SEVEN
DECEMBER 29
“Would you like a little more tea?” the maid, Gladys, asked.
“Yes, please.”
She poured tea into my cup, which was made of very light, almost paper-thin china. I felt big and clumsy, afraid that I’d crush it in my grip. I already felt more than a little self-conscious about the orange marmalade I’d spilled on the expensive-looking white linen tablecloth. Right after I’d done that, Doris had dripped some on it as well, and I thought she had done it on purpose to make me feel better. It actually did make me feel better, because it was such a kind thing to do. It was the act of a gracious person—just like she’d been on the mountain, when her spirit practically carried me to the top.
I felt good. I had a solid night’s sleep under my belt and I was ready to try to figure things out—although so far, I hadn’t been able to figure out anything.
“Did you have any more thoughts about what the messages mean?” I asked.
“The reference to through the looking glass refers to the classic story by Lewis Carroll, of course, and Haigha is the rabbit that Alice encounters.”
“Sort of like the March Hare in Alice in Wonderland.”
“They are one and the same,” Doris said. “I’m going to go through the book today, word by word, and try to see if there is a clue that will unlock the other decoded words.”
“Do you want me to look through the book too?”
“I don’t think that is necessary. I will have a great deal of help from my fellow Holmesians. As we suggested, with your permission we’ve cast the net wider and asked other clubs to weigh in on what they think the messages mean.”
“So while we’re wrestling with the riddles, you need to proceed to Cambridge.”
“I just wish we had more to go on before I head up there.”
“The worst that will happen is that you and Charlie have a wonderful trip up to Cambridge together.”
“I’m sure,” I said. Driving up with Charlie was going to be anything but wonderful. I was just hoping he wouldn’t push me to do something we’d both regret. “How long is the drive?”
“It’s not much more than an hour if you take the motorway, but I hope you’ll take the back roads and enjoy the drive. That was the way my husband and I always traveled. It’s so much lovelier to take the back routes.”
I was hoping for speed, and I was sure that would suit her grandson as well. The less time we had together the better, as far as I was concerned.
“I know the two of you will get along famously. Don’t tell anybody, but while I love all my grandchildren equally, I really adore Charlie…such spirit… such joie de vivre…and, I’m sure you’ll agree, rather striking.”
I didn’t even know how to answer her. I smiled and gave a slight nod of my head. I couldn’t help but wonder what Doris’s other grandchildren were like if Charlie was the one she liked the best.
“I’m going to let you take my vehicle,” Doris said.
“But doesn’t Charlie have a vehicle?” I wondered if he’d borrowed the vehicle he drove in from the airport.
“I’m afraid Charlie isn’t much of a driver. I’d prefer if you drove.” She pulled out some keys and handed them to me. I hesitated to take them. “You do drive, correct?”
“Definitely…but on the right-hand side of the road.”
“So now you sit on the right-hand side of the car and drive on the left-hand side of the road. Simple. Just watch the other cars.”
I took the keys.
“I’m surprised Charlie isn’t here by now,” Doris said.
I was more surprised he’d agreed to come in the first place and still wondered if he’d show at all. Either way, I now had a car and could get there on my own if I had to. It might be better if he didn’t show.
The doorbell warbled, and I could hear the maid going to answer it. Then the door opened and I heard voices. Good old Charlie was here.
Gladys walked into the dining room, followed by a girl about my age—a beautiful girl.
“Hello, Nana!” the girl exclaimed as she threw her arms around Doris.
“So wonderful to see you, my darling,” Doris replied.
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t know who she was or how she knew Doris, but I did know she was stunning—curvy in all the right places, with long blond hair and, I saw as she turned to face me, startling blue eyes. I had to fight not to look away.
“DJ, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Charlie.”
She reached out a hand to shake mine.
“You’re Charlie?” I gasped.
“Short for Charlotte,” she said. She still had her hand extended.
I recovered enough to awkwardly grab her hand and shake. “I just wasn’t expecting you…when Doris…your grandmother said Charlie, I thought she meant Charles.”
“Yes, he drove me in from the airport.”
“That must have been a real pleasure,” Charlie said. She gave me a questioning look, and I realized I was still clinging to her hand. Embarrassed, I let it go. My hand was damp with sweat.
“Do you remember on the mountain I told you that I wanted you to meet one of my granddaughters?” Doris asked. “Well, this is the one. Isn’t she beautiful?”
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to answer that.
“Nana, you’re embarrassing DJ and me. Please, I don’t think he came all this way to be set up.”
“No, I mean yes—I mean, yes, she is beautiful and…this is embarrassing.” I looked away. I was sure I was blushing.
Charlie sat down and Doris poured her a cup of tea.
“So, my darling, do you have any commitments today or are you totally free?” Doris asked her granddaughter.
“I’m as free as a bird for the holidays. My next shoot isn’t until January second.”
“Shoot?” I asked. “Are you a photographer?”
“Oh, goodness, she’s on the other side of the lens, DJ!” Doris exclaimed. “She’s one of the most—”
“Nana, please,” Charlie said, cutting her off. “I am a photographer, but for this shoot I’m afraid I’m on the wrong side of the lens. It’s so much more interesting to point the camera than have it pointed at you.”
