Chapter
Thirteen
_____________________________________________________
More Surprises
Stephen had dozed in his chair at the hospital and was startled when he heard Dan’s voice. “Where am I?”
“Hey, you’re awake.” He grabbed Dan’s hand.
“Just barely,” he mumbled, glancing around at all the tubes and machines on each side of the bed. His eyes blinked. “Are we still on planet Earth? What’s going on?” he tried to clear his throat and Stephen handed him a cup of water. He laid back against the pillows.
“You’re in the hospital. Some jerk stabbed you last night. You hit your head in the struggle and his knife got caught in your coat.” Dan’s eyes squinted as if he was trying to remember, then closed with a flutter. He mumbled something Stephen couldn’t hear and returned to his drug-induced sleep. Dan’s hand went limp and Stephen placed it on his partner’s chest, listening to the constant beep of the machines.
Matt and Eve arrived a few minutes later after stopping for a quick lunch. “How’s your man doing?” Eve asked.
“He was just awake, but dozed off again. He didn’t seem to remember what happened last night, but maybe he will later. He tried to say something but I couldn’t make out what it was.”
Matt was studying Stephen’s features. “Are you okay, buddy? You look like something the cat drug in. I think you could use some rest.”
“I’m fine. I just needed to be with Dan. I don’t want to leave him.”
Eve put her arm over his shoulders and guided him to the door. “You need to go home, shower, eat something and get some rest. Matt and I are here with Dan. James and Karl will be here shortly, and I promise you he won’t be left alone. We’ll call if there’s any change. Dan is going to need your strength and support once there’s no danger of any infections. So go and don’t give me any flak.”
He smiled and nodded. “You sound like my mother.”
She returned his grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Stephen kissed her on the cheek, turned and left.
“You’ll spoil that young man if you’re not careful,” Matt chuckled.
James and Karl passed Stephen in the hallway. He filled them in on Dan’s condition and left.
Matt and Eve briefed them on the interviews with Agnes Boyle and Dennis Babcock. James shook his head. “I guess you haven’t heard the latest. The police found Boyle’s body at the farm. Looks like he committed suicide. Hung himself in the old barn.”
“At least they won’t have to cough up the ransom.” Matt said. “And why weren’t we notified sooner?”
“We just got the information while you were en route and I was on the phone with Merriweather at the time.” Karl added.
He looked at Matt. “Merriweather wants you down there stat, before the police have any time to fuck up the area and lose valuable forensic information. She doesn’t trust them.”
Matt was still pissed. “I left her a message earlier, but she hasn’t returned my call.”
“She’s in Paris right now but returns tomorrow. Anything we can help with?”
Matt frowned. “Yes. What’s the status on that security video at the café?”
“It was an old camera with low resolution. They’re doing their best to enhance the images, but it takes time.”
“It can wait. For now, I want one of you here with Dan. He may be able to identify his attacker when he wakes up again and his head gets cleared of the drugs. Call me.”
Eve was already at the door. “Who’s in charge at Kent?” she asked before leaving.
“Lt. Scott Devins. They’ve been informed to keep everyone out of the barn and not to move anything until you get there. That includes the body.” James said. “Needless to say, Devins wasn’t happy about it.”
Deana and Derick waited by the limo, and they were off to Kent. Matt had worked with Scott Devins in the past and never really liked his attitude, but he knew he was good at follow through. Most police don’t like private security agencies getting involved with police business and are even less cooperative with the insurance companies.
They were on the highway when Matt’s phone buzzed in his coat pocket. The caller’s ID was not who he expected. It was Sir Thomas Treadwell. “Good afternoon Sir! What can I do for you?”
“Well, to be honest, the least you could do is give me a call. You’ve been in London three days now and I haven’t even seen you. You cancelled our luncheon. Merriweather left for Paris, all hells broken loose according to my sources and no one’s telling me anything.”
Matt chuckled. His uncle hates being left out of the loop when it comes to the agency he helped found years ago. He might be retired, but he still liked to have his fingers on the buttons. Matt found it hard to believe that someone in the agency wasn’t relaying information to him.
