Rogues Resort

ROGUES RETREAT JIM CARR

COPYRIGHT: 2018 JamesWCarr ISBN: 9781393129974

CHAPTER ONE “Inspector Hazlett?”

Winton Hazlett looked up at the smiling young woman. “They told me I might find you here.”

Hazlett stood and invited her to share his bench. “There is no other place in this world that I would rather be than in Gladstonbury on a fine June morning. There is a special magic about it.” Then, suddenly: “How may I help you?”

“My name is June Spottispode. I just recently moved to Gladstonbury from London. I’d like to become one of your constables. I was told I had to talk to you.”

“You look familiar somehow.”

June matched him in height. Good size for a constable, he thought. She had long, light brown hair, blue eyes that smiled at you, a round face that made you like her with even a hint of a smile, and a firm handshake. She was wearing a black and white tartan skirt, a pale blue blouse and a navy blue sweater.

“My mother came from Gladstonbury, and she always dreamed of returning one day.” She looked away. “She died before she had the chance.”

“What was her name?”

“Marigold, Marigold Faire. My father died on D-Day, and she never got over it. I joined the London Police as a constable. My mother never gave up hope of coming back to Gladstonbury, and when she died, I decided to quit and bring her back to be buried with her family and to live where I can always be with her.”

Hazlett tossed a few seeds from a small bag to the pigeons. “Are you familiar with Gladstonbury?”

June shook her head and smiled.

“Then join me on my morning stroll around the town. It’s changing here, too,” Hazlett said, pointing to the park bench. “It used to be black when I was a boy. Now, they’re all green.” Hazlett always loved the bandstand, where the town’s coronet band played old favourites on Sundays on the upper deck. The bottom was covered in two inches of water, where pigeons gathered for seeds, ignoring boys trying to launch small sticks with paper sails. He dipped his hand in the water and shook off the remaining seeds for the pigeons.

“All the pathways to the bandstand form all the crosses in the Union Jack,” he added as they rounded the corner of the bandstand and headed for the town’s blackshingled courthouse. They crossed the street and turned right into Gladstonbury’s old cemetery that dated back to Shakespeare’s Day. “When you were in London, did you have an opportunity to meet Inspector Allenby?”

June knew it was a trick question. “Not Inspector Allenby but I did meet an Inspector Harkness. And when I told him I was moving to Gladstonbury, he told me he and your father joined the constabulary the same day and remained life-long friends until your father died.”

He liked the sound of her voice. Pleasant, yet held a hint of authority. They were walking past St. Giles Church, where he had been a Boy Scout and fell in love with the vicar’s daughter. He was 10 or 11 at the time, and it brought a smile to his eyes.

They turned the corner onto Shaftsbury Street, where most of the stores were located.

Just about everyone waved to him. He would always nod and smile back. “It’s a great way to get to know what’s happening in town and peoples’ lives.”

Mrs. Stapleton stopped him as he emerged from Phinney’s store at the corner of King and Shaftsbury. “My neighbour says she’ll call the police if I don’t trim the branches of my crabapple tree that overhang her property.”

“Do they?” said Hazlett.

“It’s all in her head.”

“Then, there should be no problem. But just in case the branches are, this is not a police matter. You should be aware, however, that your neighbour could take the matter to court and ask the judge to settle the matter.”

June smiled. “Do you get this often? The problems are a bit different in London.”

“I don’t mind. It’s a marvelous way to hear and learn about things you ordinarily would not get to know about.”

They were stopped outside the police station by Hugh Gatewood, The Gladstone’s owner, a new hotel on the outskirts. “The very man I need to see. The hippies are driving tourists away from town. We need to do something about it before it’s too late. If you won’t, I will. Fair warning.”

The station was a red brick building at least a century old with high windows on its three floors. Two wood columns flanked the entrance painted a dark grey. Hazlett led the way, up the four steps, through the door, and into the main room, where Sgt. Connor Moreton held sway.

Sunlight from the windows shone on Connor’s face. He stood behind a large, raised desk like a gatekeeper. He was the first person people saw as they stepped into the station. The desks for other constables were located on either side of Connor, waving the smell of cigarettes away. Lined the wall behind Connor were four offices for detectives and a much larger office for the Inspector.

Connor held a folder in his hands and handed it to Hazlett.

“About?”

“Money laundering. They’re asking us to be on the lookout. I’ll put it on the bulletin board.”

Hazlett nodded and turned to all the others. “We have a new applicant, gentlemen. She’s a former constable from London. Her name is June Spottispode.”

June followed him into his office.

June sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Let’s start by telling me about your duties as a constable in London.” Hazlett’s office had an official look and feel.

Aside from his desk, there were two chairs, three pictures from his days as a

Lancaster bomber pilot that included two photos of his crew, a fourth of his university graduation class after the war, and a picture of the Queen at the centre.

His wartime experience as a flight lieutenant and his university degree fasttracked him to the rank of Detective Inspector over more experienced constables.

“One of our best constables retired two months ago, and we’ve been looking for someone to replace him. I won’t lie to you. You’re not exactly what we had in mind.”

“I spent a lot of time in homicide.”

“I’ll be honest with you. We rarely have murder in Gladstonbury. Our biggest concern at the moment is a daylight bank robbery.”

June sat back and studied his face. Crowsfeet showed in the corners of his eyes, and his face was tanned. His hair was cut short, and there was grey at his temples.

“Tell you what. Give me a three-month trial if I don’t fit in or fail to meet the expectations you or the other constables have of me a new constable, no problem. I’ll leave and look for some other line of work.”

Hazlett’s bright blue eyes did not leave her face. His thin face and square chin tightened before he spoke: “I like your style and confidence. Confidence and make or break an otherwise good constable.”

There was a light rap at the door, and Connor Moreton stuck his head in. “Your wife’s on the phone, Inspector.”

Hazlett picked up the receiver. Alma Hazlett had a loud voice, and June could make out every word she spoke from where she sat. “Dr. Culver called. He wants to discuss my latest tests and would like to see both of us Thursday morning at 10.

What do I tell him?”

“That we’ll be there. What else did Culver say?”

“Just that.” Then, after a pause. “I’m scared, Winton. It was the sound of his voice. It was different somehow.

“We’ll talk about that when I get home.” Hazlett took a deep breath and looked at his new constable.

“What did you say your name was?” ” June Spottispode,” she said, sitting upright.

“Well, June Spottispode, let’s introduce you to the others.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s teatime.”

She followed him out into the front, where Connor Moreton talked to an older woman, who said she did not get the change from a purchase she had made at the greengrocers. Tommy Thomas was dispatched to go with her.

“Well, gentlemen, please welcome our latest recruit, June Spottispode.”

“But she’s a woman,” said Archie Ridley, a detective constable who had been at the station when Hazlett’s father had been the Inspector.

“She comes to us with two years of experience as a constable in London and spent some time with their homicide team. My guess is she’ll show us all up.”

“A word, Inspector,” said Archie, still shaking his head as he followed Hazlett into his office.

Hazlett knew what it was about. “The bank holdup?”

“It was done by strangers. The bank manager couldn’t place their accents, but they aren’t from here. The staff are still shell-shocked. Where do we go from here?”

“Let’s see what our newest constable thinks.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’ll be a good test for her. Ask her to join you and go back to the bank.”

June sat down beside Archie as Hazlett reviewed what they knew about the holdup.

“We haven’t formally been introduced, Archie. The others say you’re the best, and I’d love to work with you.”

Archie, who had white hair, grey eyes that never changed when they looked at you, a severe full face, was wearing a large tunic to accommodate his thickening stomach. He took a deep breath and looked at Hazlett. “It’s going to be a waste of –“ “Thank you, Archie. Let me know how things went when you get back.”

When they returned two hours later, Archie was smiling. “She’s going to do just fine, Inspector.”

“She believes the thieves are locals and made up their accents. That’s why the manager couldn’t place it. She also feels one of the staff knows at least one of the robbers.”

“Actually, it was Archie who set me on the path. He asked one of the tellers to imitate how the robbers talked. I could see the others nodding. I’m not sure if the young woman knows she’s given the show away.”

Hazlett smiled. “What’s your next step?”

“June and I are going to talk about that now. We’ll report back to you before we do anything.”

CHAPTER TWO Hazlett could hear his phone ringing even before he opened the door. Alma had already answered it and held out the phone to him.

It was Connor Moreton. ”There’s been a murder. A young woman. She was found in an old barn on an abandoned farm on the old Milton Road, six miles from town. Her body was discovered by three boys cycling on the road and sought shelter in the barn when it started to rain. It scared the hell out of them, and they telephoned me from a farm along the road.”

“Is anyone there now?”

“No.” “Then get Archie and our newest recruit to meet me at the station immediately and send a car to pick me up. One more thing, alert Dr. Culver and the coroner and tell them we’ll meet them there. One more thing, Connor. Call The Observer and ask them to send a photographer to take pictures for us.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way to the old Butler farm. The couple who operated the farm lost their only son during the war, and when they died, their place went into ruin. Hazlett heard all this from Archie, who had an encyclopedic knowledge about Gladstonbury and its inhabitants.

The sun was still above the horizon when they reached the barn. Hazlett looked at the body. She could not have been more than 25. Her upper body was twisted in a grotesque shape, and her eyes were larger than he had ever seen before, dark eyes with fear and pain still in them. He watched June as she looked at the body. Her face tightened as she placed her jacket over the young woman’s face.

“While we’re waiting, check any inch of the barn and see if our murderer has left a calling card.”

Dr. Culver and Dennis Evans, the town’s coroner, arrived a few minutes later.

Dr. Culver leaned over the body, felt her forehead, and examined her head and neck, then her arms and hands and fingernails. He conferred with the coroner for a couple of minutes. “We’ll know more when we get her body to my dispensary. At the moment, I’d say she has been dead for about five hours. She shows evidence of being choked and fighting someone for her life. Her fingernails have skin under them, and she looks like a hippie. Her clothes still have a faint smell of marijuana.”

“Perhaps the victim had an overdose of something,” said Archie, who had little compassion for drug addicts. He also had lost a son on D-Day and could never understand how these young people were able to shirk their responsibilities and expect help and understanding when they ran into trouble.

"Perhaps not,” said Hazlett. “Her clothes don’t look it, and she has no purse or anything else to tell us who she is. Just this one pound note in her jacket pocket, and, I suspect, a stranger, to Gladstonbury.”

“And then,” added June, “there is the comment made by the doctor that there was skin underneath her fingernails. She was obviously fighting for her life.”

Turning to Hazlett: “I was thinking. A barn full of hay. What a marvelous place to commit a murder. A barn full of hay can cover up a lot of mistakes.”

Dr. Culver was about to leave.

“I’ll have two of our constables help you to remove the body to the hospital ambulance.” He turned to Archie. “It’ll get dark soon, and I think we’ve finished with her for the time being.”

Archie wasn’t giving up. “Do you think her murder may be connected with the hippie group that hangs around with the German Professor?”

“It won’t hurt to check. But before we do anything, Archie, we need to hear what Dr. Culver and our coroner may have to say. Let’s get at it.” *** “You’ve seen Dr. Culver, Winston. Did he mention why he wants to see us?”

“We were investigating a murder, Alma. I’m sure he’ll tell us Thursday.

“What if it’s cancer?”

“Or something really good?”

Alma sat down on the sofa next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She had lost a lot of weight, and her blouse hung on her. Her face, pale and thin, looking the way when they were married, and her dark hair was still curly. “But what if it is?

How long before you find someone else after I’m gone?” She started to cry. “You always wanted a child, and I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any.”

He held her until she stopped crying. “I think you should put your best dress on. I know, the one the day I met you. We’re eating out tonight. How about The Gladstone Hotel? You’ve been asking to go there. Well, tonight’s the night.”

*** Dr. Culver’s dispensary was at the back of his office. The body of the woman still lay on his examination table. Dr. Culver and Dennis Evans were sitting at a small table at the back of the examination table. Dr. Culver stood when he heard Hazlett come in. He liked Hazlett, and it showed. His blue eyes softened, and his thin, angular face smiled. He liked Hazlett’s way of speaking and the way he treated people. “Asphyxiation, just in case you were about to ask. Choked to death by a pair of very strong hands. The skin under her fingernails also had traces of blood.”

Hazlett cocked his head.

“I thought that would get your attention.”

“Anything else?” said Hazlett.

“No trace of drugs of any kind. She is also checked if she has been sexually molested in any way. The answer is no. Just someone fighting desperately to save her life.”

“I’ve already reached a verdict. Murder. Death by asphyxiation,” said Dennis Evans, straightening his protruding stomach. The look of importance never left his face for a second. “Anything you’ve seen that would hint at a motive?”

“I would say someone who is very cold with strong hands which killed her either for revenge or silence her for because she knew something about them,” said Hazlett.

“I’ve talked to the vicar about a proper burial,” said Dennis. “No one should have to be interred in an unmarked grave. There’s no good way to die, but this is worst. “What do you intend to do then?”

“We’ll have her picture plastered all over town and in The Observer. And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll go mainstream and ask the BBC for their help.” *** Archie and June had news for him when Hazlett returned to the station. “We’ve been trying to track down the boys who called the station about the murdered woman. Connor asked them, but they refused to give them and hung up. We think we might get a lead by calling up every farm on the old Milton Road with a phone.

It’s worth following up.

‘Send in Connor.”

Connor got the message a minute later from Archie. “It’s going to take a long time, Archie.”

“The rest of the others will be pitching in as well. Get a list of farmhouses on that road and their telephone numbers. “ It was Pip Walker who found the number after 15 minutes. He was out of breath. “I told the woman we needed her help, the names of the boys who used her phone to call us, and that we wanted to congratulate the boys. I also told her we would be visiting her this afternoon.” Pip was a six-footer and still had a boyish look about him. He had a long curl that kept falling over his forehead.

Hazlett, who had been listening to the interchange, joined in. “Let’s get at it, constable.”

Pip had the car ready in seconds, and 15 minutes later, we were on Old Milton Road, stopping only once to get the directions to the Craddocks.

Emma Craddock was in her late 50s. Her husband, Roy, came in from the barn when he saw the police car enter their driveway. “What’s this about?” he said while taking off his rubber boots before coming into the kitchen.

“Inspector Hazlett, Mr. Craddock.” Winton extended his hand. “We talked to your good wife about the boys who came to your home to telephone us about the dead body in a barn a short distance from here. We want to congratulate them and show our appreciation.”

Craddock’s grey-stubbled face eased. “Glad we were able to help.”

“They were good boys and very mannerly. I offered them cookies and milk, but they said they had better get back home. But they did tell me their names,” said Emma, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ve just made some scones. Please join us for tea.”

The Craddocks had also lost a son in the war, and Emma Craddock looked at Pip fondly. Hazlett could see the excitement in Pip’s eyes. “We would be honoured, Mrs. Craddock.”

“The cream comes straight from my cows,” said her husband.

CHAPTER THREE The boys, Ed Mccormick,13, his younger brother and his cousin, Ernie, looked at each other and smiled at Connor. “We’re here to see Constable Pip. He telephoned us and asked us to have tea with him,” said Ed. Hazlett emerged from his office with Archie. “These are the boys who called me two days ago and have come to join us for tea,” said Connor.

“We want to thank you for coming to see us and telling us on the phone about the lady you saw in the barn,” said Hazlett. “We need you to join us as Junior Constables and help us solve a real crime that’s got us stumped. Can we count on you?”

Ed nodded. “Just ask us anything.”

“Did any of you see anything lying on the floor close to the lady?”

“Yes,” said Ed finally after looking at his cousin.

“Ernie found a book. Just writing, but almost no pictures in it, except for a couple of snapshots. It wasn’t very interesting. Ernie was going to throw it into the garbage, but I stopped him. Except for the snapshots, we couldn’t read most of the writing. Ernie withdrew the book from his knapsack and handed it to Pip. “When you grow up,” said Hazlett, “I want you to know you can always join us as a real constable. But now, Constable Pip would like to take you on a tour of the station and invite you to have tea with us when you finish.”

Hazlett watched the boys disappear with Pip and asked Connor to have the book examined for prints. Connor dumped the book and snapshots into a bag.

“Now, Archie, you’ve been itching to tell me something all morning.”

“We were able to find a name on that one pound note we found on the murdered lady. It was written in pencil, but our people put it through several tests to find a man named Janz Moller. It was written in pencil, and the water almost washed the writing away but could see the name. There’s a Janz Moller, who lives just outside Gladstonbury and a Professor Moller at the University of Bolton. ” “Is it time to make a social call on the good Professor?”

“I’ll get the car,” said Archie.

Archie was singing an old song from the war years as they headed north to the Professor’s home – a rambling two-storey farmhouse that had been remodeled and greatly enlarged to look like a posh hotel. The entrance had a wide, curving five-step staircase and a thick glass front door opening into a spacious greeting room.

A young woman, wearing a long black skirt and a white blouse, opened the door for them. ”Do you have an appointment?”

“My name is Inspector Hazlett from the Gladstonbury Constabulary. We wish to speak to Professor Moller.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

Hazlett detected an oriental accent. “Just tell Professor that the police are here and wish to speak to him.”

She picked up the phone and turned away from them and began whispering to someone. Two minutes later, Professor Moller appeared in the large greeting room and welcomed them inside. It was bright and airy. Six large chandeliers lit up the mirrored ceiling that made the room seem brighter and grander. Flags hung from raised poles at a pitched angle from the wall above six high arched windows. Hazlett recognized them. They were flags from German army groups. To the right, a giant fireplace added cheer and a sense of warmth. A smell of incense lingered in the air.

“May I ask what this is about?” Professor Moller wore a grey goatee and spoke with a heavy German accent. He was tall and looked fit and muscular, was in his late 40s, and wore a black Nehru jacket.

“A young woman was found in a deserted barn not far from you. She had a onepound note in her jacket pocket. Your name was printed on the right corner.”

The Professor shook his head and looked Hazlett in the eyes. “I am sorry to inform you that I do not know of any of this. I am a Professor of chemistry at the University of Bolton. I lecture there three days a week. The rest of the time, you will always find me here. I rarely, if ever, go out in the evening.”

“We’d like to show you the picture of the woman in question and see if you recognize her.”

Archie passed him the picture as Moller put on his glasses and studied the face of the dead woman. Moller shook his head. “Sorry. I have to say that I do not recognize her. What is her name?”

“We’re not sure. We were hoping you might be able to help us. Her purse was missing, and there was no other ID.” Hazlett paused. “I understand some of your guests stay with you. Perhaps they might know.”

“I doubt it. We offer peace and serenity for individuals unable to cope with the stress in their lives. We offer the wisdom of an Indian guru and physical exercises like Yoga and Tai Chi to help them achieve the power of peace. Some of our guests stay for months before achieving the peace they are seeing.”

Hazlett looked around. The young woman who had greeted us has disappeared.

“I see that Sherry has left us. Kindly wait until I alert our other guests.” The Professor offered a slight bow and left without leaving a trace of his presence.

In his place, the young woman reappeared as if by magic. “Kindly wait until I alert our other guests. Professor Moller has made our interview room available to you. Please follow me. ”The interview room was just off the greeting room. “We have three guests here at the moment. Sebastian Ward will be with you presently.”

“Arch and I will meet Mr. Ward,” he said to Pip. “We’d like you to become friends with that young lady who greeted us and find out what’s really going on here.”

Sebastian arrived a few minutes later. His presence made Hazlett shiver. In his early 20s, Sebastian was tall, slim and favoured dark clothes that matched his black hair and dark piercing eyes. He tried a smile that showed uneven teeth, a glint in his eyes, a black mustache and black hair, which looked as though it hadn’t been cut in a year. He sat back and smiled at Hazlett. “What’s this about, Inspector?”

“A young woman was found murdered in a barn not far from here. We were hoping you or your friends might be able to identify her for us.”

“Bummer.” Sebastian leaned forward, and a gold chain dangled from his neck.

He picked up the picture, studied it for a few seconds, and shook his head. He started to rise. “Is that it?” “Just a few more questions, Mr. Ward. These are pretty posh surroundings. How much does it cost a month?”

“With respect, Inspector, that’s really not your business.”

“I can make it so.”

Sebastian suddenly tensed. You could hear it in his voice. “About a thousand a month.”

Archie whistled. “That’s more than I make a year.”

“Do you come from a rich family, Mr. Ward?”

“You might say that,” he said, trying to suppress a smile. “In case you’re wondering, I’ve only been here three months. Before that, I was bumming around San Francisco. It was Nirvana. You’d have to experience Haight-Ashbury to know what I mean.”

Hazlett returned his smile. “Kindly ask the lady at the entrance to send us the next guest.”

Sebastian saluted and left, leaving an uneasy silence behind him.

Hazlett looked at Archie, who looked ready to explode and shook his head. “I always like interviewing someone who’s very sure of himself. They always let something out of the bag without realizing it. First, if he was bunking with friends in San Francisco, you can imagine how posh those surroundings were. And second, if he’s up to his next in the drug culture.”

The door suddenly opened to a tall blonde. “I’m Arabella Marney. I want you to know I’m not here because I want to. As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than attack dogs doing the establishment’s bidding. Why do you want to see me?”

“Before you do anything, kindly sit down with us.”

“What else?”

“You’re a very attractive young woman, Miss Marney.”

“So a lot of guys tell me.”

Hazlett smiled and pushed a picture across the table.

“We’d like you to look at this picture. The woman in this picture was murdered two days ago in a barn close by. We’re having a problem identifying her, and letting her family know that she has died. If you know who she is, we would be indebted to you. So would her family.”

Arabella studied the picture for some time before putting it down and closing her eyes. “How did she die?”

“She was choked to death.”

“I don’t know who she is. I can tell you. However, she doesn’t run with the people I do.” She paused.

“Her family deserves to know how she died.”

She looked away and left without another word.

Jack Carstairs opened the door with a broad smile. He was a music producer and dressed like an entertainer. He sat down and introduced himself, passing his card to Hazlett and Archie.

Hazlett showed him the picture. Carstairs took a quick look and shook his head.

“I have a good memory for faces, Inspector, and if I had seen her before, I’d remember. If you’re in my line of work, it pays to remember faces and names. If you don’t mind my asking, what’s this all about?”

“She was murdered in a barn two days ago, not far from here. There was nothing on her body to tell us who she was. We can’t even inform her family.”

Carstairs was nodding. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here with this mob. For the record, I don’t take drugs. In my business, you’re used to seeing it all around you. I’m here as Moller’s guest. I’m trying to talk him into investing in a new star I’m promoting. She’s worth a million pounds. And that’s conservative. If you know of anyone who might be interested, let me know. You have my card.”

“I’m curious about one thing, Mr. Carstairs.

“Shoot.”

“Where does Professor Moller get the money to finance an enterprise like this.

Surely he doesn’t earn that kind of money as a Professor.” “He says he does a lot of research for pharmaceutical companies and collects royalties from them every month.”

“Did he happen to say which companies?”

“I didn’t ask. If he’s prepared to help me bring the next greatest entertainer to the music world, I don’t care where the money comes from.”

CHAPTER FOUR Dr. Manson Culver, Gladstonbury’s doctor for the past 18 years, sat down on the edge of his desk. His sandy-coloured hair shone in the bright sunlight that streamed

in from the small window behind him. He was wearing a white coat that showed off his slim built.

He crossed his arms before beginning. “I asked you both here today because we have the results of your latest tests. I’m sorry to tell you, Alma, we’ve detected cancer in your colon.”

Alma tightened her grip on Winton’s hand. Dr. Culver uncrossed his arms and smiled. “That’s the bad news. But if we operate now, your survival chances are excellent, and we feel you still have a long life ahead of you. But there is a proviso. It means cutting out cigarettes, hard liquor, red meat and reducing your intake of sweets. Your blood sugars are all over the map.”

“That’s pretty draconian,” said Alma.

Dr. Culver tried another smile. “I’m just telling you what you must do if you want to beat this. It’s up to you.”

Alma cried all the way home. “The cancer is bad enough without putting me on a POW diet.” The crying suddenly stopped. “Doctors always exaggerate to make it sound worse than it is.”

“I don’t know, Alma. I’ve known Mason Culver professionally for a long time, even before I became an Inspector. He’s one of the best. If I were you, I’d do exactly what he says.”

Alma lit a cigarette. Winton took it from her mouth, stamped it out and threw it in the fireplace. “I want you to outlive me.”

She put her head on his shoulders and smiled. About 10 minutes later, Winton got up. “Let’s go for a walk. It’ll put things into perspective for both of us.”

Alma liked walking, and Winton often had a hard time keeping up with her.

They were walking past St. Giles when he heard his aunt’s voice. Alma looked away.

Winton braced himself. Abagail Latham, his father’s sister, was the town’s biggest gossip. “I was planning to visit you today, Winton, about that girl who was murdered. I hear she was the mistress of that German Professor and his cloven at his den of dope addicts. I was just talking to the vicar’s wife, and I told her I would ask you what you plan to do.” She was puffing hard by the time she had finished.

“You’ll have to slow down, Winton. I can’t keep up with you the way I used to.”

Alma smiled. “Sorry, auntie. I forgot. My mind was on other things.”

Abagail grabbed Winton by the arm and made him stop. “At least tell me if the victim was from Gladstonbury? She looks familiar but I can’t place who she is.”

“Thank you, auntie. You just gave me an idea. As soon as I find out, you’ll be the first person I’ll tell. But right now, I have to get back to the station.”

Winton put his arm around his wife and kissed her before turning down King Street.

Archie was waiting for him. “Wait until you hear what Pip found out from the greeter at Moller’s Retreat.

June followed them into Hazlett’s office. “She was told the Professor’s retreat was not a real retreat, that strange people with strange names came to the Retreat at

all hours, that there were times when Moller lost control, and when he does, there’s no telling what he’ll say or do. She’s looking for a new job.”

“And I, for one,” added Archie, “would like to know where he gets the money to support a place like Moller Retreat.”

Hazlett sat back for a moment. “I think we should also put a watch on our professor at home and at the university, whom he meets and how often he’s on the phone.”

*** Alf Harris, the town’s train station master, was a friend from Hazlett’s grammar school days who flew with him as top gunner on his Lancaster. He had a dirty grey beard and flashing eyes that suggested he was up to no good. “I don’t think it’s a hippie thing,” said Alf. “They’d see it as a bad trip, especially if they’re on LSD. His voice cackled when he laughed. “What’s bothersome to me is the missing ID. A thief wouldn’t care if it was a case of theft that went wrong, but if she were murdered for another reason – that’s where you’ll find the answer you’re looking for.”

Alf always had a direct way of talking, even during their Lancaster days. “What about the bank robbery?”

“What’s everyone saying?”

“Not much. But for me, pulling that off in broad daylight took a lot of nerve.

From what I hear, the thieves seemed to know exactly where to go inside the bank, where to find the money, and get out of town without arousing suspicion. It has a smell about it.”

Maude Ainsley, the pub’s barmaid, who knew them from school days, stopped at their table. “Everyone’s talking about the woman who was murdered on Tuesday.

Anyone, we know?”

“Can’t tell you, Maude. There was no ID on her, and we’ve been asking just about everyone we can think of without getting one call.” He passed her a picture of the murdered woman.

“Is that the murdered woman? She looks different in this picture somehow,” said Maude. ”I saw them. I wondered who it was. She was in here with a young man on Tuesday. They seemed to know each other quite well.”

“Any idea who the young man was?” said Hazlett.

Maude shrugged. She had put on a few pounds in recent years but still had the same smile. “He was good-looking, and I had the impression they were a couple. I’d know him if I ever saw him again.”

“Did she have a purse with her?” Maude shrugged again. “Couldn’t tell. The young man picked up the bill.”

Alf rubbed his beard. “Winton and I were wondering about the bank robbery.

What are you hearing in the pub about it?”

“A lot of them are wondering if their money is safe in the bank. They also think it was an outside job. They can’t believe someone in Gladstonbury pulled it off.

There’s never been a bank robbery here until now.”

Hazlett smiled but didn’t say anything.

“Think about it, Winton. If I were stepping out on Joe, everyone in town would know about it before I got home.”

*** Hazlett felt renewed by the time he returned to the office. It always goes back to listening to people and the surprises they came up with, he thought. June Spottiswode was waiting for him. “I didn’t have a chance to ask you but I went to the morgue and checked the label on her clothes. I discovered they were bought in Brussels. I’ve been in that store, and I called them. I hope you don’t mind because it was long distance. I described our wanted lady, and she remembered her, that she had come into the store with her boyfriend.”

“Go on.”

“She didn’t get the woman’s name. Her boyfriend paid for the items, and they left. But she did tell me the woman spoke to her in German.”

Good things come to those who wait, he thought. “Good thinking. In the future, follow your instincts, as you did in this instance. Just keep me informed.”

There was a faint knock, and Archie entered. “There’s a lady out front who wants to talk to you. A foreigner.”

“What’s it about?”

“She didn’t say but says it’s important to you and her.”

“Send her in.”

June got up to go. “No. I want you and Archie to hear this. It may be important.”

A woman in her early 30s, with sharp eyes and high cheekbones and black curly hair, entered. She wore bright red lipstick and spoke in a loud voice. “It’s about the woman who was murdered this week. I know who she is.” She paused to search his face. “But before I do, I need you to tell me where I can find SS Major Kurt Kranz.”

“And who are you?”

“Do you know or not?”

“I may be able to tell you but it depends on who you are and why you’re asking.”

“My name is Johanna Kohler. I am from Berlin. I search out Nazi war criminals and see that they are brought to justice.”

“I do not know of a Kurt Kranz in Gladstonbury. If he is here, he may go by a different name. And that I can help you with.”

“It’s extremely important to me. Kranz killed my mother and father in front of me. I will never forget the look on his face or in his eyes. I want him to come to justice.”

Hazlett looked in the eyes. “You said you know the name of the murdered woman?”

“She goes by the name of Amélie Mettler. She was working at a Brussels art gallery. She discovered I was trying to track down the person claiming her discovery

of a Belgium painter's painting. That’s all I know.” She searched his face again.

“Now. Will you help me?”

“We will look into it for you. Where can we reach you if we learn anything?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Just be sure you don’t do anything illegal. If you find Kranz before we do, call us, and we will arrest him.”

CHAPTER FIVE “There’s a letter for you,” said Alma. “Looks important. Smells great, too.” She passed the envelope to him. Winton glanced at it and handed it to her. “It’s an invitation from Ethan Howard to a gathering to celebrate the engagement of his daughter, Wendy, to Aiden Firth, who heads the 18th Century Gallery at Gladstonbury’s Art Gallery.

Alma laughed. “Lucky guy. Marrying the daughter of one of the town’s richest men and in line to head the gallery when Rupert Etherington retires in a couple of years.”

The garden party was set for two o’clock on the front lawn of Howard’s estate – an Elizabethan manor house that Howard had restored.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” said Alma. “I need a new dress and get my hair done.” It was exactly what she needed to get her mind off her cancer problem, Alma thought, as she headed for Main Street.

*** They arrived at Howard Manor shortly after two o’clock. The garden area was already packed. The mayor was talking to Ethan Howard, shaking Aiden Firth’s hand and nodding to Wendy.

There was a yellow tent near the front, where a team of waiters loaded their trays, and two bartenders were pouring drinks. Alma jumped when she heard the sudden screeching sound. It came from one of the three peacocks that roamed among the bushes.

“You’d think someone was being murdered,” she said, still shivering and holding onto Winton’s arm as he escorted her to a nearby bench.

There was also a dovecote nearby. You could still hear the birds cooing above the voices of other guests. The lilacs were in bloom, and Winton snapped off one of the smaller branches. Alma loved the scent of lilacs and pressed the blossom to her nose as she thanked him with her eyes.

Off to the right, five young musicians, a string quintet, were playing classical music. Wendy led Aiden around to meet everyone. Aiden introduced himself and Wendy. “Any news about the poor woman who was murdered?”

“Nothing concrete. But we have been able to identify her. Seems she was looking for her father. We also heard she worked for a Belgium art gallery. Did you ever come across her?”

“I’ve seen her picture but I can’t recall ever meeting her. My interactions are usually at the director level.”

Mayor Harker found Hazlett looking among the lilacs. Like Hazlett’s wife, he loved flowers. His garden was an excellent anecdote to the stresses and strains he faced every day at the town hall.

“I’m getting a lot of calls about the murdered woman and the bank holdup.

People are concerned that criminals have taken over Gladstonbury. I don’t know what to say to them anymore.”

Harker was now in his early 60s and mayor for as long as Hazlett could remember. His thinning hairline was receding noticeably now. His grey mustache and blue eyes gave him a statesman-like appearance with a voice to match.

“I understand, Mayor Harker. But investigations take time. We’re making some headway and hoped to resolve both in the next few days. For your ears only, Mayor Harker, “we are going back to the bank tomorrow to do in-depth interviews with each member of the staff. One of our officers feels that one member is implicated. As I said, Mayor Harker, much will depend on surprise. We don’t want anyone to make any changes or hide things from us if they know we’re coming in advance.

“Good hunting,” said Mayor Harker as he turned to meet one of his councilors.

Dennis Evans, the coroner, waited until the mayor had left before approaching Hazlett. “Getting a lot of static from the mayor?”

“It’s expected.”

“I’m getting it from all sides as well.”

“I may have news for your later tomorrow.”

“Call me if you think it would involve me in any way.”

“We may have identified our dead body. I had a visit yesterday from a German woman. Says she belongs to a Jewish Nazi hunter organization looking for an SS Major in our area, who provided me with the missing woman's name. She works at the National Gallery of Belgium in Brussels. We’re trying to locate her family now.”

Fiona Spalding, the vicar’s wife, brought them tea. “The vicar and I have been worried about Alma. If there is anything we can do?”

Hazlett took a sandwich from her tray and smiled. “Alma’s just to the right of us, talking to one of our neighbours.”

“The bank robbery has made people a bit jittery, I’m afraid,” said Evans when Fiona left. “I see people sneaking glances at us, probably wondering if we’re talking about the murder.”

“Gladstonbury has never seen anything like this in its history. Do you think they’re connected?”

“It’s crossed our minds.”

Evans looked surprised.

“Two unusual crimes happen within days of each other. It’s more than just coincidence,” Hazlett said in a soft voice.

He tried it out on Archie when he returned. “I’ve been wondering about that ever since we went to visit Moller.”

“Keep this under your hat for the moment. I intend to go back to the bank with you, Pip and Tommy tomorrow morning and do in-depth interviews with every staff member, including the manager. I want this to be a complete surprise visit. I have a feeling we’ve missed something. I want to make sure.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Can’t say other than it will jump out at you when you see it.” Then, after a brief pause: “What about June?”

“I have a different role for her. I want her to enter two minutes ahead of us to open an account at the bank. Her job is to watch what goes on with the staff and how they react, and what they do and say after we leave.”

“If we discover something at the bank, and it leads us to a suspect, we’ll do doing the same with your friends at The Retreat shortly after.

Archie was about to leave when Connor came in with an envelope from the coroner’s office. Hazlett scanned the report and passed it to Archie.

“It appears that it was someone else’s blood on the victim. Type A. That and the victim had a low blood count.”

“There’s more,” added Hazlett. “I almost forgot. Tommy and Pip found a sugar cube on the floor not far from the victim. It was mixed up in some hay. Tommy thinks it may contain LSD.” “There’s local gossip, by the way, that our friend, the Professor, manufactures it at the university lab.”

“Do you have any contacts at the university who might be able to tell us more about this?”

“What about June? She’s good at getting people to talk.”

Hazlett shook his head. “Not just now. I have some other mission for her, aside from opening an account at the bank.

“She is good at chatting up just about everyone except for Connor.”

“In what way?”

