Blood Will Tell Read online

  ‘It does matter, though, not only because you were hurt, but because it was what finally made an investigation possible. As I said, we were all to meet – Superintendent Barker, Dr Everidge, Tom, my wife and I – at the Hutchins Building. Tom came quite some time before Dorothy and I got there. He told the others he was going to his own lab, to pick up some notes he had made about the matter. He didn’t come back, nor did he answer his phone. He couldn’t be found after a thorough search of the building, so we tried to work out where he might be. It was my wife who suggested that he might have seen someone doing something suspicious and followed him – or her, of course. We’d like your reaction to that, as well as any leads you could give us. What, and whom, might he have seen?’

  Terence’s face had turned even paler than normal. ‘I don’t know. He couldn’t have got into any labs except his own, unless someone was working there. Most of the doors have small windows, you know, but they’re really only big enough to see if the lights are on, unless you move up quite close. And from the zoology lab to his – you met him in the lab where everything’s been happening?’

  Elaine nodded.

  ‘From there to his, on the first floor, there’s nothing much to see. He’s at the end of a corridor, and the rooms on either side are lecture rooms or storage rooms. I can’t think what he could have seen that would send him haring off like that.’

  ‘The window!’ I said suddenly. ‘He showed us his lab one day, and his door doesn’t have a window it in, but the room itself does. What’s the view from there? What could he have seen?’

  ‘Let me think. It’s at the end of the first floor, over a side door. He could have seen someone walking to the building, I suppose, though nobody much comes on a Sunday afternoon, except to tend the animals. They have to be fed regularly, of course.’

  I wasn’t paying attention. ‘Or,’ I said, ‘he could have seen someone leaving. Maybe with something he shouldn’t have had.’

  ‘Like,’ said Elaine, ‘an animal cage.’

  ‘The cat!’ Terence was excited.

  ‘Alive – or not,’ said Alan.

  TWELVE

  ‘Mahala!’ said Terence.

  ‘Where would he have gone?’ asked Elaine urgently.

  ‘I don’t know where he lives. Here in town somewhere, not in college.’

  ‘His address will be on record at the college.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘Did Tom know about the cat?’

  ‘I don’t know. Or wait. He didn’t seem to know anything about the proposed prank, that day in the common room.’

  ‘He did or he didn’t,’ said Elaine, ‘but Mahala and the cat seem to be our only leads at the moment. Let’s find Mahala.’ She called Dr Everidge. ‘He’ll find Mahala’s address and meet us at the college gates. It may take him a few minutes. The staff isn’t in on a Sunday, so he’ll either have to search the office himself or call someone in.’

  We were silent. I could feel Elaine’s frustration at further delay. ‘Will he get a phone number, too?’

  ‘I don’t know if Mahala has a phone,’ said Terence. ‘I know he doesn’t have a mobile. He’s very poor.’

  So much for that.

  We waited at the college gates for only a few minutes, but each one passed like an hour. We had stopped in an area where lingering was clearly prohibited, and only the presence of the superintendent of police kept us from being ticketed. At last Dr Everidge came out, almost running.

  ‘I left my car at my lodge. This was quicker. Can we all fit?’

  ‘I can get out, sir. That is, unless I’m still needed.’

  ‘You stay where you are, Terence. I want you to identify Mahala for me. I have a vague idea who he is, but I want to be sure.’

  His home turned out to be a cottage on the outskirts of town, at the end of one of the bus lines. It was the sort that tourists find pretty and quaint, thatched roof and all, but there were signs of neglect and dilapidation. The garden was full of weeds and some trash, and I was willing to bet that the plumbing left a great deal to be desired. The whole place looked unloved and, indeed, deserted.

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s at home.’ Elaine was the one who said it, but we all felt it.

  ‘Stay here,’ said Alan in his policeman voice. I was happy to comply. I didn’t care for the house or the neighbourhood, and I wasn’t eager to deal with someone who might have killed a cat.

  ‘I don’t see a cage,’ said Elaine.

  I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign, and made no reply.

