Gloria was nervous, but did not panic. Panic was OK for
trivialities, she knew. It was hard thinking that was needed now.
After a while, Gregor brought her a tray of edibles and a fresh
pot of coffee.
“We aren’t planning to hurt you, Mrs Hartley,” he told her. “It’s
unfortunate that you came here, but we won’t keep you here longer than
necessary, I promise.”
“Who are you hiding me from?”
“The person who jammed that hypodermic needle into Sandra
Rossi’s neck, Mrs Hartley.”
Gloria was still wondering how they could know the cause of
Sandra Rossi’s death, seeing as the police had been baffled.
“‘A jab?”
“That’s normal procedure, Mrs Hartley. We told you that.”
“Since when is murder normal? And why would he – or she –
want to do that to me?”
“To silence you.”
“But I don’t know anything.”
“They don’t know that.”
“They? You mean there’s more than one of them?”
“Of course.”
“So I have to stay here until whoever it is caught or at
least put out of action?”
“It might come to that.”
The woman who looked so much like Sandra Rossi entered the
room.
“We have work to do, Gregor.”
“I was attending to our guest, Lauretta.”
So that was her first name.
The woman did not seem to mind that her name had been
mentioned.
“Lauretta? You look so like Sandra.”
“That’s why she’s dead, Mrs Hartley. It should have been
me.”
“But you are not from Middlethumpton.”
“No. Sandra went to live there because she thought she would
be safe.”
“Safe from what, for heaven’s sake?”
Gloria was nothing if not persistent.
Lauretta Rossi and Gregor exchanged glances.
“OK. You might as well know what it’s all about. It won’t
make any difference now.”
Lauretta Rossi did not tell the whole story, but she did
reveal that Sandra had been in a relationship with a man she met in London, someone
you would have taken for a businessman. But that’s hardly the right word to
describe someone who trades in weapons, young women and drugs.
“But that’s terrible.”
“The day came when Sandra had to make a choice. She left him
without any warning and moved into the apartment in Middlethumpton that I had
found for her. She cut herself off from everything. I was the only person who
knew where she was. She could trust me, of course. I helped her financially.
Our likeness helped. It had always been considered uncanny.”
“I suppose it was you I saw on the street sometimes then.”
“Yes. That’s how I know who you are, Mrs Hartley. Sandra did
not want to get too friendly in case you noticed that there were two of her, so
to speak.”
That knowledge silenced Gloria effectively.
“Then she was traced to Middlethumpton by the gang working
for the man she had left. She phoned me the day before she was killed to say
she had recognized one of them lurking outside her house. She was terrified.”
“So why did she go out shopping? She was found dead in a changing
room at a fashion store.”
“I don’t know the answer to that. We think someone lured her
there, probably imitating my voice. We could not be seen together at the flat
for obvious reasons.
“You mean that I would notice?”
“Not just you, Mrs Hartley.”
“But why would anyone want to kill her? She had left London
and surely she was not dangerous for them since she had cut herself off
completely.”
“But they thought they were killing me, Mrs Hartley. I work
for MI6 and they must have found that out, too. They have a strategy for
getting rid of people like me. They kill our friends and relatives first as a
warning.”
“But you said they thought you were her. So they thought
they were killing the person they wanted to.”
“’You have a point there, Mrs Hartley, but I’m speculating
on most of this, including any role you might play.”
Gloria now thought that she was reliving some sort of
childhood nightmare, with shadows on walls and footsteps on the stairs.
Lauretta Rossi looked anxious, as well she might.
“Can you keep all that to yourself? You see, we cannot work
effectively if someone outside our department knows who we are, and that
includes the police. Do you understand?”
“Of course. I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“If you do, you and your family will be in deep trouble.”
“I’m in enough trouble now, Miss Rossi. I took Sandra’s
diary from her bedside cupboard.”
“That was probably a good move, Mrs Hartley.”
“That’s how I found your phone number.”
“Where is the book now?”
“Here.”
Gloria drew the little book out of a pocket in the lining of
her jacket.
“You’d better take it,” she said. “I’d prefer it not to be
found on me.”
“Why didn’t you dispose of it?”
“I thought I might need it.”
“You won’t. It’s actually mine.”