“I wasn’t the one who canceled our luncheon, but I was told you had been informed.”
“That’s neither here nor there, my boy. I need an update on what’s happening. You’re having dinner with me tonight. No excuses. I’ll send a car to your hotel at 7 pm. You can invite your lady friend, if you wish. I think it’s time I met her. Formal attire, of course.” The line went dead. Sir Thomas had disconnected,
Matt noticed all eyes in the car were on him. Sir Thomas’s voice was that of a trained orator in Parliament. His conversation resonated in the confines of the limo’s interior. Matt shrugged. Eve smiled. “I accept the invitation,” she said, her green eyes, matching Matt’s sparkling like emeralds.
Matt relaxed with a heavy sigh. “Beware the wily old fox.”
“Sounds like a man with strong convictions. He reminds me of someone I know,” Eve raised an eyebrow and gave him a mysterious smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting this icon of intelligence security.”
“You’d better be on your guard. He’s a crafty old bugger.”
“Never far from the tree does the fruit fall. I hope you brought a tuxedo.” She patted him on the thigh. He groaned.
Chapter
Fourteen
__________________________________________________
Hanging around the Barn
As they turned into the drive at the farm, there were police cars and MP vehicles scattered around the entrance perimeter to the large rustic barn. The red paint had faded and peeled, but the quality of the barn’s construction was still intact. Off to the right was the large country manor, with moss clinging to some of the red brick. It was in immaculate condition, with tall, white columns on either side of the entry and dark green shutters flanking the numerous windows. They continued past and found a parking spot among the dozen or so vehicles.
Scott Devins saw the limo arrive and made his way through the barricades to meet them. “Well, well…look who’s here. I might have known. When did you get back in town?”
Matt strode to meet Devins, ignored his sarcasm and nodded, “Hello Devins. What’s happening?”
Scott had a smirk on his face. “As if you didn’t already know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Would you?”
Matt ducked under the yellow tape followed by Eve. He shook Scott’s hand. “Looks like we’re in the same sandbox again, so let’s play nice. Where’s the body?”
“Who’s the broad?” Devins barked before offering to guide them to the crime scene.
“Evelyn Boyle, MIA operative. Eve, meet Lt. Scott Devins, one of Her Majesties finest.”
Eve shook his hand as she mentally registered his body language. She could tell he was pissed. She nodded without a word and followed them into the barn.
The body was still hanging from the rafters near the wall. The skin was a sickly shade of blue-grey and the veins in the neck had swollen. His puffy tongue protruded between purple lips. It was not a pretty sight.
Boyle was a short man; maybe around five-foot four, 225 lbs., with mousy brown hair and a stocky build.” Eve was used to seeing dead bodies, but never one swinging from a rope. However, it was the stench that caused her to retreat outside after snapping several photos. The odor of urine and feces took her breath away.
“New on the job?” Scott asked as his eyes followed her retreat.
“Not really. Just sensitive to offensive odors.” Matt said as he measured the scene with his photographic memory. Something wasn’t right. He noticed it immediately. The height of the barrel that had been used and the length of the rope didn’t add up to the weight of the body and the distance from the floor of the barn. He took several photos also. “You can let the MP remove the body.” Matt said glancing around the floor of the barn. They retreated outside.
“Was there a suicide note?” Eve asked as they joined her.
Scott shook his head. “Didn’t find any, but it may still turn up. They’re searching the house now. Strange that no one was here at the farm for the past two days. The horses were out of feed and low on water. I had a man put them out to pasture. There’s grass to eat and a stream on the property.”
“Any sign of the farm hands?” Matt asked.
“None so far.” Devins answered.
“Maybe he didn’t want anyone around.” Eve offered. She caught Matt’s head shake and dropped the conversation.
“Thanks for your cooperation Scott. We don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but you might want to hold off on the suicide aspect until we get back to you.”
“Come on Matt. It’s as plain as the nose on your face,” he argued.