  It took Alan only a few minutes to check the house and return to the car. ‘How recent was that address?’ he asked Dr Everidge.

  ‘It could date back about eighteen or nineteen months, when he began his studies at St Stephen’s. Or actually when he was accepted as a student, which would have been some time before term began.’

  ‘It is certainly no longer valid. There is no furniture in the house, one of the back windows is broken, and I saw a squirrel in what must have been the larder. No one has lived here for some time.’

  And that took us firmly back to square one. We looked at each other blankly for a moment. Then Elaine opened the door and levered herself out of the crowded back seat. ‘Neighbours,’ she said, and strode off towards the next house.

  Alan shook his head. ‘It’s worth a try, but I doubt a woman – and a white woman at that – will get much change out of the people around here. A young black constable would have better odds, I believe.’

  ‘I could try,’ said Terence. ‘I’m young and male, at least.’

  ‘No,’ we said in chorus.

  ‘You keep forgetting, Terence,’ I added, ‘I think we all keep forgetting, that was real blood I saw. We’re almost certainly dealing with a killer, perhaps of a cat, not a person, but at least someone whose respect for life is somewhat questionable. We don’t know for sure that it’s Mahala, but it isn’t wise for you, who know him, to go talking to his neighbours, who might well be a lot more sympathetic to him than to you.’

  ‘Then let me go and talk to his friends. Or at least his fellow students. He doesn’t have many friends at the college. He’s sort of … odd.’

  ‘You know where they’d be?’ I asked.

  ‘I know their favourite pub. At this hour on a Sunday, most of them are there; I’d put money on it.’

  Alan and I looked at each other. Dr Everidge said, ‘That’s an excellent idea. As soon as the superintendent comes back, shall we all go?’

  ‘I’m going to beg off, if it’s OK with the rest of you,’ I said. ‘The day’s gotten away from us, and I don’t think I’m good for much more.’

  Alan gave my hand an understanding squeeze.

  It would be fruitless to describe our wait for Elaine. She was thorough; I gave her that. We sat in the car wishing we could think of something more productive to do and, in my case, wishing I could take a hot shower and a nap to ease the growing discomfort of my abused body. ‘I’m getting too old for this,’ I murmured once to Alan.

  ‘You’ll never be old,’ he replied. Which was sweet, but didn’t make my bruises feel any better.

  When Elaine came back, it was to report about as much success as we had expected. ‘Not much joy,’ she said briefly. ‘The closest neighbours agree that no one has lived here for months, but they can’t, or won’t, say how long, or where the former residents might have moved to. No one stays here long if they can get away was the general feeling. I must say, I can understand. Nevertheless, they know something. It may or may not be relevant, but I’m going to send a constable out. There’s a young man, new on the force, who’s terribly keen. His parents are from Nigeria. He might be able to glean a few answers. Meanwhile, if we can’t find Tom soon, I’m going to have to call his mother. I’m not looking forward to that.’

  ‘You’ve tried calling him again.’ It wasn’t really a question. Of course she had.

  She just nodded. ‘He never turns off his phone. He lives by that thing. He lo
st it once and nearly went mad. Something’s wrong, or he’d answer.’

  Of course, that jollied up everyone’s spirits no end.

  We told her our plans for the pub. ‘I’ll drop you on the way back to the college,’ Alan told Everidge. ‘I need to get this woman to bed.’ And then he heard how that sounded, and that lightened the mood a little.

  We dropped them as close to the pub as we could get – it was in one of the little pedestrian passages near the Market Square – and went back to St Stephen’s, which was beginning to feel very much like home. Once I’d taken an ibuprofen and Alan had me settled more or less comfortably, he stood, irresolute. ‘I don’t know what’s best. Tonight’s the last official session of the conference,’ he said. ‘Dinner is formal, and there’s a panel discussion afterwards, in which I’m meant to participate. I’ve been among the missing for so much of the time, I really should go. But I’m almost as worried about young Tom as Elaine is, and I might be able to steer a pub conversation in a useful direction. What do you think?’

  ‘When is the dinner?’

