Chapter 36. Cavern of Treasures
They couldn’t finish the wine. To drink such wine just for the sake of drinking would seem sacrilegious. After a single glass each, Pom corked it, “For Miss Bottomley’s breakfast.” She giggled. “For our next celebration,” she suggested instead and Enid said, “Tomorrow night?” Pom rapidly found a working bulb and carried it down to the wine cellar. Scarlet remained at the top of the stairs, but flooded with light, the cavern was not so intimidating. “Look at this,” said Pom, struggling with an ancient door, “I wonder where this goes.” “Let’s check by daylight,” Scarlet suggested. “I’m ready for coffee to clear my head.” Miss Bottomley had gone to bed. Enid was tidying the kitchen while the dishwasher hummed. Scarlet locked the wine cellar door carefully. “We’d better make certain this wine appears on the insurance inventory,” she said. “Must be worth a bundle.” Enid poured out coffee. “I appreciated your toast,” she said. “I realized I should have toasted you for rescuing ME.” “Miss Bottomley put her finger on it,” Pom agreed. “It was Rescue All Around.” “To the Mutual Rescue Society and Norfolk Crescent Irregulars.” Scarlet lifted her mug. And they toasted their new affiliation with excellent espresso. “Let me call you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to Kirby Crousam,” Pom told Scarlet as she walked him to the door. “He’s my man at the Albert and Victoria. I know enough to see I’m way out of my league here– we’ll have to call in the big guns.” “Big guns indeed,” said Scarlet. “Tomorrow we’ve got the security people coming to look at Miss Bottomley’s setup.” And, it would seem, not a moment too soon. They both saw the man who rushed into the phone booth as Pom climbed into his car. Darned detectives! Scarlet was changing into pajamas when Nick woke, and she had the pleasure of giving him a bottle. Enid was dead to the world. Palace Security – “by appointment to her Majesty the Queen” – showed up at precisely eight a.m. in the person of a Mr. Dyson who looked for all the world like a brigadier general. Turned out, he was retired British Army. Miss Bottomley was not awake but Scarlet walked them through the requirements. “We need something easy that Miss Bottomley can master.” Mr. Dyson’s eyes glittered. “How about a code? Such as banks use?” “Perfect. I’ll ask Miss Bottomley for her favorite number.” She was delighted to stun him with the sight of their new Cavern of Treasures. “Good Lord,” said Dyson, “We’ll need a new door here. Something metal. Where does this go?” “Are you ready to find out?” asked Scarlet. “It will be news to me.” Steps led up to the carpark. It was flimsily secured with a padlocked cellar entry. “Well, I’m glad to see there’s some security,” said Mr. Dyson. “I suppose they brought the casks in here. All this will have to be replaced.” Enid gave him a cup of Earl Grey in the kitchen. “I’d like to introduce a touchy subject,” said Scarlet. “We’ve already had a man try to gain admittance to the house through a ruse.” “You don’t say!” “That makes no difference,” said Dyson, stalwart. “You’ve got an elderly lady in a treasure house – just a matter of time before the cons look to test it. I’ll put a bodyguard on. You’ll like him – easy fellow. The front’s a fast job – can be over in a morning – but the back will take a week. And we’ll have to secure all these windows. The bodyguard can vet the workers for you, make certain everyone’s who they say they are.” “Perfect,” said Scarlet. After he’d gone, Enid commented, “Divorce?” “I’ll say,” said Scarlet. “We’ve both hired detectives.” Enid sighed. “Must be nice to be wanted.” “It isn’t me he wants, it’s Nick.” Scarlet was aware as she said it that this wasn’t strictly true. Ian wanted something from Scarlet – what was it exactly? Subjugation? Her admission that he was right and she was wrong? Her conversion to his double standard philosophy of male female relations? Bob Thomas showed up while Miss Bottomley was finishing her late breakfast. “Only one glass of wine for me in future,” she said. “I’m not accustomed to getting so much sleep and feeling wuzzy next day. Show Mr. Thomas into the dining room.” Since the dining room had no door to the hallway and their business could be heard all over the house Scarlet resolved to take Nick for a walk. It would be interesting to see who was watching the house. It was a chilly day with a promise of snow – mother and baby needed bundling up. At the door, Scarlet touched Enid’s heavy greatcoat and grey wool hat thoughtfully. “Enid? May I borrow your outdoor things? I want to see if anyone follows me.” It seemed a less embarrassing excuse than, “My anorak no longer fits me” and it was none the less true. Enid emerged from the kitchen, her face pink from a morning of baking. “Of course you may, if you promise to wear the police whistle you’ll find in my pocket! Clever girl! Can you pick up a jar of lemon curd for me at Sawditch’s?” “Can do.” It was a wonderful big greatcoat – impossible to tell what kind of body was underneath. In her nondescript wellies and hair tucked up into the wool hat, Scarlet could have been anyone – male or female. To make the impersonation perfect she even slipped on Enid’s big gray mittens, much coarser – and less warm – than her own lambs’ wool lined leather gloves. Last of all she put the police whistle around her neck. Amusingly it made her feel less ridiculous when someone like Enid took steps to be so careful.
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November 2021
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