“And I phoned all the numbers before yours.”
“That was not a good idea.”
“How was I to know?”
“You couldn’t have.”
“One more question, Miss Rossi. If no one knows you work for
MI6, or Interpol, or whatever, how come Sandra was identified as you? How did
the gangsters find out about you in the first place?”
“We think Sandra must have shown her friend in London a
photo with both of us on it, or someone found one among her personal
possessions. I don’t know how much Sandra talked about us, but we are sure that
killing her was a warning to all my colleagues that they were onto us. Sandra
was not interested in revenge or betrayal and in the end the corpse could have
been either of us. You confirmed that with your identification.”
“So as I understand it, Sandra was not in your organization.”
“No. But Sandra was naïve and talkative. We think they moved
in as soon as they had traced her to Middlethumpton. The boyfriend was probably
not the assassin since seeing him would have alarmed her enough for her to take
steps to disappear and cover her tracks except that she did not have time to do
so, and that was part of the plan, I assume. The killer will have worked from a
photo of us both and moved in as soon as he had his instructions.”
“It’s horrific.”
“It gets worse. It’s unlikely that they would kill one of us
and not the other, not least because they probably don’t know which of us is already
dead.”
“I’d identified one as Sandra so she was dead, but you were
not. Are you more important than Sandra was?”
“That too. That’s one reason why you are a danger to them.
They don’t know if you were aware of Sandra’s double. They don’t know if you
identified me as Sandra on my instructions.”
“In other words, I’m in great danger now.”
“We both are, Mrs Hartley. Gregor and I are leaving here early
tomorrow morning. We will drive to the airport and catch a plane to a
destination I cannot reveal to you for your own safety. You will stay here
until the police find you.”
“What if they don’t find me?”
“We’ll make sure they do.”
Gloria could think of nothing useful to say.
“Get some sleep now. You won’t see us again. Don’t try to
get out during the night as you would endanger our movements and possibly your
own life.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You needn’t lock the door.”
“It must be locked. The police must believe you have been a
prisoner.”
“Well, aren’t I?”
***
It only took Cleo a couple of minutes to get from the
library to HQ. She was glad she was going to see Gary because she was
emotionally confused and needed to confirm to herself that what she felt for
him was genuine. The problem of Gloria should have been uppermost in Cleo’s
mind, but it wasn’t.
She took the stairs to Gary’s office on the second floor. He
was alone and greeted her with an emotional hug and kisses. At that moment Cleo
almost completely forgot why she was there.
“You sweep me off my feet,” she said. “I was not sure if I
should believe what happened between us.”
“What happened between us is what happens to lovers,” said
Gary.
“I never thought of myself as a lover,” said Cleo. “I was
going for safety and comfort when I got involved with Robert. He is not a
sweeping-off-feet sort of guy.”
“And I am? You flatter me, Miss Hartley.”
“That’s the problem. Gary. I’d like to think you mean it all”
“Believe me, I mean every word.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear again,” Cleo replied, now
pulling him into an embrace.
“You kissed me in full view of that impossible butcher guy,”
said Gary.
“He had already not believed that I would sleep with you,
Gary.”
“I knew that’s how he would react.”
“I was astonished. It was like a blessing!”
“So let’s continue our meeting at Romano’s,” Gary suggested.
“Tomorrow, Gary. I can’t get away today.”
“OK, tomorrow.”
Gary did not waste words once he got round to the business
of Cleo’s mother.
“We think we know where Gloria is,” he told Cleo.
“Where?”
“In Birmingham.”
“What’s she doing there, for heaven’s sake?”
“We traced all the phone calls from her flat and the last
one was to a number in Birmingham. After that she didn’t place any more calls
so we deduced that she must have decided that she had traced the right
contact.”
“What do you mean by contact?”
“Most of the calls were to London numbers, one of which
belonged to a drug-dealer we’ve been trying to pin down for some time. Your
mother was playing with fire ringing that number, Cleo. But it wasn’t the last
on the list and presumably no one answered the phone. The problem is that her
number was probably recorded on the recipient’s phone.”
“Unless she had switched that function off, Gary. Where do
you think she found those numbers?”