  ‘Drinks at six thirty, dinner at seven.’

  ‘That leaves over an hour. You could go to the pub, see what you can find out, and still get back in time to dress.’

  ‘And you? Are you up for dinner?’

  ‘Not a long formal one with speeches. Let me just lie here and veg for a while, and you can bring me a sandwich or something.’

  ‘Try not to worry too much, dear heart. There’s nothing either of us can do just now for Tom, so put it out of your mind if you can. Elaine’s doing all she can.’

  ‘Can she call in the forensics people now? To the lab, I mean.’

  Alan sighed. ‘If it were my call, I’d send them in. There are too many unexplained incidents clustering around that lab, and Tom’s disappearance is very serious. And we still don’t know what we’re dealing with – a prank or something much more serious. But Elaine’s position is difficult, with the political balance to be taken into account.’

  ‘You had a university to contend with, when you were policing Belleshire.’

  ‘The University of Sherebury, my dear American, is a fine institution, but it’s hardly Cambridge. One treads lightly in this country when dealing with a world-famous establishment that’s been around since the thirteenth century.’ And seeing the expression on my face, he added, ‘Isn’t that one of the reasons you love England? Our respect for ancient traditions and foundations?’

  ‘I suppose. Alan, go away and leave me in peace. At the moment I’m thoroughly sick and tired of this ancient foundation.’

  I do get testy on the rare occasions when I don’t feel good. Alan patted my hand and quietly left the room.

  As the pill began to work, I relaxed a little. Ever since my tumble down those unyielding marble stairs, I’d been feeling like an old crock, which is unusual for me. True, in years I’m getting up there, but I try to stay active, and most of the time I feel about twenty years younger than my birth certificate indicates. It’s all a matter of attitude.

  Very well, then. My attitude needed some adjustment. For a start, I needed to figure out why I was floundering so in this investigation.

  I let my mind relax into free fall, let thoughts and ideas waft around, making no attempt to organize or make sense of them. Ancient institution. Discretion. Danger. Blood. Pain. Danger. Cats. Occult religions. Danger.

  Was I letting the memory of blood, the fear of danger, keep me from accomplishing anything?

  No. I sat up straight, and then lay back down as my bruises objected. No, it wasn’t fear that had put me in a straitjacket. It was that damnable discretion.

  I’m a great admirer of Dorothy L. Sayers, and my very favourite of her novels is Gaudy Night. Her semi-autobiographical character Harriet Vane is asked to investigate a series of nasty practical jokes at Shrewsbury College, Oxford (based on Sayers’s own college of Somerville). As the incidents get uglier and uglier, Vane becomes more and more impatient with the wishes of the college administration that the matter be kept under wraps, for the sake of the college reputation. She understands and to some extent sympathizes – it’s her college, after all, and she has no wish to bring it into disrepute – but she chafes under the restrictions.

  I could understand the problem here, too. In the long run, though, I thought St Stephen’s would suffer more if it became known that they had covered up criminal activity. Furthermore, this wasn’t my college, but the bruises and nightmarish memories were mine.

  Something else was knocking around in my brain, seeking admission. I tried to focus and couldn’t bring it to the front. I closed my eyes. Maybe if I let it alone, it would appear.

  College. Sayers. Vane. Blood.

  Aha! I sat straight up again, regardless of the aches and pains. In another of Sayers’s books, Have His Carcase, Harriet Vane found a corpse with its throat cut, apparently very recently dead, with blood dripping all over the place. A huge part of the investigation focussed on the time of the murder, trusting in Harriet’s firm statement that the blood had not clotted.

  Wouldn’t that be a big flaw in any plan to use real blood for the students’ prank? It would clot almost immediately, wouldn’t it?

  Or was there something that could be added to the blood to keep it liquid, at least long enough to play the joke?

  Certainly the blood I’d seen had looked to be liquid, but I had been too squeamish to go near enough to see.

  I added these questions to the many I needed to ask somebody very soon. Making up my mind, I got up and headed for the shower.