“They just seem to rub each other the wrong way. Connor calls her a drug addict to her face.”

“How’s she taking it?”

“That girl can hold her own.”

Hazlett put his feet on his desk and lit a cigarette, letting the smoke drift slowly into the air. He remembered how his father would always advise him when you have a challenging problem to solve, and don’t know what to do, do something. No matter what it is. And that’s what here needed.”

Going back to the bank and treating it as a new theft gave Hazlett a sense of purpose.

There were loud voices outside, and he rose and opened the door to see Connor shaking his head at June. “You think that because you’ve got Archie around your finger that I don’t see through you. You’re a cheap liar, and who knows what you’ve got up under your sleeve.”

Hazlett had never seen or heard anything like this before. Connor was shaking and looked ready to break.

When they left, Hazlett stuck his nose out the door. “A word, June.”

She closed the door and stood with her head bowed. “I’m not going to ask you about that. Archie tells me you can hold your own. But if things do get out of hand, don’t be afraid to let me know. So that you know, I’ve never seen Connor like this before. He’s a good man.”

“I agree. Connor thinks I’m an addict. I understand where he’s coming from.

Evidently, his niece became involved in the drug culture and died of an overdose.”

Hazlett didn’t say anything for almost a minute. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about Connor. I have two special assignments for you. First, the bank. We plan to launch a surprise visit to the bank to see if we can find something that might give us a lead. We would like you to enter in five minutes before the rest of us. Tell them you’re new to Gladstonbury and want to open a bank account. We will come in a couple of minutes later and watch how the bank’s staff react. Listen to what they say about our visit and if they think it was an inside job.

“Second, The Retreat. I suspect the people at the Retreat are involved in the drug business. You may recall that Pip interviewed the receptionist who was looking for another job. She may be gone now. And you might position yourself as an applicant for her job at the Retreat. If you have any skills like esthetics or massaging or as a counsellor, tell them that, too. Your assignment will be to get a job and hear what is being said by the people who work there, and why they’re there, and if there is any talk about the murdered woman.”

June sat motionlessly. ”How’s that’s going to sit with Connor?”

He won’t know. If he asks where you are or have been, just tell him you’re on assignment. The only other person who knows is Archie.”

“I’ll do my best.” She sat in the chair opposite him, her eyes fixed on his.

“I’m concerned should you be found out that we may not know and not be able to get to you in time.”

CHAPTER SIX June was at the first teller’s wicket when Hazlett arrived with his team and headed straight for the manager’s office. The bank’s light green terrazzo floors gleamed in the morning sunshine, complementing the olive-green walls behind the tellers’ wickets. Eight large lights hanging from the ceiling illuminated the entire floor.

Cards decked either side of the wickets, mainly advertising bank promotions. The smell of evergreens hovered in the air, even up to the manager’s office on the raised landing at the rear.

“The mayor told me you might be dropping by. I haven’t alerted the others – so be prepared for some surprises,” said Lorne Yarrow, the bank’s manager for the past six years. He was in his 50s. His expertly combed hair was greying at the temples.

He had a smooth, handsome face and spoke with an authoritative voice, always with a smile.

His office had a black-and-white picture of a landing craft discharging soldiers on D-Day behind his bare mahogany desk, a fresh bouquet on an end table near his desk, along with one of those continental phones that were popular before the war.

“I see you were in the war,” said Hazlett. “Was that your landing craft?”

Yarrow just stood and looked at it for at least two minutes.

“I was flying Lancasters over Germany. I had two tours. After D -Day, they switched me to a Spitfire to harass German convoys, troop trains, that sort of thing.”

Yarrow offered him a cigarette. Hazlett shook his head. “Gave them up on my last mission.”

Yarrow lit one and sat back. “Where would you like to start, Inspector?”

“With you. We would also like to check your files and accounts.”

“We would like to oblige you, but we have an obligation to our customers to keep their financial affairs private.”

“If you want us to find the thieves who robbed your bank and, hopefully, return the 80,000 pounds to your bank, then I expect you to co-operate fully.”

Yarrow, who never felt comfortable talking about customer accounts, even with authorities, smiled, his dark brown eyes holding Hazlett’s for a few seconds.

“We would also like to know where you were last Tuesday.”

“What has that got to do with the holdup? I don’t think you know what you’re doing, Hazlett.”

“We would still like to know your whereabouts last Thursday? And the Tuesday before then.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting I somehow had anything to do with the murder of that woman or the robbery of our bank? I plan to issue a complaint about this.”

“You still haven’t told me.”

“I was at the hospital, where my wife was undergoing a chemo treatment.”

“Thank you. And I am very sorry about your wife.”

Yarrow glanced at the picture of his landing craft on D-Day. “We expect help from you, Inspector. All we’ve got so far is suspicion. And that goes for my staff. I am asking you to leave and have someone who knows how to handle a case like this come in your place.”

“It’s routine, Mr. Yarrow. While I’m here, I would like to see your vault. And who has the combination to it.”

“I do.”

“When is it opened and closed every day?”

“Ten in the morning and four in the afternoon.”

“Who locks it?”

“I do.”

The accountant popped his head in. “There’s a line up at the door. What do I tell them?

Yarrow looked at Hazlett, who looked at his watch. ”Tell them we’ll be open in about 90 minutes.”

“Getting back to the vault, what happens if you’re sick and can’t come in?”

“Our accountant can – on permission from me.”

“Do you normally have 80,000 pounds sitting in your vault?”

Yarrow didn’t respond immediately. “We had an emergency deposit the previous night from one of our local companies. They wanted it in safekeeping for three days.”

“I will need to know the name of the company and the name of their insurance company.”

“The Bricknell Fruit and Vegetable Company.

They needed to have cash on hand to pay farmers for their early crops.”

“Anyone else know about this?”

Yarrow shook his head. “The transfer came from his office/warehouse on the outskirts by armoured truck. They met me and at the rear entrance that evening around 9.30.”

“Who at the company?”

“George Bricknell, the president of the company.

We watched the guards from the armoured truck carry in the boxes of bills.

Bricknell and I checked each box to see that they were all filled with bills. We stored the money at the back of the vault.” He paused. “I am a very thorough person, Inspector. I checked to make sure each box was still full when I opened the vault. Is this going to take much longer?” he said, glancing at his wristwatch.

“Another couple minutes. You said you couldn’t recognize the accent the robbers used when they spoke to you and your staff.”

“That’s why I think locals did not carry it out.”

Hazlett had the feeling that Yarrow was not telling him everything. “Now, if you’ve got the time, I’d like to see your vault.”

“I have to open it by myself – for obvious reasons. Wait here.”

He returned two minutes later. Hazlett nodded and followed him inside. “I didn’t realize it was so large.”

Yarrow smiled for the first time. “Here is where the boxes were placed,” he said, pointing to the dimly lit back of the vault. Hazlett bent down to pick up a small object in the corner. “Looks like an inhaler. Do any of your staff have breathing problems?” He placed it in his pocket.

“Not that I know of.”

“It’s worth asking,” said Hazlett as they made their way to the banking hall. He saw June standing off to one side as Archie was questioning her teller.

“I’d like to talk to your accountant first.”

Yarrow nodded and led him to Royce James’s desk behind the counter. James, now in his late 40s, with greying hair and dark excited eyes, was reliving the nightmare of having a gun pressed against his forehead. He could still feel it and hear a voice ordering him to take them to the vault.

“They threatened to lock me in the vault when they finished removing the money. One had a terrible laugh. It sounded like a wild animal. James had a patch on the forefinger of his right hand and kept rubbing it.”

Yarrow had knitted his eyebrows. “Anything else, Royce.”

“I wish I could remember more. I’m sorry I let you down, Mr. Yarrow.”

“It’s alright, Royce. You were very brave and went through an ordeal no one should have to face. I know you don’t want to. But I think you need to take some time off – a cruise or a trip to someplace where you can recover.”

Yarrow patted him on the back and turned to Hazlett. “Anything else?”

“If I may, I think your bank should undertake a thorough review of all your accounts.”

“We’re one step ahead of you. It’s already been ordered.”

Pip talked to Clive Hosking, a 27-year-old six-footer with light brown hair and a smooth baritone voice that came alive when he described what had happened.

“I don’t mind telling you. I was scared out of my wits when they marched in. There were five of them. Each of them covered their faces with masks as soon as they locked the door behind them. Before I forget, they were all dressed the same.”

“Were they fat, skinny, short or tall?”

“Two of them had a bit of beef on them, Inspector, and the other three were about average. One was shaking and coughed a lot. I had the feeling they all knew what they were doing – as though they had rehearsed it 100 times.”

“Did you have the impression they already knew the layout of the bank?”

Hosking looked at Yarrow, who nodded. “You’d almost swear they had a plan of the bank. They seemed to know where everything was.”

Stephanie McCarthy, who had joined the bank a year earlier, had red hair and a temperament to match. The robbery didn’t seem to bother her. “They came in. Made us empty our cash in a flour sack and went about everything in a business-like manner. One of them kissed me on the way out.”

“Did you see his face?” said Archie.

“I had my eyes closed.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“None of your business.”

“Answer the constable, McCarthy.” Yarrow looked her stare down.

“Like most girls my age, I do. “ “His name?”

“Martyn Littlewood. He’s in the army and is stationed quite a long way from here.

We’ve been seeing each other for a long time.”

Jocelyn Furness’s round face was smiling at one of Pip’s questions. “I am engaged to a wonderful man. We have known each other for five years and plan to get married in September. His name is Iain Blackhurst.”

“You don’t seem too upset about the robbery,” said Hazlett.

“I was very, very upset. Just ask Hilda Deavy, who works next to me. I felt I was having a heart attack, and she had to grab me to keep me from falling when I started to blackout.

The robbers were so busy at the time, they didn’t notice.”

“What about you, Hilda?”

In her late 30s, Hilda had large brown eyes and full red lips and the figure of a 22-yearold. She brushed back an errant curl from her forehead, and her lips seemed to quiver before she spoke.

“I was scared. My heart was pounding in my ears all the time they were here. I feared that someone would try something foolish, and all hell would break out.”

“Did you notice anything? About the robbers, how they dressed, how they spoke to each other, that sort of thing?”

“I’d rather forget all about it.” Then, after a pause: “They were young. One of them called me an old bitch, and ‘maybe we should put her out of her misery.’”

Later, back at the station, they reviewed their interactions with bank staff.

“First, you, June,” said Hazlett. “You were the innocent bystander, noting everything that was taking place and their reaction to it.”

“They thought Pip and Tommy were cute and wondered if they were married.”

Everyone laughed. “The staff also talked about what they planned to tell us,” added June.

“Did any of them indicate they might know one of the robbers?” asked Archie.

“Not directly. But I had a sense that one or two knew more than they were saying by the way they exchanged knowing smiles.”

“What would you suggest?”

“My inclination, Archie, is to put those two on watch for a few days and find out who they’re seeing and where they go. It may yield something we don’t know yet. I would also check their financial status while we’re at it,” said Hazlet, who had a grin for the first time in days.

“I’ve reached a couple of conclusions from today’s investigation. First, the 80,000 pounds stolen were not the bank’s but belonged to the Bricknell Fruit and Vegetable Company. Second. I intend to visit the president of Bricknell and see if he can shed more light on the robbery. Third. I think it’s obvious to all of us that someone had to know all about the 80,000 pounds, as well as when and where the notes would be placed in the bank, And four. One of the robbers has a breathing problem and another, a sore forefinger.”

He held up the inhaler from his pocket. “I found this inside the vault. Mr. Yarrow assures me none of his staff has a breathing problem.”

CHAPTER SEVEN The Bricknell office/warehouse was located on the outskirts of Gladstonbury, a 15-minute drive from the station. The original office had been levelled in the war and rebuilt two years after. The Town Council at the time offered it as a model for the town’s new industrial park.

Bricknell was waiting for him at the main entrance. He was tall, tailored in the latest style, with a ready smile that made him successful in business.

“Thank you for coming, Inspector. We pray you can help to bring the criminals to justice. I received a communication from our insurance company last week, telling me they were not liable and would not cover our loss because the transfer of our money was not done in their approved manner.”

Bricknell put his arm on Hazlett’s and moved towards the lobby. “Let us go to my office and tell me if there is anything I can do at this stage.”

They went to Bushnell’s office on the second floor, which overlooked a green meadow and a brook beyond, and his office painted light blue with a white carpet covering the entire floor. They sat on a sofa near his desk. There was a knock on the door, and a young woman entered with a trolly.

“It’s teatime. Please join me.”

“Before that, let me tell you where we stand,” said Hazlett.” Our investigative team spent most of the morning at the bank. We’ve reached a number of conclusions.”

Bricknell passed him a cup of tea and leaned forward.

“We believe the robbery was an inside job. Someone or some persons, either in your company or the bank, tipped off the thieves about the money transfer. We believe it involves locals and that they had professional help to carry it off. We also believe there is a connection between the robbery and the so-called Retreat not far from here.”

“How can we help?”

“First off, I think we should interview all individuals in your company who were involved in the transfer. Don’t leave anyone out, including family.”

Bricknell took off his jacket. “Where and when do we start?”

“How many people were involved?”

“Three, including my daughter. She works with me and has taken a big load off my shoulders.”

“Let’s talk to her first.”

Rebecca Bricknell arrived a few minutes later. She favoured her father in looks, even copying the way he walked and smiled. She was in her early 20s and spoke with authority and firmness. She wore a mini skirt and a revealing blouse, and her red hair seemed to dance when she was excited.

Bricknell introduced Hazlett. She sat down opposite her father. “We need all the help you can give us,” she said, sitting back and waiting for Hazlett’s response.

“Have you ever been to The Retreat?”

Bricknell sat up and waited for her response.

There was a short pause before she answered. “I was there once with Geoff, my boyfriend.”

“Whom did you meet there?”

“The director. Professor Moller. He’s such a dear.”

“Are you aware that there are rumours that he is producing LSD at his university lab?”

Her red hair fell over the left side of her face, and she tossed her hair back. “Don’t believe it.” She paused again. “And what, if I might ask, has this to do with the bank robbery. That’s what you should be focusing on. I would appreciate it if you would concentrate on that.”

Her father shook his head and looked at Hazlett.

“As you wish, miss. What exactly was your role in the money transfer?”

“Why is that important? I certainly wasn’t one of the robbers. Just ask anyone in the office. I’ve never had a day or an afternoon off since I started out.”

“The Inspector has his reasons, Rebecca.”

She took a deep breath. “I arranged for the armoured car and talked with Mr. Yarrow about the best time for the armoured car to transfer the cash from the armoured car to the bank vault. That’s it. Anything else?”

“Your boyfriend. What is his name, and what does he do. I will also need his telephone number.”

“Are you for real?”

“Rebecca.” Bricknell gave her a sharp look.

“Geoff Jarvis. He’s a lawyer. I’ll have his number typed and ready for you when you leave.” She rose and left without looking back. Bricknell looked sheepish.

Harry Farrar had worked at Bricknell since the 1920s. He walked with a slight stoop and wore thick glasses. His hair had turned white, and three of his side teeth were missing. He took off his cap as he entered the office.

“Nice to see you again, Harry. Please join us for tea.” Bricknell rose and poured him a tea. “No sugar, right?”

Harry nodded, bit on the scone, and placed the remainder on the saucer of the China cup. “How can I help you, Mr. Bricknell?”

Bricknell introduced Hazlett. “We hope the Inspector gets our money back.”

Harry smiled, showing his missing teeth.

Hazlett smiled, too. “I’m trying to understand how the money got from Bricknell to the bank’s vault. What was your role?”

“I was just inside the garage to stop anyone from entering while the money was placed in the armoured car and driven with the guards to the bank.”

“Did anyone ask you what all the hush-hush was all about?”

Harry shook his head. “They didn’t need to. Just about everyone in the company knew about it.”

“How?” “Someone saw Laura packing stacks of banknotes into boxes.”

Bricknell felt sick. If there was any hope of getting the insurance company to cover the loss, it was no possible way now, he thought.

“Anything else, Mr. Bricknell?” said Harry.

Bricknell shook his head.

Harry finished his tea and stood. “Thank you for your hospitality. You’re just like your father. Bless his soul.” He turned at the door. “Should I ask Laura to see you?”

Laura Williams, like Harry, was a long-time Bricknell employee. She stood erect in front of them and turned down Bricknell’s offer for tea.

“We need your help, Laura. Inspector Hazlett is here to help us. He has a few questions.

Just tell him as though you were telling me.”

Laura nodded. She kept folding and unfolding her hands. Her dress was below her knee, and she wore a red sweater over her dress. Her hair was black with streaks of grey, and her brown eyes looked tired.

“We’re trying to determine each step of the process of how the money got from your office to the bank vault. I understand you were one of three people involved.”

“My job was to pack all the notes in boxes, place the boxes on a cart and wheel them to the garage.”

“We understand someone saw you packing the notes.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bricknell. It’s been eating me ever since. It was a man. Even though there was a sign stating KEEP OUT in large letters on the door to my office, he just popped in.

“Who was this, Laura?”

“One of the new employees. I don’t know his name.”

Hazlett caught her eye. “Would you know him if you saw him again?”

“Maybe. I saw the man for only a few seconds, and he was gone. I yelled at him to get out.”

“Do you keep pictures of your employees?” said Hazlett.

“We do, thank heavens.” Bricknell stood and returned two minutes later with a fat book of employee pictures and their names. He directed Laura to a seat and placed the book on her lap. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Laura looked up a minute or two later. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bricknell. I feel I let you down, and Bricknell down.”

“It’s not your fault, Laura.”

“This is not getting us anywhere,” said Bricknell, who decided to take a cigarette break.

Hazlett used the time touring the garage, warehouse, and its food-packaging operation. He found Bricknell near the entrance.

“What do you honestly think. Inspector?”

“I haven’t changed my mind, and the more people I talk to, the more convinced I am. I just need to connect the dots.”

“Sorry about Rebecca. She’s got mixed up with the people at The Retreat. I would never have believed it if I didn’t hear it from her lips.”

“I don’t believe she was party to the bank robbery if that’s any consolation.”

Laura was waiting for them when they returned. “I think it’s this man,” she said, pointing to the second picture on page 87. I called a couple of old friends in the warehouse and found out his name was Gavin Lord. He joined us a month ago. They don’t know much about him either, other than they think he’s a dope addict. Unfortunately, he quit a few days ago, just after the robbery. No one has seen him since. One last thing: Everyone was glad to see him go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT “We’ve scheduled your cancer operation at 11 o’clock tomorrow morning. You’ll be with us recuperating for at least a week,” said Dr. Culver.

“Could we put it off for at least a week or two? I didn’t realize it would be this soon.”

Alma lost all the colour in her face, and she seemed to become smaller in her chair.

“We could, but, as your physician, I must tell you that cancer is hard to control and can sometimes spread to other parts of your body unnoticed. If you knew what I do about cancer, you would be asking me to do it today.”

Alma looked at Winton. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. He took her hand and rubbed it. “I think Dr. Culver is right, Alma. I don’t want to lose you.”

Alma nodded absently and withdrew into herself. Winton had seen this before and knew it was his wife’s way of handling significant problems in her life.

“How should she prepare for it?”

“The operation is set for 11 tomorrow morning. Alma should be at the hospital by 9.30, and she should not eat breakfast or anything else until the operation is over.

Alma decided to go to bed when they returned home. She flicked on the switch for the TV and turned her face to the wall. *** “Nice to see you again, Inspector,” said Agnes Childers, matron at Gladstonbury’s Hospital. Agnes, who had light blue eyes and blond hair was done up in a bun on the top of her head, sat behind a light wood-paneled wall with a window where she could talk to patients. Agnes decided to let Winton handle all the arrangements and left her station at the other side of the room, where she could look out at the hospital grounds through large floorto-ceiling windows. Hazlett turned and waved her to join him.

“Dr. Culver mentioned you would be here today, Alma, and undergoing surgery.”

Alma nodded and tried to smile.

“Come with me, dear. We need to get you ready for the operation room.”

“Can my husband come with me?”

“Absolutely.”

Winton followed them to the room where she would spend a week recovering from the operation. Alma took off her clothes and put on a hospital gown. Winton had brought a book of crosswords for her while recuperating.

“Are you still there, Winton?”

“I will not be leaving until the operation is over, and I know that everything is fine.”

At sharp 11, they wheeled her into the operating room. Winton left to seek out Agnes.

“How long will it take?”

“That depends on what they find. It could be an hour or two or more. No two are alike.”

She put her arm on his shoulder. “You need something to occupy your mind in the meantime. Why not call your station? Sometimes, we don’t know how to handle things and need someone to guide us. I’m going to make my rounds now. Call your station. You can use my phone or from the box out front.”

Connor answered the phone. ” Everything’s quiet for the moment. Pip is having lunch with one of the tellers from the bank, Stephanie McCarthy. He describes her as an Irish redhead. Archie has been talking to the bank examiners, who arrived this morning. I have no idea where Constable Spottiswode is. She hasn’t reported in. Nothing. I don’t know where she is. Should I get Archie to track her down?”

“Don’t worry about her, Connor. And don’t talk to anyone about her, either in the station or outside. And ask Archie to call me at the hospital when he returns.”

Agnes returned about 30 minutes later. “I took a quick peek into the operating room.

Everything seems to be going well.”

“Thank you, Agnes. I used your phone to call the station. I may be getting a call from them in the next hour or two.”

Hazlett went off to one side to read The News of the World and barely finished when Agnes stood and called out to him. She held up the phone and pointed to it.

It was Archie. “Pip is walking on air. It seems the Irish redhead has a secret boyfriend, who is a frequent visitor to The Retreat. She told Pip she often goes there with him. She didn’t say she took any drugs but he had the feeling she had.”

“Congratulate Pip and tell him to arrange another date with the Irish redhead.” Hazlett paused to look out the window at a passing fire engine. “Any word about June?”

“Not so far.”

“If you do, tell her to call my home number. It’s in my wife’s name.”

“How is Alma?”

“Not sure. Alma’s been in the operating room for over an hour. I hope to hear very soon,” Hazlett added, seeing Agnes approach him. “We’ll talk tonight.”

Agnes sat down beside him. “The operation is over, and Alma is in Recovery. She should be in her room an hour from now. Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Hungry or not, you need substance. You’re not going to be much help to your wife if you’re not strong. There’s a pub around the corner. If you’re back by two, your wife should be in her room and wide awake.”

It was an Irish pub called Michael Collins, which served Irish whiskey, beer and Irish sandwiches. He ordered a beer and a sandwich and looked around the pub. There were large coloured pictures behind Collins's bar and photographs and several other Irish heroes who died in the Easter Uprising. A young woman with dark hair and dancing eyes brought him the beer and sandwich. He paid her and watched her go back and talk to the man behind the bar. They both kept looking at him as they spoke.

Twenty minutes later, Hazlett was back at the hospital.

“You missed a big uproar here just after you left. A young man was brought into the hospital. He had overdosed, and his buddies worried whether he would die and dumped him here and left. We were able to bring him around. And that’s when the fun started. He started screaming, got off the gurney and ran up and down the halls as though the devil, himself, was chasing him. They have him in a straitjacket for the time being.”

“Where is he now? I want to talk to him.”

“I’ll take you to the room we have him in. I don’t feel comfortable being around someone like that.”

It was a 21-year-old with long disheveled brown hair that covered part of his face. He tried to struggle from the constraints that bound him to the bed and started to swear at Hazlett.

“Where are you from?”

The youth tried to spit at him, but it lacked force and landed back on his face. Hazlett took some toilet paper and wiped his face. He found a washcloth in the toilet, dampened it, wiped the young man’s face, and pushed back the stringy hair from the young man’s forehead. “What else can I do to help you?”

“You can get me out of here.”

“I might just be able to do that but before that happens, I will need to know your name.”

His voice was softer now. “What about a fix? I’m in desperate pain.”

“I’m not sure about that but I can arrange to make you feel a whole lot more comfortable.”

Hazlett stood back. “You could become somebody if you gave yourself half a chance.”

“You also said you could help me.”

“I also said that before anything happens, I need your name.”

“Michael Sullivan. From County Down.”

Hazlett pressed the buzzer and asked for the matron. Agnes appeared a few minutes later. “You called, Inspector.”

“Young Michael Sullivan from County Down is in great pain. He needs something to take the pain away.”

Agnes disappeared and another, younger nurse appeared with a hypodermic needle.

She rubbed Sullivan’s forearm with rubbing alcohol and gave him a shot.”

“This isn’t heroin,” he said as she withdrew the needle.

“No. I never said it was. I said I would give you something to feel more comfortable. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you do.” Then, after a pause, “can I trust you to behave the way your blessed mother taught you?”

Sullivan nodded and held up his wrists. Hazlett untied the cord on both his arms and helped him sit up. “Now, Michael Sullivan from County Down, what can I get the chef to bring you? You must be hungry.”

“For a copper, you’ve been very kind to me. What’s this all about?”

“Let us just say my ancestors came from County Down, bless her soul.” Hazlett pressed the buzzer again. The younger nurse appeared again. “Could you bring this handsome lad some a couple corn beef sandwiches and a big mug of tea?”

The matron told me to tell you that your wife is out of recovery, in her room, and asking for you.”

“Go and find a couple of corn beef sandwiches and a mug of tea. I’ll keep young Michael Sullivan company until you appear with Michael’s order.”

“What is wrong with your wife, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She has cancer and had an operation this morning.”

Sullivan hung his head for a minute. “You must think I’m a perfect ass, Inspector.”

“No. Just someone who has lost his way and found it again.”

“What happens if I get sick again. Just press this button and ask for the same help they gave you before. I’ll leave word with the matron.”

Five minutes later, the young nurse appeared with two sandwiches and two mugs of tea. “Couldn’t find corn beef but we did find some leftover pork from yesterday,” she said, passing them to Sullivan. She swung a tray across his bed and placed the two mugs of tea on it.”

“I’ll pop by after seeing my wife.”

“I hope she’s all right.”

Hazlett went to see Agnes first. “How did it go?”

“All I can tell you is that Dr. Culver didn’t seem unhappy about the operation. You always know when he is.” She gave him a big smile and accompanied him down the long corridor to her room. Alma was eating a sandwich and sipping tea from a straw.

“How do you feel?”

“Like hell. Especially any time I try to move.”

Dr. Culver appeared at the door. “How is the patient?”

“As though my whole insides have been taken out.”

“You’ll feel a lot better by the end of the week.”

Alma closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Dr. Culver smiled. “When she wakes up, tell her we were able to remove every cancer cell.”

Hazlett left an hour later. “She might wake up tonight,” said Agnes but even then, she’ll drift off again. Her body had undergone quite a trauma today. She’ll be much better tomorrow.”

Hazlett stopped by Sullivan’s room. He was sitting up and reading The Observer. He put it down immediately as Hazlett entered.

“How are you feeling now?”

“A lot better but I would still give anything for a shot of heroin. I know that’s not what you want to hear but it’s the truth, and I owe you that.”

“Try to stick with it. I can tell by talking to you that you’re a smart lad with a lot of promise. I’d hate to see you throw it all away for something like this.”

“I’m weak.”

“You may be in your mind but not in the minds of the doctors and nurses who saved your life when you were admitted.”

“I have to leave now. I’ll call Constable Pip. He’s about your age, and I think you could learn a lot from each other.”

CHAPTER NINE June felt cold and tightened the collar of her sweater as she waited for her interview.

Two other applicants left a few minutes later after. No one spoke or even nodded to each other while they were waiting.

A young man with black wavy hair, a round face and a laugh that somehow made others laugh with him stuck his face through the door and waved her to join him. “My name is Gideon Forester, and you are?” He loosened his blue-striped tie and sat back. “I hate interviews. How about you?”

“I don’t like them either, but I need a job.”

They both laughed. Gideon took off his jacket. “It’s getting hot in here. Does it bother you?”

“I don’t mind it. I’m not used to it.” They both laughed again.

“You have a great way with you.” He paused to smile again at her. “Do you have a particular job in mind?

“I just need a job. I don’t care what it is. I’m broke. I lived in London, but when my mother died, I brought her back here to be buried. She was born here. I decided to stay so that I could be with her.”

“I gather you’re not married then?”

“No. And no one seems to want to marry me either.”

“That could change. More than one young lady had found a husband here.”

“What about relatives in Gladstonbury?”

“I’m all alone and broke.”

Gideon’s round face broke into a smile. “We do have an opening. An entry-level position – to welcome guests and help them connect with other like-age people or younger. A few housekeeping things. You must wear a uniform, and you will be required to sleep onsite. That applies to everyone who works here. I hope that is not a problem.”

“Anything but. At the moment, I’m bunking with a friend. I planned to find a place of my own once I got a job.”

His desk dominated the room. It was large and polished so that it gleamed in the sun from the window on the right that overlooked the entrance gardens. Gideon noticed her interest. “It’s a good way to keep track of who’s coming to visit.”

Gideon had a small scar on his upper right cheek, dark brown hair and soft brown eyes that seemed to search everywhere. He wore reading glasses and put them in his jacket pocket when he was finished reading.

His office had an antiseptic feel about it. Nothing was out of place. The green painted steel cabinet next to his desk looked as though it had never been used. He put his palms together and smiled. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Nothing much to tell. After graduation, I worked for an investment broker in London as a stenographer.”

“Have you ever worked for a restaurant or a hotel, where you had to deal with people?”

“No, but in my job, I had to deal with some wealthy and difficult people. My boss told me I was good at it.”

Gideon got up and sat on the edge of this desk. “Are you prepared to learn some new skills?” He was watching her reaction carefully now.

“That would be wonderful. Things are changing rapidly in today’s world. And the only way to survive, I believe, is to take advantage of these changes and keep on learning for as long as you live.”

Gideon smiled. “You’re exactly the kind of person we’re looking for,” he said, holding her eyes with his for almost a minute. It made her feel uncomfortable.

“You have a very challenging job,” she said.

“More than you realize. Are you ready to join us?”

“I would jump at the chance.”

“You’ll have to start at the bottom, but promotions come quickly for promising recruits.”

He stood. “When can you start?”

“Right now. As I said, I’m broke.”

“Let me remind you that you will be required to work, eat and sleep here every day and night for the first year, and even then, you will be expected to be available for special assignments.”

“Why?” “We want each recruit to eat, sleep and breathe The Retreat and believe in everything it does, its philosophy and our way of doing business. You must also sign an undertaking never to reveal anything about the Retreat. If you can’t live with that, we understand. We want not just smart people but committed people. We’re very successful, and we do not want anyone stealing or spying on our methods.”

“What about the pay?”

Ten pounds a week, less two pounds to cover meals and room rent. Your wages will be deposited to your account in the local bank, and you will receive a report on how exactly you have in your account. So, what do you think?”

“Where do I sign up?”

“Before you make a final commitment, let me show you your bedroom and our dining rooms. There are two. One on this floor and one on the ground floor, where you will have a chance to mingle with guests, and maybe you’ll find the love of your life.”

He stood and extended his hand. “Then let me show you around. First stop, the second-floor dining room. Are you hungry? It’s almost noon, I see.”

June liked what she saw and the choice of dishes. She ordered haddock with mashed potatoes and hadn’t tasted anything like it.

“What do you think?”

“It’s a first-class restaurant. I never had the chance to eat in a restaurant like this ever before.”

Gideon smiled. “Now,” he said, as they finished their meal, “it’s time to visit your room. “ “How do I get my things sent to me here?”

“I’ll send someone to pick them up and deliver them to your room.” He paused.

“What did you say your name is?”

“June Spottispode. If you have a slip of paper, I’ll write down the address for you. It will make things easier for everyone if I talk to Linda and ask her to pack my belongings for your messenger.”

They paused outside an empty office. Gideon opened the door. “You can use the phone here.”

“Linda. It’s June. Can you hear me? You sound faint to me. I need you to pack all my belongings. I’ll be sending someone to pick them up for me.”

“Is something wrong? Your voice sounds different somehow. Where are you, in case we need to reach you?”

“I’ve got a terrific new job. Pays a lot. But I’m on duty 24 hours a day. Can’t talk right now. I’m in a big hurry. Thanks awfully. You’re always so good to me. One day I’ll repay you for all your help.”

Gideon, who had been listening on the other phone, smiled. “You’re going to fit in here wonderfully. Now, let’s show you where you’ll sleep.” It was just down a long corridor near the end on the right-hand side.”

He opened the door. The room was surprisingly large, with a large bay window and Venetian blinds, a view of the forest behind the Retreat. Her bed was right angles to the window, and a 19-inch TV sat opposite the wall. A large wardrobe stood next to it.

“Your room is cleaned every day. You’ll find a full line of cosmetics and facial creams in the closet over the sink.”

They left the dormitory area and headed for the entrance, where she saw some of The Retreat’s guests – a mixture of young people and older men and women wearing expensive clothing.

“What about my duties?”

“You’ll start here, welcoming new and returning guests. From there, you’ll graduate to meeting the needs of individual guests. We’ll teach you how to do facials and massages and create an ambience with special sound-bending things.

We’ll talk about them later.”

He put his palms together and smiled again. “We’ve covered a lot of ground today. That’s enough for the time being. Any questions?”

“What about days off?”

Gideon could read the disappointment in her face. “I hope this doesn’t discourage you. And before I forget, there’s also a bonus at the end of the year. The bonuses are quite generous and depend on what you do and your contribution at the end of each year. Let me take you on a tour. You’ll note that uniforms are worn by all persons, starting at entry-level. You’ll find your uniform already laid out for you.”

“What precisely do I do at the entrance so that I don’t miss a step?”

“Let us show you and where you can watch other entry staff handle each newcomer. Do you know the way back to your room?”

June nodded and smiled back at him.

“Then meet me back here in 15 minutes, and we’ll start the process.

She returned 15 minutes later with fresh lipstick and in her blue uniform.

He led her to the entrance. “You’re supposed to know each person who comes to The Retreat and greet them by name.”

The young woman sitting on a stool at the entrance watched Gideon explained her duties and what she should do should there be any problems. “I have to get back. Jenny will show you exactly what to do. Watch what she does and try greeting a couple of visitors yourself. Any questions?”

Jenny watched him as he walked away. June knew without any doubt that Jenny was fascinated, probably infatuated by Gideon.

“Don’t you think he’s handsome?”

June knew better than to agree. “He’s not my type.”

*** “Inspector Hazlett. My name is Linda Edgecombe. It’s about June. I had a strange call from June. Her voice sounded very strange. Not the way she usually talks, and it bothered me. I thought you should be aware of it.”

“Thank you, Linda. What was the reason for her call?”

“She asked me to pack her belongings and that someone would pick them up later today.”

“Did they say when they would be there?”

“By the sound of her voice, sooner rather than later.”

“We’ll have someone pop by and follow them. Our people will be a discreet distance away. They probably won’t even notice him. What is your address? Now listen to me carefully, Linda. I know where she is. If she calls again and asks about her mother, call me immediately. Just as soon as you hang up.” He paused. “Please do not tell anyone else about this. It might put her life in danger, Hazlett left his office and found Tommy Thomas and Pip huddled and talking in whispers. “I want you to follow someone who will be picking up a parcel from the house at 215 Earnscliffe Road. Leave now, follow them by car at a discreet distance, and report back to me. I think I already know but I need it confirmed.”

*** Evening was the time when everything came alive at The Retreat. She and Jenny passed 18 couples along to Sherry, an attractive Eurasian in her early 30s, who disappeared with them into the Inner Sanctum.

“What goes on at the Inner Sanctum?” June said when Sherry returned.

“You’ll find out soon enough. I overhead Gideon tell Professor Moller that he was putting you on a fast track. Are you his girlfriend or what?”

“Someone just like you, Sherry, but not as beautiful as you. You’re stunning.”