“We assume that she pocketed a diary or some other notebook
in Rossi’s bedroom. We didn’t find anything of that kind at the flat, or at Mrs
Hartley’s, which is unusual. Most people keep some sort of record of their
contacts, but she didn’t. Don’t you think that’s strange?’
“I can’t believe my mother would do a thing like that.”
“Your mother seems to be a resourceful sort of person. Wherever
she is now, she must still have that list of contacts.”
“So there’s a chance she might call some of the numbers she
did not get through to.”
“Yes, and that would increase the danger she’s already in.”
“But you know where she is, Gary. Can’t you get her out?’
“We only think we know, Cleo, on the basis of her having
called one number after another until she got a positive reaction and decided
to follow it up, I can’t think of any other explanation.”
“Always assuming my mother was thinking as objectively as
you are, my love.”
Gary broke into his report.
“What did you say?”
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
“If my divorce was through we’d get married next week and
that would be the end of any doubts, Cleo.”
“Yes, I will – assuming that was a proposal.”
“I‘ll keep you to that, Miss Hartley.”
“I sincerely hope so one day, Mr Hurley!”
“In the meantime we have the address to which that phone
number belongs, but we are moving in very cautiously. Mrs Hartley could be
strapped to a bomb, for instance. We need to know more before we break into the
house.”
There was a whole row of many-times thumbed Mickey Spillane paperbacks
at the library. Useful reading if you wanted to find out what went on the in minds
of criminals. There was less comment on the feeling of relatives. When she
wrote a book, she would take that into consideration, Cleo mused.
“Can’t I do anything? I feel so helpless.”
“No, Cleo. We’ll take care of your mother, rest assured.”
“If no one else does first. I know my mother is a bit of a
busybody, but this really takes the biscuit.”
The phone on Hurley’s desk rang.
“That was Birmingham. The house your mother is probably
being kept at belongs to someone called Smith. Presumably not the real name.
According to neighbours, Smith is quite a young man. A bit foreign looking –
Greek or Italian. He claims to be a private investigator, but no one really
knows anything significant about his activities or about the woman who
sometimes stays there. That said, Cleo, people commuting to and from suburbs
are more interested in their own anonymity, so they tend not to pry.”
“And Gloria?”
“Probably in the house, but a car was seen driving off at
dawn, so we aren’t sure where your mother is now.”
“Who saw that car at five o’clock in the morning?”
“The milkman, Cleo. My colleagues up there are leaving no
stone unturned.”
“A very observant milkman,” said Cleo.
“Apparently a self-styled amateur sleuth. Works hand in hand
with the guy delivering papers.”
“I thought little boys did that,” said Cleo.
“The news agent apparently does the first round so that
commuters can get the paper before they leave the house.”
“And he also saw the car leaving.”
“It seems so. The colleague in charge of the Birmingham team
is going round neighbours showing photos of Sandra Rossi. If she spent time
there, it would establish a connection.”
The phone rang again.
“Bingo. That woman was Sandra Rossi, Cleo. She was seen going
into the house a few days ago. “
“But she’s been dead since Monday,” said Cleo.
“That’s what we thought, but you know how the memory can
play tricks. For all we know, it was a week ago or longer that the woman was at
the house.”
The phone rang for the third time and this time Gary looked distraught.
He made notes while he was talking. When he had hung up he sat in silence for
several minutes. He consulted his database about the car registration number he
had written down during the phone-call, while Cleo waited with baited breath. Gary
finally reassured her that the news he had just received was not about her
mother.
“But this business is extraordinary, Cleo. If I’m honest, I
don’t know what to make of it.”
Cleo waited expectantly.
“A car has exploded just outside Birmingham airport. It was
probably cause by a bomb, but a bit of a damp squid. The man was thrown clear,
but the woman, who was driving, did not survive. The car did not go up in
flames, so the police was able to retrieve some luggage and the travel
documents. The woman’s passport was made out in the name of Sandra Rossi.
They’re emailing me her passport photo and the one of the man.”
“But Sandra Rossi is dead.”
“Your mother identified her, Cleo. She could have made a mistake.”
Gary printed the photo of the dead woman. He put the photo
of the dead woman Gloria had identified as Sandra Rossi on his desk and placed
the printout of the second Sandra Rossi next to it.
“But this is the same woman,” exclaimed Cleo.