  When Alan returned, he found me struggling into the ‘little black dress’ that is my standard dressy travel attire. Made of some miracle fabric that refuses to wrinkle, it fits in such a way as to cover a multitude of sins and can be dressed up or down with scarves and jewellery. Someday it’s going to wear out, and I shall be bereft.

  ‘Oh, good. Help me with this, will you, Alan? My bruises scream if I bend my arms enough to get into the blasted thing.’

  He pulled it over my head and gave me an approving pat. ‘You’ve changed your mind about dinner, then?’

  ‘And drinks. Did you learn anything useful at the pub?’

  He was shrugging out of his shirt. ‘Nothing to the point. Terence is still at it, but it’s slow going. Some of Tom’s friends are there, but since we don’t know who might be involved in his disappearance, we have to be careful about how much we tell them.’ He headed for the bathroom.

  ‘I’ll get your dinner things out,’ I said, trailing after him. ‘And, Alan, you’ll be annoyed with me, but I’ve made a decision.’

  ‘And that is?’ He turned on the shower.

  ‘I’m going to dive into this investigation with both feet. I’m past caring how many toes get stepped on in the process. Whatever is going on has to stop!’

  He didn’t respond until he’d completed his very quick ablutions. ‘Then you’ll be happy to know,’ he said, drying off, ‘that Elaine and the master have agreed on the same course of action. Elaine is at the Hutchins Building even as we speak, with her minions, doing a thorough forensic search of that laboratory. Where’s my hairbrush?’

  I handed it to him.

  ‘And the constable she mentioned,’ he went on, ‘the Nigerian, has been dispatched to question Mahala’s neighbours. Tom’s disappearance has galvanized her into action. The master is going to make a little speech about it at dinner, asking for cooperation from all police forces.’

  ‘And high time, too!’ I was relieved that I wasn’t going to have to quarrel with Alan. ‘Now, I’m going to wear this lacy sort of jacket thing with this. Do you think pearls with it, or shall I trot out your lovely diamonds?’

  By which he understood that I had got over my resentment of his condescending remark about Americans. He gave me a peck on the cheek, and I searched my luggage for my jewel case.

  Alan seldom wore his dinner jacket. English social customs have become much more informal than they on
ce were. In his youth, Alan had told me, black tie was de rigueur for any evening occasions that did not require top hat and tails. Now most men wore ordinary suits in the evening, but I was delighted that he was dressing up for once. He looked perfectly splendid when he had fastened the last stud and tied the tie. I told him so, and he preened a little.

  ‘Are you sure you can walk as far as the dining hall?’ He held the door for me as we left the room. ‘I could probably scare up a wheelchair somewhere.’

  ‘Don’t you dare! I’ve been feeling old, and a wheelchair would be the last straw. No, I’ll get there on my own two feet if it kills me. We can go slowly and pretend we’re admiring the college grounds.’

  They were worth admiring, actually. Even in the few days since we had arrived, the trees had burst into full bloom, and the flower beds were rioting with all sorts of spring colours. At a slow pace, with Alan giving me plenty of support, I actually enjoyed the walk. Once we arrived, Alan found me a comfortable chair and brought me a watered-down glass of bourbon. I gave it a dubious look.

  ‘Because you’re on painkillers, love. Mild ones, but it’s not a brilliant idea to add too much alcohol to the mix.’

  ‘Oh, you’re right, I suppose.’ I looked around the room. It seemed to me that the ranks had thinned a bit. ‘Do we have some teetotallers in the group?’ I asked.

  ‘What? Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Anyway there’s tonic and orange juice. No, I believe some of those from far-flung districts have left already, perhaps needing to be at their desks bright and early tomorrow morning.’

  I nodded. ‘And Elaine doesn’t seem to be here.’

  ‘Still over at the lab, darling. But steel yourself. In her stead, here comes Andrews.’

  I took a quick gulp of bourbon and looked up with a beaming smile. ‘Mr Andrews! How lovely to see you! I’m afraid I haven’t been able to attend very many of the conference events. I hope it’s been successful for you?’

  ‘Er – yes. Mrs Nesbitt, I need a word with you.’