Sherry wasn’t buying. “What were you doing after you came here?”

“I was a stenographer for an investment banker and had to deal with a lot of wealthy and difficult clients.”

“There’s a party later at Mona Green’s room. Every new girl has to go through it. You’ll love it.”

June tried to smile. She didn’t feel good about it, but she also knew that Sherry would make her life miserable if she didn't go. “I’ll be there.”

When her shift was over, she dropped by the downstairs dining room for a sandwich and a pot of tea. She had barely sat down when she suddenly found herself in the shadow of a tall man.

“You’re new. Do you mind if I sit down? You look a bit tired. My name is Alex Carstairs. I’m a musical talent producer and am looking for the Professor to introduce an exciting new voice to the world. I haven’t had much success so far but you never know. Tomorrow could change my life forever. A lot of high rollers come here to sample the delights of the Inner Sanctum. Maybe an Arab prince or a politician with rich backers. It only needs one.”

“What exactly is the Inner Sanctum” Everyone seems to talk about it in hush tones.”

“You really don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“You are something. No wonder Gideon raves about you. The Inner Sanctum is a place where anything goes. And I mean anything. You name it. Sex, drugs, anything the human mind can conjure.”

“I’m curious about something else. The girls have invited me to an initiation party tonight. I don’t feel comfortable about it somehow. What would you suggest?

Sherry tells me they’re a lot of fun.”

“Great if you like LSD. They all get high, and God knows what happens. I know Sherry. Watch your back. She can be quite a handful.”

Sherry was waiting for her at the end of the shift. Three others joined her, and they all headed for Mona Green’s room, giggling all the way. Sherry introduced June and passed her a Cognac. They all raised their glasses and shouted, “The Retreat.”

Beth Timpson sat down beside her. “Where do you come from?”

June told her about her mother dying and how she moved to Gladstonbury, where her mother was buried.

“How did you hear about us?”

“From a friend in London.”

Beth, who liked to toss her blond hair because she thought it was sexy, shook a small box. “Who’s going to join me?”

Sherry and the others raised their hands. She looked at June. “How about you?”

June took one and exchanged it for another sugar cube she had brought with her. She swallowed it, amazed at how sweet it was.

The room suddenly started going around, and she felt like vomiting. June found herself trying to grab Sherry’s arm but it wasn’t where she thought it was, and she could hear the laughter of the others before she blacked out.

She woke sometime later on her bed. She checked the clock. 4.38. She turned and suddenly saw Sherry at the bottom of her bed.

“Who are you really? And what are you doing here.”

CHAPTER TEN “Why are you really here?” said Sherry. “You’re different from the rest of us. There’s

something not right about you, and I’ll find out before I’m done. Don’t bother denying anything. But understand that if you do anything that causes a problem for me or The Retreat, you’ll never leave here alive.”

June felt herself slipping back to sleep. When she woke four hours later, she showered and dressed and heard Sherry’s voice in her head and her warning.

Mona Green and Sherry joined her for breakfast. It was as though nothing had happened at all. “What do you think of our initiation?” said Mona, tossing back her blond hair. “Some people can’t handle it.”

“I’m just glad it’s all over.”

Sherry and Faith laughed.

A few minutes later, Sherry walked her to her post. “The warning I gave you last night was not part of our initiation. If you do anything that harms The Retreat in any way, let me repeat, you will not leave here alive.”

She left June standing by herself. The door opened, and cold morning air rushed in with it, making her shiver. When she wandered into the dining room later, she was joined by a man and a woman, who described themselves as friends of Professor Moller.

“You’re new here,” said the man, who introduced himself as Florian BrilLhart and his companion, Sonje.

“We’re bankers,” added Florian, who looked over his black-rimmed glasses in June. “ “We’re both from Switzerland,” said Sonje, a thin woman with light brown hair and watery blue eyes. She liked to smile, and her face lit up every time she did.

“This is my second day.”’

Florian looked at her over his black-rimmed glasses. “How do you like it so far?”

“It’s heaven.”

“It’s that all right,” said Sonje.

Florian put down The News of the World. “Perhaps you can tell me. Did they ever find out about the woman who was killed a week or so ago?”

“I’m not sure. I saw the picture of the dead woman in our local paper. Other than that, I haven’t been following it. My focus has been getting a job, and I have been fortunate to land here.”

“We met her,” said Sonje suddenly. “We had lunch with her on the boat to Dover. She was such a lively thing. Florian and I were saddened to hear of her death and seeing her picture in your paper.”

“She was very excited,” added Florian. “She told us she would be meeting someone the next morning in London, someone who could make her a vibrant woman. Sonje and I wondered if her death had related to that.”

“You’re an amazing couple,” said June, excited by what she had just heard.

“What do you do?”

“We represent a private Swiss bank and hope to entice Professor Moller to open an account with us.”

“That’s exciting. I used to be an investment banker in London before coming to Gladstonbury.”

Florian glanced at his watch. “We have to leave now. We have an appointment with the Professor.”

June stood and shook their hands. “It was nice talking to you. Are you married?”

Sonje looked at Florian. “Hopefully, next month in Roma.”

Sherry sat down beside her. “What was that all about?”

“About the woman who has murdered a week or so ago. No one seems to know who she is.”

“Be very careful whom you talk to. They are friends of the Professor.”

It was a trying day at the front. Groups seem to come at the same time, making it difficult for her to remember each person’s name. When she finished, she was on her way to her room when she decided to sneak into the Inner Sanctum and see what it was all about. She followed a man who seemed to sway from side to side as he walked in the direction of the Inner Sanctum. She looked around for Sherry. So far, so good, she thought, hugging the shadows of the corridor a few steps behind the man, who was still weaving from side to side. He stopped suddenly, pried open the wide wood door. June was at his side in seconds. She helped him open it just enough for them both to slip inside. June was still breathing hard and felt queasy. Her heart was pounding so hard in her head she thought everyone could hear it.

The room was bathed in blue light. Several people were lying down on flat blue couches, on which men and women held each other as a soft voice intoned a prayer from above. The blue haze from Marijuana smokers blurred the scene.

A man dressed in a purple robe suddenly appeared on a rising platform and looked down on the others. He clasped his palms together as if to pray. “Let us cross over to the world of peace and experience the ecstasy of this hallowed place, where all your wishes can be experienced and fulfilled.”

The middle-aged man, whom she had followed, took a swallow from a bottle in his breast pocket and suddenly reached across her face and turned on the lights.

“Can’t stand darkness,” he muttered as Gideon suddenly appeared and turned off the lights.

He looked at June. “What happened?” “ I was following him in case he fell and needed help. When he opened the door here and looked as though he was about to stumble. It looked dark inside, and I followed him in to make sure he was all right. He turned on the lights before I knew what he was doing.”

Gideon turned to the man. “We have to leave, sir.”

“I paid to come to the Inner Sanctum, and I’m not budging until I see everything,” he said in a slurred voice.

June took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear. She then slid her arm in his and walked him out into the corridor. ” I’ve got something exceptional for you,” she added as she walked him to the front. They decided to stop at the bar and have a cocktail.

Gideon tracked them down. “I’ve never seen the Professor so upset. I told him how you were able to stop him from mingling with the others. That would have ruined everything. What did you do to quiet him down? He is vibrant and a follower of the Way and comes here three or four times a week. We’ve never seen him like this before.” Then, after a pause. “Did you see a young woman with him?”

“Just him. I intended to follow him and make sure he got to his room, but he insisted he wanted to find some lady. I forget her name now. Before I knew it, he slipped inside, and I followed. The rest, you know.”

She and Gideon took him to his room and made sure he was tucked in before shutting off the light and leaving him lying face up in his bed.

Sherry sat down beside her in the dining room a few minutes later. “Gideon told us about your experience with Mr. Ingraham. We’ve all had a similar experience with him. The Professor was very pleased. It seems that I’m the only one who has some doubts about you. My stomach tells me you’re not who you say you are.

You’re different from the rest of us, as I said before. You don’t have the fire inside you for this kind of work.”

The dining room tables were covered with white cloths. The silver gleamed in the light from the tall candle at the centre, and a faint aroma of citrus swirled around the dining room. Venetian blinds covered the large, floor-to-ceiling arched windows that overlooked the entrance and beyond. The soft sound of Puccini hovered in the air.

June looked around. Many guests had left the Inner Sanctum and stopped by the dining room for a nightcap. Her eyes strayed to a face she recognized.

“Someone, you know?”

June held Sherry’s eyes for a few seconds. “No. I was lost in thought, thinking about what you said to me – that I lacked the fire for this kind of work. To be fair, Sherry, this is just my second day. I need a job. For me, The Retreat is a gift from Heaven. I want to be your friend. Give me a chance.”

Sherry nodded but June could tell by the look in her eyes that she hadn’t changed her mind.

Gideon sat down with them. “The Professor would like to talk to you and me tomorrow.”

“What about our guest?”

“The Professor doesn’t plan to talk to him. He’s a big spender. All we can do is watch what he does and be there to make sure he doesn’t do anything that would upset the others,” he said to June. “We think you’re the right person to keep him out of trouble.”

Sherry looked miffed but didn’t offer a comment. She got up slowly and headed out of the dining room, turning as she went to give June a strange look.

“Be careful around Sherry. She’s a hard worker but very jealous. The Professor likes her and especially her devotion to The Retreat. You’d be very wise to avoid her and not invade her turf,” said Gideon.

June checked her watch. The dining room was beginning to thin out. The woman with the younger man was still there, staring into each other’s eyes. The woman reached out and covered his hand with hers.

She looked familiar, and June couldn’t quite place her. The woman tightened her lips and looked preoccupied for a few seconds. That’s when June knew where she had seen her before. She was one of the bank people.

Occasionally, she would glance in June’s direction and caught June’s eyes, looking at her. June slipped away by the side door when the woman wasn’t looking.

CHAPTER ELEVEN ‘I’d like to see Inspector Hazlett.”

“And who might you’d be, my lad?” Connor could read the suspense in the lad’s voice. “The Inspector is a busy man. Perhaps I could help you.”

“My name is Michael Sullivan. Tell him I have something important to tell him.”

Connor shook his head. What was the station coming to, he thought as he rapped on the Inspector’s door. He returned a few seconds later. “Follow me.”

“Connor tells me you have something to tell me. In the meantime, sit yourself down and relax.”

“You have made a big difference in my life, Inspector.” He paused to look at Hazlett, who had a reassuring smile. “I know the name of the woman in the picture.”

“We already have it.”

“Yes, I know, Inspector. Pip told me. But the name is wrong.”

“I didn’t see her picture until yesterday. I was out looking for work. It was a picture of my girlfriend. She worked at some posh place called The Retreat.”

Hazlett sat up. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The other woman was so assuring. But somehow, he wanted to believe Michael. “What is her name, and how it is that you came to know her?”

“Her name is Melanie Duncan. She’s a Scot and grew up on a farm. I met her at a party two years ago. We connected immediately. She introduced me to the nightmare of strong drugs and even supplied me when she came to the market once a week to buy things for her workplace.

“Why do you think she was murdered?”

“Can’t say for sure, Inspector. Other than to tell you, she got a job at The Retreat, where drugs were freely available to staff. She used to supply me on her market days. And then something happened. She went to the market in Gladstonbury every Wednesday. They chose her for the job because she came from a farming family. She always came with another girl. After that, she disappeared.”

“What did she tell you about The Retreat?”

“They provide drugs to their visitors. And that many of the girls and guys were paid extra to have sex with visitors.” Michael suddenly stopped. He looked at his hands, folded and unfolded them. “Can you tell me how she died?”

“From an insulin overdose.”

“What would you like me to do? I’ll do anything you ask to make them pay.”

“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, Michael. And it would be best if you didn’t take the law into your hands. We’ll get them.”

“But when?”

“We’re collecting information about them as we speak. That takes time. We need to do it the right way so they can’t wiggle their way out of anything. So bear with us.”

Hazlett rose and went to the door and waved Connor and Archie to join them.

Connor sat on one side and Archie on the other.” Mr. Sullivan has just informed me of the name of our dead lady. And it’s not what we were led to believe.”

Archie looked at Sullivan. “You’re the young guy Pip has been helping.”

Sullivan tried to smile, but it was apparent he felt very uncomfortable.

“What about the woman who identified her a few days ago?” said Connor.

“Good point, Connor. Track her down and bring her in for questioning.”

Connor looked at Sullivan. A druggie if he ever saw one, he thought. “What makes you believe him over this woman?”

“The murdered woman was his girlfriend. He was out of everything for a few days and only got to see the picture of the murdered woman yesterday. He told me she worked at The Retreat and provided him with drugs.” He stopped and looked at Sullivan. “Tell them what you told me.”

Sullivan looked at Connor, whose eyes lit up at the mention of The Retreat.

“Melanie was assigned to buy the vegetables and other things for The Retreat. Then, suddenly she stopped coming.”

At the mention of drugs, Connor’s mouth tightened. “Did she happen to say anything about drugs at this place?”

“Yes. Melanie told me they were freely made available to staff and to everyone who came there.”

Connor looked at Hazlett. Archie was smiling and patting Sullivan’s back.

“Good for you, lad.”

Connor had fire in his eyes. “I think we should be making a visit to this place, sooner rather than later, and rounding up the people who run it.”

“Not just yet, gentlemen. Let’s make tracking down that woman who misled us is a priority before we do anything. I’d like the both of you on this, Archie, and not let up until she’s sitting in my office tomorrow morning.”

“She didn’t leave an address,” said Connor, “Use all your contacts, Archie. I want her in this office by 10 o’clock. We need answers, and I have a hunch she could provide quite a few.”

When they left, Hazlett sat down beside him. “Where are you staying?”

“With friends. And please do not ask me who they are. They’re heavy into drugs.”

“Then let me see if we can find a more suitable place for you. What kind of work do you do?”

“Just part-time jobs for the last little while. I liked working outdoors most of all.

Melanie and I often talked about getting a farm of our own and forgetting about everyone else.”

“Let me see what I can do and leave me a number where I can reach you.”

When he left, Hazlett thought about the Craddocks. He liked the tea and the scones they had prepared for him and wondered if Michael would be a good fit. He checked his book and dialed. “Mrs. Craddock. This is Inspector Hazlett. I’m not sure whether you and your good husband need help at the farm, but I know of someone who would jump at the chance to work for you and Roy.” “You’d better talk to Roy about that, Inspector. Let me put him on.”

Hazlett could hear them whispering, and he smiled. Roy picked up the phone and cleared his throat. “What’s this about, Inspector?”

“I’ve encountered a young man who loves farming and working out of doors.

Do you need someone to help out?”

“I might be if he’s the right person, but I can’t tell you that until I see him.”

“Could I bring him around early this afternoon?”

“It suits us. We’ll be on the lookout.”

“Before I do, there’s something you need to know about him. He has been heavy into drugs but has given them up completely. He has been a huge help to us in identifying the young woman who was murdered last week near you.” Hazlett paused deliberately. “The lady was his sweetheart.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know, Inspector. My wife and I are very careful about being around druggies.”

“I believe the murder of his girlfriend has had a massive sobering effect on him.”

“Okay. Bring your young man around, and let’s see if he could fit in. We do need someone. But good people who love farming are hard to find these days.”

Hazlett left his office and tracked down Pip. “Michael Sullivan just left a few minutes ago. Find him being him back as soon as you can.”

Pip returned about five minutes later. Sullivan was sitting back in the back.

Hazlett got in and turned to him. “We’re going to visit an old couple who are still trying to run their farm and need help in a big way. My instincts tell me you’d be the answer to their prayers.”

“Do they know I’m a druggie?”

“I told them you used to be and aren’t anymore.” The air in the car was getting close, and Hazlett rolled down the window. “They want to know if they’d feel comfortable with you and versa-visa. They lost their son in the war and always hoped he’d be there for them when they got old.”

Thirty minutes later, Emma and Roy were waiting at their door. Emma had baked some cookies and had laid out their silver for tea.

“Let me introduce you to my companions – Michael Sullivan from County Down and Constable Pip, who was with me when we visited your home last week.

Roy Craddock leaned forward as Emma was pouring tea. “We hear you’re a druggie.”

“I used to be, Mr. Craddock, but thanks to Inspector Hazlett, I have made a significant change in my life. The death of my girlfriend knocked me for a loop. The only thing I want to do now is make sure that the people who did this to her pay for it. Melanie came from a farm in Scotland. We hoped we’d have a farm of our own one day. But now she’s gone. His face worked, and he looked away.

“When you finish tea, I’d like to take you around the farm. Then you and me can sit down and have a chat and tell each other what we think.”

“That’s fine with me, Mr. Craddock,” he said, reaching for another cookie.

They left five minutes later. “I have three cows, but vegetables are my main concern. We plant a wide variety here and sell a lot of our produce to local grocers and hotels all over the area. We’re known for our vegetables.”

They entered the barn, situated directly behind the house. “This is Mildred, our prize Jersey. And in the next two stalls are Agnes, named after my mother-in-law, and when you meet her, you’ll understand why; and Katy, who was munching hay in the third stall. I need to clean each of their stalls every morning before milking them. I suppose you can’t milk a cow?”

“I’m a country boy, but we were never rich enough to own a cow.” He turned his head. “What is that wonderful smell in here?”

“It’s the new hay. Let’s head out into the fields.”

Michael bent down, picked up a sharp nail, and passed it to Mr. Craddock, who examined it, smiled, and looked at Michael. A half-hour later, they returned to the kitchen.

Craddock nodded at Hazlett as they entered. His wife caught the nod and smiled.

“We’re happy,” he said to Michael. “Now that you’ve seen what you’d be letting yourself in for, what do you think?”

“I never dreamed anything could be as beautiful as this is.”

“When can you start?”

“Just as soon as I can get my belongings.”

“I’ll pick them up for you,” said Pip. “You start your new life as of this minute.”

“I’ll call to tell them to let you in and get my clothes for me.”

Hazlett suddenly became business-like: “Now, Mr. Craddock, “what about salary?”

“Can’t afford a lot. What about two pounds a week and board? We’ll see about other arrangements after a year if he’s still with us.”

“That’s more than fair,” said Michael.”

“What is your favourite pie? I’ll have it ready for you for supper.”

“Mincemeat.”

Emma started to cry.

“It was our son’s favourite as well,” said Roy.

CHAPTER TWELVE “Lorne Yarrow on the phone, Inspector.” Hazlett picked up the receiver.

“I wanted to update you about our branch audit. We discovered a discrepancy in the account of one of our depositors.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes. Thanks for letting me know.” He left his office and waved to Archie to follow him. Pip headed out in front of them and started the car.

“Yarrow just called. The bank did a full audit after the robbery and discovered an irregularity in the account of one of their depositors.”

Archie smiled broadly. ” That was a given.”

Yarrow was waiting for them at the entrance and led them to his office at the end of the banking hall. There was a sudden change in the noise level as bank staff watched them climb the steps to the manager’s office at the end of the banking hall.

“I must say you don’t seem surprised, Inspector.”

“I was dreading that something like this might happen if it were an inside job. It only stands to reason that the same person who tipped off the robbers would also dip into some of your accounts.”

“How were the accountants able to flag it?”

“They made several calls, focusing on accounts with large balances. When they called the account holder in question, They learned that the couple was out of the country when someone pilfered their account. There were 12 withdrawals during that time, each for 500 pounds or more.”

Yarrow was breathing hard. “I have never had to deal with something like ever before.”

“Unfortunately, we have. We don’t want to upset anyone, but we will need to question everyone on your staff all over again, this time focusing on the account with the missing funds. We’d also like to use your office for this purpose.”

“The sooner you get started, the sooner we’ll know,” said Yarrow. “In the same order as before?”

Hazlett shook his head. “Let’s start with your accountant.” He nodded to Pip, who left quietly. “I sent Pip to charm the ladies. He’s good at it. I want him to charm them before they talk to us.”

Yarrow returned a couple of minutes later with Royce James, who sat down next to Yarrow on a brown-covered sofa. He didn’t wait to be asked. “I assume this is about the missing money in the Unsworth account.”

“That and a few other things.”

“I don’t know much about banking,” said Archie. “So kindly bear with me.”

Royce folded his hands and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I hope you also understand this is new for us as well.”

“Don’t worry, Royce,” said Hazlett. “We won’t bite.”

Royce tried to smile and unfolded his hands.

“How is it that the bank was unaware that these withdrawals were made?”

“We’re ahead of you, Inspector. No one teller handled the transactions.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Let me show you.” Royce opened the file folder he had brought with him. He held up a slip of paper. “It’s our withdrawal slip. To get money from your account, you must fill out one of these. And if you look in the upper left-hand corner, you will also see the teller's initials who handled the transaction. This one was handled by SM – Stephanie McCarthy.

The next one is by CH – Clive Hosking. You get the idea. We have initialed withdrawal slips for all transactions.”

“What can you do to prevent something like this from ever happening again?”

“The bank is working on this now,” said Yarrow after Royce James had left. “Do you still think one of the tellers is behind this?”

“What do you think, Archie?”

“Like the holdup, it’s an inside job. It has the same smell about it.”

“Why do you say that?” Yarrow suddenly sounded defensive.

“That’s easy,” said Archie, who was in his element now. “How would an outsider know when an account had a lot of money or what their bank signature looked like?”

Hazlett smiled. Archie had a great way of cutting through the fluff and got straight to the point.

“Let’s now have a chat with,” he stopped to glance at his book, “with Hilda Deavy first, and get her view on things.”

Hilda, who usually took pains with her makeup, looked tired, as though she had been up all night. Yarrow looked surprised. “I think you know Inspector Hazlett from his previous visit a few days ago.”

Hilda nodded and lowered her eyes. “He’d like to ask you a few questions about the missing funds in the Upsworth account,” said Yarrow.

“We need your help, Hilda. You’ve been here longer than most of the others, and that you handled two of the transactions. I’m wondering why you didn’t recognize the person who withdrew the money. I assume you’ve already seen Mr. Upsworth several times before this event.”

“To be honest with you, Inspector, I can’t remember for the life of me.” She broke into tears and brushed the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

“That’s enough, Hilda. Don’t worry about it any further.”

When she left, Yarrow noted she had been with the bank since it opened in Gladstonbury. “It was just Hilda and me. I have never needed to doubt anything about her in all those years.”

“What about the lady that works next to her. The one with the heart palpitations.”

Joyce Furness?”

Pip returned and was sent to find Joyce Furness. “We hate to trouble you, Joyce, but we’d like to hear your views about the robbery. Both of them. You’ve had some time to think about it. “But before we ask you about that, how is your friend who works next to you.”

“Hilda?”

Hazlett leaned forward. “Who do you think is behind the robbery?”

“I have my suspicions, but I’d rather keep them to myself.”

Jocelyn gritted her teeth and tried to smile. “Your friend, Joyce, seems very tired. Is she all right?”

“I’m not sure. She’s been this way for a couple of weeks now. She gets upset when I ask her about it. So I’ve stopped trying.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN “Bad news, I’m afraid, Winton.”

Dr. Culver adjusted his glasses and opened the folder on his lap. He passed it to Hazlett. “Here, you can read for yourself.”

They were sitting in the hospital’s waiting room. It started to rain, and rivulets of water ran down the pane of the arched windows fronting the entrance. They were sitting opposite each other with a low, long table between them. Hazlett shivered when a fresh gust of cold air made its way inside every time someone entered.

Hazlett scanned the five paragraphs before focusing on the second, which showed that his wife’s x-rays showed a spot on her lung.

“Cancer?”

“It looks that way, but we can’t be sure unless we go in again and take a biopsy, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Winton, but if it does turn out to be cancer, we should move on this now.”

“Does Alma know?”

“I was going to leave that to you unless you prefer me to do it. I think Alma might take it better if it’s coming from you.”

“I will. But I would like you present and answer any questions she might have.”

“What’s the best time for you?”

Hazlett passed the folder back to Dr. Culver. “Why not now.”

Alma never looked better. She was sitting up and laughing with one of the nurses. She looked up when she heard the door close. “Here comes trouble.”

Hazlett sat down on the edge of her bed. Dr. Culver positioned himself at the bottom. “What’s this about?” Her voice suddenly became troubled.

“Not good news, Alma. The x-rays we took a couple of days ago. There’s a spot on your lung. They think it may be cancer, but they’re not sure.” Winton reached out and rubbed her back. Alma was on the verge of crying. “It’s never going to end, isn’t it?”

Dr. Culver rubbed her forehead. “I know it sounds that way, Alma, but bear with it. At the moment, we’d like to do another operation to confirm whether it is cancer or something else and deal with it then if it is.”

Alma slipped down and covered her head with her blanket.

Winton tried to rub her back, but she just turned away. “We need to talk, Alma.”

She didn’t respond.

Dr. Culver straightened up. “We’ll talk to her later, Winton. She needs to digest what we’ve told her.”

“You’re sure she should go through this?”

“If it were my wife, I would not hesitate for a second.”

*** Hazlett was still churned up when he returned to the office and went straight to business. “What about that woman?”

“Sorry, Inspector. We’ve talked to every place in town. Even called our informants about her. No one seems to have ever heard of her, and she certainly didn’t stay at any of the hotels. It’s as though she never existed,” said Conner, who could sense that the news was not good about the Inspector’s wife.

“I was afraid, Connor, this might be the case. We do not know anything about this woman who visited us and will not likely find someone named Amélie Mettler.

All we really know about her is that she’s looking for someone called Kert Kranz. Go back to your informants and describe her, and this time use his name. See if that rings a bell.”

“The only place I didn’t check was The Retreat?”

“Stay away from there for the time being. There may be a way I could find out.

What do your guts tell you?”

“That’s she’s probably left the area.”

“I agree with you there, Connor. She may be some kind of courier. At this stage, we don’t know.”

“I don’t understand why she would seek us out, identify the murdered woman, and make up a story about being a Nazi hunter.”

“To mislead and misdirect our attention elsewhere. We have to admit. It worked for a while, and if it weren’t for young Sullivan, we would still be in the dark.”

There was a quick rap at the door. It was Pip. “The bank manager is at the door.

He seems anxious.”

Hazlett rose immediately and went into the outer station to greet Yarrow.

“You’re just in time for tea,” Hazlett tried to put him at ease with a broad smile. ”Join with me inside where we can speak in private.” Hazlett pointed him to his sofa covered in a rich floral design. “I never feel comfortable talking to people across the desk.”

Connor entered with two mugs of tea. Yarrow held the mug in both his hands without trying it. “The bank’s examiners are now questioning whether there were 80 million pounds in the boxes that were delivered to us. The company is now suing the bank, claiming that the bank had failed to protect its assets and that the robbery was an inside job. We don’t agree, of course.”

He sipped on the tea and bit into the cookie that came with it. “I’m getting it at both ends, and, quite frankly, I’m at my wits end.”

“What do you know about The Retreat?”

“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I fail to –“ “Bear with me, Yarrow.”

“All I know is that it’s the latest fancy place in town. Never been there myself. I don’t think there’s a connection. I don’t know. They do not bank with us,” Yarrow added with a sniff.

“I don’t know why exactly but I’m intrigued by the suit against your bank.”

Yarrow sat back. You could see the wheels turning in his eyes.

“What can you tell me about Bricknell?”

“Not much. Other than Bricknell has been a business account with us since we opened here. His company is one of the biggest suppliers of fresh produce in Britain.

He sometimes runs short of cash to pay his farmers, but he always seems to weather the storm and come out on top.”

“When you accepted the cash, did you inspect each box to make sure it was filled with banknotes?”

“I checked each box as it came in. Eighty thousand pounds is too much not to be very, very careful.”

“The delivery of the notes and the theft of them the next morning is just too coincidental for my liking,” said Hazlett. “It has a smell about it, and the suit against your bank just verifies it in my mind. It’s got me rethinking everything. We originally thought someone on your staff was involved but I’ve changed my mind. I am not saying you don’t have a leak because you do.”

Yarrow finished his tea. “So, what you suggesting?”

“I’m not convinced that you or any member of your staff carried out the robbery.”

Yarrow tried a weak smile. “Then who –“ “= My money is on Bricknell.”

Yarrow just shook his head. “What would be the point?”

“I’m not sure at this moment but I am sure it will surface in the next few days.”

“In the meantime, what should we be doing?”

“Just go about your business as usual and try to forget about the suit against the bank. It will never reach the courts.” He stood. “Above all, keep our conversation to ourselves.”

*** George Bricknell met Hazlett and Archie outside his office and ushered them inside. “Any word?”

“It’s about you and your lawsuit against the bank.”

Bricknell picked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “I was not aware that the constabulary gets involved in civil matters.”

“We aren’t. We were, however, wondering how you survived the loss of 80,000 pounds. The last time we talked, you indicated that your insurance company would not cover the loss.”

“We survived on loans from friends. Even some of the farmers pitched in and said they’d wait for payment. Why do you ask?”

“Did you happen to record the serial numbers of the missing notes? We would like to post them to other banks.”

“Sorry. No one has ever asked us to do that in all the years we’ve been in business.”

Hazlett sat back and closed his eyes. The afternoon sun went behind a cloud, and the room darkened. “How well do you know Professor Moller at The Retreat?”

There was a sudden silence. “Why do you ask?”

Hazlett ignored him.

“He is one of our largest customers. He operates quite a large Retreat and a growing business. Judging by his orders, I’d say he has a full house most days. I hear it’s quite expensive.”

“There’s talk that it’s a haven for drug addicts.”

Bricknell shrugged. “I never listen to gossip, Inspector.”

“We do. And we’d like to record the serial numbers of all notes in your possession, including those from The Retreat.”

“He’s not my friend but someone I do business with.”

Hazlett nodded to Archie, who left to check on the notes in the company’s possession.

“Do you have a legal right to do this?”

“I’m puzzled, Mr. Bricknell, why you do not want us to check the serial numbers on the bills in your possession, and even more, why that should be a problem if you are as interested in recovering your stolen notes as you say you are. The last time we were here, you indicated you would do everything in your power to recover your stolen money.”

“This is all about the suit against the bank. I need to call my lawyer about this.”

Archie had stopped at the door, waiting for a signal from Hazlett. Bricknell went to his desk and dialed his solicitor. He turned his back to us while speaking in a faint whisper before holding out the receiver.

“Hazlett?” said the voice on the other end of the phone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Gideon sat down beside her. “There’s been a terrible accident. I blame it on myself. I should have seen it coming. That man you helped last night has had a bad fall.”

“What happened?”

“Someone fed him some LSD, and he tried to fly off his balcony. He’s hit his head pretty hard, and there is bleeding. Can you help?”

“Lead the way,” she said, getting up.

Gideon wanted to kiss her on the cheek. June sensed what was going on in his head, squeezed his arm, and caught his eye for a second.

“Where is he now?”

“Back in his room. One of my assistants, who was checking for debris, found him a short time ago.” They reached the second floor. His room was on the opposite end of the dorm area. Gideon knocked lightly, and the door was opened by Joanne Simpson, one of the young women from June’s initiation.

June smiled at her. “How is he?”

“He wakes up from time to time and screams from the pain.”

June went to his bedside immediately, checking his pulse rate and feeling his body all over, starting with his neck and collar bone area.

‘I need to turn him on his side but can’t do it alone,” she said, looking at Gideon.

The injured man was breathing loudly now. Gideon helped her position his body.

He groaned loudly, suddenly screeching when Gideon laid him on his left side.

June stepped back. “He’s got a broken hip. We need to undress him so that we don’t hurt him any further.”

It wasn’t easy, but they could remove his trousers five minutes later without sending him screeching in pain again. “It’s his hip, alright. He’ll need a doctor for that, and it should be done as soon as possible.”

“You never fail to surprise me,” said Gideon. “Where did you learn all this?”

“I studied nursing for a year and realized it wasn’t for me. But here I am.”

Gideon smiled at her. “I think you stand out in just about everything.”

She blushed. “Do you have access to Morphine? It will dull his pain until we get him to the doctor. Get three kits.”

Joanne left and returned in five minutes. “I told our little pharmacy that Gideon needed them for one of the guests.”

June administered the first shot. You could see the pain ease from his face a minute or two later. “In the meantime, we need to find a way to get him to the doctor. Any ideas?”

“Actually, I do. We have an arrangement with an out-of-town funeral home, which has an unmarked hearse. I’ll call them immediately and get them to send two men with a stretcher to move him.”

Gideon called the funeral home for the room phone and explained what he needed. “They’ll be here in 20 or 30 minutes. And they also tell me they have a very discreet doctor who can take him to the funeral home. Our big problem now is getting him out of here without anyone seeing it.”

“Call housekeeping. Get them to send a cart loaded with towels, sheets, anything that would help disguise when the two men carry our friend out to the hearse.”

Gideon flashed her a warm smile. “You’re a very quick thinker. I’m glad you’re on my team.”

He left and returned almost 30 minutes later with the two men from the funeral home. June administered another shot of morphine before the four of them lifted the body onto the stretcher. They placed a white sheet over his body, with sheets and towels piled on top. They raised the stretcher without effort. Gideon opened the door and followed them downstairs to their hearse. They drove off two minutes later, with Gideon following them in his car.

He returned about an hour later and found June in the dining room, talking to one of the other greeters. She spotted him at the door, and he gave her a V for Victory sign. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been there,” he said, sliding into the chair next to hers.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, Gideon.”

Gideon stopped a passing waiter for two pints. “What do you mean?”

“Did you notice the purple patches on his forehead and cheek?”

Gideon shook his head.

“Our guest could have a very, very bad concussion, and that could cause a lot of problems for him. And for us.”

“How do you know all these things?”

“I told you.” She didn’t mention the life-saving training she had to undergo with the London Police.

“What else can you do?”

“I can play the White Cliffs of Dover on the comb and toilet paper,” she laughed.

“I can speak some French. “I lived in Paris for a year before I found myself.”

“You also know how to handle people, as we saw with our guest.”

“I learned that at home.”

“How do you like The Retreat so far? You’ve seen us at our worst. There’s a lot of good things about it, too.”

“I agree. I want to make it my entire career.” Then, as an afterthought: “Keep me posted on our friend. I don’t have a good feeling about him.”

As they took their leave, June saw Sherry looking at her.

*** Gideon knocked on her door. “Are you ready?”

June opened the door wider.

“Turn around. You look great. The Professor doesn’t like his staff to look cheap.”

June blushed. Gideon, who prided himself on letting nothing escape him, liked what he saw. But he also never let his personal feelings interfere with his professionalism. The Professor taught him that.

They paused just outside the Professor’s door. “A bit of advice,” Gideon whispered. “He likes to do all the talking. Listen to everything he says. Don’t ask questions. Think of yourself as one of his students and answer only he asks you a question. Ready?”

June smiled, noticing for the first time how incredibly blue his eyes were, and nodded.

Gideon knocked. Sherry opened the door. “You’re two minutes late,” she whispered to Gideon, and when she looked at June, there was hatred in her eyes.

Gideon guided June to one of the chairs in front of the Professor’s desk. Gideon stood behind her chair, his hands gripping the back.

“May I present June Spottispode, our newest recruit.”

“I understand you saved us from two major disasters during the past two days. I wanted to thank your personally.” The Professor’s grey hair matched his grey goatee. There was a hardness to his slate grey eyes, even when he smiled.

“We reward our people for service beyond the norm – as you will find out at the end of the year. I am curious, Fraulein, why you sought us out.”

“The boyfriend of one of my friends has been a visitor here and was blown away by everything. I was intrigued. When my mother died, I brought her back to be buried in Gladstonbury. When I came back, I decided to stay with her and hopefully get a job at The Retreat. It’s been a wonderful experience so far. I’ve found my home.”

The Professor nodded. Gideon tapped her on the shoulder. She rose, bowed and left, with Gideon leading the way.