Matt put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Well, let’s just say I try to look past the nose on my face. MIA will be in touch. Meanwhile, keep it low-keyed and make sure forensics doesn’t miss anything. I want the time of death, ASAP. There’s more at stake here than meets the eye. Keep the media at bay.” Matt wasn’t ready to fill in the blanks just yet.
They left the crime scene and headed back to London. He explained the irregularities he had noticed to Eve, as Derick and Dina listened. They were interrupted when Eve got a text from James.
“James and Karl have identified the man in the video with Beckett.”
“Let me guess,” Matt said. “It was Babcock.”
Eve raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Correct. Do you know whose car they were driving?”
“Beckett’s Mercedes,” he noted, to everyone’s astonishment. “But, could they identify the driver?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.” Eve prodded.
“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked,” He growled.
“James said the driver’s face was in shadow, but they enlarged his hand on the steering wheel and found a pinky ring with the initials RSB. Does that ring a bell?”
Matt searched his memory. “I just saw that ring on the dead man hanging in the barn.”
“Richard Boyle?” Eve stammered.
“One and the same. Make a note. Check with Scott Devins. The police will have that ring along with any other personal effects.”
“But why would Boyle want to kidnap Beckett?” Deana asked.
Eve had already figured it out. “He must have known about the money and wanted his share. He was planning to blackmail Beckett.”
“You have a point Eve, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are several scenarios to consider. We’ll discuss it with Sir Thomas at dinner this evening. He might be able to shed some light on the case since he knew both Beckett and Boyle over many years.”
They drove on in silence as the green countryside of the farms in Kent flashed by the window. Cows and sheep grazed peacefully, crows sat on electrical lines and water sparked in the sunlight along the irrigation ditches. The world was oblivious to the intrigues happening around them.
Chapter
Fifteen
__________________________________________
Grace and the Girls
Eve was ready for a long soak in a hot bathtub. She carefully selected a deep purple cocktail dress and accessorized it with the gold Elsa Peretti open-heart pendent and matching earrings that Matt had given her when she left his agency in America and moved to London. She was out to make an impression with Sir Thomas. After all, he was Matt’s only living relative, and a possible ally when needed.
Matt had not expected to need formal attire and had not included a tuxedo when packing. Therefore, after a steaming shower to wash away the aromas of violent death, he dressed in a white dinner jacket and black trousers. He admired the reflection he saw in the mirror.
Matt was not a vain man, but handsome qualities ran in his family. The chiseled features and prematurely graying hair at his temples were trademarks of his aristocratic ancestors. The scar over his left eye was not. But it was something Eve found attractive, and for that he was grateful.
Eve met him in the bar at the hotel before 7 pm. She knew if she went to his room, they might never leave. The bellman found them in conversation. “Your car has arrived, Mr. Evans.”
Waiting at the hotel entrance was a white limousine. The female driver dressed in uniform stood by the open door. Matt smiled. “Good evening, Grace. It’s good to see you.”
“And it’s good to see you Matthew. I hope you can calm the old goat down. He’s been on pins and needles ever since before you arrived, and he won’t tell me anything.”
Matt nodded and scrunched his face in sympathy, “We’ll see what we can do.”
Eve whispered as she slid into the plush white leather backseat, “Does all of his help refer to him as an old goat?”
Matt smiled but ignored her question. “How are the girls, Grace?”
“We’ve all been walking on eggs. His bark has always been worse than his bite, but he’s got his rear in a twist, if you know what I mean, and I’m sure it has something to do with the agency. He just can’t keep from poking his nose where it doesn’t belong anymore.”
Eve’s look of surprise made Matt chuckle, but she kept her thoughts to herself. This is going to be an interesting dinner, she thought. Matt took her hand in his and smiled sheepishly, “All will be well,” he said, “Just remember those words. All will be well,”
Eve put her head on his shoulder. “Wasn’t that someone’s famous quote just before they chopped his head off?”