“Or her double.”
“Or her twin,” suggested Cleo. “If this woman visited the
woman my mother thought was Sandra Rossi, my mother might even have seen both
of them at some time or other, but never together.”
“That’s one explanation. But why did the woman in the car
have Sandra Rossi’s passport?”
“Because she is Sandra Rossi and the dead woman is someone
else.”
“Or this other woman is using Sandra Rossi’s passport for
reasons we do not yet know. We need to know more about the couple in the car.
Where they were going? What was in their luggage? Was it their car? Who could
have wanted to kill them? How did the man manage to survive?”
“Do you have a photo of him, Gary?’
“I’ll print it.”
Cleo had never seen the guy before.
“I’ll have to wait for all the personal data to be run
through the databases available to us, Cleo. I don’t think there any point in
your waiting here. I’ll phone you when I have news.”
“OK, but please keep me informed.”
“I still have one more damning piece of information, Cleo.
It came in just before you came. It might be important.”
“I’m curious!”
“The forensic report on the dead Rossi woman confirmed that
she was killed by a fast-working lethal substance injected into her shoulder. A
tiny bruise revealed where the needle went in. She didn’t stand a chance. An
attack like that takes only seconds and the poison works almost instantly.
Someone followed her into the store and murdered her.”
Cleo thought it would be a long time before she ventured
into that fitting-room again.
“But who dumped her in that yard, Gary?”
“I wish I could answer that. Je t’aime, Cleo.”
“Moi aussi,
Gary.”
Cleo went back to the library, but she was quite unable to
concentrate on her work. Finally she left Clare in charge and on impulse returned
to Gary’s office.
“What’s happened, Cleo? You look all done in. I’ll get you
some coffee.”
“Thanks. I could not sit in that library any longer. Clare
is there for the rest of the day. Have there been any developments?”
“We’re moving fast now. I know how you feel. This department
sees a lot of drama... And if I’m not mistaken, there’s one coming down the
corridor now.”
That comment heralded the unexpected arrival of Gloria
Hartley, who had enjoyed a thrilling flight in a police helicopter. She was
overjoyed to see Cleo, despite having a guilty conscience about going expressly
against her daughter’s instructions and getting herself into a dangerous
situation.
“Am I glad to see you, Mother, but don’t ever do anything
like that again.”
“It’s always a mistake not to tell people where you are
going, Mrs Hartley,” said Gary.”
‘I know that now, Mr Hurley.”
“Call me Gary then, officially. I’m really glad to see you
alive and well and. I’m sure you’re going to tell us the whole story, aren’t
you, and if my suspicions are right, you’ve actually helped to crack a case the
colleagues have been baffled about for ages.”
“I have? You can call me Gloria if we are going to be
friends.”
A warning look from Cleo stopped Gary from announcing his
new relationship with her.
“It was that phone call, you see...” Gloria started.
“Wait a moment. I’ll have to record our interview, Gloria,
so that the colleagues from the drugs squad are brought up to date on what is
also their case.”
Over coffee, Gloria retold her adventure. Gary asked a lot
of questions. Gloria was a mine of information, as far as he was concerned.
Cleo thought she might be embroidering some of it, so far-fetched did it all
seem.
“So the man named Gregor and the woman named Lauretta were
just protecting you, were they?”
“So they said. I didn’t see them again. I think I heard a
car leaving. It must have been about 5 a.m.”
“But you didn’t try to get out, did you, Mother?”
“No, Cleo. They had warned me not to because it had to look
as if I’d been imprisoned. Anyway, I didn’t want to do anything else I might
regret.”
“Very wise,” said Gary. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the
latest on the two individuals who kept you prisoner, have you?”
“They got a plane to somewhere. They didn’t tell me where
they were going.”
“Look at these passport photos,” said Gary, spreading them
out on the table. “Can you confirm who they are?”
“That was fast work. You police guys sure are efficient.”
“We do our best and sometimes events are forced on us, Gloria.”
Gloria looked at the photos. She was thinking back to her
brief encounters with Sandra Rossi. The likeness was uncanny.
“If I didn’t know that Sandra Rossi had been murdered I
would think this was a photo of her. But I suppose it is Lauretta, isn’t it? I
recognize the man. That’s Gregor. An awesome guy! I couldn’t decide what the
relationship is between them.”