“How did I do?”

“I could tell he loves you. He doesn’t usually mention bonuses to recruits.”

Inside the Professor’s office, Moller waved Sherry to his desk. “Watch her very carefully. I want to know everything she does and who she talks to. And don’t let up on her. I want to see what will break her. She could be very useful to us. Above all else, keep the pressure on her.”

Sherry bowed and turned to hide the dark smile in her eyes. She walked into the reception area to tell June that the Professor was putting her on a fast track and wanted her to start escorting guests immediately.

“He was impressed with the way you handled yourself today especially. It could have been very costly to The Retreat.” Then, after a short pause. “But I haven’t changed my view of you. I think you bring evil to The Retreat. I feel it in everything you do. I am waiting for you to trip up – and you will.”

For the rest of the day, June joined Sherry in escorting guests to their rooms and helping them decide on what activities they would like to undertake. She was just leaving a middle-aged couple when she spotted a face she remembered. It was the woman who came to the station and provided them with the dead woman's name.

June turned and walked in the opposite direction.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Winton could tell that Alma had been crying. Her face had a strained look – a look he recognized when things did not go well with her. He sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her back. “Everything will be all right, Alma. We will conquer this together. I will never leave your side throughout it all.”

“I’m scared, Winton. I do not want to die. No matter what I do, nothing seems to work out. I solve one problem, and just when I think I’m home free, something else pops up.”

Hazlett produced a box of chocolates from behind his back. “It has all the centres you like, even the nut ones.”

“I’ll get fat, Winton, and you won’t love me anymore.”

“Not true. But it is what you need now, Alma. Something to make you feel better about things. We will conquer this. Together, we’re unbeatable.”

She ate two of the chocolates and put her arms around him, and kissed him. He could taste the chocolate centre on his lips.

“I dread this operation. I can’t tell you why. In the pit of my stomach, I feel I will not survive it. I keep telling myself it’s foolish but I somehow can’t shake it, no matter what I try.”

“I’ll talk to Dr. Culver and see if he can do the operation today or tomorrow. The faster we get this over, the faster it will be behind us. I also have a surprise when you recover. One you’ll love.”

“Don’t tantalize me. Tell me now.”

“We’ll go to the Rivera for a couple of weeks.”

Hazlett found Dr. Culver in his office. “I was expecting you. I gather your wife has agreed.”

“When can you operate?”

“I’m free now, and so is the operating theatre. What about now?”

“Before you see her, she has it in her head that she will not survive it this time.

She can’t seem to shake it. Is there any reason she should feel this way?”

“If you want me to assure you that she will not, I can’t. There is always a risk with every operation. All I can tell you is that there is no apparent reason why she would not survive the operation. We have every expectation that she will not only survive but better than she has felt in years.”

Hazlett wandered into admitting to see Agnes, the matron, to complete the paperwork for the operation.

“You don’t look good, Winton. What’s eating you?”

“Alma. She’s scared out of her wits about this operation. She believes she won’t survive it. I’ve talked her into it but right now, I feel I made a bad decision.”

Agnes reached out and held his hands in hers. “Most people have premonitions like this when going through a major operation. You’ll see.”

“But what if I’m wrong?”

“I have an idea. Why don’t we go to Alma’s room and let her know we’ll be rooting for her every step of the way? They’ll be prepping her for the operation.

We’ll stay with her until she enters the operating theatre. The last face she sees will be yours before she goes to sleep. I’ll talk to Dr. Culver about it.”

For the first time, Winton felt better. They walked down the corridor to her room.

“This operation will not be as half as bad as the one you just went through,” said Agnes.

“You’ll be back here in an hour,” said Winton, “and the first face you’ll see is mine.”

Agnes left to talk to Dr. Culver and returned with a smile. “Agnes and I will be in the operating theatre with you. And I’ll be holding your hand when they put you to sleep.” Alma was ready 20 minutes later, and he followed her into the operating theatre. Winton held her hand until she went under. He decided to spend the time in the waiting room. “What time is it, Agnes?” he asked after 25 minutes.

“My guess? About 30 more minutes.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “The time isn’t going any faster if you stay here and keep asking the time every three or four minutes. There’s a lovely statue of Florence Nightingale on the other side of the hospital that’s worth seeing. Why not take a walk and look at it. There’s also a place where you can plant a tree for someone you love. It’ll be something you can show Alma when this is all over.”

Hazlett was surprised. The stature of Florence Nightingale holding a wounded soldier struck something inside him, and he found himself standing in front of it for almost 10 minutes. He looked around for the tree-planting booth, situated close to the pool that surrounded the statue.

A young woman smiled broadly as he approached the booth. “Is there a particular tree you have in mind,” she said as he studied the seedlings. “A lot of people like these,” she said, showing him another seedling. They live a long time.”

“Who does the planting?”

“You can. I’d be happy to help.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“What would you like written on the dedication?” She smiled again and picked up an ash seedling. “Just her name. Alma Hazlett.”

“In memory of…”

Hazlett shook his head.

She appeared from the booth with the seedling in one hand and a spade in the other. “There are two tree gardens. The first is nearer the hospital.”

Where is the other?”

“Over there. To the left, where the benches are already in place.”

“That one,” said Hazlett and followed her to the site.

It took less than a few minutes to dig a hole, plant the seedling, add water from a nearby fountain.

“Many people like to fill in the earth around the sapling themselves.”

Hazlett bent down and patted the earth around the seedling. He stood and smiled as he looked at it. “What’s next?”

“That’s it.”

They walked back in silence to the booth, where she provided a document about the seedling, its precise location, where it was planted, as well as his and Alma’s name.

“Take this to the office, where you can make a donation to the hospital,” she added, flashing him another smile and handing him an envelope. “Good luck,” she shouted after him.

He returned to find Agnes involved with a young woman. “Is there a problem?” he said in his constable’s voice.

“No, Inspector, This young lady wants to see her mother but her mother is still in surgery. She doesn’t want to accept what I tell her. I told her I would let her know when her mother would be available to see her.”

Hazlett smiled at the young woman. “I understand your concern, miss. I’m also waiting. My wife is also having an operation. But like you. I have to wait. Why don’t you join me in the waiting room?”

Agnes approached them a few minutes later. “Alma’s in recovery, Inspector, and you’ll be able to see her in 15 minutes. Not sure how it went, but you’ll know everything when you see Dr. Culver.”

Hazlett sat down with the young woman, who kept sliding her ring up and down her finger. She looked up. “You must be very anxious?”

“I really am. My wife has cancer. And this is her second operation in less than a week.”

“I’m sorry,” said the young woman.

“Hazlett watched her play with the ring. ”I see you’re getting married. When’s the big day?

“Next month. We’re honeymooning in Australia.”

“I always wanted to go there but something was always getting in the way. First, by the war, and then, when I met Alma and got married.” He paused to look for Agnes but she was not anywhere he could see.

“Nothing’s going to stop my Clive. He recently came into a lot of money. His uncle died and left him 15,000 pounds. Clive works at the bank and plans to quit when we get married. If we like it Down Under, we may decide to stay.”

Agnes reappeared and told the young woman that her mother was out of recovery and asked for her. Agnes looked at Hazlett and shook her head.

“Nice talking to you. My name is Phoebe Radcliffe. Good luck with your wife.”

“It’s taken longer than we thought,” said Agnes when she returned. “But she’s in recovery. You can see her now if you wish. And thank you for helping me with the young woman. I’m not sure what you told her but she apologized when I was escorting her to her mother.”

She grabbed his arm as they walked down to the recovery room. Alma was still asleep. Her face looked pale and vulnerable. There was a stillness about her that made him feel uneasy. He looked at Agnes as if seeking an explanation.

“She’ll wake up soon,” said Agnes.

Ten minutes later, Alma opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Winton rose and towered over her. She tried to smile and closed her eyes again.

Dr. Culver appeared in the doorway. “It was worse than we thought. It was cancer, a very aggressive form of cancer that had spread quite rapidly from the time we spotted something in our tests.”

He walked and held Winton’s hands.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

Dr. Culver looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Winton. She’s not going to make it.”

“How long does she have?”

“Another week if she’s lucky. Sorry. We did our best. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more. She was a wonderful woman.”

Agnes hugged him and attended to Alma, whose face was moving from side to side.

Alma opened her eyes. Her mouth moved, and she smiled. “You’re here as you said you would be.”

Dr. Culver checked her heartbeat.

Alma closed her eyes. For a second, there was a dreadful stillness in the room.

Dr. Culver shook his head and looked away.

Agnes put a sheet over her head.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Hazlett never felt so alone in his life. He walked out of the hospital in a daze, not conscious of where he was going next.

Agnes watched him walk past his car and onto the highway and was about to cry out to him when she realized that something was wrong. She left her desk and ran out to him. “Are you all right, Winton?”

He didn’t respond. Agnes led him back slowly to the hospital and alerted Dr. Culver.

Dr. Culver was there in three minutes and did a quick check. “I saw this before during the war years. I’m not a betting man but I’ll bet you Alma’s death triggered something inside him, some kind of guilt that he’s been carrying around in his head for years. I want him to spend the night with us. He shouldn’t be by himself.”

Later, Agnes called the station and told Connor that the Inspector’s wife had died and that Winton would be spending the night at the hospital. “It’s hit him pretty hard.”

“Understood. If the Inspector asks, tell him we’re carrying on as usual. What about the funeral. I’ll need to tell the others.”

“He didn’t say. Right now, he’s in mourning and needs some time to adjust. His reality has changed for the moment, and he needs to deal with it.”

Agnes was walking to the pharmacy when Dr. Culver stopped her. “I’m not a psychiatrist but I think I know what the problem is. In 1943, his Lancaster was returning from a mission when it was attacked by a German plane and crashed into the Channel. He was the only one that survived. According to the RAF doctor I talked to, Winton felt guilty. Blamed himself for everything. I suspect his wife’s death triggered his present condition.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Give him something to keep him asleep, and we’ll see in the morning.”

Hazlett woke at 6 a.m. and looked out the window. He suddenly realized he was still inside the hospital. A few minutes later, a nurse came by to check up on him.”

“Where are my clothes? I’ve got a lot to do today. And why am I here?” He sounded distressed, and the nurse left to find help. Agnes was the first to respond.

“You’ll have to wait until Dr. Culver signs you out. He should be here in an hour or two.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Agnes. I’ve got a lot on my plate, my wife has died, and I haven’t arranged for her funeral yet.”

“Tell you what, Inspector. Have breakfast, shower, shave, get your clothes ready, and Dr. Culver should be here by then.”

Dr. Culver was early and appeared while Hazlett was in the shower. Winton emerged with a towel wrapped around him.

“Well, Winton, how do you feel today?”

“In top shape, which makes me wonder why I’m here.”

“Do you remember that Alma died following her operation?”

“Yes. What’s this about?”

“It hit you very hard. Agnes found you walking on the main highway as though you were lost.”

“I seem to remember something like that, but I put it down to a bad dream. Can I get dressed now?”

Dr. Culver’s faced hardened. “I would prefer that you stayed with us for a few days. You need help.”

“But why. There’s nothing physically wrong with me.”

Dr. Culver didn’t respond.

“Then what is it?”

“You need help, Winton. You’re still carrying baggage around with you from your RAF days. Alma has brought it all back to you when you least expected it, and often in situations where you’re most vulnerable. In my mind, it all goes back to the Lancaster crash in the Channel, when you were the only one who survived. You felt guilty then and guilty all over again when Alma died. You need help to get rid of this guilt.”

Hazlett was playing with his socks while Dr. Culver was talking. “Am I mentally capable of leaving here now or not?”

“You are. But be forewarned. This will come back to haunt you when you least expect it.”

Hazlett’s face hardened the way it did on bombing missions with his crew. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, Dr. Culver, starting with arranging Alma’s funeral.

Then there’s the loose ends that need to be tied up at work.” He paused to drive the point home. “Tell you what. I understand that I need help and seek it after I solve the bank robbery and end the evil at The Retreat. A lot of bad things have happened here since they set up shop.”

Dr. Culver patted him on the back. “You’ve got my blessings, providing you call me if you experience one of your spells in the meantime.”

*** The Gladstonbury Funeral Home was just around the corner, located in a 200year-old stone building with four viewing rooms with Persian rugs on their floors and shaded lamps placed strategically around the room. Hazlett pressed the buzzer.

There was no indication of movement inside. He pushed it again and was about to leave a minute later when the door opened.

Alastair Alright, Gladstonbury’s funeral director for the past 40 years, opened the door. He looked at Hazlett for a few seconds. “Sorry, Inspector. I didn’t recognize you for a second. I gather you’re here to arrange your wife’s funeral — our condolences. We would be pleased to handle all the arrangements for you. We understand what you’re going through and will be with you every step of the way.”

Hazlett nodded. He suddenly felt exhausted and wished everything was over with.

“Please follow me to our casket room, where you can choose one you think Alma might have chosen if she were still with us.”

The funeral director was dressed in a black suit, a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He kept rubbing his receding hairline from time to time. Hazlett looked down and saw he was wearing slippers. He smiled for the first time in days.

“Would you like to send us her favourite dress for the viewing, and may I suggest we hold the viewing two days from now? Do you wish me to provide Alma’s obituary to The Observer as well?”

Hazlett nodded. “We don’t have a gravesite. Could you arrange that as well?”

*** Just about everyone he knew showed up for the viewing. Pip stood at the door and asked everyone to sign a Book of Remembrance.

“I’m so sorry, Winton,” said his father’s younger sister, His aunt, Abagail, was breathing hard. She was overweight and had been warned to lose 20 pounds if she wanted to avoid diabetes. “Alma looked a bit pale at the engagement reception last week. “I had a feeling that something was wrong. Was it cancer?”

Hazlett nodded. “Thank you for coming, auntie. Family means a lot at times like these.”

Fiona Spalding, the vicar’s wife, joined them and whispered something in his aunt’s ear before turning to Hazlett. “The vicar and I are so sorry to hear about your dear wife. She was such a dear to the ladies of the parish. Her good humour will be missed. I suspect a lot of the ladies will be here as well.”

Her eyes caught her husband talking to Agnes Childers, the hospital matron.

“You must excuse me.”

Wendy Howard and Aiden, who brought a large bouquet of summer flowers, kissed him on the cheek. “My father sends his regrets. He is not well these days, and no one seems to know why.”

“I am sorry to hear this. I hope it is nothing serious.”

“I’m worried.”

Aiden remained silent and tugged on Wendy’s arm. “I fear we must go now.

Aiden is meeting three Belgium art experts.”

“You must tell me more about your incredible find. You make all of us at Gladstonbury proud. I know we would all like to hear about it in detail when you have time one day,” said Hazlett.

Archie came with his wife, May. ”We are so sorry to hear about your great loss,” said May. “She made our parties something to look forward to. I will miss her every day.”

Hazlett edged into a corner near Alma’s casket. He glanced at her pale face and the barrette she always wore in her hair and looked away for the last time. Archie stood beside him and patted him on the back.

“We’re going to be quite busy for the next couple of days, Archie. I’d like to have a chat with young Clive Hosking at the bank. It seems his rich uncle died this week and left him 15,000 pounds.”

“That can wait a day or two.” Then, after a pause. “How are you holding up?”

“Not good. But I expect to be my old self again in a couple of days.”

Mayor Hawker suddenly appeared at the door with two councilors. He spotted Hazlett almost immediately. “My wife and I, and the good people of Gladstonbury, we are all sorry to hear of your great loss. Let us know if you need anything.”

Harker spotted Lorne Yarrow and waved to him. Yarrow ignored the wave and bowed slightly to Hazlett and held Hazlett’s hands in his. “I know what you’re going through and felt the same way when my first wife died. It takes a bit of time to get your sea legs back again. Let me know if you ever need someone to talk to.”

Hazlett was amazed by the number of friends Alma made in the short time they had been in Gladstonbury. The viewing ended with a gradual silence. Only Agnes and Archie were with him at the end.

When he returned home, he found at least a dozen pies and cakes waiting on his doorstep. What Hazlett hated most of going into the kitchen and not seeing Alma there putting the kettle on for tea.

He sat down in the front room, turned on the radio, hoping to hear a BBC radio drama. His eyes strayed to the row of plates sitting on a long dark-stained grooved narrow board around the room. Alma had collected them from the places they had visited together. Her mother's picture hung from the wall over the fireplace, and her favourite chair was missing her favourite cushion. He walked into the kitchen to toast a piece of bread. The butter dish was just as she left it on the table, covered in Alma’s favourite oilcloth.

Later, when he could barely keep his eyes open, he walked upstairs to their bedroom. The bed was exactly the way she had left it. Hazlett undressed and covered himself in her favourite blanket. He could still smell the unique scent she used.

He turned off the light and began to cry.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The vicar was already at the graveyard when the hearse stopped beside Alma’s grave. So was Hazlett’s aunt and the vicar’s wife. Only a few friends came to the graveside service. Dr. Culver stood beside him, and Agnes Childers grabbed his

arm. “I’m coming home with you and make lunch. I don’t want you there by yourself today.”

He was about protest, but Agnes ignored him. “Tonight, Pip would like to spend the night with you. And I don’t want to hear another word.”

Agnes called him every morning and evening for the next two days. It ended when Pip drove him to the station. Archie was the first one in his office.

“I hate to dump this on you first thing on your first day back but we’ve been robbed. Connor was on duty last night. He heard a crash and people shouting at each other and went outside to check. It was an argument between the two drivers.

He tried to stop them, but they stopped when he threatened to lock them up. When Connor returned, he found that his filing cabinet had been opened and their files on the bank robbery, The Retreat, Bricknell, and even the file on Johanna Kohler were missing.”

Hazlett set his mouth. “They knew what they were looking for. What about the note about Michael Sullivan?”

“I’m afraid that was included in our file on the Retreat.”

“Young Sullivan needs to be informed.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“No, I will, Archie. But right now, I’d like to talk to Connor. Ask him to step in when he has time. I will also need you to stay.”

Connor entered with tea. “It’s not tea time, Inspector, but I thought a fresh mug might hit the spot right now.”

Hazlett took the mug and held it in his hands. He smelled the aroma of the tea and took a couple of sips before putting it down.

“We need your help, Connor. About the theft of our files.”

Connor tried to straighten himself. “I’m feeling stupid about it, Inspector.

You’ve got enough on your plate without this. Tell me what I can do. Anything.”

“I don’t want you to focus on the missing files, Connor. They can be replaced.

Instead, tell me about the pair who were there to distract you. Describe them.”

“The first was young, tall, blond hair cut short, green eyes and a big mouth. He was in his 30s. The other was middle-aged and kept calling the first one a druggie.

By the time I reached them, they had already exchanged blows. I did my best to separate them, but they still kept trying to punch each other. When I saw that my filing cabinet had been opened, I sketched both of them and then called every garage in town to alert me if they are asked to prepare front end damages to a grey Austin or a green Vauxhall.”

“Very thorough, Connor.”

“A couple of things, I found out at the hospital. It’s about the bank robbery. I learned that Clive Hosking, who works there, recently inherited 15,000 pounds from a rich uncle and plans to honeymoon in Australia. If he likes it, I understand he will not be coming back.”

“Where is that money sitting now,” Archie went to the crux in a real hurry.

“Not on deposit, I understand. But let that rest with me for a bit,”

“Right now, Archie, I need to go to see young Sullivan and warn him that his life may be in danger.”

Pip called ahead and told Emma Craddock that they planned to stop by shortly.

Sullivan was waiting for them when Pip rolled into the Craddock farm. “Is something wrong?”

They were sitting in the parlour, located just off the front entrance. The blinds were drawn to keep the heat out. Michael reached and pulled the chain of a nearby table lamp and sat down opposite them.

“We’ve come to warn and apologize to you. Your file has been stolen from our office. The person who stole the file knows that you’ve identified Miss Duncan’s body and that she had worked at The Retreat.”

“But how?”

“The thief used two accomplices to lure Connor out of the station long enough for them to find your file and three others. Connor was the only one on duty. My wife had died, and the other constables were at the viewing when this took place.

“Sorry to hear about your wife. In a way, she brought us together.” Then, in an afterthought: “Does the file state where I am staying at the moment?”

“No. But that’s no guarantee that the killers won’t track you down. We came to warn you to be on the alert. How about Ray and Emma?”

“They have been parents to me. I found who I am here, and I will do whatever it takes to keep them and myself safe.”

“They should be made aware of this development.”

“I’ll talk to Ray.” “If you think that you or Emma or Ray may be in danger, call us immediately.

Be on the lookout for strangers, or if a stranger asks any of your neighbours about you. Don’t wait. Call us immediately.”

At that moment, Emma arrived with tea.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you? I still have a few contacts.”

“Actually, there is. You’ve already performed a great service for us.” Hazlett glanced at Archie. “I’d like to hear why farmers like Roy and what his friends think about Bricknell.”

“Do you think they’re somehow connected with all this?”

“I have nothing to go on, but my instincts tell me Bricknell is not what they purport to be.”

*** “Where to now?” said Pip as he turned on the ignition.

“It’s time we paid another visit to Bricknell.”

“Should we call and let him know we’ll be stopping by?”

Hazlett shook his head. “We’re going to rattle his cage and see where that leads us as well as bring him glad tidings.”

Bricknell saw them arrive and hurried down the stairs to reception when Hazlett and Archie stepped inside the warehouse. “Inspector Hazlett,” he said as he approached them. “Has there been a development?”

Hazlett was smiling. “A couple of things to share with you and to ask your help in a small matter.”

“Could we interest you two in a tea or coffee?”

Hazlett and Archie sat down on the sofa. “Perhaps, later.”

Bricknell’s face suddenly became serious. “I understand you lost your wife a few days ago. Please accept our condolences. You were saying you need our help.”

“Some files were stolen from the station when my wife died. We would appreciate it if you could alert us if you hear anything about them, including who took them and where the files are now.”

“That’s not likely, Inspector, but I will ask everyone who works here to alert me if they hear anything.”

“We have a lead in the bank robbery. It could lead to the recovery of your money. I know you’ve been worried sick about this.”

For a few seconds, Bricknell’s face seemed to freeze. “That’s absolutely wonderful,” he said.

Later, Archie wondered if it was time to see Clive Hosking on the way back to the station.

“Not quite yet. I have a friend in London, my navigator on my second Lancaster, who works in the City. I’ll give him a call and see what he can dig up on Bricknell.”

“Friends in high places,” said Archie with a laugh.

“I have a hunch that Bricknell Fruit and Vegetable Company is more than a supplier of products for grocers.”

Connor was busy with a young woman when they returned. Hazlett stopped on his way to his office. “Anything wrong, Connor?”

“This young lady wants to file a missing person’s report. It seems her boyfriend has been missing for two days. He left to go to the grocers and never returned. No one seems to know what happened to him.”

Hazlett started for his office. “Let me know if he turns up.”

The telephone rang, and he looked Leslie Gibson’s number. “It’s Winton, Leslie.”

“Great to hear from you. Are you in London, Flight?”

“No. I’m in my office in Gladstonbury.”

“So this is an official call.”

“You might call it that, Leslie.” A fly settled on his hand, and he shook it off.

“I was talking about you that other day to Terry Carton, and he suggested we should come up to see you.”

“All I’ll need is a day’s notice to get everything ready for you.” Then, after a pause: “Alma died a few days ago. Cancer.”

“Sorry to hear that. Tell me how I can help you.”

“What do you know about George Bricknell. He’s the president of a company called Bricknell Fruit and Vegetable. I was wondering if you could give me a rundown on him and his company.”

“I’ve never heard of him, Flight. But I’ll poke around and see what I can come up with. Is he a bad actor?”

“I’m not sure, Leslie. Just something in my gut that tells me he may not be on the up and up.”

Connor knocked and entered, shaking his head. “I told her I would look into it and get back to her. She wasn’t prepared to go until I did.”

“What is your stomach telling you?” said Hazlett, trying to chase away the fly that had landed on hand again.

“That her boyfriend decided to leave her without saying goodbye.”

“Did you suggest that to her?”

“I did but she was having none of it.”

“What do we know about them?”

“I suspect they’re both druggies. But I also thought that about young Sullivan.”

“Did you get the names of his friends?”

“She was reluctant to until I told her we wouldn’t make it a priority if she didn’t.”

“Then I gather you think he may be holed up someplace where he could get drugs.”

Connor smiled to himself as he left Hazlett’s office.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN “What is that you’re writing?”

June wasn’t aware that Sherry had been watching her. “Why are you asking?”

She closed her small, black-covered notebook and put it in her pocket.

“If it’s anything about The Retreat, I want to see what you’ve written.”

“Actually, you don’t have the right. But to satisfy your curiosity, it’s poetry.”

“Poetry?” Doubt and disbelief returned to Sherry’s dark, mysterious eyes.

“Yes, poetry. To be precise, I love poetry. It’s not something I’m prepared to show anyone. I will publish them one day, and you can read them then.”

A guest was at the door, a frequent visitor whom June had seen before. He wanted to see the Professor.

“I don’t believe you,” Sherry shouted after her.

June knew that somehow Sherry had guessed she was making notes about The Retreat. She knew she had to think things through. Perhaps destroy the notes June

had already made and write a few poems in the second small book she carried with her if she ran out of space. She had no doubt Sherry was searching her room from here on in.

The visitor never gave his name and always asked the same thing – to see the Professor. They didn’t speak until they reached reception outside the Professor’s office, where he bowed slightly and thanked her.

She was about to leave when the Professor’s receptionist stopped her. “He would like to see you after his meeting.”

She found a chair at the left of the receptionist, and searched her pocket for her other black book, and started writing poetry -- an Ode to Apollo’s Stand-In, a rambling, long poem of 50 lines: and second, shorter lyric, which she named A Hymn to Him. She was able to write about 80 lines by the visitor left. She knew it wasn’t good poetry. But probably good enough to satisfy their doubts.

“The Professor can see you now.”

June tried to stop her hands from trembling as she sat down in front of the Professor’s desk. He didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “I have reason to believe you are making notes in a small book about us. Is that true?”

“I assume you got this from Sherry. You should know that she does not like me and does not trust me. She has made that very clear to me from the first time we met.

I have said nothing and done nothing to justify this kind of treatment. Today, she asked me what I was writing in my book. I told her poetry. She wanted to see it but I told her it was personal. Love poetry if you must know. I could tell she didn’t believe me.”

The Professor stroked his greying goatee. “I can understand. But I would like to see it, nevertheless. If it is what you say it is, I assure you that no other living soul would ever know what you’ve written. Agreed?”

June waited a few seconds and nodded. She reached into her pocket and produced her little black book. She passed it to him and watched him smile as he read it.

“I hope you’re not making fun of me.”

He kept on reading and, about five minutes later, passed it back to her. She knew she had to add a few more poems in case Sherry found it.

“Let’s hope it’s not celebrating your feelings about someone who works here. It is not permitted. I hope you understand that.”

He nodded, and she stood and was about to turn when he added: “You have enormous talent, Fraulein. If you continue to show the same progress you’ve shown in your first week with us, you’ll leave her one day as a wealthy woman. If you do otherwise and cause problems for us, you will be dismissed immediately and sued for any losses we might incur as a breach of the contract you have with us. Think about what I have just said in everything you say and do.”

She left and could feel in her bones they were wavering about her. She had to be careful from here on in. She decided to go to her room, rip up what she had written, flush the pieces down the toilet, and add a few more poems. She hid her black book

underneath her mattress – the one obvious place someone would hide something. It was only when she had finished that she started to feel better.

Later, when she walked into reception, she could tell the others were talking about her by stopping talking and looking at her.

Sherry disappeared as soon as she saw June enter the reception area. June smiled, hoping she would take the bait. She would know everything in the next few minutes.

Gideon appeared a few minutes later, walking past her to talk to one of the greeters. They left together and headed for the dining room.

One of the guests was shouting obscenities at the other diners. Gideon tried to get her to sit down, but the woman, blond, slim, and tall, brushed off all their attempts. June decided to join them. Gideon saw her out of the corner of his eye.

June put her arm around the woman, who had started to cry. June was able to get her to move out of the dining room gradually.

June kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear that she was taking her to the spa, where they have a special treatment that will take five years off her face. “You will be the most beautiful woman at The Retreat,” she whispered in her ear. “You’ll love it. They call it an experience of a lifetime.”

The young woman had flashing dark eyes and a face that turned heads every time she walked into a room.

“And that’s just the start,” added June. There are two special massages guaranteed to take pounds off your body and other treatments to make you healthy again.”

The woman started to cry and hugged her. June helped her to the spa, a fiveminute walk away. “This beautiful lady needs your great gifts,” she said to the spa manager. I read your spa menu the first day I joined The Retreat and saw one of your facials that can not only reduce wrinkles but take five years off your face. She needs that and other anti-ageing facials and, above all, massages to put her in touch with her spirit and body. When she leaves here, I want her to be a new woman and to feel better about herself and her body than she’s felt in years.”

“You never fail to amaze me, June.”

Not really. The first day I was there, I felt a little down and lonely and stopped by the spa and saw their list of treatments. I was tempted but felt I would feel better with a good night’s sleep. My initiation changed all that.”

“I still don’t know what the temper tantrum was all about.”

June smiled. “I don’t either. But I suspect she caught her boyfriend or husband with another woman. She needed reassurance and made to feel she could revive the power of her beauty.”

They headed back to the reception area. “I need to talk to you about something else, June.”

“My little black book?”

Gideon nodded.

“I gather Sherry has already told you about it. She thinks I’m writing bad things I see about The Retreat. I told her I was writing poems. She wanted to see them. I refused.”

“Why not?”

“They’re love poems.” She hung her head.

“Would you show them to me? It would help to clear the air?”

Professor Moller has already read them on the understanding that he would not discuss them with others.”

“What did he say?”

“That I would become a wealthy lady if I played my cards right.”

“Let me echo that. You have a way with people very few of us possess. I had no idea, for example, what was troubling that woman in the dining room.”

“You underestimate yourself, Gideon. You bring an element of common sense to all our operations and have become a steadying influence. I think we would make a great team.”

June reached out and held his hand. Let him think what he wants, she thought and noted he could become an ally whenever she might need one.

Sherry saw them talking and walked up to her. “I found this under your mattress.” She said, waving June’s little black book. “I thought I’d bring it to you, just in case you might forget where you hid it.”

Gideon walked away with a smile.

“I hope you won’t reveal what I’ve written to the others.”

“No danger of that. I don’t know how you did it, but I know you switched books somehow.”

*** Leslie Gibson called Hazlett later in the afternoon. “What do you know about this guy, Flight?”

“Not enough, it would seem.”

“My sources tell me he has big gambling debts and that his company is struggling to stay afloat. He’s also connected to a dubious Retreat in your neighbourhood, called The Retreat.”

Hazlett’s mind was whirring in all directions and revolving around new possibilities.

“Are you with me, Flight?”

“You just made my day, Leslie. It would do me a world of good to see you and Terry Carton. What about next weekend. Right now, I could do with my old crew about me.”

He placed the phone down and called for Archie. “I’ve heard back from Leslie Gibson. It seems that Bricknell is up to his neck in gambling debts.”

“Do you think The Retreat also operates high-stakes card games or a casino, hidden out of sight to people who go there?”

“Good point, Archie. And I suspect you’re right. But what puzzles me, and has puzzled me all along, is why he engineered the bank robbery in the first place. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m sure it will in the end,” said Archie. His dark eyes searched Hazlett’s face.

“Why steal your own money? The only thing I can think of is collecting from his insurance and/or the bank.”

Hazlett let out his breath slowly. “No. There’s something else. Another wrinkle we haven’t thought about.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN “It’s Winton Hazlett. I was wondering if you had any feedback from other farmers about Bricknell.”

“I’m having lunch with Roy. He’d also like to talk to you when we finish.”

Michael paused to chew on a mouthful of apple pie and wash it down with tea.

“A lot of farmers are hopping mad. They tell me they haven’t seen a farthing from Bricknell in a year and are thinking about taking him to court. They’re in a box.

Other than the local market, they have nowhere else to get rid of their vegetables and worried if they don’t deal with Bricknell, their crops will rot in the fields.”

“What about you? Has anyone been nosing around out there asking about you?”

“Not so far.”

“Don’t let up. These people do not give up and will kill you with half a chance.”

Michael took another mouthful of tea. “Roy can tell you a lot more.”

Roy, who was not at ease on the phone, introduced himself. “I was one of their first suppliers when they started. Old Mr. Bricknell was as honest as the sun. He’d be turning in his grave if he knew what his son was doing. I’m not the only one who thinks so. Old Mr. Bricknell always paid us in cash. No cheques, no waiting. He came around to have tea with my wife and me and counted out our money on the kitchen table.”

“I appreciate this, Mr. Craddock. Before you go, how is young Michael working out?”

“He’s wonderful. He catches onto everything quickly. You have only to show him once, and it’s locked in his head. With Michael, we’ll be able to live out our lives at the farm. He’s been a Godsend. Thank you for introducing him.”

Archie, who came amid Hazlett’s conversation, could tell there had been another development by the look in Hazlett’s eyes.

“That was Michael Sullivan and Roy Craddock. They gave me quite an earful about Bricknell. It seems Bricknell hasn’t paid them or the other farmers in a year.

They still supply Bricknell rather than have their crops rot.”

“There’s more, I gather.”

“I’d like you to get everyone together and talk about everything – The Retreat, Bricknell, the bank and the dead woman. I want you to lead it. I will sit back and listen to what everyone says and see if it triggers a new approach. Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. Be sure to include Connor. He’s seen a lot of things over the past 30 years.

Five minutes later, they were all sitting around a small table on the station's right-hand side. “We’re looking for ideas. Think of this as a strategy session, where you get a chance to give us your ideas. We need a new approach about Bricknell and the bank robbery.” Archie went on to talk about Michael Sullivan’s comments about Bricknell, how the farmers had not been paid in a year, and that Bricknell has a big gambling problem.

“I hear he’s a frequent visitor at The Retreat,” said Pip. “How accurate is that?” said Archie.

“It came from one of my friends.”

“It all fits,” said Connor. “And confirms the connection, whatever it may be, between The Retreat and George Bricknell.

“This friend of yours, Pip. Does he go to The Retreat?”

“Yes. I hope that won’t get my friend in trouble.”

“I thought he might be useful as a courier to someone in The Retreat.”

“I can ask if you wish.”

“I want to share something with you all,” Hazlett suddenly broke in. “And I do not want what I tell you to leave this room. And, Pip, under no circumstances are you to even hint about this to your friend.”

Pip moved uneasily in his chair, and Connor straightened. Tommy Thomas, who liked surprises, thought this was more like it.

“We have someone inside The Retreat who is attempting to gather information on the people behind it and collect evidence that would stand up in court. So far, all we got is supposition.”

For Tommy Thomas, this was the stuff of movies. His heart was pumping wildly. “Are we to know the name of that person, sir?”

“Not at this time. There’s too much at stake. If there are loose lips anywhere, it could cost this person their life. I’ve had some misgivings about it since Michael Sullivan identified the dead woman as someone who had been working at The Retreat.

“Let me emphasize again what I told you about having someone at The Retreat.

This is not to leave this room.”

“Have we heard anything from this person?” said Pip. “Not yet. For the record, I warned this person not to do anything that would endanger their safety. I suspect getting information to us has been a problem.”

“Perhaps, it’s time we revisited The Retreat,” said Connor in a new voice.

“What do the rest of you think?”

“I can’t wait for either, but it may be a bit premature. Every day our informant is there, the more things they’re learning,” said Archie.

Hazlett looked at Pip. “This friend of yours. Would you trust him with our life?”

“I honestly think so.”