Chapter
Sixteen
Surprises at Penderleigh
An hour later they arrived at Penderleigh, the stately country mansion and estate of Sir Thomas Treadwell. Waiting at the top of the grand entrance porte cochere was a distinguished man with a mane of silver hair, who was dressed in a dashing tuxedo.
“It’s about time you got here. That woman drives as slow as a snail. I told her to ignore the speed limits, but she never listens. Come on inside; Charlotte will get you a cocktail, but first I want to be introduced to this ravishing beauty.”
Matt cleared his throat, “Sir Thomas, this is my new partner, Evelyn Bond.”
He took Eve’s extended hand and gave it a kiss. “It is indeed a pleasure,” he winked. “Now I know why he’s been hiding you away. Sarah, show our guests to the drawing room and tell Alice we’ll have dinner shortly.”
Grace, Sarah, Charlotte, Alice…Eve was beginning to get the picture. She took Matt’s arm and together they followed Sarah. “I think I see what you meant by sly old fox.”
Matt chuckled. “He feels that a female staff runs things more efficiently.”
Eve’s eyes brightened as she raised her eyebrows. “At last, a man with vision and the courage to make it work.” Sir Thomas disappeared as Sarah guided them to the drawing room.
Eve was impressed with Penderleigh and the amazing collection of art and antiques. The crystal chandelier in the marble foyer was over four feet in diameter. She had visited several of the stately country homes and abbeys in various parts of England, and Penderleigh was right at the top with the best. Just short of being a castle, it had been in Sir Thomas’s family for generations. He wasn’t quite an Earl, but possibly should have been. Sir Thomas had no children. Matthew Edward Evans, as his nephew and only living relative, would one day inherit Penderleigh.
Charlotte, holding a silver tray, offered them each a glass of Champagne, then quietly disappeared and left them to explore the drawing room, with all its elegant décor in typical British opulence. Oriental rugs, tapestries, paintings, and sculptures, gave the huge room a comfortable feeling. Velvet settees and striped silk-covered chairs were arranged in groups with small tables scattered here and there, offering multiple conversational groups.
The drawing room alone was larger than Eve’s entire flat in London. A giant fireplace, surrounded with marble, was supported by ornately carved and polished columns six feet tall. In her bare feet, Eve could almost stand under the mantle. Light classical music coming from hidden speakers drifted through the room. A pair of dark wood-paneled doors opened, and dinner was announced by Charlotte.
Matthew escorted Eve into the dining room, where they found Sir Thomas already seated at the head of a massive Chippendale table with matching chairs, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The table would accommodate twenty-two, but tonight there were only three. Eve was seated to his right and Matt on his left.
“You’ve made quite an impression, Sir Thomas,” Matt teased, placing his napkin in his lap.
“My dear boy. You can drop the “sir” and call me what you always have or I’ll send you to your room.” He glanced at Eve. “He’s always called me Uncle Tom, ever since he was in knickers.” Eve chuckled.
“I hope you like pea soup, my dear. Alice makes the best pea soup in England.” The soup arrived hot and steaming, carried by twin female servers with blonde hair and blue eyes.
Seeing her surprise, Sir Thomas commented. “Helga and Hanna have been with me for ten years. If you need anything extra just ask.” Eve smiled and nodded.
It was obvious Sir Thomas was guiding the conversation. “So, Matthew, bring me up to date. I just got back from Manchester and I don’t want to wait for Merriweather to send me the reports.”
“Well sir…” he noticed the frown on Sir Thomas’s face, “I mean, Uncle Tom. I think you’ll agree with me that there’s a connection between the attacks on the agency and the missing forty million pounds.” Sir Thomas listened intently as Matt continued to fill in the details, stopping only when Eve had something to add.
“I think you’ve found yourself a perfect partner, Matthew. This little lady appears to have a head on her shoulders.”
“I’m glad you agree, and I intend to see she keeps it there.”
Eve smiled across the table at Matt. “That goes both ways, Sir Thomas.”
The soup bowls were removed and the main entrée was placed before them. Alice had prepared racks of lamb with a red wine reduction, boiled new potatoes and fresh asparagus. Sir Thomas was a picky eater and barely touched his meal except for the soup.
