplish something at the same time. Barnes is probably at lunch, anyway.”

  “I’m still interested in why Janet Wallace wanted to see him.”

  “Me, too. And that’s another thing. I don’t want to run into her and Val there. We need to give Wheeler time to reach Janet first. I don’t know how I’d hide the news that Bryn was his daughter—I’m still a bit shocked about it myself.”

  “You’re being much too kind to Wheeler,” Simon said as he guided Nora down the stairs to the co-op.

  “One part of me is angry with him for deserting Janet, but another part just feels sorry for all he threw away.”

  Outside the co-op a handwritten notice read:

  Closed Early for Inventory: See Us Tomorrow!

  Simon pushed on the door and found it unlocked. The co-operative was empty, the stalls deserted, their interior lights turned off, muting the colorful displays. Some artists had thrown sheets over their wares. The only sign of life was the music, Billy Joel singing “It’s a Matter of Trust.” As they looked around, Lottie came out of the storeroom under the stairs behind them, consulting a clipboard.

  “Hello, you two! What are you doing here?” Lottie held her hair away from her face with a bright orange banana clip that matched her high-top sneakers. She was in heavy work mode, wearing washed-out overalls and a lime-green T; traces of dust and bits of excelsior from the storeroom stuck to her.

  “We stopped to talk about the boat trip,” Simon said as Nora went directly to the ladies’ room. “And a pit stop for Nora. She thought Val might want to ask Louisa to come along.”

  “Sounds good to me as long as she leaves the wicked stepmother at home,” Lottie said, leading him to the till counter. “We’re all set for noon with a gourmet lunch on board. Plenty for one more. I saw Val briefly; she stopped in before running Janet home to tell me the inquest was adjourned.”

  Lottie gave Nora a sympathetic look as she joined them. “Goodness, you look exhausted, Nora. Sit down.” She gestured to a chair by the till. Lottie walked behind Nora to turn down the volume on the music.

  “I’m mentally tired, Lottie,” Nora said, flopping down on the chair, her bag on the floor beside her. “We just had the most incredible interview with Ted Wheeler. He said he stopped by here last week looking for Bryn?”

  Lottie was making notations on her log and didn’t look up. “He thought she might have come here to meet Val.”

  “He also said you gave him some of your excellent shortbread,” Simon hinted.

  “For that you have to give me a hand in the storeroom, tall one,” Lottie said with a grin, picking up her clipboard.

  “All yours,” Simon answered. He followed her out the entry door to the storeroom tucked under the stairs. “What can I do?”

  Lottie led him down between rows of metal shelving to the back of the storeroom and pointed to the top shelf. “See that box marked ‘Christmas’? I need you to open it and count how many of each kind of ornament we have and note the number on this sheet. You do that, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Simon used the small stepladder she pointed out to take the carton down. He blew collected dust off the top and set to work, anticipating his reward.

*

Nora closed her eyes in Lottie’s absence, enjoying the piano music of the next song on the disc, a duet with Ray Charles. She remembered Simon’s trivia about Joel naming his daughter Alexa Ray for the influence Charles had on his music. She would have to start thinking of names soon. Maybe something connected to her family. Reaching into her bag, she checked that she hadn’t missed a call on her cell phone. Ted Wheeler’s revelations were disturbing, and the hunch that Lottie could add more to the picture or know something suddenly seemed absurd. She would be happy to dump this whole mess where it belonged, squarely in Declan Barnes’ lap.

  “So. Wheeler told you he’d been here?” Lottie’s voice startled her.

  Nora opened her eyes, yawning, watching Lottie go behind the counter to set the kettle on a small electric hob. She was so tired. It must be time for her nap. Maybe after their stop at the station, she could have Simon drop her off and send him to Blenheim Palace for a while. “He said he’d come here looking for Bryn.”

  “Oh, yes, he told me all about that slime Belcher’s idea and Bryn’s refusal to play along.” Lottie’s movements were brisk.