“Does he take drugs, even recreational drugs?” Drugs were always on Connor’s mind.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“You’ve been quiet, Tommy. What would you suggest?”

“I think the Inspector should make a personal call on the Professor and tell him you’ve heard a lot of conflicting stories about The Retreat and him and whether he could set you straight, and, perhaps, talk to our informer if you get a chance.”

“What do you think, Archie.”

“I frankly don’t see the point at this time. All you’d be doing is making the Professor more paranoid than he already is and start to second guess everyone there.

And if you do decide to go, then tell him something that will put him more at ease, like being able to identify the woman who had been found dead and that you’ve closed that file.”

Dr. Culver suddenly appeared in the doorway. “I was in the neighbourhood and wanted to talk to you.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not really. Some good news for a change. Evans, then coroner, somehow didn’t feel right about his decision and asked me to do an internal examination of our dead lady, who is still able to surprise us.”

“In what way?”

“Why don’t you come along with me, and you’ll decide once you see for yourself.”

“You’ve got me curious. Do you think it will clear the air?”

“I will leave that to your realm of expertise.”

Dr. Culver didn’t say much on his way to his dispensary. The room where he did autopsies for the coroner was behind his office and reception areas. He opened the window to get rid of the smell of alcohol that lingered in the air.

“The coroner had it in his head that he was missing something in our initial assessment and that maybe, she had been poisoned.”

Hazlett had set his mouth, hoping Dr. Culver would get to the point.

“She wasn’t poisoned but we did discover something in her stomach,” Dr. Culver pointed to a small scrap of paper sitting on the window sill.

“What about it, doctor?”

“I can’t read what it says at this time. The paper was discoloured by what was in her stomach and her stomach acids. Do not touch it until it’s perfectly dry.

Otherwise, it night shred. It was a devil of a job to unroll it and lay it out flat.”

Hazlett could make out the odd letter but ended up feeling frustrated and anxious.

“We were lucky even to get this. It was rolled into a small ball, which was encased in a gum wrapper. This young lady had her wits about her.”

“The coroner and I were hoping your wizards at the constabulary have a few tricks to make some sense of this. The coroner would like to know what it says before he makes his final ruling.”

“No problem. But how do I get it to the lab?”

“Let me pack it for you.”.

Connor couldn’t wait to hear what it was. Archie left his desk.

“Dr. Culver found something in the dead woman’s stomach. A piece of paper wrapped in a gum wrapper and coated with the gum itself. There’s writing on it but I can’t make it out. It was stained by what was in her stomach at the time. I think we’re going to need a lab to be able to read this.”

“Do you want me to take it to our lab in Aston?” said Pip. Hazlett handed him the package. “Warn their technician to be careful when he opens the package. And make sure it comes back to us in one piece and readable to the eye.”

Pip was gone for two hours and returned with excitement in his eyes.

Hazlett opened the package and read what was on the paper before reading it to the others: They are taking me somewhere. I know they will kill me when they return. I have been working at The Retreat and have found out things they do not want you to know.

CHAPTER TWENTY Lorne Yarrow joined Hazlett on the sofa in his office. “How are you getting on? This is the hardest time when everything is still fresh in your mind. I think you’re right to focus on work right now.”

“The nights are hard,” Hazlett found himself saying.

Yarrow offered him a cigarette. “I gather you’re here on business. How can I help?”

“Archie and I would like to interview Clive Hosking. It’s recently come to our attention that he recently inherited 15,000 pounds from his uncle. Were you aware of this?”

“I was not. Do you think it’s connected with the bank robbery?”

“Ask me that after I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”

“I don’t mind telling you that my superiors are on my back every day about the robbery and the lawsuit against us. It’s not a good thing, even if we do win.” He rose. “Let me get him for you.”

Clive Hosking was breathing hard and nervous. “Mr. Yarrow said you had a few questions for me.”

“It’s the 15,000 pounds that recently came your way. Can you tell me how that came about?”

“I inherited it from my uncle, Clive. He’s my mother’s brother, and I was named after him.” His voice began to tremble. “It came as a surprise. My uncle was a recluse. He made a bit of money from his inventions and hadn’t visited my mother very often in recent years. During the war, he always gave me a model airplane kit every Christmas.”

“I understand your money is not on deposit at any bank. Where is it?”

“Is this something I need to talk about?”

“That is up to you, Mr. Hosking. But if you do, we will appreciate your help and co-operation.”

“I took the cheque I received from the solicitor, who handled my uncle’s estate and used it to buy stocks.” His voice became increasingly nervous, and he started to breathe uneasily.

Hazlett put his hand on Hosking’s arm. “Perhaps we should pause for a bit before continuing.” He looked at his watch. ”Let’s pause for a few minutes and relax.”

Archie talked to him about his uncle’s inventions.

Hosking described a potato peeler that made his uncle a lot of money. “He was a bit odd. Liked his own company. The only time we ever saw him was at Christmas.”

Hazlett wrote a note to Archie, who left to make a phone call.

Hosking continued to talk about his uncle and that he had rarely seen him in recent years. “The last time I saw him, he told me he was pleased to see me working at the bank.”

Archie returned five minutes later and passed Hazlett a note. Hazlett glanced at it and put it in his pocket.

“I had Archie call the executor of your uncle’s estate. He told us you inherited only 500 pounds, not 15,000.”

Hosking didn’t respond. It was clear to Hazlett that Hosking hadn’t expected this turn of events.

“Where did the other 14,500 pounds come from?”

“I think I need a solicitor to advise me. Can you advise me of someone I might call?”

“I cannot, Mr. Hosking, but perhaps one of the ladies downstairs can help you.”

“What do you think?” said Hazlett after Hosking had left.

“I’m not sure. I was wondering if this was what Hosking told his girlfriend to impress her or something else, we don’t know about.”

Hosking returned about 30 minutes later. ”My solicitor will be here shortly.”

Geoffrey Jarvis was in his late 30s, who walked and talked with a superior air.

He had a pencil-thin black mustache and small dark eyes that kept darting around the room. Hazlett looked at Hosking, who was breathing hard again.

“What is this all about, Inspector?”

“There was a bank robbery here, as you might know, and we recently heard your client came into 15,000 pounds. He said it was left to him by his uncle, who recently died. When we checked, it was 500 pounds, not 15,000 pounds.”

“So what? Inheriting 500 pounds or even 15,000 pounds is not a crime. If you wish to talk to Mr. Hosking in the future, please do it through me.” He raised his palms as a signal for Hosking to rise and follow him out.

Hazlett stopped them at the door. “There is something I do need to know now.

We need a record of the stocks he invested in and their purchase price.”

“Before he agrees, we would like to know why.”

“Put it down to idle curiosity.”

“Or fishing,” said Jarvis.

Lorne Yarrow reappeared when they left. “What just happened?”

“We talked to Mr. Hosking about the 15,000 pounds he inherited from his uncle and used to buy securities worth 15,000 pounds. We found he inherited only 500 pounds. We’re interested in knowing where the other 14,500 pounds came from.”

Yarrow’s eyes lit up. “I gather you think he’s involved in the robbery.”

“If not him, then someone else in the bank. Regarding Hosking, we are always suspicious of individuals who suddenly come into money after a major robbery.”

“I hate to think that he was part of the robbery. I feel let down. I had such great hopes for him.”

Hazlett patted him on the back. “Now, we’d like to talk to one of your tellers, Hilda Deavy.”

“Not Hilda, surely.”

“When it comes to money, anything is possible.”

Yarrow returned shortly with Hilda, who sat in a chair opposite Hazlett. Yarrow stood behind her.

“We need your help, Hilda. We believe one of your colleagues tipped off the bank robbers about the 80,000 pounds in your vault. Do you have any idea who you think might be involved?”

Hilda didn’t respond. She kept touching and patting her hair. Her face slowly lost its colour, and her eyes looked washed out and tired.

“Are you all right, Hilda?” said Yarrow, who could sense her nervousness.

“I’m all right, Mr. Yarrow. I had a horrible headache last night and didn’t get much sleep, I’m afraid.”

Yarrow looked at Hazlett. “Could we wait for a day or two, Inspector?”

“What about it, Hilda?” Hazlett said in a soft voice.

She touched her hair again and smiled weakly. “I’ll try, Mr. Yarrow.”

“Have you ever been to The Retreat?”

“A friend took me there once.”

“I hear it’s costly.”

“It is that but it was one of the most incredible experiences in my life. It was like being in paradise.”

“I hear that drugs are available there?”

“You’re probably right, Inspector.”

Hazlett studied her face. Her skin looked tired, and fine lines had begun to appear at the corners of her mouth and eyes.

“In the Constabulary, there is a feeling you might know who might be behind the disappearance of 6,000 pounds from the Unsworth account.”

“Inspector.” Yarrow blurted.

Hazlett raised his hand. “Let her speak, Yarrow.”

“Who in your station would suggest such a terrible thing? Hilda has been with us for almost 18 years and has never had a problem with any of her accounts all that time.”

Hilda covered her face with her hands and was crying.

“I think she‘s had enough, Inspector.”

“From what I saw today, I’d say she’s on drugs.”

Yarrow led her out and led her to the staff lounge.

“She needs help, Yarrow,” said Hazlett when he returned.

“Do you honestly think she stole money from the Unsworth account?”

“I’d say it’s a strong possibility.”

“Do you plan to charge her?”

“She needs professional help. Let’s see how that works out.”

Yarrow collapsed on the sofa. It had started to rain hard. You could hear it beat against the window and darken his office. “It’s not been a good day. My wife’s cancer treatments are not working any longer. I dread what’s coming next.”

He lit a cigarette and cradled the back of his head in the cushion on top of the sofa. “It seems that everything is conspiring against me.”

“Cheer up, Lorne. You haven’t heard all my news. It would appear that your good friend, George Bricknell, is up to his eyeballs in gambling debts, hasn’t paid his farmers for more than a year, and is a frequent visitor to The Retreat.”

Yarrow’s eyes were glistening. “Which makes me wonder, where did he get the 80,000 pounds to put in my vault.” He smiled for the first time. “You have no idea how much you changed my day.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The young woman about June’s age stopped him at the door. “Is this your first visit to The Retreat?”

“I was here once before. My name is Inspector Hazlett of the Gladstonbury Constabulary. I am here to see Professor Moller.”

“Please wait.” She called Gideon, who suddenly appeared a minute later as if by magic. “I’m not sure he’s available right now, Inspector, but I’ll check.”

Hazlett saw June out of the corner of his eye. Gideon replaced the receiver of the phone.

Follow me, Inspector.” Gideon headed out of the reception area and led him through a maze of corridors to the Professor’s reception area. Professor Moller was standing outside his office and smiled as soon as Hazlett appeared.

“Good to see you again, Inspector. I trust all is well.”

“Very well, professor.” I have good news, Professor Moller. We have finally identified the dead woman, and that we have closed her file.”

Moller smiled. His instincts told him there was something more. “I suspect you’re rather curious about The Retreat and what we do here. Gideon, our majordomo, will be happy to show you around. I hope you find it as much as a delight as our visitors. I would but I see that I’m late for another appointment,” he added, looking at his wristwatch.

“The professor is quite a compelling person,” said Gideon as they started down a darkened corridor. “Anything, in particular, you would like to see?”

“Just pretend I’m one of your visitors and giving me a grand tour.”

“Let’s start with the dining room on this floor. We have two.”

Sherry was engaged with another visitor. Hazlett glanced at her. “I know that young lady from my previous visit. She is very attractive but quite a handful at times, I suspect.”

Gideon laughed. “She’s all that.” He made a mental note of Hazlett’s comment to tell the Professor.

After tea, they visited the spa and chatted with the spa manager before heading to The Inner Sanctum. “This is where the Professor helps our guests enter a new dimension and complete fulfillment. A state of Nirvana.”

On the way out, they encountered June escorting a visitor to the dining room.

“Let me introduce you to one of our greeters.”

June held her breath, not sure what to say. Hazlett just smiled and put his hand into his pocket before offering her his hand. She felt a piece of paper and almost lost it when she withdrew her hand, quickly palming his message to her side pocket.

Sherry was watching everything from the upper floor. She descended slowly and entered the dining room. Gideon saw her and waved her to the table, where Gideon introduced him to her. Hazlett shook her hand.

“You are the beautiful lady we met last week last week when you took us to see the Professor,” he said, withdrawing his hand slowly.

“The Inspector mentioned you when we were touring our facilities and meeting the Professor for the first time.”

Sherry didn’t react. She sat back and ordered a glass of Italian wine. “Will you join me, Inspector. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Gladly, but I’m on duty. Perhaps when I am not on duty. I see I am running late,” he said, getting up.”

“Let me escort you, Inspector.”

When Gideon returned, Sherry didn’t wait until he sat down. “Why was he here?”

“The Inspector came to tell the Professor that he had identified the woman who had been murdered and that the case was now closed.”

“I don’t believe it. Men like him are always on duty. I know men like Hazlett, and I do not trust him.” He turned to June. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing. He just shook my hand, and then you showed up.”

“Am I the only one who can see what he really came here for?”

June went to the toilet off the main room. She put her hand in her pocket for the note from Hazlett: DESTROY THIS NOTE AS SOON AS YOU READ IT. We are making good headway with bank robbery and the murder. When you decide you want to come out, tell them you are in agony. Tell them you have sharp pains on the side of your stomach and need to see Dr. Culver at the hospital in a real hurry, that you had these pains before, and that he had warned you that if they returned, it meant that your appendix could burst if you do not get to the hospital in time.

She tore up the note into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet off the main floor. She failed to note that Sherry had followed her into the bathroom and left before June emerged from the stall.

*** “I was able to pass my note to June unnoticed. On the surface, she appeared to be fine but I could feel that something was bothering her, a hint of worry in her eyes.”

“How did she look?” said Archie, who had followed him into his office.

“As chipper as ever but different somehow. Careful in a way she never was before, as though someone else was listening to every word she said.”

Hazlett opened the window. “In my note, I left with her. I suggested if she needed to escape from The Retreat, she was in great pain and needed to see Dr. Culver. It’s hot in here,” he said, fanning himself.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“I left The Retreat feeling that things were coming to a head. For them and us.

And June should be pulled out now.”

“What makes you feel that?”

“A feeling that they were playing with me, that they knew what I was up to, and that something was about to happen. The same feeling I used to have on my bombing missions.”

*** “You’re worrying about something that’s not going to happen, George.”

George Bricknell looked at the Professor and took a deep breath. “I don’t like the way they keep coming back as if he knew something and was trying to make me admit to everything. I have a hard time sleeping after every time Hazlett comes. I’m nearing the end of my rope.”

“Be patient for a bit longer, and all your worries will disappear in a puff of smoke. The wheels are already in motion.”

“What are you planning?”

“Bide your time for a bit longer, and you will feel like a new man. And a wealthy one.”

Professor Moller did not like weak people. It was one of the reasons why he took Sherry into his confidence. There was no-nonsense in her, and she could be trusted to take her secrets to her grave. That weak girl could never be trusted if things suddenly turned ugly. The new girl had a lot of smarts but there was something about her that made him feel uneasy, and he always trusted what his gut was telling him.”

It was nearing lunch. Moller looked at Bricknell and tightened his mouth. Once he had completed his business with him, he would also have to go. Bricknell knew too much and could not be trusted. He felt good, knowing things were already in motion that would make his life a lot simpler. He opened the left drawer on his desk, which opened onto a secret compartment. He withdrew the file, which he opened to look at 52 photographs.

In his SS major’s uniform, the picture of him addressing inmates of a concentration camp brought back happier times. He thought of his staff and their steadfast devotion to him. They were strong people. How men like Bricknell won the war was beyond him. He would move to another location when this was over and start another retreat under a new name. It would make him wealthy enough to return to Germany and recreate the Third Reich again with the funds to make it all happen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Hazlett decided to sleep in and arrived 30 minutes later than usual.

“The Chief Inspector has been on the phone to you every five minutes. He wants you to call him as soon as you get in,” said Connor. “He sounded angry. I hope all is right.”

Hazlett sat down and closed his eyes. The Chief Inspector’s calls didn’t bode well. He reached for his phone.

“Hazlett. What is hell are you trying to do up there. I’ve had calls from four MPs telling me you’re creating many problems for some important business people in Gladstonbury. What’s this all about?”

Hazlett tried to explain but the Chief Inspector didn’t want to listen. “Unless you have concrete evidence that your investigations have shown they have broken the law, you are to cease and desist. Any questions?”

“No, just misgivings.”

“So that there is no misinterpretation, I want you to stop all investigations about these two companies and focus all your attention on the bank robbery.”

“But we believe they’re both connected with the bank robbery.”

“Belief is not concrete evidence. At the moment, all you have are suppositions and theories that are causing a lot of problems for these two companies.”

Hazlett shook his head. “I would like to submit what we have already discovered for your consideration, Chief Inspector.”

“Submit whatever you have by all means. But in the meantime, I want you to halt all investigations forthwith.”

Hazlett sat at his desk for about five minutes to let his anger subside. Connor came in with a mug of tea.

“Is everyone here?”

Connor nodded.

“Then ask them to come into my office, including you. I have an announcement to make.”

“This is not going to take long, my friends,” he began in a louder voice than usual. “It seems that Bricknell and The Retreat have the ear of four MPs, who have vouched for both companies, and are pressuring the Chief Inspector to have our investigations stopped forthwith.”

“Did you tell him what we’ve learned so far,” said Pip. “He didn’t want to hear. All he said was that unless we have concrete evidence, we are to stop our investigations and focus on the bank robbery.”

“Well,” said Tommy Thomas. “I plan to carry on, unofficially, of course.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I do not want any of you to get into trouble because of this. In my experience, time will tell everything, with or without our efforts.”

They all looked at each other and smiled. Hazlett could read what was in their heads but decided to ignore it. Inside, he was smiling, too.

He turned to Archie. “I want you to focus on the bank robbery, starting with Clive Hosking and Hilda Deavy. Find out who they see after work and where they go at night. I’ve already warned Lorne Yarrow that Hilda is taking drugs and needs help. I suspect she’s regular at The Retreat.

“We need to solve the bank robbery. If we can get confessions from Hilda and Clive that tie Bricknell into the bank robbery, the Chief Inspector will have no other option but to re-open our investigation into Bricknell and The Retreat.”

No one seemed to know what to say.

“I intend to keep a low profile until that happens.”

Archie found his voice first. “Where would you like us to start?”

“I’d bring Hilda and Clive to the station separately. Clive will likely bring his solicitor. Solicitor or not, we need a confession from both of them.”

They began to file out in silence. There was an air of unease and uncertainty in the air.

“A word, Connor.”

“Inspector?”

“You’ve been with the constabulary the longest of us all. I want you to keep me posted about what everyone is doing.” *If you don’t mind, Inspector, what exactly do you plan to do? I know you well enough to know that you won’t be idle.”

“A number of things, starting with focusing on the things you have to deal with every day. I’d like to start with that young woman and her lost boyfriend. Could you call her and ask her to join us this afternoon.”

“The others are confused, Inspector. They’ve never seen you like this before.

What do I tell them?”

“That I am conducting my investigations and that I have no wish to talk about them lest they cause problems for the station. If they can get confessions from these two that link the Retreat and Bricknell to the robbery, no one will be able to stop us.

In the meantime, let us see what we can do for that young lady and her missing boyfriend.”

The young woman turned up early in the afternoon. “Do you have news about –“ “Not yet. But our Inspector would like to talk to you,” said Connor, who had led her to Hazlett’s office. Connor left and returned with a mug of tea for her.

“We’ve looked for him among the druggies in town,” said Connor. “And still can’t find him. No one seems to know who he is.”

“What else can you tell me about him?” said Hazlett.

“He has a breathing problem and uses a puffer. I worry about that most of all.”

“Does he have any close friends?”

“A couple of no-goods. They’re always getting into trouble, and I keep telling him they’ll get him into trouble, too.”

“Do you know where we might find these friends?” said Connor, picking up her mug. “Let me get you another.”

Carolyn Chase left about 15 minutes later. “Get Pip and Tommy on this as well and tell them it’s critical to our case. We need these two gentlemen.”

“On what charge?”

“I’m sure we can find one.”

Archie popped in later. “Just to let you know, Inspector. We’re behind you all the way.”

Pip and Tommy returned two hours later. It appears the two friends and her boyfriend left Gladstonbury the day he disappeared.”

“Call the London and Manchester Police and other likely places they might have gone and tell them this two are wanted in connection with a local robbery.”

“Without pictures to go with it, it’s a bit of a long shot.”

Hazlett nodded. “Ask Connor to step in. Maybe he can help.”

“Did our young friend have a picture of her boyfriend? Tell me we need it to track him down.”

She says she’ll bring it to us within the hour,” said Connor.

“I’d like to talk to her again when she comes in.”

He thought about June and realized he could not help her. He picked up the phone and called Dr. Culver.

“Mason, if you get a call from a young woman by the name of June Spottispode, please deal with it yourself. If someone else calls to make an appointment for her, tell that person she is one of your patients and that she suffers from appendix problems and should be brought to the hospital as soon as possible. Please call me when she arrives. If I am not here, ask for Archie. Please do not mention me or my call to anyone. It could put her life in danger. And if another woman accompanies her, hide June in the hospital and tell the woman she cannot see your patient now unless she is a relative.”

“Over and out, Winton.”

Carolyn Chase appeared at the station at the end of the day. Connor waved her to join him in the Inspector’s office.

“Here’s the picture of this lady’s boyfriend. I’ll give it to Archie to get everything rolling,” said Connor, glancing at Hazlitt as she left.

“We’re sending his photograph to all police stations to be on the lookout for him. We should hear something in the next couple of days.”

“Thank you, Inspector.” She rose but Hazlett stopped her with his upraised hand.

“Did your boyfriend ever mention the name Bricknell or The Retreat while he was with you?”

“I’m not sure. Sorry, Inspector. Everything is in a jumble right now. It rings a bell but that’s all I can remember right now. Why do you ask?”

“It might help us with something else we’re working on and help us find him for you.”

She left smiling. So was Hazlett. It was the connection he had been praying for.”

Hazlett decided to eat out at a nearby tea house. He was halfway through his dinner when he heard someone coughing. He looked up. It was the person in the photograph.

“Join me for supper,” said Hazlett. “I need no one to talk to and need the company.”

The young man, now wearing a black beard, hesitated.

“Hazlett introduced himself. “Your girlfriend is worried sick about you. She even filed a missing person report on you. And here you are.”

The young man sat down slowly. He sipped on his coffee, not sure what to say.”

“She misses you. May I tell her that you will call her and let her know you’re all right.” Hazlett paused to look at him. There was no reaction.

“We would also like your address.”

“What for? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Just in case you do not call her.”

“I will.” He rose and walked out the door, never once looking back.

Hazlett decided to call Connor when he got home. The house was dark when he entered. He walked down the hall and was about to turn on the light switch when suddenly everything went black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE “It should not have ended this way,” said Archie, who had finished examining George Bricknell’s body before it was taken to Dr. Culver’s dispensary for an autopsy and to confirm the cause of death.

The women in Bricknell’s office sat at their desks, crying. The phones never stopped. No one answered them on Archie’s orders.

“Who discovered the body?”

“We did,” said Robbie Drummond, one of the farmers waiting to see Bricknell about making sure they all got paid in full.

“And you are?”

Robbie Drummond explained why he and Ron Wood were there. “Mr. Bricknell came in late and went directly into his office. Then suddenly, we heard the sound of a gun going off. Ron opened the door and closed it. “I wanted to go in but Ron stopped me.”

Rebecca Bricknell’s boyfriend, Geoffrey, put his arm around her as she began to sob.

“Are we free to go, detective?” said Robbie Drummond, who spoke with a soft Scots accent.

“Do you know if he were on the phone or said anything before he killed himself?”

Drummond didn’t like the spotlight.” Just the shot when Ron Wood opened the door and saw what had happened, closed it and called the police.”

“Just leave your telephone numbers with us in case we need to talk to you.”

Archie whispered something to Pip, who left a few seconds later. Archie sat down opposite Rebecca Bricknell and her friend.

“You and your nosy Inspector are to blame for this.” There was fire in her voice and hate in her eyes. “You’re the reason he took his life. He couldn’t take it anymore.”

“We are sorry it had to end this way. But we had good reason to believe he was involved in some way in the bank robbery,” said Archie in a low voice.

“That’s a lie, and you know it. You’re just covering up your incompetence.”

Geoff rubbed her back. “What do you want from her, detective?”

Rebecca was about to speak but he put his index finger on her lips.” Before she says anything else, we need to know what’s in your mind.”

Archie’s face was cold and business-like. “We would like you to know that we will be undertaking a major search of your office and warehouse.”

“You have a search warrant, I assume?”

Archie nodded to Pip, who left. “I expect Pip will be back within the hour with the warrant and additional constables. In the meantime, we want everyone, including you, Miss Bricknell, to provide us with their full names, addresses and telephone numbers.”

“When can we make arrangements with the funeral home?”

“In a day or two. His body will first be taken to the coroner’s office to determine the cause of death.”

“You can’t be serious.” There was mockery in her voice.

“Yes. Even if it sounds pointless at the time.”

“Anything else?”

“Each of you will be escorted off the premises. Your office and warehouse are now a crime scene.”

There was a row of desks on the office's left-hand side, with a row of filing cabinets behind them. Six women were still processing orders and talking on the phone. Rebecca Bricknell sat off to one side.

The four lights hanging from the ceiling shed light in every area of the office.

The floor, which had recently been sanded and varnished, led to George Bricknell’s office at the end of the room. It was walled with translucent glass and lit by another overhanging light. Sheets of paper still littered his large desk. Bricknell always seemed to know where to find things and made a fuss every time his daughter tried to make some order.

Rebecca and her boyfriend stopped at the door. “Any idea when we can return?

We do have a business to run, whether my father is here or not. I also need to know what to tell our employees how long our operations will be down.”

“We will be as quick as we can.”

Archie could hear them speaking in low tones as they were escorted out of the office and down the stairs. A few minutes later, Pip arrived with six other constables.

Dr. Culver and the photographer arrived a few minutes later.

Dr. Culver made a preliminary examination and nodded to his staff to remove the body and take it to his dispensary.

“What are we looking for, Archie?”

“Eighty thousand pounds in banknotes. I’ll check up here, and you and the others examine every inch of the warehouse.”

Pip left with six other constables while Archie examined every desk in the other office, any place where money might be stashed like the filing cabinets. An hour later, he discovered a note from Moller, telling him that everything was set to go, and ended: “We will send our boxes for you to take to the bank.”

For a second, his heart stopped. He knew what the boxes contained. If only the Inspector were here to see this. He would know what to do next.

Pip reappeared just as Archie completed his search. He folded the note, put it in his pocket and removed his gloves. “Any luck?”

“Not yet. There’s a lot to see down there.”

“The money will be in some boxes.”

“If Bricknell stole it, Archie, what was the point? Why steal your own money?

And go through all the risks of a holdup. Doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“It probably will, once we know what they knew.”

“How long do you want us to stay, Arch? I’m getting hungry.”

“Until we find it.”

“I was thinking. No one would expect to find 80,000 pounds stuffed in a stack of cabbage containers.”

Archie laughed. “If you’ve been as long in this business as I have, you’re never surprised. But you’re onto something, Pip.” “Do you think it was stored here, waiting for transportation?”

“Probably. But I expect there’s more to it than that. Once I find them, I want all the bank notes examined before they leave us.”

“I’m heading back to town to check with Dr. Culver and bring Connor up to date. You’re in charge until I get back.”

Pip groaned. “Then bring me back a couple of sandwiches, Arch.”

*** “The cause of death?” said Dennis Evans, the coroner. “Dr. Culver says suicide, but he suspects there was a drug in his system, which might be the real cause of his suicide. He’s conducting a scan now.

“There was a drug all right. One that would cause suicidal thoughts and the reason why Bricknell decided to end his life.

Later, Connor also had news. “Pip’s on the phone and wants to talk to you.“ “We’ve found it. And not just the 80,000 pounds, Arch. More money than you’ve ever seen in our life.”

“Before you go, Arch, tell me what happened.”

“I found Bricknell dead sitting in his chair, where he had shot himself with his revolver, and I talked with Bricknell’s daughter.”

“What did Pip want?”

“Just something he needed to talk to you about.”

Archie smiled as he headed back. Pip was coming along and starting to show promise.

Pip met him at the entrance of the warehouse. “It’s been slow going. There were more boxes and containers than you could imagine. I noticed one group packed in the corner marked Rotting Vegetable area. I had a hunch that’s where they’d be stored. I found the 80,000 pounds all right.” He paused on purpose. “And another 500,000 pounds by our reckoning.”

“Has the photographer left yet?”

Pip nodded. “I should have told him to wait, sorry.”

“I’ll go upstairs and call Connor and ask him to get another photographer to come to the warehouse.”

“Why not the one we’ve been using?”

“He works for the newspaper. Do you think they’re not going to run with his photographs in the next edition? I want their guy taking photographs of the warehouse, the stacks of boxes where you found the banknotes, as well as open boxes to show what they contained.”

Archie was overwhelmed by the smell of rotting vegetables and headed upstairs.

“We have to open a lot of boxes to make sure nothing is hidden below the vegetables. Some had spoiled,” said Pip, smelling his hands.

“This is huge, Pip. There’s more to this than we know, starting with why so much money is stored here.”

“Maybe it’s counterfeit notes.”

“There’s a good chance that it is, Pip. Good thinking. Could I see a few of the notes?”

Pip took a banknote from each of six boxes and passed them to Archie, who didn’t say much as he examined them under the sunlight from a nearby window. He turned each one over and over, looking at them from different angles.

He finally looked up. “They’re real, all right. Which begs the question why Bricknell was up to his nose in gambling debts?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Hazlett woke with a throbbing headache. The right side of his head was sore. Even without touching it, he could feel something sticky on his right cheek. It had to be blood. His mind drifted off to his crash and seeing young Chapman’s face as he floated in the Channel water and how the blood had hardened on Chapman’s face.

He couldn’t move his arms or feet. They were strapped down by a thick tape that made it impossible for him to move. He suddenly felt sick and vomited over the front of his shirt. There was hardly any light in the place, making it almost impossible to orientate himself and get a handle on his surroundings.

He yelled for help at the top of his lungs until his throat was raw and slowly drifted off to sleep again. Hazlett was awakened by voices. They became clearer now as they descended into the gloom.

“I see you’re awake.”

Hazlett recognized the voice immediately. It was Moller.

“Untie me at once,” he shouted over Moller’s voice.

“We were concerned you might have died. We want you alive a little while longer. Did you think I was taken in by your soft soap words yesterday? I belong to a superior race. That was your biggest miscalculation.”

One of his associates, who had served with him at the concentration camp, slapped Hazlett across the face.

“How long do you intend to keep me here like this?”

“As long as it takes.”

“My people will come looking for me. It’s only a matter of time before they find me.”

“Somehow, I do not think so.” Moller turned and faded into the failing light.

Five minutes later, their voices also disappeared.

Hazlett’s voice was raw from shouting, and he felt thirsty. He closed his eyes and drifted off. Alma was there, looking the way she did on their wedding day.

“You’re not beaten, Winton. You were saved when your plane crashed into the Channel for something very important. Fight as you’ve never fought before.”

He could hear Chapman coughing in the water as his face bobbed up in the water and his last words: “We need you, Flight, to keep our memory alive.” Hazlett shook his head. He stared into the darkness and slowly closed his eyes.

*** “How is our patient today?” said one of them in a German accent.

Hazlett didn’t answer. The best thing he could do was to listen and find out as much as he could. Hazlett had to have faith in himself and his team. Archie had a lot of smarts and wouldn’t never give up until he found him.

“I’m thirsty and hungry.”

“We’ll remember to bring you some ice water and beef sandwiches.” They broke out in laughter. “You need to look after yourself better. You’ve vomited all over your shirt and trousers, and it’s starting to smell.”

They laughed again as they started to leave.

“Don’t forget about the water,” he shouted after them. He could still hear their laughter as they started their car.

He looked around. It was time to take stock of where he was and what he could use to free himself. He concluded he was in the cellar of a deserted house, probably one of the farms that had been abandoned. Maybe it might occur to Archie that he might be in one of the deserted farmhouses.

He tried to move the chair, but it was nailed to the floor and wouldn’t budge and wondered if he leaned over and rocked back and forth, he might loosen his bonds. He tried it many times but finally gave up. He looked around the basement.

Cobwebs bridged the supports beneath the upper floor, and a heavy musty smell lingered in the air. He spotted a water tank on the left. There were three narrow windows on the opposite wall that provided some light during the day. The only sound he heard at night was the rats scurrying across the floor in front of him. His chair was positioned against the wall that provided the only coolness during the day. He tried to loosen his arms and legs. Noting worked, and he looked around. He had no idea of time or even what day it was.

They returned sometime later, still laughing and in high spirits.

“Sorry, we forgot the water. Next time.” It was a new voice. Hazlett was more alert now. “If I don’t get some water soon, my systems will shut down, and I will die. If that happens, you will all be hounded by police all over the world. There will be no place you will be able to hide.”

The tall one, a young man with flaxen hair and faded blue eyes, slapped him across the face.

“He has a point, gentlemen.” Moller nodded to his companion. “Use your water bottle to give him a drink.”

*** “Is the Inspector in his office?”

“Not yet, Archie.”

Archie glanced at his wristwatch. “Did he say he’d be late?”

“No.” “Something must be wrong. Ask Pip to swing around to the Inspector’s house and check.”

“Maybe the Inspector just slept in, and may not like us checking up on him,” said Connor.

“He would have called. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Connor.”

Pip returned and shook his head as soon as he saw Connor. “I pressed his doorbell and hammered on his front door for two or three minutes at a time. I looked in all the windows. His kitchen was empty, and I rapped on his back door. I don’t think he’s there.”

Arche got up from his desk to listen. “I think we should go back and, if necessary, enter his house.”

“I don’t know, Archie.”

“It’s not like the Inspector to suddenly disappear without telling us. Even if he is coming late, he always calls. He’s very particular about that. He may be

incapacitated in some way or fallen and can’t get to a phone or answer the door. No. I’m going to find out one way or another. Pip. Fire up the chariot.”

Archie pounded on the door and waited a few minutes before unlocking the door. They entered the front room and called out his name at the top of their voices.

No response.

“You look in the basement,” said Archie to Pip. I’ll check all the rooms and even the closets upstairs and down. Almost out of sight was Hazlett's framed photograph of his first Lancaster crew that had dropped to the floor next to the sofa.

“Pip. Come here,” he shouted as he noted a dark spot that looked like blood. Use the car phone and tell Connor to send us someone to take pix and investigate a spot on the carpet.”

Pip’s eyes widened as he saw the blood spot. “What do you think has happened, Archie.”

“My guess is that the Inspector has been kidnapped and received a cut when he tried to resist.”

Two lab people arrived a few minutes later, dusted the room for prints, took photographs and lifted the spot from the carpet with special tweezers, putting it in a glass vial.

“Looks like he’s been dragged to a car,” said Archie, who noticed two indentations in the carpet from where they found the framed picture.

Back at the station, Connor talked to a young man arrested on drug charges. He looked at Archie and Pip and went back to the young man and his solicitor.

“Before you determine what to do with my client, you might want to take into consideration that he had been given drugs without his knowledge, and when he left where he was, he was picked up for dangerous driving.”

Archie’s face froze. “Where was he given this drug?’

The solicitor whispered something to his client. “At a place called The Retreat.”

“I’d like to talk to him in our interview room. You would, of course, be in attendance.”

“What is this about, detective?”

“We’d like to know a bit more about this place he mentioned.”