“Was, Gloria. And his real name is Howard Smith.”
“Was?” said Gloria.
“I’ll explain in due course,” said Gary.
“He is not dead, Gary. You said so.”
“I did, Cleo, but his days as Gregor are over.”
“I expect they are,” said Cleo.
“Gregor is a better name for him, Gary,” said Gloria. “I
think he mentioned a Russian sounding surname, but I forgot it immediately.”
“He had two passports on him, one in each name.”
“Whatever for?” said Gloria.
“In their line of business it’s useful.”
“What line?”
“Espionage, Gloria. I thought you’d have guessed by now.”
“I didn’t know what to think from the moment Sandra Rossi’s
double appeared in that doorway.”
“The name on the passport belonging to this photo is Sandra
Rossi.”
“It’s about as weird as it can get, Gary. I thought I had identified
that lady in the mortuary.”
“You might have. On the other hand, it could have been the
lady in Birmingham named Lauretta. DNA tests will quite possibly show that they
are identical twins.”
“Lauretta said they were cousins.”
“I expect that was also in aid of protecting the real Lauretta.
On the other hand, they had probably made a sport of swapping identities now
and again.”
“Like Edith and Clare, Mother.”
“A deadly sport in this case,” said Gloria.
“How true! I think I should tell you without further delay
that the second twin - whichever that was – met her death this morning.”
You could have heard a pin drop. Cleo came to the rescue.
“Mother, you don’t know just what a lucky escape you’ve had.
If you’d had to go along in that car...”
“…You might also have been killed, Gloria,” Gary finished.
“So the woman who called herself Lauretta was killed in that
car crash. What happened to that Gregor guy?”
“It was not a car crash, Gloria. It was a bomb, but not a
very efficient one. The man you called Gregor was thrown clear. He’s unconscious
in hospital, but he’ll probably live.”
“This is truly a nightmare,” gasped Gloria.
“That’s what comes of meddling, Mother.”
“I didn’t meddle. I just wanted to do the right thing.”
“I don’t think for a moment that your actions were connected
with the car bomb, Gloria. It could have been planted before you visited the
house. It was detonated by remote control. I don’t think that whoever planted
that bomb would want it to go off in a quiet suburb. The car carrying the bomb
will have been followed and the bomb detonated on the open road somewhere.”
“Awesome, Gary!” said Gloria.
“The question now is whether there’s a similar device in the
house. We are speculating on Gregor having organized the assassination of
Sandra Rossi for reasons we have yet to find out.”
“But he was injured by the bomb.”
“The Rossi woman was driving. The bomb was a small one on
the driver’s side.”
“I don’t believe that, Gary. It’s more likely that someone
had it in for Gregor and thought he would be driving,” said Cleo.
“My version is more plausible,” said Gary.
“Would working for both sides make him a double agent, Gary?’
Gloria asked.
“yes Gloria.”
“I just can’t believe that Gregor put a bomb in a car he was
going to travel in,” said Gloria.
“That’s something else we’ll have to deal with. He probably
intended to get out on some pretext or other before it went off, but I’m only speculating
and the bomb was not efficient.”
“If it’s how you say it was, he was taking a huge risk.”
“Spies take a lot of risks, Gloria. It’s part of their job.”
Cleo thought Gloria looked really frightened now. It was
time to get her home, but Cleo was more anxious about her safety than ever, now
she knew so much about the Rossi affair.
“What if the Rossi woman had stopped the car on some pretext
but had not had time to get out?”
“We are in the realm of speculation on all this,” Gary said.
“Let’s hope Gregor is willing to talk.”
“If he does not die first,” said Cleo.
“There’s a guard on him, Cleo.”
“That won’t stop him dying, Gary.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Get him to a secret address.”
“That would take weeks to organize.”
“Rather you than me,” said Cleo. “Do you think anyone else
saw you go in the house, Mother?”
“I didn’t see anyone.”
Gary was sorry he had gone to such lengths to explain the
situation. A warning would have been enough.
“I shouldn’t worry about that, Gloria. The bomb squad will
search the house from top to bottom, just in case, but it’s on the cards that
the car bomb was a deliberate attempt at the second Rossi woman’s life and not
intended for anyone else.”
