Once we’d crept along the back hallway again, I explained to Bud that I needed a little “alone time”. He always understands, and said he’d rejoin the group while I returned to my private eyrie in the palace room, which was the only place I felt I could achieve a sense of peace. It was a good excuse to enjoy a vantage point I was unlikely to ever have the chance to use again…so I sat in one of the small, leather-upholstered chairs positioned to take in the view toward London, and drank it all in.
I needed to rerun the statements everyone had written about their movements on the day Piers and Julie had died, and recalled them as I allowed my body to relax.
Finally, I had the series of events prior to Bud, Vinnie, and me arriving straight at last. Also, having had the chance to mentally review the file Worthington had prepared about the Renata, I’d gained a much better insight into why the common ground between her father’s loss – of mesothelioma, I had discovered – and Sasha’s loss of Oleg might have borne some poisonous fruit…and knew there was a very good reason for Renata wishing ill to the entire Asimov clan – whatever she might claim to think and feel about Sasha and Piers.
With that information, the centaur medallion in my handbag, the envelope of notepaper in my pocket, and the toxicology reports, I felt I had everything I needed to be able to allow my mind to wander – allowing all the pieces of the puzzle to fit together.
The palace room was warm, and quiet, and I was comfortable enough where I was sitting to undertake my wakeful dreaming technique, where I aim to wipe all my preconceptions of a situation from my mind, and let it float free, to do as it will. And I was sharply aware that – in this instance, possibly more than any other I’d ever faced – there were a good number of preconceptions I had to put aside in order to really understand what had taken place, and how, and why.
I allowed my body to relax, closed my eyes, and drifted into my trance-like state.
Bud’s standing in the middle of the palace room looking just like Henry VIII, wearing a silken robe, bedecked with many gold medallions, and an ermine shawl, which Sasha runs and grabs from him, then she flies through the shattering glass roof into the pale blue sky and heads for the sun, which morphs into the seafront in Aberystwyth, where she gradually transforms into a bird with a bleeding breast, crying pitifully that she’s lost her children. Bella is beside Bud, wailing for her sister, as Piers scrambles up the twisting staircase into the palace room where he gets stuck, and starts to scream like a little boy.
The floor dissolves, and we’re in the kitchen of Beulah House, which is simultaneously Bella’s stone-built workshop, decorated just the way her coach house is…and Vinnie is in chef’s whites, a machete in each hand, chopping swathes of herbs into tiny pieces which grow into a forest on the countertop. Julie is there too, dressed in a gown made of sheer red chiffon, embroidered with strawberries, her hair long and luxurious, and she’s dallying provocatively with Glen and Charles at the table, which is covered with plates of sandwiches and pots and pots of tea, like the Mad Hatter’s tea party…even to the extent that Bella is wearing a hat with a price tag stuck in its band, laughing manically, stirring a cup of tea with a thermometer.
Felicity is a miniature version of herself – not a child, just a small version of the adult I have met, and she’s sitting on Sir Simon’s lap being told a story by him, as though she is an infant…but the pages of the book he is reading from are made of pound notes, which she rips from the spine as he turns them.
I am aware of a cloud above me and I look up to see Oleg Asimov filling the sky with his ragged cape. He’s carrying a scythe and is swooping toward each of his children in turn, trying to cut them down. Sasha is still a bird with a bleeding breast; now she flies high and tries to loosen her father’s grip on his weapon by battering his face with her wings. Bella is sliding along the frozen rill, as though she’s on skates which leave smoke trails, and she’s scattering china mugs as she goes, which shatter into a thousand pieces when they land on the hard ground. Charles is lolling on the frozen grass, throwing snowballs into the air, where they burst and sparkle, making him laugh.
Renata appears, like a magician appearing through a puff of smoke, and she’s surrounded by a cloud of glittering dust when she emerges, dressed in blazing white, with an illuminated star gleaming on her head. She’s lugging a golden backpack, which she takes in her hands, and beats Oleg until he begins to tumble from the sky. His three children cheer his downfall.
I hear fluttering, and think a flock of birds is approaching, but it’s pieces of paper…all of them printed with depictions of Shakespeare’s great tragic heroes, and they’re being scattered from Oleg’s disintegrating cloak. As they land in the snow, they each become reddened with blood…
I sat forward in the chair, and believed I had it. Now all I had to do was convince Worthington to get Glen to join us all, and I could bring this sorry tale to its conclusion…though I still needed the help of the authorities in more than one way to do that.
But what about Bud? My heart told me I needed to explain my conclusions to him first – so he and Worthington would be able to prepare to cope with what would follow my revelations.
I returned to the salon; once again, every face turned as I approached. Bella wasn’t there, so I assumed she was with Worthington and Enderby. The atmosphere was bleak, despite the logs roaring in the hearth.
Felicity was closest to the fire, nursing an almost-full bottle of water, while Renata’s was already empty. Given the glassines of her gaze I wondered if hers had ever really contained water – then further wondered if she’d brought any more with her. I hoped not, because I needed her to be able to answer some challenging questions later in the day.
It was the sight of John’s face that I dwelled on, however; he looked at me with a mixture of hope and fear in his eyes. I approached and said, “I need to steal Bud away from you all for a few moments again. I hope you can manage without him.” I winked and smiled. A feeble attempt to raise John’s spirits.
“I’m right here, you know,” said Vinnie. “Being on the spot, and multi-talented at that, means I can deal with any danger, real or perceived. You take your man away with you now, but be sure to return him to us undamaged.” He blew me a kiss, and even John managed a smile.
Once we were alone in the entry hall I whispered to Bud, “It’s time for me to share. But we need Worthington, too.”
Bud smiled. “So you’re not going to gather everyone in the salon and explain the entire thing to us all?”
“Eventually, I hope to be able to do so. But…this case is different, Bud. And there’s a good reason for me needing to involve Worthington, and you, before we go much further. I just hope he’s not tied up for too long, so we can get everything done that needs to be done.”
“I could hang around outside the meeting room until he’s free, then bring him to join you in…what, the palace room?”
“Yes, thanks, that’s a good idea.”
I padded up the stairs again. It seemed fitting that I should reveal my understanding of the case there…looking down on the world I was about to change forever, for so many.