The young man, who could suddenly feel that things were turning in his favour, looked at his solicitor. “I would be pleased to help in any way I can.”

“How is it that you came to visit The Retreat?” Archie couldn’t believe his luck.

Wait until the Inspector hears this.

“A friend suggested it. He kept raving about the Inner Sanctum and called it the most incredible experience of his life. Those were his exact words.”

“Can you describe what this experience was?”

“I didn’t get a chance. We had supper and drinks. I didn’t feel good afterwards and told him I was going home. I got into my car and headed for town.”

“Did you happen to see something odd on your way back?”

“Like what?”

“Anything out of the ordinary.”

“Only a couple of men dragging another man to their car. There was a third man who was holding the door open to the back seat. They tried to hide their faces from my headlights. I didn’t think it was strange at the time. My head was seeing crazy things, and I put it down to that.”

Archie left to get Connor to join them. “I’d like you to hear what this young man has just told us. He told us he saw two men dragging a third man out of the house and putting him in the back seat of a car. He also went to The Retreat, where his drink was spiked with some drug.”

Connor smiled. “I think you agree, detective, that in this case, the accused is probably the victim and that the charge of dangerous driving, dismissed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE No one said a word after the young man and his solicitor left. Archie broke the silence. “I think you’ll agree that the Inspector was kidnapped, and that agents of The Retreat likely carried it out, and that his abduction will end in his death.”

Pip had never seen Archie like this before. “We just can sit here and hope for the best. What do you think, Archie?”

Connor was getting edgy and felt helpless. ”The first thing we need to do is to prepare a list of all possible places the Inspector might have been taken,” said Archie.

“We’ll get on it right away,” said Pip, who was whispering something to Tommy Thomas.

After that, everyone was on the phone, calling in favours from every contact to find out if they knew anything about the Inspector’s disappearance. Just when they were getting ready to leave, the phone rang on Connor’s desk.

“Inspector Hazlett, please.”

“He’s not here.”

“Do you know where we could reach him?”

“He invited me and Terry Carton, our old wireless operator, to visit him this week.“ “I really don’t know what to tell you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not here. We haven’t seen him since he left yesterday. Sorry.”

***

Hazlett was drifting in and out of sleep. His arms ached, and he felt weak. The injury to his head was playing tricks with his mind as he talked to his father about Alma. “You’ve got to get hold of yourself, Winton. Use the brain God gave you to get you out of this mess. There is always hope no matter how bad the situation is.”

He recalled hearing his father’s voice telling him the same thing when he was swirled here and there in the Channel.

His ears picked up. He could hear footfalls and then the voice of a woman, who was ordering the other two men with her to wake him up. They began to shake him until he opened his eyes.

The Asian woman smiled at him. “The tables have turned, Inspector. If you think your colleagues will find you, they won’t. You’re off their radar, and as the weeks and months go by, you’ll be forgotten by them. Your body will die long before it is found, if ever. You will be nothing more than a nameless skeleton by that time.”

“I was hoping I would see you.” His voice cracked.

“Give him some water.”

One of the men held a bottle to his lips. He was able to swallow half the bottle before they pulled it from his mouth.

“Just enough to keep you alive. We want you to die slowly and painfully.”

Hazlett tried to smile but it hurt. His arms and legs felt numb, and he began coughing.

“Your body is starting to slow down. I’m surprised. I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”

Hazlett ignored her. She was right. He had to focus on conserving his strength, he decided. He knew he could last a lot longer if he had enough water.

Archie would figure it out. He had to stay alive until he did. They were keeping him alive for a purpose beyond just making him suffer for as long as they could. He had to trick them into forcing him to take more water.

“You made a bad mistake taking on the Professor. You are not his equal. He wasn’t taken in by your visit. He’s already made you lose face in front of your superiors.” She laughed at him. “You are nothing more than a bug he steps on to take you out of your misery.”

He closed his eyes to drown her out, “Give him some more water,” she said, her voice angry and mean.

One of the men put the bottle to his cracked lips, but he shook his head to avoid it, letting it dribble down his chin and chest.

“Open his mouth. You,” she said to the other man, “force his mouth open. I’m not finished with him yet.”

He almost gagged with the water that poured down his throat and coughed violently after they withdrew the bottle.

“Before we finish with you, you will beg us to put you out of your misery.” She nodded to her associates and left him feeling more refreshed than he had since they brought him there.

*** June could feel she was slowly being frozen out by the other girls and decided it was time for her to go. She arranged to have lunch with Gideon, who had problems of his own. Sherry was slowly gaining ascendency and would soon replace him unless he found a way to discredit her. He decided to bounce it off June. He liked her common sense approach to things and her uncanny ability to come up with a solution on the fly.

“I need your advice on a private matter,” he said as they sat down in the corner of the dining room.

June waited for him to continue. She saw the uncertainty in his eyes and reached out to hold his hand. He squeezed it and tried to smile.

“It’s Sherry. She’s doing everything in her power to supplant me in the eyes of the Professor. I no longer update him about our operations every day. Now, she’s telling the girls to take their orders from her, not me. I don’t mind telling you. I feel all the work I’ve done won’t mean much in a few months.

“She’s also made me a target as well, so I know what you’re up against. If I were you, I would tell one of the girls who likes you that you hear the police are checking her immigrant status.”

She suddenly dropped her glass of wine, which slowly spread over the white tablecloth. She bent over, and her face twisted in pain.

“What’s wrong?”

“My appendix. My doctor wanted me to have it out before I joined The Retreat, but I felt it would have ruined any chance for me to join the team here,” she said between gulps of air.

“What can I do?”

Call my doctor. Dr. Culver. He’s at the hospital.”

“I have to call the Professor first,” he said, helping her to lie down.

“If it breaks, I could die.”

Gideon left to call the Professor. She kept bending and twisting her face. He returned a minute or two later. “He’s asked Sherry to handle it. Sorry.”

Sherry turned up a few minutes later. “What’s all the fuss about it?”

“I have an appendix that could break at any time. I need to go to the hospital now.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Call Dr. Culver at the hospital.”

She left and returned with anger in her eyes as though someone had crossed her. ”Are you ready to go?”

“I will need help to get to the car.”

“I’ll help you,” said Gideon.

They didn’t speak all the way to the hospital. Sherry helped her inside, where Dr. Culver was waiting for them. Two attendants helped June to a wheelchair. A nurse accompanied Dr. Culver. “Prep her for surgery immediately.”

Sherry started to follow them but was stopped by Dr. Culver. “No one is allowed in the operating theatre. You’ll have to wait at the front. You’ll be able to see her afterwards.”

Sherry gritted her teeth, walking up and down the waiting room until she was ready to explode.

Dr. Culver approached her an hour later with a bowed head. “We did everything we could. I’m sorry, she didn’t make it.”

I’d like to see her body.”

“Only if you’re next of kin.”

Sherry slammed the door as she left.

*** Connor couldn’t believe his eyes. ”June. Is it really you? Where were you? The Inspector told us you were on a secret assignment. Were you his ears and eyes at The Retreat?”

June smiled. “Things were closing in on me, and I decided it was time for me to get out while I could.”

Archie came in and saw her talking to Connor. “Just when we needed you the most,” he said as he approached them. “How did you escape?” ”I told them I had an appendix problem and feared it was ready to break. Sherry took me to the hospital, and Dr. Culver did the rest.”

“Here, all along, I thought you were a druggie,” said Connor. Everyone laughed.

“Is there anything you would suggest we should be doing now about The Retreat?”

“Check the immigration status of Sherry, the Eurasian lady. Is the Inspector here?”

Connor suddenly became serious. “We’re not sure where he is. He’s been missing for two days now, and we’ve run out of places to look. Do you think they have him at The Retreat?”

“No. The Professor would think that would be the first place you’d look and turn the place upside down. It would be somewhere else.”

“We found blood on the floor of his home and have an eyewitness seeing two men dragging someone to a car the night he went missing. And given with what’s happened to the Inspector, I feel you should stay with my wife and me until we find the Inspector,” said Archie.

“Every day counts now,” said June, “I suspect he’s still alive, with no way to escape. That means we have only a couple more days to rescue him. The Professor is a very unforgiving man without a conscience and stops at nothing to eliminate anything or anyone who gets in his way in the most painful way possible. According to talk, he was the commandant at a German concentration camp. Some should also check his status in this country.”

Archie didn’t say anything for almost a full minute. “So that you know, the Inspector has been ordered by the Chief Inspector to stay away from The Retreat – unless we have concrete evidence of wrong-doing.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Hazlett opened his eyes. He made out the face of a man and closed his eyes again.

Alma was there trying to wake him. He opened his eyes. The man’s face slowly came into focus.

“He’s awake,” said the man behind and the face who was trying to open Hazlett’s eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He stepped back.

An angry face with hate in their voice. A deep woman’s voice. “What do you know about The Retreat and the Professor?”

Hazlett’s throat was raw. He tried to speak but could only make a croaking sound. The man slapped him hard and grunted. “Do you have any agents inside The Retreat?”

Hazlett closed his eyes. Another voice whispered to him. “We could make you very comfortable and happy. Just tell us what you know.”

“But only if you tell us,” the angry voice repeated before slapping him hard across his face again. “I think you’re making a big mistake and will regret it later, Inspector.”

The man, who had whispered in his ear. Bent low again. “Perhaps some water to ease your sore throat,” he said, bending over Hazlett and putting a water bottle to his lips. He let Hazlett drink as much as he wanted before withdrawing the bottle.

Hazlett closed his eyes. and the angry one slapped him hard again. They left shortly after that. Hazlett could hear them talking as they climbed the stairs to his right. It would be dark soon, and he would hear the rats scurrying across the floor again. Alma suddenly appeared again. “Don’t give up, Winton. You can do it. You cannot come to me yet.”

*** Leslie Gibson and Terry Carton entered the station laughing and went straight to Connor.

“I’m Gibson.”

“And I’m Carton.”

“I guessed as much. We’ve been waiting for you.” Connor looked at Pip. “Where’s Archie?”

Archie emerged a few seconds later from Hazlett’s office.

“Are we supposed to know you, gentlemen?” ‘

“We were part of Winton’s crew. Terry was the navigator, and I was our wireless operator. Winton was our Flight Lieutenant. We’re here to lend a hand.”

“We don’t know what the Inspector told you but let me bring you up to date first: The Inspector is missing.” Then, after a brief pause: “We think he’s been kidnapped. We searched every likely place where he might be hidden, even places where we never thought he might be. We’re running out of options.”

“Do you mind if we add our two pence worth?” Carton had a broad smile, light brown hair and dimpled cheeks. He was wearing a sports jacket and a turtleneck sweater.

Leslie Gibson laughed. “Don’t be fooled. Without me, he couldn’t find his way out of a box.” Gibson’s blue eyes twinkled. He was starting to go bald, and he had a way of telling jokes that made everyone laughed. He was also wearing a sports jacket but with a white shirt and striped blue and red tie.

“We have something in mind,” said Archie in a quiet voice, “but I want to warn you at the outset that it could be perilous.”

“We faced danger every time we left on a bombing mission,” said Gibson. “So, what is this dangerous mission you have in mind?”

“We’d like you two to visit The Retreat. Not at the same time exactly. Leslie would enter first, and you, Terry, 30 minutes later. That’s so that they don’t get the idea you two may be connected.”

“We can’t because the Chief Inspector has ordered us to stay away until we have concrete evidence,” added Connor. “Good luck.”

*** Gibson entered The Retreat when everything was in full swing. After being questioned by the greeter, Sherry escorted him around the Retreat. She left him in the second-storey dining room for a few minutes. When she did not return after 10 minutes, he decided to head out on his own, walking by The Inner Sanctum and sticking his head inside the door to see what was happening. The blue haze hanging over the participants on the stage told him everything he needed to know. He left to look for a likely place where Winton might be stashed. That had to be his top priority.

He walked down a long, dark corridor. He could feel something different and guessed he was onto something.

He stepped into the reception area in front of two large oak doors. There was a key in the lock, and he stepped inside and looked around for a light switch. The first thing that hit his eye was the Professor’s oversized dark oak desk. The only things on the desk were three black telephones. He looked at the paintings on the wall and the enlarged black-and-white photograph of an SS officer emerging from Hitler’s Chancery. He sat down behind the desk and opened the drawers to see what was in them. He felt something like a button in the second left drawer and pressed it. It opened to a secret compartment, where he found a folder packed with photographs.

He looked at them all, selected four, and folded them so that they fitted like a sole in his shoes.

He was so wrapped up by all the things in the room that he failed to hear the door open.

“What are you doing here?” said the tall, muscular man with a grey goatee.

The man walked to his desk and pressed a hidden buzzer. Five young men suddenly appeared. They handcuffed Gibson’s arms behind his back. The cuffs did not stop him from reaching into his back pocket and grabbing a handful of transparent coins that could not be seen without special glasses that were part of Carton’s disguise. He had dropped them on his way from the office and where they took him down into the basement.

After about 40 minutes, Terry Carton appeared at the door.

“Are you a new or a returning member?” said the young woman at the door. He provided his name, his identification driving permit and was welcomed inside. She spotted Sherry coming into the main room. “This gentleman is a new member. He needs a tour of The Retreat.”

Gideon waved to one of the other women and offered him a smile, a young brunette with a flashing smile. “Are you from Gladstonbury, Mr. Carton?”

“London.”

“What would you like to see first?”

Gideon almost bumped into them as they emerged from The Inner Sanctum.

Carton could see Gibson’s trail of coins. “Please pardon us for a minute, he said, glancing at Carton’s badge. “It will take only a minute or two.”

“An intruder was found in one of our private rooms. He’s being questioned now. The safety of our guests is paramount to us.”

Carton could see that Gideon had lost some of his colour. “Bad news, I gather.”

“It appears that someone tried to enter our private area.”

Carton adjusted his glasses. “My eyesight isn’t great. Will I be able to see everything?” He could see that Gibson’s coins stopped at The Inner Sanctum and out again on the other side. “If you don’t mind, miss, I’d like to go in this direction.”

“There’s nothing to see. I’m sure you’ll enjoy The Inner Sanctum a lot more.”

“I like to get to know the land everywhere I go in case of an emergency.”

The coins led them to an office at the end of the corridor. She stopped him at the Professor’s office. “There’s nothing to see here.”

I understand, miss.” He stopped, breathing hard. I have a bit of angina,” he said, touching his heart. “I need to stop before trying to go back. You go on ahead.”

She knew she wasn’t allowed to leave any guest unattended, but she had a gut feeling that it would somehow never surface. She left him sitting on the floor and headed back to the main room.

When she was out of sight, he followed the coins past a fire alarm box. Almost without thinking, he smashed the alarm and pulled the alarm. The effect was immediate. Carton could hear the noise of people scrambling to get out of the building.

He saw a door open halfway down the corridor and that the coins had stopped.

The bells continued to ring. He opened a nearby door, went down the stairs two at a clip, fell near the bottom of the stairs, and skinned one of his knees. There was another door at the bottom of the stairs. He looked inside. Gibson was lying on the floor, face down and bleeding. Carton turned him over and helped him to his feet and looked for an exit.

His heart was racing. He knew it would only be a few minutes before they realized there was no fire and returned. Gibson leaned on him and talked incoherently. He paused to catch his breath. In the gloom, Carton spotted another door not far away. He didn’t know where it led and didn’t care as long as it took them from where they were.

He opened the door and felt the rush of the cool night air. “Only a short distance now, Leslie, and we’ll be on our way out of here.”

When they reached the parking lot, they found Leslie’s car and were about to unlock the door when they felt someone behind them. It was Sherry and two unshaved muscular men with her, who stood in a semi-circle around them.

“I believe we have unfinished business, gentlemen. Who are you, and why exactly did you come to the Retreat? And don’t tell me it was for The Inner Sanctum experience.” She nodded to two of the men, who grabbed Gibson and Carton around the neck.

“Hurry.” There was urgency in her voice.

The sound of fire engines suddenly grew louder. The trucks stopped in front of the entrance. They played their searchlights over the building and grounds. Sherry and her comrades suddenly froze.

“Stop where you are,” a familiar voice shouted. Archie and three other officers approach them. “Who are you, and where are you taking these men?”

Sherry didn’t respond. Carton could feel the pressure of the big hands that threatened to break his arm.

“I will ask you for the last time. Who are these men, and where are you taking them?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sherry could see that other constables had quietly positioned themselves in the darkness to block any escape.

“These two men owe The Retreat 200 pounds and pulled the fire alarm in an attempt to escape paying us.”

“Is that true?” said Archie, looking at Carton.

Carton shook his head.

“Unhand these men now, or you will be arrested on the spot.”

Carton could feel the pressure on his arm relax. The two men who had been holding them stepped back.

“What about our 200 pounds?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN “You will never see us or anyone else ever again. You will die alone,” said Professor Moller. “I bear dark tidings. Your friends tried to look for you at The Retreat, even ransacking my office, but came up empty.”

He nodded to one of the men, who helped Hazlett drink a pint of water. The Professor smiled. “If you help me, I give you my word that I will help you.”

Hazlett remained silent.

“I need to know what the police know about our operations.”

“I would like to oblige but I am not sure whether I’m delirious and not really seeing you or that you are real. Or even what I’m trying to say.” Hazlett closed his eyes again. He could feel the breath of someone close to his face. He opened his eyes to see Moller’s slate-grey eyes staring into his. “You are an evil man, Hazlett.”

Moller stood before him. “You are a strong man. I would have liked to have had you as a member of my team. When I leave here, I will disappear in a puff of smoke and resurface as the leader of a new, more powerful Germany. It is my destiny, just as yours is, to die alone.”

He turned and started to walk away.

“You and your kind will never succeed,” said Hazlett in a cracked voice.

One of Moller’s men raised his gun to shoot him. Moller pushed the gun down.

“Let him suffer a long, slow, painful death and remember my words as he closes his eyes for the last time.”

The room was in darkness now, and he dreaded the coming night. He knew that they would not come back. Their visits had been a distraction but now he was free to find a way to escape. There is always a solution. He just had to put his mind to it. He looked around the room for anything that might help him. But he also knew that unless he could free himself, it wouldn’t matter. Freeing himself had to be his priority.

*** Back at the station, Leslie Gibson described how he entered the Professor’s office and found the file with the pictures. He took off his shoes and withdrew two photos from each shoe.

“Let me help you,” said Archie, who unfolded the pictures carefully and flattened out the folds.

“That’s the Professor in his younger days. There were whispers at The Retreat that he commanded a concentration camp during the war,” said June.

“Which brings us back to the woman – Johanna – who identified the dead woman,” said Archie, smiling at Connor. “Did you ever track her down?”

“Not so far.”

“Let that ride for the moment. Our focus today has to be on finding the Inspector before it’s too late.” He stopped. “I remember the Inspector telling us that criminals often repeat what was successful for them in the past.

Connor was nodding. “The barn, where they killed Sullivan’s girlfriend.”

Gibson looked up. Archie was suddenly excited. “Call Sullivan and Craddock, and ask them for a list of deserted farmhouses and where they’re located.

“I’m on it.”

“What’s this about, Archie?” said Gibson “We think they’ve hidden the Inspector in the barn of one the deserted farms in the same area. Craddock is one of the farmers who helped us before.”

“He’s on the phone, Archie.”

“Mr. Craddock. It’s Detective Archie Ridley. I work with the Inspector. How many deserted farms are there in your area?”

“A dozen or so. It’s a shame. A waste of good land.”

“Could you tell me where these farms are located?”

“What’s this about, detective?”

“We have reason to believe that Inspector Hazlett has been kidnapped and maybe kept at one of these farms.”

“Michael would like to talk to you.”

“Before you go, Mr. Craddock, please do not tell anyone else about this.”

“Neither Michael nor I would ever do anything that would ever hurt the Inspector. Michael is hounding me for the phone. Please talk to him.”

“It’s Michael, detective. If the Inspector is in jeopardy, we will do anything to help him. Meet us here and Roy, and I will guide you to every deserted farm in the area.”

Pip, Connor, Gibson and Carton were standing in a circle around Archie.

“They’re going to take us to every deserted farm in their area. Let’s head out.

June, you’re holding the fort until we get back.”

Thirty minutes later, they wheeled into the Craddock’s driveway. Roy and Michael were waiting for them outside. Emma, who had been standing in the doorway, called out to them. “Good luck.”

“I could marry someone who’s like your wife. Does Emma have any sisters?” said Leslie Gibson.

“Don’t believe him, Roy,” said Carton. “He’s the love-and-leave-them type.”

Roy laughed. “Turn here,” he said, suddenly, pointing to a dirt road on the left.

Five minutes later, a two-story farmhouse and a barn of grey, weather-beaten shingles suddenly appeared around a curve in the road. The farmhouse looked as though it was leaning a bit and ready to fall at any time. The door to the house was nailed shut. Pip found a broken window at the rear. Gibson and Archie climbed through the window and checked every room as well as the basement.

“He’s not here,” said Archie. “Look at the dust. No one’s been here since the owners left.”

Five minutes later, they were on the move again. The second road was only a couple of miles down the road. The barn had already collapsed. Pip spotted tire marks in the road and maneuvered around them. The front door was ajar. They entered, almost on tiptoe, not wanting to alert anyone who might still be there.

Gibson found the cellar doors and descended. It was dark, and he lit a match and looked around. Gibson left the landing, and his foot crunched a cardboard coffee cup. He looked around carefully. The chair on the left showed signs that someone had been tied to it.

“Archie, look over there. I’m not sure what it means.”

Archie stood beside him; his eyes suddenly alive. He seemed to scan the entire cellar in less than a minute. “Someone has been here in the past couple of days. Who it was brought someone here to torture.” He nodded to Connor. “Make sure this is locked down as a crime scene. In the meantime, look around for anything that might give a clue about who was tortured.”

Pip stepped off the landing.

“Be careful where you stand,” said Archie. “I want nothing disturbed here until we’ve had a chance to look for clues. They may have left something without realizing it.”

“What about this?” said Gibson, pointing to a rope stained with blood.

Archie picked it up and put it in an envelope. “I think we’re getting close,” said Archie.

They left a short time later, making their way to the main highway and drove for another half-hour north.

“Here,” said Craddock, pointing to another dirt road, lined with tall reeds that opened to another road on the right. A lone farmhouse with no barn or outside buildings had three entrances and looked the best of the three. Someone locked all three doors. Pip went around and checked the windows, which were also closed.

“He’s here. They’ve made sure that no stranger can get inside.”

“I agree,” said Gibson.

Archie gave the front door a hard boot. It opened with a bang before swinging back in place. “Shall we enter, gentlemen?”

Everything was tidy in the kitchen. “Looks like a place for an assignation,” said Carton.

Hazlett opened his eyes. He could hear voices above him. Different voices. His heart raced. He tried to cry out but couldn’t make a sound. He was drifting back to sleep. He tried desperately to keep his eyes open. It was too hard, and he closed them.

“What about the cellar?”

“Probably not worth it, Pip.” “If this is a love nest for someone, we’re not apt to see anything. I think we should head out.”

Hazlett opened his eyes. He could hear their footsteps as they headed for the door. He tried to cry out. It was barely audible.

He looked at his feet and lifted them to pound the floor and make a noise. He then tried to send out an SOS message with his footfalls.

“What’s that?” said Pip. “I hear sounds.”

“Just wishful thinking, Pip,” said Archie.

“Wait,” said Carton. “I hear something, too.”

They stopped and held their breath.

“There it is again,” said Carton. “Sounds like Morse Code.”

Pip opened the cellar door and started downstairs, followed by Archie and the others.

“Over there,” said Pip, pointing to a figure in a chair. “It’s the Inspector.”

Thirty seconds later, they were peeling off the tape from his arms and upper legs. Hazlett opened his eyes and drifted off again. He didn’t try to resist.

“He can’t walk,” said Gibson. “He’s been taped to that chair too long,” Gibson and Carton each took one of his arms, lifted him from the chair, and made their way to the car. Pip ran ahead and started the car.

“He needs water,” said Craddock. “Stop at the first place we see long the way, and we’ll get him a pail full.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT “We are slowly bringing his body back. He’s very dehydrated and hasn’t eaten for days. We’re feeding and rehydrating him intravenously. Right now, he needs sleep.

We’re also massaging his legs to prevent blood clots and increase circulation in them and other areas. What else can I tell you?”

Dr. Culver folded his hands and looked at Archie and Connor. Gibson elbowed Carton, who asked when they could talk to him.

“It depends on Winton. He’s gone through a very difficult period. But he’s a strong person with an even stronger will. My guess? He’ll be his old self in a couple of days.”

“What’s bothering you, Archie? Something is.”

“The people at The Retreat will know by now that he has been rescued and that he has probably been taken to the hospital to recover. If they were prepared to kidnap him, you can be sure they’ll try the same thing again.”

“I have an idea,” said Agnes Childers, a friend of Hazlett and his wife. “We’ll put him in an isolation ward and mark it Dangerous Infection Do Not Enter. All staff who treat him will be required to wear protective clothing.”

Another surprise awaited them back at the station. June Spottiswode was questioning a man and a woman.

“They were caught trying to leave the scene of an accident,” said Pip. June emerged from the interview room. “I thought I heard voices. How is the Inspector?”

“He’ll be fine but he needs a couple days to recover,” said Connor. “We hear you’re interviewing two people leaving the scene of an accident.”

“Who is this lady?” said Gibson, brushing his hair with his hand to cover his upper forehead.

Connor couldn’t help smiling. “Let me introduce you to Constable June Spottiswode.”

Gibson held her hand for a few seconds.

“And you are?”

“Leslie Gibson. I was Flight’s wireless operator.”

“And I,” said Carton, “was his navigator. Ignore Les. He doesn’t know where he is half the time.

Connor cleared his throat. “I hate to intrude, gentlemen, “but we need to get back to business. We have a couple charged with leaving the scene of an accident.

Was anyone hurt, constable?”

“An infant,” said Pip. “The child’s father was taking his wife back from the hospital. These two went through a red light and smashed into their car head-on.

The baby was thrown out of his mother’s arms against the windscreen.”

“You’re excited, Pip. Out with it.”

“I saw them both at The Retreat with the Inspector last week.”

“The noose is tightening, as the Inspector is fond of saying,” said Archie. “Lead the way, Pip.” They were arguing when Archie opened the door to the interview room. They stopped as he sat down opposite them. A stenographer sat at his right, and Pip stood behind him.

“My name is Ridley. Detective Ridley. Your names are?”

“Sebastian Ward,” said the young man with the black goatee. “How long is this going to take?”

Archie ignored him and looked at the woman.

“Arabella Marney,” said the attractive woman in her late 20s with blond hair and icy green eyes. She kept looking at the reflection of herself in the mirror behind Archie and Pip. “Our constables tell us you both were under the influence of drugs when they arrested you after a chase.

They didn’t reply and seemed to stare blankly in front of them.

“You should be aware that an infant was badly injured in the other car and is now in hospital fighting for its life. If the infant dies, you will be facing far more serious charges.”

Arabella put her hand on Sebastian’s arm. “I do not think we want to talk further without a solicitor being present, Detective Ridley.”

Sebastian ignored her. “What do you want from us?”

“Pip recognizes you both as being residents of The Retreat. What can you tell us about The Retreat?”

Arabella spread her fingers on the table and looked at them for a few seconds.

“What, for instance?”

“Were drugs sold or made available to guests at The Retreat?”

“Twenty-four hours a day. All they had to do was pick up the phone, and they were delivered to their door,” said Sebastian.

Archie felt he was pressing his luck but tried anyway. “And gambling?”

“That, too. Cards, roulette, dice. You name it. It was a big moneymaker for the Retreat. It was fixed, of course. And when some of the big spenders found themselves in debt. They were under the Professor’s thumb from that point on.”

“What about prostitution?”

“Friends, like Arabella and myself, were made available to guests as part of the guest experience at The Inner Sanctum.”

Archie nodded to the stenographer, who rose and quietly left. “A written record of your comments will be made available to you. Should you choose to sign, we’ll see about a lesser charge.”

Wait until the Inspector hears this, thought Archie, as he rose to tell Connor that they were free to leave once they had signed their statements, pending the laying of charges.

“Are you sure, Archie?”

Things are looking up, Connor. I don’t have a good feeling about the Inspector.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure, Connor.”

*** Hazlett, who had been transferred to another room in the basement, opened his eyes. Pip was standing over him. “He’s awake, Archie.” Pip stood back, and Archie took his place. “Welcome back, Inspector. We’ve got stacks of things to tell you when you’re up to it.”

“You’re the best tonic there is, Archie.”

“If it hadn’t been for Terry Carton, we would never have found you in time. It was Terry who recognized your SOS almost immediately.”

“Not surprised. Terry was the best wireless operator I ever had.”

“Now he tells me. He was not so praising when I missed a message on one of our missions,” said Carton.

“It’s great to see you looking like your old self, Flight.”

“What about, Leslie?”

“He’s minding the store with June?”

“June?”

“She escaped by telling them her appendix was about to burst and had to go to the hospital.”

“What else?”

“This will knock your socks off, Inspector. George Bricknell committed suicide by shooting himself in his office. We were able to find the 80,000 pounds in his

warehouse, along with another 250,000 pounds.” Archie paused. “I’m concerned that we’re tiring you, Inspector.”

“I’m fine. Anything else?”

“Those two young people you met on your first visit to The Retreat. They were caught leaving the scene of an accident and confirmed that drugs, alcohol, sex and gambling were available at The Retreat every hour, every day. We have two signed statements from each of them, confirming all this.”

“I need to get out of here, Archie.”

“Not on your life, Winton. And those are my orders. Now, lean back on your pillow. If you don’t, these people will disappear,” said Dr. Culver.

Hazlett lay back on his pillow. “Archie.”

Archie bent over him. “I’m willing to bet a year’s salary that Moller will be making a run for it. Call the Chief Inspector, tell him about my kidnapping by Moller, and that we have signed statements from two employees about them selling drugs, sex and gambling. Tell him you plan to raid The Retreat and would appreciate the help of three or four other stations.”

Dr. Culver stepped between them. “That’s it, gentlemen. Winton is still not as strong as he pretends to be.”

*** “News, gentlemen, of the highest order,” said Archie. “The Chief Inspector

agrees with all the Inspector’s recommendations, and to tell the Inspector, he is personally delighted that we now have evidence against the proprietors of The Retreat.”

“What about help from other stations?” said Connor.

“He is also fine with that but says he needs a day or two to line it up.”

June felt like a bump on a log, listening and feeling she would be left out. “What do you need me to do?”

“Who is the most vulnerable person at The Retreat?” said Archie.

“I’d say, Gideon. Sherry was trying to replace him, and he felt like losing all he worked for. The best person for that is Pip. He has a great way with people.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“What do you think, Connor?”

“I’d pull the pin a day from now, first thing Thursday morning.”

Gibson and Carton, who had been listening to it all, were shaking their heads.

“You don’t agree,” said Archie.

“Only on the timing,” said Gibson.

“If it were me, I’d do it early in the morning before they’re ready for you. If we learned anything in the war, it’s a surprise. It’s everything. Besides, they’ve already made two attempts on his life. They’ll try again. Guaranteed. One thing I always admired in the Germans, they didn’t give up easily.”

“Call Dr. Culver and see if the Inspector can take a call,” said Archie. “And If we do go in the morning, what exactly do we need to do beforehand?’

Connor waved to him. “It’s the Inspector.”

“Your navigator believes we should strike early Thursday morning,” said Archie. “The Chief Inspector has granted all our wishes. Gibson is also worried about another attempt on your life.”

“Forget that and get moving.” Then, he added: “Gibson is right about the timing. Strike while they’re still groggy.”

Archie gave a thumbs up. “Now, as I was about to say, what do we need to do before then?”

Connor looked as though he were going to count on his fingers.

Gibson talked first. “First, set a time for our raid. The earlier, the better. Second, Call the Chief Inspector and tell him the time to line up the other stations accordingly. Third, call the stations he’s chosen and confirm the time for them to meet us at that time at The Retreat. Fourth, decide who goes in after Moller. Be sure you keep him alive, if possible. Fifth, be prepared for any surprise. And sixth, assume a couple of things will go wrong. They always do.”

“Anything to add, Connor?”

“I’ll put in an inquiry about the status of Moller and his assistant today.” Connor rang the bell on his desk. “Let’s get at it.” Everyone laughed.

“You sound just like the Flight,” said Gibson.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE The Professor was ready to spit nails. He looked at Sherry. ‘How could you let this happen? You should have considered this. You failed me when there was no excuse for something like this. Where are the Inspector and the girl now?

He grit his teeth. “Especially the Inspector?” He rose and started pacing the room.

Sherry didn’t bother to turn her head. “Probably, the local hospital.”

“Go and bring him back, this time to The Retreat, where we can keep a 24-hour watch on him. Make sure he’s still alive when he comes here. We have unfinished business, he and I. He may be useful later as a bargaining chip.”

“I had the same idea,” said Sherry. “That’s why I discovered that he had somehow been rescued under our noses. We should have kept a watch on him.”

Moller was on an adrenaline rush. “I agree with you about the hospital. Just bring him back alive. It’s time he learned who the real masters of the world are.”

She was about to speak but he stopped her. “What about the girl?”

“She complained about her appendix and said she was in danger of having them burst. I took her to the hospital, which refused to allow me into the operating theatre. Her doctor told me later that she had died.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No.” There was no doubt in her mind.

“Any idea where she may be?”

“Not at the hospital. I’ll think about that later after we bring back the Inspector.”

*** Sherry led the way. It was just past 10 o’clock. Except for the nurses’ station, the corridors were dark and empty. She put her finger to her lips to warn the three men with her. They waited for about five minutes and heard voices in the nurses’ station before crawling beneath the glass partition that separated the station from the corridor.

The biggest problem would be getting past the open doorway. If they were spotted, an alarm would be set off, and the police would be there in a flash. The telephone rang inside, and Sherry peeped above the partition to see a nurse talking on the phone with her back to them. Sherry nodded. In two minutes, they were past the open doorway and hugging the corridor walls as they inched their way down the corridor.

Sherry stopped in front of a room marked Isolation. They think they’re brilliant.

Even a child could see through it, she thought. She tried the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. She grabbed the fire extinguisher on the opposite wall and bashed the door handle that spun, clattering across the corridor.

They stood, holding their breath, hoping no one heard the noise, which echoed down the corridor. After a minute, June tried the doorknob again. In the dim light from the corridor, she could make out the figure lying on the bed. Even in the semidarkness, she could tell it was Hazlett. He looked so still and, for a second, thought he might be dead until he moaned.

They unhooked him from the drip beside the bed and lifted him to a stretcher.

Sherry nodded. She couldn’t help feeling good about herself.

The lights suddenly went on.

Archie and Connor faced them. “Going somewhere?”

Sherry, who was standing behind them, slowly edging her way out the door and down the corridor, slipping into darkened rooms when anyone appeared before she was able to leave by the front entrance to get into their car.

*** “I’m very disappointed in you, Sherry.”

“They were waiting for us, as though someone warned them we were coming.”

“It’s getting time for us to close shop. I always prepared for every eventuality.

Other, more promising locations beckon.”

Sherry couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do you mean just walk away from all the things we’re worked so hard for? How soon will that be?”

“Soon. Very soon.” There was a strange urgency in Moller’s voice.” But I have a few scores to settle first.”

“What about Gideon?”

“We’ll leave him holding the bag. That was his role from the very beginning, except he never knew it.”

Sherry smiled and understood why the Professor supported Gideon over her on many occasions. In his eyes, everyone was expendable, including her, she realized.

She would have to look after herself and her own back.

She understood how he operated and knew where his money came from. The truth was, she didn’t need him anymore. She would disappear for a while before reappearing elsewhere. Like other men in her life, he sadly underestimated her.