“I hope you’re right, Gary. I’ve just remembered something
else. Sandra Rossi – the Birmingham one – told me she worked for Interpol or
MI6 or something.”
“She told you that? Spies don’t usually admit to affiliation
with secret service organizations. To be on the safe side, we’ll have to ask
you not to go to your flat for the time being, Gloria. That’s the first place
they’d look for you.”
“You can stay with us for as long as you need to, Mother.”
“I think I’d be safer in Chicago than in Middlethumpton and
I never thought I’d hear myself say that.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Mother. It’s all been a bit much for
you.”
“A bit?”
“You know what I mean.”
“It’ll blow over, Gloria,” said Gary.
“And what if it doesn’t? I was planning to live to a ripe
old age.”
“And you will if you just keep your eyes skinned for
anything unusual and let us know. We’ll deal with it. That’s what we’re here
for.”
“My next stop is that Travel Agent’s down the road. I’ll clear
out of here for a few weeks.”
“That’s probably a good idea, Gloria. But just wait a
moment. An officer will accompany you there and to your daughter’s house. In
plain clothes, of course.”
“A bodyguard?”
“Sort of.”
Gloria was impressed. Cleo was now alarmed. How serious was
the situation?
“No, Gary,” she felt bound to say. “We’ll just go by
ourselves. We’d be even more conspicuous with a bodyguard in tow.”
“You have no choice, Cleo. Your cottage is already under
surveillance in Upper Grumpsfield. Surely you can’t object to that.”
“Not if you’re inconspicuous, though I’m not sure my partner
will be overjoyed. What do you expect to happen?”
“It’s just a precaution.”
By the time Cleo and Gloria, accompanied by a young
policeman who was more nervous than they were had sorted out a last minute
flight to Chicago and called in at the library to check that Clare was coping,
Cleo felt a bit calmer. They took a taxi back to Upper Grumpsfield, chatting
with the bodyguard almost like old friends, which was exactly the right impression
to make. A neutral looking car was already parked across the road from Cleo’s
cottage. A plain clothes policeman got out, showed them his ID card and
reassured them that the car was ‘one of ours’.
Cleo phoned Gary and told him the car was too conspicuous.
He laughed and told her it would be gone by morning. They had identified the
gang that probably murdered the woman Gloria had identified as Sandra. The
London colleagues were rounding them up. They would be charged and kept under
lock and key. He did not think that Gloria was now a target.
“But what about Interpol? Aren’t they mixed up in it?”
“Yes, but they know who works for them.”
The bodyguard received instructions that he could return to
base soon. Gloria looked quite disappointed. She had taken a liking to the
young policeman.
When Robert got home he was puzzled about the car parked
across the road from the cottage. It was fortunate that he had not forgotten
his door key, otherwise he would certainly have found himself in the
uncomfortable situation of being marched off the premises. Cleo put him in the
picture about the house surveillance and introduced him to the young copper,
who was sitting demurely in the corner of the living room.
Despite, or maybe because the situation was so dramatic that
Gloria now had a bodyguard, though only for a short time, Robert was shocked to
the core at Gloria’s account of her misadventure. She told him she would be
going ‘home’ very soon. She was sorry she would have to miss the wedding, but
she had managed to book a flight to Chicago for the following Friday. She would
feel safer there. There was no way she was going to stick around as a sitting
target for some assassin or other.
Robert smiled broadly.
“Well that settles it, doesn’t it, Cleo?”
“Settles what?”
“We’ll have to get married before your mother leaves.”
Astonishment all round and panic as far as Cleo was
concerned. How could she refuse to marry Robert after they had been planning
for so long and how could she marry Robert when she was in love with Gary?
Robert was amazed at his own daring. Gloria was delighted and touched at the
suggestion. There was only one way to go, thought Cleo, and that was to use
delaying tactics.
“That’s impossible, Robert. It gives us only a few days,” she
said. “How are we going to get it organized?”
“We’ll manage,” said
Robert, and Cleo knew that she would have to go through with it. She felt like
the heroine in a Regency romance and wondered what you wore for what was
developing into a sort of shotgun wedding. A crinoline would hardly be an
option.