“So you have the whole day free for the trip up to Cambridge with DJ?” Doris asked.
“Certainly, although I thought I was going to be showing him the sights of London, not a dusty university campus.”
“Perhaps that could be tonight or even tomorrow, but he has an errand to run in Cambridge first.”
I looked to see if there was a trace of annoyance in her face about having to babysit me. If there was, I didn’t see it. All I saw was, well, those startling blue eyes set against flawless skin and a perfect little upturned nose and—
“Then it’s settled. You’re off to Cambridge!”
I was feeling more than a little self-conscious. Charlie wasn’t just beautiful, but beautiful in a way that was almost unnerving. I’d had girlfriends, some of them really, really pretty, but she was a cut above pretty. I had to stop myself from staring at her as we headed for the garage to get the car. Thank goodness she was leading and didn’t know I was looking at her.
“My nana really likes you,” she said as she spun around.
“I like her too,” I said, embarrassed that she’d caught me staring.
“She’s always going on about the mountain and how you helped her to the top.”
“Believe me, she helped me as much as I helped her.”
“Now you’re just being sweet and chivalrous.”
I wasn’t, but I’d take the compliment. I really wouldn’t have made it to the top without Doris. I hated to admit it, even to myself, but in the beginning I’d been upset there was an “old” woman in our party—I thought she would just slow me down. I guess in some ways she did—she slowed me down enough to make it to the top. Both my grandmothers died before I was old enough to know them. I like to think they were as wonderful as Doris.
“I guess she does.”
“No guessing involved. Here’s the proof.” She opened up the big sliding garage door to reveal the car. It was bright red, a convertible, and the hood seemed to go on forever and ever.
“It’s…it’s a Jaguar,” I stammered.
“Not just a Jaguar. It’s a Jag E-Type. Twelve cylinders, capable of going a hundred and seventy-five miles per hour and accelerating from zero to sixty in slightly under five seconds.”
“I’m impressed…by the car and your knowledge.” I ran my hand along the hood. Most cars now only had four or six cylinders, but there were twelve trapped under there. It was a beast.
“This is considered the most beautiful car ever designed. One was purchased by the New York Museum of Modern Art, so it is the only car ever formally called a work of art by an institution.” She turned to me, and I looked up from the car. Thank goodness she hadn’t caught me staring at her again.
“How much is this thing worth?” I asked.
“It’s hard to put a price on something this exquisite and unique, but you couldn’t replace it for under seventy thousand pounds.”
I did a rough conversion in my head. That was about $130,000.
“I’ve never even sat in anything worth that much,” I said.
“And now you have the keys to it in your hand, so I think it’s fair to assume that Nana trusts you very, very much. Get in.”
I walked down the side of the car and pulled open the door.
“You realize that the wheel is on the other side,” she said.
I’d forgotten. Again. I looked like an idiot in front of her. A great start needed a better recovery. “And you realize that a gentleman should always hold the door open for a lady,” I said.
She smiled—a beautiful, knee-melting smile—but had she bought it?
She slipped into the seat and I gently closed the door behind her. I circled around—it was a long, long way around that hood and those cylinders—and climbed in, and down, beside her. The car was very low, and from the driver’s seat, the hood seemed even longer. I inserted the key, and the engine started with a low, powerful rumble, refinement disguising the power I knew was there.
“I assume you’ve never driven a Jag before, correct?” Charlie asked.
“I’ve never even been in one before.”
“Have you ever driven on our side of the road?”
I shook my head.
“This could be interesting. Most people have trouble with the right-hand turn—they turn into oncoming traffic. Just remember that the driver is always in the center of the road and you’ll be fine.”
I put the car into gear, grateful it was an automatic. Working a stick with my left hand would have been an even bigger complication. Slowly I eased out of the garage, making sure that it was clear on both sides. I turned to the right, going wide so that I was in the center and the car was on the “wrong” side of the road.
“Do you know how to get to Cambridge?” I asked.
“I can navigate as long as you can drive. Let’s head for the motorway.”
“But Doris suggested the back roads.”
She shook her head. “Aren’t you curious to see how fast this car can go?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“Well, we can’t really find out how fast this thing can move along any country roads. Onward to the highway!”
I turned onto the ramp and started along the motorway. The car responded instantly to the touch of my foot, and we gathered speed. The lane ahead was clear, and I used the side mirror to ease into traffic, settling in behind a truck. The engine purred, and the ride was soft and smooth. I was enjoying this.
“You know, just because this is my grandmother’s car, you don’t have to drive it like you’re my grandmother,” Charlie said.
Carefully looking in my side and rearview mirrors, I put on my turn signal and changed lanes.
“I can see why she trusts you. You do drive like her. It seems a shame to waste such a fine piece of—”
I put my foot down, the engine raced, and we jumped forward like the car had been stung by a bee, snapping Charlie’s head back against the headrest.
“Is that a little better?” I asked.
We raced past a truck like it had suddenly been thrown into reverse and came up quickly on the cars in the lane ahead. I switched lanes again, still carefully but not as obviously so, and moved into the passing lane.