*** “You’re late. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

The man in the shadows, unshaven with a hungry look in his dark eyes, ignored him.

The Professor didn’t meet Jaka in his office but at a secret place, in the darkness away from The Retreat. “I need you to kill someone for me. His name is Hazlett.”

“The police Inspector?”

In the darkness, Jaka could see Moller nod. There was a slight breeze that shivered the leaves on the tree above his head. “Killing a police Inspector is just an invitation to trouble. Sorry to disappoint but this is not for me.”

“Would 10,000 pounds change your mind?”

Jaka didn’t respond.

“What about 10,000 now and a ticket to South Africa when you do the job.”

“Make it 25,000, with 10,000 upfront and 15,000 on completion.”

“I don’t have that kind of money on me. If you wait another 30 minutes, I will put 10,000 pounds in your hands then.

Jaka stroked his stubbled chin and nodded. “You’ve got 30 minutes. After that, I’m history.”

Moller drove back in a hurry, entered the back door, up the stairs, headed for his office, pushed aside the large picture behind his desk, and unlocked his safe. He counted out 10,000 pounds and glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes to go. He was out of breath by the time he reached him.

Jaka appeared suddenly. He didn’t trust Moller and showed himself only after he saw Moller was by himself. “I was just about getting ready to leave.”

“I’m giving you 10,000 pounds.” Moller showed him two large wads of notes in his fists. “Count them if you wish. You will get the balance when the done is done.”

“Where do I find him?”

“In the hospital. And it must be done by Friday.”

“How do I get the other 15,000?”

“If you come at this time on Friday, you will not only get the 15,000 pounds but a bonus.” Moller had seen Jaka’s type before and wondered if he really would carry out the assignment. He needed a professional for this, someone with no connection to The Retreat. He hated loose ends.

*** Jaka was half-inclined to walk away from the assignment. He had bad feelings about it. But he considered himself a professional and knew if he didn’t follow through, the word would get around.

The first thing he had to do was visit the hospital and all its floors, find out where Hazlett was located, and the easiest way to get out in a hurry.

He entered the hospital with a bouquet during visiting hours.

“Agnes Childers stopped him as he entered. “Can I help you? You seem lost.”

“Here to see my sister-in-law?”

“Is she a new mother?”

Jaka, who wasn’t sure what to say, just nodded.

“You find her on the second floor. Take the stairs at the end of the corridor.”

Jaka walked slowly, glancing through the windows on each side of the corridor before coming to the stairs. He decided to go down to the basement first. His subject would most likely be there. He peeked into the closet near the stairs. Just supplies.

He closed the door to face a nurse.

A nurse approached him. When he looked around, he shut the closet door. “I needed to blow my nose and hoped I’d find some toilet paper there.”

“The other closet at the end of the corridor may have them,” she said as she entered one of the rooms.

He looked through the windows in the rest of the rooms. His flowers looked a bit wilted, and climb to the second story made his legs ache. He made it out of breath.

He spotted the Inspector’s room on the right side, marked Isolation Room. Do not enter without protective gear. It was like a neon sign to Jaka. He opened the door and stepped quickly inside. The man on the bed had his eyes closed.

Jaka could feel his heart pound. His instincts told him something wasn’t right.

All he had to do was take a pillow, put it over Hazlett’s face and press down on it for at least five minutes. No noise. A bit of a struggle, perhaps. And it would be over.

No noise. Nothing. Yet, something held him back.

He approached the bed and looked at Hazlett’s face for a few seconds. He looked so peaceful. He reached for the pillow next to his head. He held it in his hands for a few seconds and raised it over Hazlett’s face.

Suddenly, the Inspector’s hands gripped his wrists. Jaka suddenly found himself on the bed in a tussle with the Inspector. He managed to free himself and stagger to the door. He ran down the corridor and the stairs.

Hazlett pressed a button for help, and Jaka could hear the nurses running down the corridor. He stepped out into the late evening moonlight and ran for his car.

This is stupid, he thought. He should have listened to his instincts. He wanted nothing to do more with Moller or the Inspector. Let Moller find someone else. He

decided to have a courier deliver the 10,000 pounds with a note of apology. Let him find another assassin, he thought, sealing the envelope.

*** Moller tore up the note and was ready to burst at any time. He realized that if he wanted Hazlett dead, he would have to do it himself and began thinking about the mechanics of carrying out the assassination. There was a knock at the door. He jumped. It was Sherry.

“I’ve decided to do it myself.”

She smiled. She had never heard Moller speak in a tone quite like this before.

“I will help you.”

Moller looked up. He suddenly recognized that the tables had turned.

“But, first, you need to get control of yourself and your anger,” said Sherry. “We cannot afford to make another mistake.”

“When?”

“When they least expect it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY Fat chance, she thought, as she left him. This time he could do his dirty work. Sherry knew instinctively that things were coming to an end. The Professor was losing control of himself. He was obsessed with getting even with an obscure English police Inspector, when he should be focusing on putting up the roadblocks he had boasted about and the calling for the support of the highly placed individuals who were in his debt.

It was obvious she could not depend on him to look after her, that she would be expendable, like Gideon, and that she must focus entirely on herself, getting out of there with as much money as possible, and slipping away unnoticed before the end came.

She made a mental list of things to do: First, she needed to see the Professor again as she walked down to the corridor to his office.

“Anything wrong?” he said, his back to her, staring out the window. It was apparent he was taking drugs to cope, something he spurned as weakness in others.

“Nothing new but right now, that’s a blessing for us,” she began. “I think we should begin to prepare for the worst.”

“I always admired your cool head, Sherry, especially in difficult times.” He looked down, holding his head in his hands.

“Then I hope you agree that we should transfer all our cash in English banks to your bank in Berne immediately.”

She paused to see how he was taking it. He looked beaten, despite the bravado.

“If you’re up to it, I think that should be done now.”

He didn’t react.

“Should I ask your secretary to come in, and you can dictate what should be done?”

He nodded but she could sense that his mind was on other things. She rose and asked his secretary to step in with her steno pad.

“I would like all the funds in my account transferred immediately to my bank in Berne. Please type it up for my signature. And prepare a similar message to be sent to my other bank. “ Three minutes later, she appeared with both letters and a carbon copy for both.

Moller read them carefully and signed both.

“I think you should put your seal on it as well, just in case there are any problems,” said Sherry, feeling enormously pleased with herself.

He nodded and stared out of the window again.

‘I suggest you keep one copy and have Peter Brown teletype the contents of your letter to both your English banks and one, to your bank in Berne.”

Brown, The Retreat’s treasurer, handpicked by Moller when he launched The Retreat, didn’t feel comfortable acting on the note without hearing it from The Professor’s lips.

“Be prepared for what you’re going to see,” said Sherry as they walked to the Professor’s office.

“Is something wrong?” said Moller as they entered.

It was clear to Sherry that the Professor understood the walls were closing in or that the police could raid them at any time.

“Judge for yourself.”

Brown passed him the letter the Professor had signed only minutes earlier. They followed him into his office and sat down at a small table to the left of his desk.

“I recognize your signature, Professor, but are you sure you want to do this?”

The Professor looked a bit impatient. “Today, if possible.”

“May I ask why, Professor?”

“My informants tell me the police are going to raid us again,” said Moller.

Then he does know, she thought. There might be hope yet.

Peter looked at Sherry and nodded. “As you wish, Professor. I will come back later and let you know that it has been done before the end of today. Should I tell your receptionist or tell Sherry if she is busy?”

“Sherry, by all means. She has my full confidence.”

Peter didn’t try to say anything until they reached his office.

“May I talk with you before you do this?”

Peter lit his pipe. “By all means.”

“When the police close us down, they may be criminal charges laid, and neither of us will share in what Moller promised us. In fact, we’ll be lucky to walk out of here with our freedom and the clothes on our back.”

“What are you driving at?”

Sherry offered him a seductive look. “Sit down, and let’s have a chat.”

He tapped the bowl of his pipe against the ashtray and leaned back. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think you and I should deduct what we were promised when the money is transferred to the bank in Switzerland.”

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“Say 250,000 pounds for you and 250,000 pounds for me, deposited in your bank account and my account, which would be set up when we go to Berne.”

He stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes. “You’re sure that the police are about to shut us down?”

“Either tomorrow or the next day. And they’ll be out for vengeance.”

“But why?”

“The Professor had the police Inspector kidnapped and tried to starve him to death. He’s obsessed about Germany losing the war. Unfortunately for us, the Inspector was rescued. Do I need to say more?”

Peter stood up, went to his desk and called the Professor’s two banks in London.

“This is Peter Brown, treasurer of The Retreat in Gladstonbury. Professor Moller had signed an order to transfer all the funds in his account to his bank in Berne. He would like it done at once.”

He hung up and sat down in front of the teletype machine and started typing the Professor’s letter of direction furiously to his London banks. He then sent a teletype message to the professor’s Berne bank, instructing them to set up two separate accounts. He then teletyped a second message that stated: The Professor’s London banks would be transferring all the Professor’s assets to your bank before the close of business today.

He then telephoned all three banks and instructed them to carry out the Professor’s orders and confirm that it was carried out before the end of business.

“Done,” he sighed when he hung up the receiver. “It’s all in motion. Let me give you the name of the Swiss Bank in Berne. My advice is to travel to Berne as soon as possible, set up our bank accounts, and withdraw the funds immediately, and place them in another bank of your choosing. I will do the same.”

Sherry smiled again and kissed him on his lips. “Are you open to suggestions?”

“It depends.”

“I think we’d make a great team. You understand money the way I do, and I am good at creating money-making schemes.”

“I gather you have something in mind,” said Brown, puffing as he lit his pipe.

“I intend to drop out of sight for a couple of months and then set up my version of The Retreat. Would you like to be my partner?”

“I’d like to think about it.”

She placed her hand on his and smiled. “Don’t wait too long. Once the police hit The Retreat, it will be too late.”

She got up and smiled. She never felt so light ever before. “I now have 250,000 pounds sitting in my bank account,” she whispered to herself.

He looked at her and could hardly believe what just happened. “I need to tell the Professor that the money has been transferred and that he still has just over three million pounds in his account in Berne.”

“If you’d like me to tell Moller, I would be pleased to do so.”

“No. I think I owe him that and more.”

“Then let me at least accompany you. You don’t know how Moller will react these days, even though you were acting on his orders.”

“I’ll let you know later.”

*** Sherry walked slowly to the garage, feeling very sure of herself. She spotted the garage foreman and told him to keep a car ready for her on a 24-hour basis. She left the garage and headed to the main room and told them to alert her and Gideon immediately, should the police suddenly turn up again.

Gideon heard about it and found her in the dining room. “What’s this talk that you’re expecting another police raid?”

“Why?” “I suspect someone has told them lurid tales about us, someone who may have lost a lot of money gambling here.”

“Do you know this for sure?”

Sherry shook her head. “Just common sense. A bit of advice. If my worst fears come to pass, you would be advised to would find a way out of here unnoticed now while you have the chance, should they suddenly appear.”

“Is that what you plan to do?”

*** Peter knocked on the Professor’s door and entered.

“It’s done. Three million plus pounds have been transferred to your bank in Berne. The account is in your name.”

Moller stood up suddenly. There was fire in his eyes that Peter had never seen before. “Three million pounds. What happened to the other 500,000?”

Moller didn’t wait for a reply but reached into the left-hand drawer and withdrew a gun. He raised it and shot Brown between the eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE The Inspectors from three nearby stations gathered at Gladstonbury. The air was blue from the smoke. You could almost taste it. Glen Brandon was smoking a cigar while Alex Greenwood and Piers Wellington puffed on their pipes.

“Where is the man of the hour?” said Piers, a tall, muscular man in his late 40s, with piercing blue eyes. “I would have thought he’d be the first person we’d see when we opened the door, Connor.”

“He would give his right arm to be here, Inspector,” said Archie. They were sitting in the Inspector’s office, where Connor was handing out mugs of tea.

“Inspector Hazlett was kidnapped a few days ago, was starved, dehydrated, and bound. We rescued him yesterday. And he is still in the hospital.”

“What?” said Piers Wellington and Alex Greenwood almost at the same time.

“Why weren’t we informed?”

“We had help from two members of his Lancaster crew, who found him. If you wish, we could arrange a visit for you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” said Glen Brandon, stubbing out his cigar.

“Two attempts have been made on his life while he’s been there.” Added Archie.

“What have you got in mind, Archie?” said Piers Wellington, whose thin face grew even slimmer when it came to business.

“Connor and I think we should launch a 5 a.m. raid. I’m sure they’re expecting us but perhaps not this early. We’re open to suggestions, of course, but that’s what we’re thinking. Glenn and I would enter the front door of The Retreat, accompanied by ten constables, while you and Alex surround the complex with the other constables and nab anyone who tries to escape. Any comments?”

“Let’s think about it and talk about it after we see Winton,” said Piers.

An hour later, they crowded into Hazlett’s room. He was sitting up, eating a bowl of soup, and eyeing another bowl of chocolate ice cream. He tried to straighten up as soon as he saw them. “What a wonderful surprise. You’re just what the doctor ordered.”

“We would have come sooner had we had known,” said Piers. “How do you feel now?”

“Getting better by the hour.”

“We heard what these people did you to you, Winton,” said Alex.

“I will never forget their faces or their hatred for as long as I live.”

“Any suggestions?” said Glenn Brennan.

“Yes, Moller, also known as the Professor, understands very well that we are investigating him, his legal status, and The Retreat. He even tried to bribe me if I told him what the police knew about him.” He paused to catch his strength, “There is talk that he was a commandant of a concentration camp during the war and, by all accounts, loved every second of it. He wants to go back to Germany and reignite the Third Reich.”

“We’ll bring him to you in handcuffs.” Piers nodded with growing excitement in his eyes.

*** At five o’clock, Archie and Inspector Brandon, along with ten constables, pounded on the retreat door. A young woman, sitting half-asleep on a stool at the front, suddenly came to life.

“We are from the Gladstonbury CID,” shouted Archie, pushing back the door as he and Inspector Brandon and their ten constables pushed past her.

She called Sherry and Gideon immediately.

“Stall them until I get there,” said Sherry. She slid out of bed, brushed her hair and teeth, and dressed in five minutes flat. She picked up the travel bag she had packed the night before and raced down the corridor and the steps and into the garage. Her car was waiting for her. She threw her bag into the front seat and drove out of the garage and onto the highway. In her rearview mirror, she saw a group of constables rounding the corner of The Retreat.

Archie and his group headed down the corridor, encountering Gideon just as he was leaving his room.

“What is this about?” he shouted as one of the constables handcuffed him.

Brandon ignored him. “Where is the so-called Professor’s room?”

Gideon hesitated.

“Unless you want to be charged with obstruction, you will take us to him immediately.”

“If you release me from the cuffs, I can help you find him faster.”

Brandon nodded. Their pace quickened. Some of the constables were out of breath by the time Gideon stopped in front of two large oak doors. Gideon rapped on the door. No response. Brandon nodded to two of the constables carrying a sledgehammer and a crowbar. The oak doors didn’t give way easily. They finally entered a few minutes later into an outer room where Moller received guests.

Behind it was Moller’s dining room, with its long polished teak dining table and three large chandeliers. They walked around the table and into the kitchen. An empty glass of Champagne and an open can of caviar sat on the kitchen table.

Beyond that, another locked door. One of the constables smashed the lock with his sledge hammer. Moller was no longer there. Just his unmade bed.

“Look for an escape door somewhere in the room. It took almost 15 minutes for them to locate it – a half-hidden lever in the second draw of the end table beside Moller’s bed. Archie pulled the lever forward, and a secret panel in the wall slowly opened.

“Hurry,” shouted Archie. “It’s probably time-released and will revert to the wall.”

Inspector Brandon led the way down the darkened passageway, which led to another door that he pushed to open on the grounds behind The Retreat. It also closed by itself behind them.

“He can’t have gone far,” said Archie. “Pip, run and tell the others to be on the lookout for someone with a grey goatee.”

Morning was streaking across the Eastern sky. One of the constables, who had been beating the bushes behind The Retreat, yelled out. “Eureka. No grey beard but I did discover a stream behind The Retreat.”

Archie cocked his head and smiled at Brandon. “I know what you’re thinking, Archie. That it’s what we’ve been looking for.” They all ran to the stream. “I suspect he had some kind of boat hidden in the bushes here and used it to escape unnoticed.”

“He was ready for us,” said Brandon.

“But in what direction?” said Archie. “I think we may pick up his tracks.”

Inspector Brandon pointed to two constables and told one to go upstream and the others downstream.”

“What do we look for?” said one of the constables.

“Any place where you see boat or broken bushes that might lead to it. We’ll be back at The Retreat if you find something.”

It was getting light by the minute. As constables returned to The Retreat, they could see constables directing people back to the entrance.

Piers Wellington saw them coming and waved to them.

“I bet we’ve rounded up more than a hundred people who were trying to escape,” said Archie.

“Do you find their gambling casino yet,” said Archie.

“Not yet.”

“Here’s someone who can tell us,” added Archie, pointing to Gideon. “His name is Gideon Carmichael and the Professor’s major-domo. And while we’re at it, Gideon, what’s happened to Sherry?”

“Nowhere to be found. I understand Sherry had a car on standby and left a few minutes after we entered the building,” said Piers.

Archie smiled and nodded to Gideon. “You’re on.”

There was uncertainty in Gideon’s eyes. He looked hesitant and lost. “You already know about Sherry. I do not have any idea where she went. She kept personal things to herself and never confided in me. About the gambling casino, it’s on the basement floor. In fact, not far from the Professor’s living quarters. I would be happy to show you.”

“Before that, Gideon, Moller has also managed to escape. Do you have any idea where he may have gone to drop out of sight?” said Archie. “If not, is there any possibility he may have doubled back and has a secret hiding place at The Retreat?”

“With the Professor, you never really knew where you stood with him. Or knew everything about what went on here. I often wondered if there were a secret passage because he would turn up in places you never expected him to be at that time. He would just suddenly be there.”

Piers was shaking his head in admiration. “How would you describe him?”

The two constables, who had searched up and down the stream, returned. “We followed a trail of broken brushes to the road and recent tire marks.”

‘Well done,” said Brandon.

Archie looked at Glenn Brandon. “I know exactly where he’s gone. To kill Inspector Hazlett at the hospital.”

Piers Wellington was interrupted by one of the constables who had been interviewing everyone found at The Retreat. His eyes looked tired, and the belt strap on his helmet was loose. “We’ve finished talking to everyone. Should I let them leave?”

“Before you do, any surprises?”

“A couple,” he said, pointing to a name on his list.

Piers nodded at the constable and smiled at Archie.

“For your information, the Chief Inspector called Inspector Hazlett, telling him that four MPs had complained about the Inspector’s visits to key businesses in our area, that we had caused upset and problems at their places of business.”

He beckoned to one of the constables. “Ask Mr. Hemsworth to join us for a minute.”

Hemsworth was visibly upset. His jowls were red, and he was making a fist and hitting his palm against it. “Who’s in charge here? I want to complain about the way I’ve been treated and manhandled. You can be sure that it will be brought up in Parliament.”

“I am, Mr. Hemsworth,” said Piers evenly. “We would like to know why you are in a place where drugs are sold and used openly, sex available for a price, and illegal gambling is taking place.”

“That’s my business.”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Hemsworth, it’s ours now.”

“You’re way off base.”

“Not according to the people who work here, or some of the Retreat’s clients.

And then, there is the little matter of kidnapping Inspector Hazlett and trying to starve him to death and his doctor who nursed him back to health.”

“That’s a bald-faced lie.”

“Not according to Inspector Hazlett,” said Archie. “He was near death when we rescued him.”

“I want my solicitor present in any further questioning.” He turned to go but was stopped by Archie. “Have him call Detective Ridley and set up a time for you and your solicitor to resume our discussions with you.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Sherry walked into the bank at Berne as though she owned it. She felt like a new person as she made her way towards the welcoming desk for new accounts and stood there, waiting for the young clerk to get off the phone.

“How many I help you?”

“The treasurer at The Retreat in Gladstonbury, Mr. Peter Brown, sent you a message via teletype yesterday that you would receive a transfer from two banks in London. You are ordered to set up an account for Kurt Kranz and deposit three million pounds to his account, and the remainder – 500,000 pounds – to be split to an account in your name, Sherry Huang, and to an account that will be set up by Peter Brown when he arrives her later this week.”

“Let me check.” He left to talk to a young woman in charge of wire transfers and returned about three minutes later.

“Let me go over what you request one more time. First, set up an account in the name of Kurt Kranz; second, set up an account in your name; third, transfer three million pounds to Herr Kranz’s account; and 250,000 pounds to you; and the remainder to Mr. Brown when he arrives to set up an account. Before I transfer the funds to Herr Kranz’s account and your account, let me set up both accounts now while I have you in front of me.”

The clerk had a high forehead, a thin face, light brown hair, bright blue eyes, with a small bump on his nose and a smile that never seemed to leave his face. His voice was young and eager. “I will need some identification to prove your identity.”

Sherry passed her passport to him. He looked at her picture and back again at her signature on the passport. He looked up. “You’re a beautiful lady, Miss Huang,” He filled in her bank passbook and passed it to her. She opened it before putting it in her purse. Seeing the 250,000 pounds gave her a warm yet exciting feeling.

He stopped her as she turned to leave. “A minute if you please, Miss Huang.

When will Mr. Brown come in to see us?”

Sherry left with stars in her eyes and thought of a way to get Brown’s money while she was at it. The bank didn’t have a copy of his signature. All she needed to do was find the right person to impersonate Peter and get him a fake passport in Brown’s name with Brown’s signature. Then get him to transfer the funds to her.

“Either tomorrow or Thursday,” she said finally.

Before the afternoon was out, she thought she found the right person, a young man with dark bedroom eyes and curly black hair and a smooth, seductive English voice, sitting at an outdoor café with a coffee and a shot of Cognac.

She sat down next to him. She could feel his interest without looking at him.

He caught her eye when she turned to look for a waiter. “Are you a stranger to Berne?”

She didn’t turn her head. He rose and sat down next to her.

“I’m on holiday and looking for opportunities. I’m also a stranger. He held out his hand. “Where are you from?”

Sherry didn’t answer.

“How about you?”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking with strangers. I’m a bit bashful, I’m afraid.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Hot chocolate.” He lifted his right arm and clicked his fingers, “Hot chocolate for Mademoiselle.”

“You’re very charming,” Mr. –“ “Barry Hogarth.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

At anything where I can earn some fast money. I’m not the type who likes to do the same boring thing every day and have a pension at the end of it all. I’m hooked on the thrill. Something that gives me a rush.”

The hot chocolate came. Sherry took a sip and looked at him over the rim of her mug, and smiled knowingly.

She could tell he was fascinated by her and put her mug down. His eyes never left her lips.

“I have something that may just be of interest to you.”

“Keep talking.”

“Not here. Why don’t we go to my hotel and talk about it there?”

Hogarth stood. “I am at your service, miss. By the way, miss, what is your name?”

“You do not need to know it at this time.”

They arrived at the hotel and sat down at a small table in the bar. He tried to hold her hand but she withdrew it. She waved to the waiter, who took her order for a coffee and Cognac and a mug of hot chocolate.

“I need someone to help me with a bank transaction,” she said finally.

His eyes, which were focused on her face, didn’t respond.

“I need someone who can create a fake passport in a name I will give you and go to the bank with me and transfer 250,000 English pounds to my account.”

“What’s in it for me?” His voice suddenly became hard.

“How much do you want?”

“At least half.”

She laughed. “Do you think you’re the only person in Berne who can create a false passport for me?”

“Give me a number.”

“Five per cent or 12,500 pounds.”

“There’s a lot of risk in this for me.”

“And me, too. I will be there with you to make sure the funds are transferred to my account. Besides, the person whose name you’re taking is not likely to be here any time soon. Maybe not even years.”

“You’re a pretty cold lady. What do we need to do, and when do we do it?”

“Get your picture taken, a real picture for an English passport, use it to create a false passport with the signature I give you.”

“The name of the person I’ll be impersonating?”

“Peter Brown.”

“Leave it with me.”

He reached out for her hand. She ignored it. ”We’ll celebrate in any way you’d like when the job is done.”

*** Two days later, he called her to tell her everything was ready. They arranged to meet at the outdoor café. She went through the passport to make sure the signature looked perfect and noted that Swiss customs had stamped the passport with a smile.

It was a nice touch, and she smiled.

They finished their drinks and went straight to the young man at the welcome desk. “You were asking about Peter Brown the other day. Well, here he is. He joined me yesterday.” Hogarth put his arm around her and smiled.

“Will you also be setting up an account with us?”

“No. I would like the money – all 250,000 British pounds – added to Sherry’s account.”

Hans, the welcome desk clerk, looked up. “Are you sure, Mr. Brown?”

“We’re getting married tomorrow. Sherry’s better at managing money than I’ll ever be. Anyway, as her husband, I’ll always have access to our money.”

Hans looked for a form and filled it out for him to sign. Hogarth looked it over carefully and signed it. He and Sherry got up and shook hands with him.”

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Brown. Your bride is a lovely lady. Congratulations.”

They left, hand in hand, and walked down the street, still holding hands.

“You know, getting married isn’t a bad idea,” he said suddenly.

Sherry didn’t respond. And he squeezed her hand. There was no reaction. He withdrew it slowly, looking at her face out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re a cold fish, lady. What about my 12,500 pounds?”

“You’ll get it as soon as we get to my hotel,” she said, picking up her pace.

They entered and were stopped by the first desk clerk. “Someone called for you.

He said to tell you the Professor would like you to call him as soon as you returned.”

Sherry thanked him and headed for her room with Hogarth in tow. As they walked down the corridor, she knew that she would have to check out as soon as possible and take a bus to Belgium. Some town, big enough, where a stranger would not be noticed.

Hogarth sat on the edge of her bed and held out his hand to her. She had to think quickly about what to do next. Sherry couldn’t afford to make an enemy of him while she was still in Berne. She opened her purse and counted out 12,500 pounds. He pocketed his money within seconds and pulled her on the bed. He started kissing her all over as his hands explored her body. She wanted to scream

but didn’t dare. She pulled away from him. He got up suddenly and headed for the door, turning as he opened it. “I still think being married to you would be a match in heaven.”

She packed and went down to the lobby to check out. “We’re sorry to see you leave,” said the clerk, an elderly man with a white mustache and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Were you able to contact the professor?”

“Didn’t have much time with all the packing. If the Professor calls again, tell him I’m on my way back to London. He can reach me there at the Leicester Hotel.”

She took a taxi to the bus terminal and entered and almost choked from the tobacco smoke. It tasted bitter on her tongue and made her cough. Music blared from someone holding a boom box on his shoulder, and some people were singing with it. The line seemed to snake forever. She was breathing hard without really noticing it until she started coughing. By the time she reached the middle-aged woman at the wicket, she was ready to scream.

Sherry paid for her ticket and looked around at the other passengers, wondering if the Professor had her followed. She was becoming paranoid and shook her head.

A man was staring at her as though he had never seen an Asian before.

The next bus to the first large town across the border didn’t leave for 30 minutes.

Sherry rose from her seat and bought a magazine, anything to distract her. She wasn’t thinking clearly and knew that she would not survive unless she got hold of herself.

Obviously, Peter had told the Professor everything and that he had tracked her down through the bank. She should have waited and used someone else rather than that pig, Hogarth.

She couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. She rose, picked up her bag, and headed out the door. She looked at her watch. The bus would be arriving in eight minutes. She looked at a departing bus and wished she were on it. No matter where it was going. She didn’t care. It had taken over her thoughts, and she did not notice that the bus in front of her was backing up.

The last thing she remembered was the intense pain and inability to move as the huge bus tires moved over her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Chief Inspector Walter Stephenson arched his white-grey eyebrows. He sat beside Hazlett and shook his head as Hazlett described his kidnapping and how weak he felt before he was found.

“Sorry about the four MPs and my orders to stop your investigations. Talking about the MPs who called me, you’ll be interested to know that our friend, Wellington, has been detained for further questioning.”

“Everything is going well now, Chief Inspector, and thank you for coming here and for your kind words. All I want now is to put all this behind me.”

The Chief Inspector had tea with him and talked about Hazlett’s father and when they were young constables together. He left about an hour later.

Dr. Culver popped his head inside. “You’re going home today, Winton. I just signed your release papers. Call me if there are any problems.”

Agnes Childers came with his clothes. “You look like your old self, Winton, but I think you should have someone stay with you for a couple of days. Just in case.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“You mean with a grain of salt.” She smiled at him. “Say goodbye on the way out.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Tommy Thomas to pick him up.

*** Moller knew he had to put his disappointment and revenge on Sherry on the back burner for a while and focus on killing Hazlett. He sat in his car close to the entrance of the hospital. He slid his rifle beneath his seat. It had been loaded and ready for use in seconds. Moller considered it the best sniper rifle in the German army and used it to pick off the lazy vermin at his camp. It was one of his biggest joys of being commandant.

He never kept his eye off the entrance. The door opened, with a man in a wheelchair appeared. He reached for his rifle before seeing it was an older man.

Hazlitt would be coming out soon and kept his rifle on the seat beside him. He had the patience to see it through to the bitter end. It was going to be either Hazlett or him. He would show the English that the war was far from over, that true Germans like himself would risk their lives for the Fatherland forever.

Too bad about Sherry, he thought. She was the only person he trusted but even she jumped ship when the chips were down. He felt a twinge of sadness when he heard that she had died in a bus accident in the morning.

He almost missed seeing the hospital door open again. A constable emerged first, then a nurse and someone in a wheelchair, along with another constable walking beside Hazlett. His heart started to race.

He felt for his rifle, rolled down the window and slowly raised the gun. He aimed it at the figure in the wheelchair. He could see Hazlett quite clearly now and knew he had only one chance. It was now or never. His finger touched the trigger.

Suddenly, the lead constable pointed to Moller’s car and the rifle sticking out the window. The constable standing behind him suddenly stood in front of Hazlett. The rifle went off at the same time. The constable fell. The nurse turned the wheelchair around and headed back into the hospital.

Moller pressed the trigger again. The nurse fell, pushing the wheelchair out of sight.

Moller dropped his rifle on his knee and pressed his foot on the gas pedal. The back tires spun out of control, throwing a cloud of small rocks against the car behind him. He suddenly moved and narrowly missed ramming into another car as he raced out of the hospital grounds and onto the main highway. He headed for one of the deserted farms, where he had set himself up for the moment. He would wait a few days to give them the feeling that the worst was over.

*** “You can’t go back to your home, and you can’t stay here, Inspector.”

“What do you suggest I do then, Archie?”

“You could stay at the station. If your friend wants to get to you there, he’ll have to deal with four constables first.”

Hazlett nodded. “But with the proviso that they do not leave the station no matter what they hear outside.”

Archie laughed. “We leave tonight when you will become less of a target.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe we’ll see the Professor for a few days any time soon.

Nighttime is fine but no wheelchair. I feel like a sitting duck in that thing. How are Tommy and Agnes coming along?”

“Superficial wounds. Your killer’s aim was a bit off. And Agnes was released shortly after the shooting.”

They waited until dusk. Agnes came with a wheelchair, her left arm covered in a bandage and in a sling. Archie and Agnes helped him to his feet. He felt weak at first but gradually gained his strength, leaning on Archie’s shoulder as they left his room and down the corridor, past the nurses’ station and into the waiting area. Hazlett waited until Archie went to get the car and drive it up to the entrance. He left the door open so that he would be able to slide Hazlett inside.

Agnes waved goodbye with her right arm.

“A great lady,” said Hazlett. “She was wonderfully kind to my wife in her final hours.”

They drove directly to the station. Connor and Pip came out to welcome him and helped him get out and walk inside. Connor shook Hazlett’s hands with both of his. “You’ll be safe here. We’ve fixed up a bed for you in one of the cells. Pip will be sitting inside to stop anyone trying to get at you. Your cell door will also be locked.

You’re the only one in the lockup tonight, Inspector.”

Hazlett sat on the edge of his cot.

“The mattress is pretty thin, Inspector.”

Hazlett just smiled. “I slept in worse places than this during the war. Back then, we called them biscuit mattresses,” he said with a smile.

Connor returned a few minutes later with a plate of scones and three mugs of tea. “The scones are from Emma Craddock, providing we saved a few for you. She knew you were starved and at death’s door when we found you. Her husband told her how you looked.”

Hazlett sat back against the wall. It was cold, and he sat up only to munch on the scones and took a couple of mouthfuls of tea. The tea was one of his favourites.

Connor always remembered things like that.

They talked about the Professor and where he probably was hiding. “I think I know,” said Pip. “In one of those deserted farmhouses.”

“I was thinking along the same lines, Pip. Now, gentlemen,” said Hazlett, putting his mug on Connor’s tray, “it’s time to say good night.”

*** Moller thought they would never think of coming here to find him back at The Retreat. He loved the 18th Century bed he had imported from Germany, along with the paintings along the wall opposite his bed. They never failed to comfort him when he went to sleep. He poured himself a glass of Champagne and opened a can of Caviar. His imported German cakes were his real weakness.

He pulled back the curtains from the window that overlooked the entrance. A perfect hiding place. He was pleased with himself. He knew he was right about coming back there to hide for a few days and thought about June Spottispode and prided himself about suspecting her from the first and had her watched before she could do any real damage. But that police Inspector was another matter. He shook his head when he first heard of the raid. He would have his revenge on her and him but she would have to wait until he killed the Inspector.

*** Archie batted a fly that was wheeling in front of him. “Just had a call from Connor. He locked up the Inspector in one of his cells. He’ll be safe there. He also says the Inspector would like us to launch an all-out drive to bring in Moller tomorrow.”

Archie’s wife sat down beside June. “What do you think about Mr. Gibson, June? He seems quite taken with you?”

“You think so?”

“More than either of you or he knows.”

“He’s not the marrying type?”

“No man is. It took me a year to get Archie to propose.”

June laughed. “I don’t believe you. His world revolves around you. I think Leslie has other ideas.”

Archie’s wife smiled. “I’m always right.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Hazlett awoke at 6.15 a.m. on the dot. Pip was still asleep in a chair in front of him and woke when Hazlett stirred. He had been sleeping on his left side and rubbed his neck.

“Tonight, I want you to put a cot in here for you to sleep on.”

“It’s all right, Inspector.”

“I could do with one of Mrs. Craddock’s scones and some tea. How about you?”

Pip unlocked the cell, and they headed for the station’s public room. Connor hadn’t arrived and wasn’t expected for another couple of hours.

“Where does Conner keep the goodies?”

Three other constables crowded around them. “In his lower desk drawer on the right side,” said one of the constables.

“You’re new.”

“My name is Greg Birchill. I joined a week ago.”

“You’ll go far, Constable Birchill. You know all the important things.”

The others laughed, and Hazlett joined in.

Pip dug into the drawer and withdrew a bag of scones and Connor’s teapot.

“You know he’s going to have my hide for this.”

“Let me brew the tea. I used to work in a tea room before joining the constabulary,” said Constable Alfred Burns.” Burns’ hair flopped over his forehead, hiding his right eye. He had crooked teeth when he smiled as he was doing now.

Connor turned up three hours later and looked at the empty tea mugs and an empty plate of scones. “They must be gone now. Should I call and order a couple more dozen scones? Her husband refused to take any money when you landed in hospital.”

“Then call her husband and tell him I would appreciate if we could get another three dozen of his wife’s scones. Tell him we cannot accept them unless we pay for them. Tell him that all the constables love his scones, who contribute to a weekly fund to buy them. And be sure to tell him, we’d like to order three more dozen every week from now on.”