  “Did Wheeler tell you he was Bryn’s father?” Nora asked.

  Lottie nodded. “It’s amazing what confidences tea and shortbread can induce.”

  “Men are all alike when it comes to their stomachs,” Nora said. Lottie’s comment struck her. “Lottie, you knew about Wheeler and didn’t tell Val?”

  Lottie continued as though Nora hadn’t spoken. “But Bryn wasn’t here to pick up Val. Val had left early to shop for Bryn, for a meal they were going to share together.” Lottie said this with a brittle smile, tapping one hand on the counter in time to the music.

  “It must have been terrible for Janet and Bryn to be abandoned that way. It’s so important to have someone in your corner.” Nora cradled her stomach. “I see that more than ever with this baby on the way.”

  Lottie was reaching for the kettle when her hand stopped in midair. Slowly, she turned and looked at Nora. “It’s important to go on living when you’ve been abandoned,” she corrected. “Someone takes your love away, it changes your life forever. It changes who you are.”

  Nora sat up at the tone of Lottie’s voice. Instinctively she reached down and pulled her bag onto her lap, shielding the baby. “Did something like that happen to you, Lottie?”

  “I should have gotten used to being left out.” Lottie was standing completely still, a faraway look in her eyes. “First it was the movies, then the dinners she stopped inviting me to.” She gave Nora a small, sad smile, then turned and dreamily spooned tea into a ball strainer.

  The movies—like
Notting Hill
. Yes. Nora felt a surge of despair as it all clicked, and the pieces fell into place. “It must have been awful for you,” she said, trying to keep the normalcy in her voice. Her hands tightened on her bag. Where was Simon? She cast a glance at the stairs. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Lottie spooned tea into a ball strainer she hung over the lip of a squat ceramic teapot decorated with large gobbets of glazed clay fruit. She saw Nora’s searching glance toward the storeroom. “Don’t worry about Simon. I have him doing some work in exchange for his shortbread. Quid pro quo, you know.” Moving quickly, she poured hot water into the pot and swished it around, dumping it down the utility sink. She filled the teapot and dropped the strainer into the pot. With increasing agitation, Lottie replaced the lid with a heavy clunk. “There we go. Just a moment and we’ll all have a lovely spot of tea. Bryn was lovely, too, wasn’t she? So good at so many things. Really, how could I blame Val for being attracted to her? It wasn’t Val’s fault Bryn was beautiful enough to make Val drop everyone who’d worked beside her, shared her vision, for so many years.” 

  Lottie rambled as she stirred the tea, bringing the pot to the counter and thumping it down so hard Nora expected the pot to crack. The knife Lottie used to cut the shortbread was under the counter, and she pulled it out casually, playing with it in her hands. Nora gulped.
Where was Simon
? “I never realized you were more than close friends with Val—”

  “I
wanted
to be more than Val’s friend. But years of hard work didn’t stack up against Bryn, a beautiful bastard of confused sexuality. That’s who Bryn really was—did that gutless Wheeler tell you that?” Lottie pointed the knife at Nora. “Oh, yes, you said he did.” Lottie’s black pupils were huge, her mouth curved in an unattractive sneer. The disc moved on, and Lottie sang along with Billy Joel asking how much a person can take before the heart starts to break.

  Nora eyed the knife, listening with growing trepidation as the meaning of the lyrics sank in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, and she cast a beseeching glance at the door, willing Simon to appear. Keep her talking. Isn’t that what they did in the movies? “Lottie,” she said softly, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “Tell me about Bryn. Did you go to see Bryn that night?”

  Still the ideal hostess, Lottie nodded and reached under the counter. She brought out her plaid tin, snapping the container roughly on the glass countertop, tapping the knife on the lid. “She didn’t deny one bit of Belcher’s scheme when I confronted her. I told her she wasn’t good enough for my Val. She took my place! She said she didn’t even know if she could live in our world.” Lottie’s voice rose. “She was a fake! And you know what she said to me?”