“So, Matthew, Boyle’s dead — two field operatives have been eliminated, including one’s spouse. Dan, Eve and even you appear to have been targets in this conspiracy. I believe as you do, that this is an attack to destroy the agency. The questions are, who and why?”
Sir Thomas may be in his seventies, but his mind was still sharp as a tack. “Follow the money, my boy. There’s a connection there somewhere. I’d also recommend keeping an eye on Babcock. Now there’s a bent wicket if there ever was one. I don’t trust that man. And don’t close the door on Agnes Boyle either. It isn’t right for a woman to be so nonchalant about a missing husband. I’m sure she knows by now that his body was found.”
He nodded to Eve, “I must excuse myself…this is such morbid dinner conversation. I trust you’ll forgive me, my dear.”
Sir Thomas stood. Matt and Eve started to rise. He waved his hands, “No, no. Sit and enjoy your plum pudding and coffee. Have a brandy, if you like. I have work to do. Grace will take you back to the city when you’re ready.”
He kissed the back of Eve’s hand, and holding tight, he stared deeply into her eyes, as if searching her soul. “Yes sir, Matthew. I think you’ve finally met your match.” He smiled at Eve, “You keep a good eye on him.”
Eve chuckled. “That’s easier said than done, but I’ll do my best. Thank you for an enlightening evening.” Sir Thomas shuffled off in the direction of his study. Helga and Hanna appeared with coffee and dessert on a tray. Grace waited in the doorway.
“He’s going to get himself killed one day. I can’t tie him down. He doesn’t accept the fact that he’s retired.” Grace gazed at Matt with pleading eyes.
He nodded, “Grace, you knew that when you married him. Why don’t you hire a bodyguard?”
She shook her head. “He won’t let me. He says I’m all he needs. Find out what’s happening before it is too late. If the agency is under fire, then he’s a prime target.” She turned to leave, “Ring the bell when you’re ready to head back to London.” She vanished.
Eve’s mouth was open before Matt could say anything. “She’s married to Sir Thomas? Why does he treat her like an employee?” She was shocked.
Matt nodded and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of the brandy that had been offered. “They married years ago, but wanted to keep it a secret for Grace’s protection. She worked for the agency many years before that. That’s how they met. Grace was a bodyguard, trained in the martial arts and an officer in the British Royal Navy. She also has a master’s degree in criminal law.”
“That little woman?” Eve was astonished.
“Yes, that little woman. There’s more to Grace than meets the eye. Finish your brandy and I’ll explain everything on the way back to the hotel.”
Eve took a sip of the aromatic liquor. “Good thing I brought along my overnight bag, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
It was a quiet ride back, with Grace in the driver’s seat of the bulletproof white limo with no glass divider. At the hotel, Grace took Matt’s hand.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds tonight. It’s just that I worry more with things happening at the agency and I can’t control his involvement. Merriweather is convinced he’s safe out in the country. The problem is, he won’t stay in the country. That’s why I insisted he contact you.” She mumbled to herself, “Praise the lord he listened to me.”
“Don’t worry, Grace. I think we’re close to putting things together. It’s all in the details, but we can’t assume anything, — we need the facts. You and the girls need to keep him at Penderleigh. We’ll manage from here.” He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“That’s like asking me to keep the waves off the beach or the grains of sand from blowing in the desert.” She shook her head.
Eve gave her a hug. “Good night, Grace. You and I are going to have a long chat one day.”
Grace smiled, “It’ll be more than a chat, honey. You can count
on that.”
About the Author
D.G. Heath, a renowned storyteller and writer of mystery, lives in the Yucatan with his partner of 52 years. A world traveler and keen observer, David’s desire to create stories developed early in life. However the opportunity to fulfill his passion as a writer didn’t surface until much later.
Books
Hampton Park
A classic drama set in current day England.
Now available on Amazon and Amazon Kindle
Yes…We Have No Camels
Stories from Merida 