The other constables were at their desks by nine o’clock. Connor had called Roy Craddock, and they set a price. “Pip will be leaving to pick up three more dozen of Mrs. Craddock’s scones shortly. Anyone who contributes four shillings a week will be able to enjoy two of her scones with their morning tea.”

Tommy Thomas turned up about 30 minutes later. His arm was in a sling, and the others crowded around him and patted him on the back.

‘Great to see you back, Tommy. And let me thank you for saving my life. You’re a great gift to the constabulary, and your heroism will not be forgotten.”

Connor approached him with a scone and a mug of fresh tea. “I saved the last one for the Inspector, but I know he would want you to have it.”

Everyone laughed.

“And for stealing my last scone, we’d like you to go with Pip and pick up three dozen more from Mrs. Craddock.”

*** Emma Craddock had placed it in a bag ready for Pip. “We are so happy that he is out of the hospital and back at work.” She passed the bag to Pip. “I baked an extra six, just for the Inspector.”

Michael Sullivan invited them to sit down at the kitchen table. “Roy will be in shortly. He’s getting some fresh milk and cream for your tea.”

She was warming the scones on the old iron stove with small covers, with indents to lift them when the firebox needed wood. There was also a water tank attached to the right side that provided hot water for washing up.

The table was covered by an oilcloth and set against a large window overlooking the back stoop and stairs.

Roy arrived a few minutes later and placed the milk on the kitchen counter.

Emma poured tea for them in her best cups and added fresh milk. She put a plate of fresh scones, still warm from the oven, and homemade butter on a separate dish. She brought the tea to each one individually and sat down beside her husband.

“Be sure to thank the Inspector again for the money we finally got paid by Bricknell. And thanks from all the other farmers as well,” said Roy. “Too bad about Bricknell. I understand he had gambled away his father’s business. I don’t know where he found the money. Maybe that’s why he did away with himself.”

Michael followed them all the way to the car. “Please let the Inspector know how happy I am to hear that he’s back at work. He changed my life forever.” And then in a lower voice: “I’ve also met a wonderful young lady, the daughter of another farmer in the area. We met at an outing to celebrate our good fortune.”

*** “Today is Professor Moller Day. I want him taken alive. He can occupy the cell next to mine. Better still, he can have mine when it becomes vacant.”

Everyone laughed and was in good spirits.

“Where would you like us to look, and when do we start, Inspector?” said Archie.

“Pip and I were talking about that last night. We thought he might be hiding in one of the deserted farmhouses. I thought about it as we were going to sleep. I asked myself: Where is the last place I would look for myself if I were on the run?”

Hazlett looked around at everyone.

“At the station,” said Archie in the lull.

“And for Moller?”

“The Retreat.” Three or four said at once.

“We thought about that,” said Connor, “and have a few constables guarding it against vandals.”

“I know for a fact that Moller has ways of getting in and out of The Retreat than we can ever imagine. I think we should go back to The Retreat.”

“It’s a big place?” said Archie.

“Not if you know where to look. I think Moller will go back to his secret apartment. This is someone who likes creature comforts. My money is on The Retreat and his private apartment.”

“Will you be coming with us?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Let’s get at it, gentlemen.”

They were in the process of leaving when Pip arrived with the scones. “Where are you going?” said Pip. “To find Moller and jail him,” said Conner. “The Inspector thinks he may hiding at a secret place in The Retreat.”

Hazlett and Archie and ten constables, along with Carton and Gibson, who wanted to be in for the kill, made their way silently through the darkened corridors on the lower floor to Moller’s hideaway. They paused at the two oak doors. They were locked from inside. Archie picked up the sledgehammer that leaned against the wall next to him. It opened with one blow.

It was the same scene he had seen before — a bottle of Champagne and a can of Caviar on the table in the kitchen. Archie smiled and looked around the room.

“What now, Inspector?”

“We wait. Patiently and quietly. This is where Moller comes to eat and sleep.

He’ll be back.”

“Won’t he see our constables?”

“Send half of the men back to the station in case he pulls something else. Wait.”

He looked at Archie. “Call your wife and tell her not to let anyone in the house. That someone wants to kill June. Tell her you’re on your way and will be there shortly.

Once he sees a police presence, he’ll back off and come back here.”

Hazlett watched them drive away. He needed a cigarette but knew the smoke would linger in the air and tip-off that someone was there or had been there. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I’ll keep watch, Inspector,” said Pip. “You look as though you need to rest. I’ll wake you if I hear anything.”

Hazlett closed his eyes. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep. He opened his eyes to see Moller’s face and the barrel of his rifle an inch from his forehead.

“I saw your associate through one of the peepholes and made a noise to coax him enough to investigate. He’s lying on my bed the last time I looked.”

Hazlett decided not to respond. He knew the longer he kept him talking, the greater the chance he would survive.

“You don’t seem surprised. And congratulations on discovering where I was hiding. Too bad it won’t save you.”

“We know who you are, SS Major Kurt Kranz, a wanted Nazi war criminal. You will be hunted down, no matter where you go.”

“Indulge me, Inspector. How did you come to stumble on this information?”

“Actually, from a woman, you sent my way to misdirect and lead us astray in the hopes of leading us away from The Retreat. One thing more, we have pictures of you from your days as commandant of a concentration camp.

“It doesn’t matter. I will soon be back in Germany with the resources to lead Germany back to the glorious days of the Third Reich.” There was a strange look in his eyes, as though another person had taken over his body.

He was about to speak when he stopped to hear the floor creak in his bedroom.

He turned to listen. Long enough for Hazlett to rise and knock the rifle from his hands.

It fell to the floor and went off. The bullet entered Moller’s left leg, and he fell, reaching for his rifle. Hazlett kicked it further down the floor.

Moller grabbed Hazlett’s legs and toppled him to the floor. Two seconds later, Moller was on top of him. His hands gripped Hazlett’s throat and tightened.

Moller looked up suddenly. Gibson was pointing the rifle at his head.

“There are no more bullets in the rifle.”

Gibson didn’t budge. “There’s only one way to find out.” Get off the Inspector and sit on the floor away from him. Either that or I’ll swing the butt of your rifle and knock you for a loop.”

Hazlett rose slowly, grabbing Moller’s hair to get his balance. “It’s over, Kranz.

You, The Third Reich, and all the murders. It’s all over.”

“You are still not sure, are you, Inspector.” Moller’s dark grey eyes seemed to laugh at him. “You have unanswered questions you’re dying to ask me. But you won’t get the answers until you and I strike a deal.”

“There are no deals, Kranz.”

Hazlett led his way out of The Retreat, followed by Kranz in handcuffs and Gibson pointing a gun into his back.

Pip drove them back to the station, with Kranz in the back seat with Gibson watching every move Kranz made.

Archie smiled when he saw them come through the door. “Finally, Inspector, it’s finally over.”

“Not according to Kranz.”

*** A half-hour later, they were sitting in Hazlett’s office. Archie didn’t bother to knock. “In case you forgot, it’s tea time.” Connor followed him with four mugs to match.

Hazlett took his mug and held it in his hands for almost a minute.

Archie could see his profile in the afternoon sun. He knew Hazlett’s moods and didn’t like what he saw. “What’s bothering you, Inspector?”

“A few things I had hoped Kranz would help us provide answers for them. For example, the money we found in Bricknell’s warehouse, and where you suddenly

found the money to pay off all his farmers. And why he deposited 80,000 pounds in the bank’s vault and then steal it the next day.

Hazlett rose and headed towards the door. “Maybe our guest may feel more like talking after seeing what his new accommodations and meals are like.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” said Archie. “When he sees how I treat murderers, especially ones who try to kill innocent people, he may have other ideas.”

“You’re welcome, Archie. But no rough stuff.”

“Maybe, I can help?”

They turned to see June. “I represent one of his big failures. He won’t enjoy seeing me.”

Archie shrugged. “It might work.”

June followed them to the cells, stopping at the fourth one, where Kranz was pacing the floor.

“A special visitor to see you, Kranz.”

June emerged from behind Hazlett.

“What are you doing here?”

“I work here. Let me formally introduce myself. Constable June Spottiswoode.”

“I should have guessed. You had a special way about you.”

“How may I help you, Professor?”

His eyes brightened on hearing his title. “If you can help me, I’ll put 100,000 pounds in your bank account. How does that sound?”

“Keep talking.”

“Once I am out of here, I will wire 100,000 pounds to your bank account.”

“What about the money I saw stashed away in your basement?”

“You don’t want that.”

“I will see what I can do?”

“In the meantime, see what you can do about getting me a real mattress bed to sleep on.”

Hazlett, who had been listening close by, smiled at Kranz. “We’ll find a better mattress for him.”

Back at his office, June sat down with Archie. “What do you think, Inspector?”

“Let him stew for a few days and then promise him a mattress as soon as we can get one.”

June perked up. “The Professor said something strange when I mentioned the money stashed in The Retreat’s basement. Let me repeat it for you, word for word: You don’t want that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Connor could see that they were nervous and nodded to June. “They want to see the Inspector. When I ask them why they just don’t answer.”

June invited them to join her for tea at her desk. “My name is Constable June Spottispode. Is there anything I can help you with until the Inspector arrives?”

“It’s about my daughter, Melanie. She disappeared on us. She had a boyfriend by the name of Michael and followed him to Gladstonbury, where she got a job at some hotel,” said Angus Duncan, a towering six-footer with a muscular build, a weather-beaten face, and dull brown eyes. He wore a tartan woolen blazer and kept playing with the buttons.

“It was the Inspector who refused to stop searching until he was able to identify her,” said Maureen Duncan, whose greying hair and thin lips made her look older than she was. “Now, thanks to your Inspector, my daughter rests in peace at a private lot near our home. We can see her grave from our back window.”

“It was killing us, not knowing what happened to her,” said Angus, in a robust Scots voice. “Have you been able to track down the killer?”

June didn’t respond immediately, not quite sure what to tell her. Instead, she sighed and held Maureen’s hand. “We do not know who precisely killed your daughter yet, but we do know who ordered her death. That person is now in custody with us.”

“I want to see him,” said Angus in a voice that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Follow me.” June led them past Connors’ desk, down the stairs and to the cells.

She stopped in front of Kranz’s cell. Kranz was pacing around his cell and stopped when he saw the Duncans watching him.

“This is not a zoo,” he shouted at them.

Angus Duncan moved to an inch from the steel bars separating them. He looked Kranz in the eye. “So, you’re the pig who murdered my daughter. If they do not hang you, I will track you down and kill you where you stand, with my bare hands, if necessary.”

“I do not even know your daughter. Get him out of here,” Kranz shouted.

“She was good enough to work for you. And you tell me that you do not remember her?”

Kranz turned his back on them.

They left shortly after. Maureen was crying. “I thought it would make me feel better but it just brought everything all back again.

Hazlett, whom Connor had just briefed, met them as they emerged from the cells. He put his arm around Maureen and asked them to join him in his office. “I’m sorry about your daughter and sorry we were not able to identify her earlier.”

Angus shook his hand. “But you stayed with it until you did. You didn’t give up. It made all the difference.”

Hazlett would never forget the sadness in his eyes.

Another surprise came out of the blue in the afternoon when Johanna Kohler suddenly walked into the station as though she were making a social call. “I’d like to see Inspector Hazlett. I understand he has been looking for me.”

“I have,” said Hazlett, who was standing behind her. “You were not to be found anywhere.”

She turned, pushing back her hair. “I probably should have warned you but I was feeling my way and unsure about everything and everybody.”

“I gather you’ve been able to do so.”

“Almost, Inspector. I was sorry I had to mislead you about the murdered girl.

Before you say anything, I’d like to congratulate you on solving it on your own. I’d also like to explain what was behind it.”

Hazlett caught her eyes and held them. It made her nervous, and she looked away. She pulled on the folds of her light green dress before clutching the string of pearls.

“I came for two reasons. First, when we met a couple of weeks ago, I talked to you about an SS Major by Kurt Kranz's name. You may also recall I asked for your help tracking him down and even gave you a clue. I had learned in Brussels that he had surfaced in England with a business called The Retreat.”

She bowed her head for a few seconds before continuing. “I applied for a job there and was accepted because I could speak German. They tested me in various situations, and then two days before I came to see you. He called me into his office and spoke to me in German, telling me I was the only one he could trust. He wanted me to go to the constabulary and wrongly identify someone who had died at The Retreat.”

“I welcomed the opportunity. I did what he asked, but I also took the opportunity to alert you about a Nazi war criminal's presence in your midst. I couldn’t act on my own, and who would believe me over him? He hobnobbed with some important people in the government who visited the Retreat. I needed someone who could.”

Hazlett watched her eyes and took note when how her voice changed when she talked about Kranz. “You’ll be happy to know that your SS major is now in one of our cells. He is seeking a solicitor to represent him in Gladstonbury, but it seems no one wants to take him on.”

“A word of advice, Inspector. Kranz is very devious. Never think for a moment that you finally have him in the palm of your hand. You don’t. He’s very resourceful and has a way of turning things around when you least expect it.”

“You said you had two things you wanted to talk about.”

Johanna smiled for the first time. You could hear the tension in her voice slowly ebb away. “I also go by a professional name – Amélie Furrier. I am known by that name in Brussels, where I work as assistant director of Brussels' National Art

Gallery. A few months ago, I discovered a painting by an 18th Century Belgium painter. I discussed my discovery with a Gladstonbury Museum executive, who happened to be visiting our gallery. He gave me some very sound advice and suggested announcing the discovery at a meeting of London's art world later this month.

“Since then, this individual has hinted at his discovery of this painting. He has not said outright that he discovered it but he makes no effort to correct that impression either.”

Hazlett’s eyes widened. “I assume we’re talking about Aiden Ferris.”

Johanna, who liked to talk with her hands, suddenly stopped. “Do you already know something about this?”

“Let us say I felt something was not quite right about him when I met this individual and talked about the painting with him. That does not mean that he’s guilty of anything. Many people do not feel comfortable talking to a policeman.”

Your advice on how I should proceed?”

“Call him at the museum and tell him you plan to hold a news conference in London next week to announce the discovery and ask him if he would like to join you. If he’s smart and above board, he’ll agree and work with you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then hold it this week. But I think Ferris will. He recently became engaged to the daughter of a wealthy man in Gladstonbury. He also received a promotion at the museum, and his future father-in-law is a major donor of the museum.”

June Spottiswode knocked on the door and entered. She looked at Johanna and then at Hazlett. “Just the exact woman we need right now.”

Johanna turned. “I saw you at The Retreat and knew you had to be there on police business. Sherry saw me look at you and asked if I knew you. I told her I had never seen you before, that you reminded me of someone from Germany. I am not sure she believed me.”

June laughed. “She had doubts about me from the moment I started work there.”

“It was a nerve-wracking experience, at least for me,” said Johanna. “I still wake up with nightmares.”

“It was not a place without consequences, shall we say,” said June. “How did you manage it?”

“I told the Professor I had to go back to Brussels, that if I did not return by the 20th, they would alert Scotland Yard and have them investigate The Retreat until they found me.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t lock you up or even murder you, saying you left one day without a word and left no forwarding address. A little tip, Inspector, he’s scared witless of Scotland Yard.” ”Did the Inspector tell you that the professor is now a guest in our cells?”

Johanna nodded. “I have no wish to ever see that man ever again for as long as I’m alive. I get the chills just thinking about him.”

She departed a few minutes later, leaving a feeling of emptiness in her wake.

Hazlett looked out the window to see her get into her car and drive off.

“What now, Inspector?”

“She raised a matter that could set tongues wagging in Gladstonbury for months. No crime was committed but it involves someone in Gladstonbury, who is taking credit for discovering a painting of an 18th Century Belgium artist. She claims she did. You’ve seen her up close. What do you think?”

“I don’t think she’s told us everything about herself. But I do believe what she says about the painting.”

Connor barged in. ”It’s Kranz. He just tried to hang himself. We cut him down. “ “Don’t leave him alone.”

Hazlett walked quickly past Connor’s desk and down the stairs to the cells. Two constables, who stood beside him, had laid him on his cot.”

“I need to see a doctor.”

“What for? If you really tried to end your life, you wouldn’t be asking for a doctor now,” said Archie.

The two constables guarding him looked up at the Inspector for a sense of direction. Hazlett ignored the constables and looked at Kranz’s face – white, pallid, tired and anxious. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for him until he saw the hidden smile in his eyes.

“If he gets worse, I’ll have Dr. Culver stop by. Otherwise, check his cell for anything that he could use to kill himself.”

“Be sure to tell the other constables to check up on him every 15 minutes.”

Archie followed him out. “You handled it just right, Inspector. I had the feeling he was playing us.”

“You’re the second person who warned me about him today.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX June led them to a hidden place behind the basement toilet. It was filled with cash.

Hazlett checked about 50 of the bills for a few minutes. “They’re all real pound notes.”

“Then why did he tell me: ‘You don’t want these,’ when I told him I wanted money now to help him.”

Hazlett bent and picked up handfuls of banknotes and threw them behind him.

“I want you and June to count every note and its value and make a list of each bill and its serial number. When you’re done, find a box to put them in, segregate them and store them in the station’s vault. Leave out ten notes for me.”

Later, when they returned, Connor took out his pipe, tapped it in the ashtray before adding fresh tobacco. Connor led the way. “Dump everything on the Inspector’s desk. The sooner we start, the sooner we’re done.”

Hazlett left to find Pip. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you, Pip. You’ll be an Inspector one of these days, probably sooner than any of us think. You’re a good idea person and have a wonderful way with people. They like you and matters a lot in this world.”

Pip didn’t quite know what to say.

Hazlett held out his hand. “I’m putting you in for promotion to detective. I think you and Archie will make a formidable team.”

Pip could hardly contain himself. It was the last thing he expected. He nodded and went outside to stop himself from telling everyone in the station.

Hazlett talked to Connor about Pip, returned to his office, picked up the ten banknotes, put them in his wallet, and headed out the door.

Pip was waiting for him at the door. “Where to, Inspector?”

“The bank.”

*** Hazlett could hear the whispering follow him and Pip down the banking hall and up the stairs to Yarrow’s office. Yarrow was studying the financial statements of one of his clients, who was seeking a loan. He was surprised to see Hazlett again.

“Need your help again, Lorne. If what I’m thinking is correct, it will not only solve my problem but make your case even stronger.”

‘You’re always welcome, Winton. How can I help?”

Hazlett withdrew his wallet from his jacket pocket and counted out ten banknotes. “Please tell me whether they’re real and if there is anything strange or different about them.”

Yarrow searched his drawer for a magnifying glass and went over each note carefully. A few minutes later, he looked up. “They’re genuine, all right. What’s this about, Winton?”

“Let me repeat. Is there anything strange or different about any of the notes?

Anything different? Anything at all?”

“Nothing. They’re real and legal tender in every way. Now, what is this about?

And how is this going to reinforce our case against Bricknell?”

“Something one of my constables said a couple of weeks ago, and I was too preoccupied to pay much attention to it. It was a note from the Chief Inspector for us to be on the lookout for money laundering in our area.”

Yarrow smiled and smiled appreciatively.

“I’m new at this, Lorne. Is there a way for us to determine whether these notes were taken in a robbery?”

“Do you mind where you go these notes?”

“If I’m right, these notes were stolen and that the money you stored in your vault for them were also part of a money-laundering operation. It would explain why they were stolen to add insult to injury, sue the bank for the loss of their money.” Then, after a pause. “Did they happen to provide you with the serial numbers of the money they were placing in your care?”

“They didn’t. But I did. I opened each box, counted the bills and wrote down their serial numbers. They made a loud-mouthed fuss about it at the time I wasted but I ignored them.”

“You still have them?”

Yarrow couldn’t believe how everything had changed in a matter of minutes for him and the bank. “I’m a packrat, Winton.”

Pip smiled but kept his thoughts to himself.

“I’ll call the Chief Inspector and ask him to teletype to us the serial numbers they have of all stolen banknotes in recent months.”

An hour later, Hazlett supplied Yarrow with a long sheet of serial numbers of stolen notes. “Will this do?”

Yarrow took out his magnifying glass again and the eight sheets of paper he had written down the serial numbers he had recorded. He didn’t say much, stopping once only to order tea for Hazlett and Pip. He ticked off several entries before looking up.

“I have enough matches to say unequivocally that the notes Bricknell had placed in our vault were stolen.” He paused to sip on his tea. “If you don’t mind, Winton, I’d like to call our president and give him the good news.”

“Before you do that, may I suggest that we review the serial numbers of the 80,000 banknotes first. It will make our case stronger still.”

Yarrow accompanied Hazlett back to the station. Hazlett glanced at Pip. “Is that 80,000 pounds still in our safe?”

Pip Nodded.

“Mr. Yarrow has a list of serial numbers of the bills that were stolen from his vault. Take his list and see if any of the numbers match.”

“Let us know as soon as you can.”

“Tell me what it was like flying over Berlin with everyone trying to shoot you down,” said Yarrow as he drew up his chair and studied Hazlett’s picture of his crew. “It was no picnic on the ground either, but at least we could take cover.”

“Some days, you’d feel sick to your stomach before you fired up your plane. But once we were airborne, everything seemed to go away as we concentrated on what we had to do. But worst of all was when we landed and found one of our team dead.”

The talk took a lighter turn about the good times and the strange people they met en route.

Pip knocked and stuck his head in about 40 minutes later. “We checked 50 boxes to make sure. They all match.”

Yarrow picked up his phone to call the bank’s president.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“No. Our president may wish to confirm everything with you.”

It turned out that he did. “Rupert Whittington here, Inspector Hazlett. Lorne has given us great news. Are you absolutely sure?”

“We checked them the 80,000 pounds which we picked up from Bricknell’s warehouse, and the serial numbers match perfectly with those entrusted to the bank, and also with the serial numbers of stolen banknotes.”

Hazlett hung up and smiled at Yarrow. “He seemed happy.”

“On a personal note, Winton, I’d like to know how you’re getting on. It must have been a horrible experience. Thank God your people found you just in time.

And that your people were on their toes when in attempts to kill you there.

Detective Ridley kept me posted. It’s an enormous relief for me that I hadn’t lost a friend.”

“It’s past, and we have the ringleader cooling his heels in one of our cells.”

“Are you getting on at home? I know just how difficult that can be in the early stages.”

“In some ways, my ordeal helped me deal with that as well. I could feel Alma’s presence on several occasions.” Hazlett looked at his watch. “It’s close to four, and you’ll be closing soon.”

“That’s all right. Anything else?”

“About Clive and Hilda. We’ve changed our minds about them both.”

Yarrow’s face softened.

“We originally thought that Clive was in league with the robbers, especially about alerting them about the money in your vault. Once we knew that Bricknell was involved with the theft, they didn’t need to know from him or anyone else about the money.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I’m not saying he’s in the clear but just not involved with the robbery.”

Yarrow waited for him to continue.

“We originally thought Hilda was the person stealing the money from the Upsworth account. Why? Because she was spotted by one of our constables at The Retreat. We now have reason to believe that it was someone else. She was introduced to drugs at The Retreat, probably by a male companion, and didn’t need money to buy drugs.”

“I gather you now think it is Clive.”

“I’m sorry, Lorne. We’ve had him watched about the way he charms your older customers, and how he gets to know them and their accounts, as well as how they handle their money, especially if they show any signs of forgetting things.

“And lest we forget, he recently inherited 500 pounds from his uncle, and he tried to pass it off as 15,000 pounds. And later, when challenged on it, it was a big win on the stock market.”

“What are you suggesting exactly, Winton.”

“That we have a chat with Mr. Hosking.”

Pip drove them to the bank and chatted up the young women while waiting for the Inspector to leave. Yarrow climbed the stairs slowly and sat down behind his desk while Hazlett sat on one of the chairs in front of Yarrow’s desk.

“I’d like to handle this in-house, if possible, Winton. It doesn’t do the bank any good for the public to know that their savings might be in jeopardy.”

“There are no charges laid yet. So let’s hear what Hosking has to say before we decide anything.”

Hosking arrived and looked out the window while he waited for Yarrow to speak.

“I think you remember Inspector Hazlett. We wanted to talk to you about the missing money from some of our depositors’ accounts.”

Hosking gulped. You could see his Adam’s Apple go up and down. “I’ve already told the Inspector that I did not alert anyone about the Bricknell money in our vault. I don’t know what more I could tell you.”

“We agree,” said Hazlett. “But that’s not what we are talking about, as you know.”

Hosking, who had been sitting on his hands, suddenly withdrew them. He scanned Yarrow’s face for a clue. There wasn’t any.

“It’s the missing money from the Upsworth account. Six hundred pounds to be exact,” said Hazlett.

“I wasn’t aware that there was any money missing from any of our accounts.”

“It was uncovered in our audit. That, and along with 13,900 pounds from other accounts,” said Yarrow, who could read Hosking’s face as well as Hazlett.

Hosking’s face lost its colour, and he began to catch his breath.

“And let us not forget the 15,000 pounds you suddenly came in possession of.”

“I explained that.”

“So I recall but not to my satisfaction.”

“We are considering another audit, this time focused on withdrawals from our customer’s accounts,” said Yarrow. “You know, and I know, that 13,900 pounds leaves a paper trail. Need I go on? It’s only a question of time.”

Hosking bowed his head. No one broke the brittle silence. Hosking bit his upper lip. “You’re right, Mr. Yarrow. I’ve been doing this for almost a year. My girlfriend wants to go to Australia on our honeymoon, and if we liked it there, we would not come back.”

“He paused and looked at Hazlett. “I assume I’ll be going to prison for this. No wedding, No Australia, and no girlfriend.”

“Where is the money now?” said Yarrow in a consistent voice.

“My girlfriend has it.”

“Call her now and ask her to bring all the money to you at the bank.”

“How long do we need to wait, Hosking?” said Yarrow.

He didn’t get a response. About 40 minutes later, Hosking’s girlfriend knocked on Yarrow’s door out of breath. “I had to go to the bank first and get the 15,000 pounds. I assumed you would want it in notes.”

“Exactly 15,000 pounds?”

“Just as you directed me.” She looked at Yarrow and Hazlett, feeling fear for some reason.

“What happens now, Inspector?”

Hazlett looked at Yarrow, who nodded. “Kindly leave this with me, Winton.”

Later, back at the station, Connor told him he had a call from the bank manager.

“Thank you, Winton, for everything. We would like to handle this on our own. We have all our money back, and Clive has just spent his last day working here.

Charging him would only have caused problems for the bank. Confidence is everything in the banking world.”

“Understand.”

“But for the record, Lorne, we plan to keep a record on him.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN “I thought we were done with you,” said Rebecca Bricknell when Hazlett, Archie, Pip and six other constables suddenly showed up at Bricknell’s office the next morning.

It had been raining, and Hazlett was wiping his forehead with his handkerchief.

“We have some unfinished business with you and Bricknell. I have a search warrant to search your premises, your communications, financial records and transactions.

We want to start with your financial records first.”

Rebecca, who was wearing a short yellow dress, looked at him as though he were speaking ancient Greek. “Before I do anything, Inspector,” she said after a noticeable pause, “I would feel more comfortable if my solicitor were present. I will call Geoffrey now.”

Hazlett nodded. Rebecca left her father’s office and sat down beside Gladys, her bookkeeper, and rang Geoffrey. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and talked to him in whispers.

“Geoffrey will be here presently and would appreciate it if you would hold off any questions until he arrives.”

Hazlett nodded. “In the meantime, we would like you to provide us with all your financial records for the past three years, plus all your documents and letters.”

“They’re on that shelf.” She pointed to the row of folders on the top shelf behind them.

Archie and Pip took them down slowly, careful not to allow any pages to drop to the floor, and placed them in one of the two boxes they brought with them.

Geoffrey seemed out of breath as he entered the office. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a white shirt and a blue and red-striped tie. “What is this all about, Inspector? I had heard you had locked up the so-called Professor from The Retreat and had charged him with the murder of one of his employees. I thought the case was closed.”

He had a great courtroom voice and looked at the top of his game.

“There are still a few questions that still bother me.”

“Like?”

“Why the 80,000 pounds we found in Bricknell’s warehouse had the same serial numbers as those that were stored and stolen from the bank’s vault.”

The room suddenly went dead. Even Gladys, their bookkeeper, stopped to listen. Rebecca, who was sitting at a nearby desk, pulled on the ends of her red hair.

“How did you arrive at that?”

“The bank manager, who is a very meticulous man, copied the serial numbers of each banknote Bricknell brought to his vault.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You should. Yarrow had one of his assistant managers with him at all times.

Moreover, he can show you a complete list of the serial numbers. Detective Pip copied a few of the serial numbers of the 80,000 notes and discovered they also matched those that were stolen in a major bank robbery a few months ago.”

“I assume there’s more.”

“There is. We now believe The Retreat was also part of a money-laundering operation.” That’s when he dropped the ball. “We are also wondering how Bricknell suddenly came up with 160,000 pounds to pay its farmers – 80,000 pounds for the previous year and another 80,000 as an advance payment on this year’s crop.”

“I’m not aware of this.”

“Rebecca is.”

Jarvis glanced at Rebecca. She just stared ahead without any comment.

*** The station’s grey linoleum-covered floor gleamed in the sun. Hazlett sniffed the air. “It smells wonderful, Connor. What did you do?”

“Blame it in June. She’s responsible for the transformation. She suggested we add a few things to the water, and this is the result.”

He was followed into his office by Archie, who was beaming.

“I gather you’ve found something.”

“The accountant found a few credits – sizeable payments to a company called Sterling Financial.”

“Anything else?”

“I won’t ask how you always seem to know, Inspector, but you’ll never guess who the president of Sterling Trust is.” He smiled. “Geoffrey Jarvis. I made additional inquiries to confirm that it’s her boyfriend, Geoffrey Jarvis, the lawyer.”

Archie strung it out for emphasis.

Hazlett smiled back. “Why do I feel I’m in a different dimension.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, Inspector. Everything’s changed since the war. The whole world’s different today.”

“I understand all that, Archie, but the change in women, especially in younger women. I have to admit, and I was taken in by Rebecca Bricknell completely at the beginning. I suspect she was the brains behind Bricknell’s financial adventures. Her father didn’t know everything that was going on, and one of the reasons he took his life when the Professor pulled back the curtain, and he realized how connected Rebecca was with The Retreat and its activities.”

“And this is just the start.”

“Look for something that ties her with the Professor or The Retreat with her.”

“What’s wrong, Inspector?” Archie could always tell when something was bothering him by the far-off look in his eyes, as though someone else had taken over his thoughts.

“I’m not sure, Archie. I should be pleased that we have Kranz behind bars, and the Bricknell story is beginning to unfold.” He paused. “I can’t quite put it in words.

It’s something like a half a thought crossing my mind that bothers me, something I just can’t get my head around.” He paused again. “Like some unseen presence that’s pulling at my thoughts.”

*** “What’s going on, Rebecca?”

Geoffrey Jarvis’s face looked ten years older. “I do not appreciate suddenly being made responsible for something I should have known about.”

“You’re exaggerating, Geoffrey. I hope you make a fat commission for helping me arrange a large loan with Sterling Trust for 500,000 pounds. If you’re worried about the loan, don’t be. We’re paying it off in installments of 40,000 pounds every month.”

They were sitting in his car, a new luxury model bought with his commission.

He shook his head. She looked at him in a way he had never seen before.

“If your father could only see you now,” he added.

Rebecca’s red hair looked like the embers of a fireplace in the afternoon sunlight.

She shook her head and lit a cigarette. “I will tell you this once only, Geoffrey. My father did not run the company. I did. I was the one who made all the hard decisions, The one who refused to pay the farmers. And the one to find other sources of revenue for the company.”

He put his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

He pulled his hands down.

“I have been talking to you as a lawyer – so that what I’ve told you and what I’m going to tell you falls under client privilege.”

“Was this because of your father’s debt to the Professor? “ “There was no debt. There never was, just something we cooked up to mask what we were doing. I won’t say anything more.”

Geoffrey looked at the line of trees where they had parked. “You’re someone I don’t know anymore, Rebecca.”

“What does that mean?”

“I feel we should stop seeing each other for a while.”

“What if I need a lawyer?”

“Find someone else.”

A car stopped behind them. “The Inspector wants to see you both at the station,” said Pip. “I’m not sure we have the time right now,” said Geoffrey.”

“It was not a request. The Inspector means now.”

Pip followed them into the station. Hazlett was talking to Connor when they appeared.

“You’re just in time,” said Hazlett. “I have a few questions I know you can help me with,’ he added, waving them into his office. He sat down at his desk and pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.

“How long is this going to take, Inspector?” Geoffrey looked at his wristwatch.

Hazlett didn’t respond immediately and looked out the window before smiling at them. The tension was palpable. “It’s the loan your father took out for Sterling Trust. We understand it was for 500,000 pounds.” He paused. “Why so much?”

Geoffrey was about to say something, but Rebecca answered before he had a chance. “We had two reasons, the first was to pay off our farmers, and the second was to invest in another similar company that my father considered a good risk.

Where is all this leading, Inspector?”

“Something your friend, the Professor said about Miss Bricknell. Let me quote him directly. “It’s not often you find a woman who is as hard as and money-hungry as I have had the misfortune to meet.”

“I dismissed it out of hand until I went through your diary. It’s all there, Miss Bricknell. That was very indiscreet, if not stupid. Just as getting your father to sue the bank for failing to protect your stolen banknotes. It was gratuitous, and like all gratuitous things, they always come back to bite you.”

She eyed him coldly. “I think you’re making a big mistake that you’ll regret later, Inspector.”

“I feel we’ve heard enough,” added Geoffrey.

“The best is yet to come, Mr. Jarvis.”

Geoffrey had half-risen from his chair and sat down again. Rebecca looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Miss Bricknell’s diary and her financial records would suggest something grander than being the supplier of products to stores, restaurants and hotels.

Instead, she found something far more lucrative.” He paused to catch the look on her face. There wasn’t any.

“She needed a source and found it in Kranz. She used her father as a link between them. She would use the money to pay off farmers and replace the funds with its sales to Bricknell’s customers while also buying other produce distributors in Wales and England. Again using money, they needed to pay off their farmers.

Always, of course, in cash. These places would be sold off later. At a profit, of course.”

Geoffrey was beginning to wonder when it would end.

“Then there was a comment I heard from what seemed like a woman’s voice while I was bound, punched, starved, and deprived of water and movement telling me. “I think you’re making a big mistake that you’ll regret later, Inspector.”

Geoffrey looked at Rebecca. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, “I think I need another solicitor.”

About The Author Jim Carr’s adventure with words began as a teacher of Latin grammar for the first five years. He studied Latin for seven years and holds a degree in Classics and English. He has written a Latin Grammar called Lingua Latina, Latin for Beginners.

It was followed by a lengthy career in print journalism at two daily newspapers as a reporter, columnist and editor. He left to become a communications specialist for a number of national and international corporations and institutions.

He returned to journalism and now, in retirement, acts as associate editor of Spa Canada magazine and a freelancer for other publications. He writes a blog about Thai Retreats and spas, which is featured on Spa Canada’s website.

He has also written an ebook, called Spa Magic Collection. It highlights 50+ outstanding Thai resorts and their spas in Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, Pattaya and Hua Hin, Koh Samui, Krabi and Phuket, called Spa Magic Collection. It is currently being updated.

Three other mystery novels, Abbot’s Moon, Gravediggers, and Death Star and his book of short stories, Betrayal, are available as an ebook and as print books. His other books include Betrayal, which features seven short stories; a wartime romance, There’s Always Tomorrow and a supernatural romance, Yesterdays, along with two historical novels, The Book of the Dead and The Alchemist.

His books are also available as flip books.