  Nora felt the baby move. White-knuckled, she clutched the bag against her stomach and swallowed hard. She was in a movie and didn’t know her lines. “What, Lottie?” Tears blurred her gaze. She sat glued to the chair.

  “She said she was ‘really very tired and had a headache’ and I should go. She dismissed me! And turned her back to me to put pots away from her bloody dinner! My entire future vanished, all due to her, and she’s too bloody tired to talk about it!” Lottie stared ahead, eyes blank, as her fingers tightened on the blade. “Those knives were right there. I didn’t even hesitate. I was surprised at how easily it went in—you should have seen those big brown eyes widen when she turned around then!” Lottie was triumphant.

  Nora’s heart leapt into her throat. She struggled to her feet, but before she could escape, Lottie grabbed her arm, jabbing the knifepoint at her side. Instantly Nora swung her bag to her side, trying to put it between the knife blade and the baby. But Lottie’s hold was too tight, and the sharp point pressed beneath her rib, stinging her like a bug bite.

  “Why Vance, Lottie? Did you mean for it to be Wheeler?” Nora kept her tone soft and confiding, hoping she sounded understanding, praying Lottie would trust her and stay calm.
Simon, Simon!
Her eyes swept the entry, but she couldn’t see past it to the storeroom.

  “Wheeler was supposed to be there. I wanted it to look like he committed suicide, then everyone would think he killed Bryn and couldn’t live with himself.” Lottie cocked her head to one side. “I even had a note typed up. It would clear Val and bring her back to me. I’d already stabbed that man when I saw it wasn’t Wheeler.” She shrugged. “If it was Wheeler who died, I would’ve gone to the police and told them the old fusspot had come to see me and hinted at confessing in remorse.” Lottie’s laugh had a high, tinny sound.

  Was that a glimmer of motion at the stairs?
Not now, Simon
.
Now it was too dangerous. The knife was too close. Once more Nora felt the baby moving. She tried to concentrate. “Lottie, don’t you think—”

  “I don’t
think
! I just
do
! I keep it all together and cover for Val when she needs me, and make her feel better when she’s down, and she loves
me
, my Val. But not enough to choose me over that bitch.” Lottie’s words bubbled out of her mouth.

  “I don’t think I want any tea today, Lottie.” Nora tried to inch closer to the counter with Lottie still holding her arm tightly. If she could reach the teapot, she could throw the hot liquid on Lottie and get away.

  Lottie saw her eye the teapot and pulled Nora farther away from the counter, into the middle of the room. Her powerful fingers gripped Nora’s arm like a vise as the pressure of the knife increased, tearing her blouse. Nora felt the cold blade against her skin, scant inches away from the baby, who shifted and kicked. Tears choked her, swelling her throat, blurring her gaze.
Not the baby, please not the baby.

  “If anyone’s escaping, it will be me,” Lottie said. With her other hand she pushed Nora’s bag aside to pat her stomach. “Is Simon Ramsey the father of this brat?”

  Simon stepped boldly into the room, striding toward Nora. “Yes, I am, Lottie. Now let Nora go.”

  “Simon, please, not now,” Nora whimpered. He would make Lottie feel threatened, and her only hope was to keep Lottie calm. She felt a sting as the knife pressed harder against her. Nausea rose in her throat, and she broke out in a cold sweat. The baby was too close! She dropped her bag and moved her hands to the opposite side, hoping it would play its kicking game and move toward the radiating heat. Simon froze just a foot away.

  Lottie was spinning out of control. “I couldn’t part with this talisman.” She twisted the knife as she referred to it. “I’ve become rather fond of it. Bryn Wallace had her Luckenbooth charm, and I have this instrument of her destruction.” Lottie’s tone turned mocking. “You want to save her, lover boy?” she sneered. “She’s another one who doesn’t know what she’s got.”