“What’s the speed limit on this highway?” I asked.
“There didn’t even used to be speed limits on the motorways, but now it’s seventy miles an hour.”
I looked down at the speedometer. I was doing almost ninety-five! I hit the brakes—hard—and we slowed down dramatically and moved back into the middle lane and then the driving lane at the far left.
“So are you disappointed you have to spend this time with me instead of my cousin Charles?”
“It’s pretty much a toss-up. I can hardly tell one of you from the other,” I said.
She laughed. “So do you think I’m a git too?” she demanded.
“I don’t even know what a git is.”
“If you’ve spent time with Charles, you know exactly what a git is! It means annoying, stupid, incompetent, childish. The sort of person you want to throttle.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of popping him.”
She looked confused. “You wanted to give him a soda?”
“It means punching him. I wanted to punch him,” I explained.
“If you ever do that, please let me know. I think I could sell tickets for that. That boy is all mouth and no trousers.”
“Okay, now you’re confusing me again,” I said.
“That means all talk and no action. He’s nothing but a blowhard.”
“I guess we don’t always use the same words to mean the same thing,” I said.
“George Bernard Shaw said that England and America are two countries divided by a common language.”
“I’m not American.”
“American, Canadian…it’s all the same to us,” she said.
“I understand why you Irish would think that.”
“I’m not Irish, I’m…okay, point taken, Mr. Canada.”
As we talked, I carefully changed lanes and maneuvered around slower vehicles. I didn’t want to be accused of being a grandmother again, although I was going to do it without reaching warp speed. It would have been something to drive this car where there weren’t any speed limits.
“So tell me a little bit about this mission you’re on,” Charlie said.
“It’s a little hard to explain, but I can show you when we stop. I have some notebook pages in my jacket pocket.” I wanted both hands firmly on the wheel.
“No need to stop.” She reached over and started digging in my jacket pockets.
“I’m really ticklish!” I exclaimed as I squirmed in my seat.
“That’s something for me to file away, perhaps for a later time.”
It felt like my whole body flushed. She pulled out the pages and unfolded them. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she read them.
Finally she spoke. “This is what brought you across the pond?” she asked.
“That and the other things we found. Some passports, money, an escape kit and a gun.”
“You didn’t bring the gun with you, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. We’re pretty strict about weapons in this country. So what are you hoping to find?” she asked.
“I guess who or what my grandfather really was. It’s not just me. My cousins are investigating other notebook entries, trying to find out answers too.”
“And talking to this man in Cambridge will give you the answer?” Charlie asked.
“It’s all I’ve got to go on so—”
Her phone began to ring. “Excuse me,” she said. “Hello…oh, hi!”
She turned slightly away.
“I’m on my way up to Cambridge…yes…with nobody.”
Nobody? I was a nobody?
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it too. It should be a wonderful way to bring in the New Year together.”
Was she talking to a girlfriend? No, the tone of voice left little doubt: she was talking to a guy she liked.
I pulled out to pass another truck, and the car behind me pulled out as well. That was the fourth time it had followed me when I passed another car; each time, it settled back in not directly behind me, but a car or even two cars back.
I accelerated, going faster than the limit, and passed a second and then a third truck. The car—it looked like a BMW—kept pace with me. There was another truck I could pass, but I decided not to. I went in behind it, expecting the BMW to pass us both. Instead, it decelerated and ducked behind a different truck, disappearing from my view. That was strange. Stranger still was that I was watching cars in my rearview mirror and feeling paranoid. All this spy stuff was starting to get to me.
“Ta-ta,” Charlie said into her phone. “Yes, me too.”
She hung up and we drove in silence for a while.
“A friend of yours?” I asked.
“I’m not usually called by enemies.”
“Boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “I don’t date boys.”
“You date girls?” I joked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“He is a male friend. He’s just not a boy.”
“He must be special if you’re going to bring in the New Year with him.”
“He is special. We’re going to be in Trafalgar Square, in the heart of London, with music and crowds and fireworks.”
“That’s not nearly as exciting as my plans.”
She gave me a questioning look.
“I will be in a very exclusive location in downtown London in the company of a rather special lady.”
“Is she an older woman?” Charlie asked.
“I’m too much of a gentleman to ever ask a lady her age, but I suspect she is a bit more sophisticated than I—a woman of the world.”
Charlie reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “There are far worse ways to spend the New Year than with my nana.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“I really appreciate your being there with her. She’s been so lonely since my grandfather passed on. They really were life partners. They set a very high bar. They had what I’ve always hoped I’ll have one day.”
I liked to think that if my father hadn’t died, my parents would have had that sort of relationship too.
“She told me a lot about her husband, up there on the mountain. We joked about your grandfather and my grandpa being up in heaven together, looking down on us.”
“That’s sweet.”
“So what does your grandmother think of your special man friend?” I asked.
“She doesn’t really know him, although she definitely knows of him, if you know what I mean.”
“You lost me at the second know.”
“I hope that’s the only thing that gets lost. There’s our exit up ahead.”
I took the exit. The BMW was right behind me.