The Traitor's Bones

by Evelyn James

  “We need to clear this area very carefully,” he said loudly to those nearest him, indicating a space immediately before him. “This is where the bones will be. Take your time, don’t let the stones fall and crush anything.”

  Dr Jacobs took a step back, allowing the workers in, but near to hand to keep an eye on the work. He examined the long bone in his hands.

  “It is human?” Clara asked. It had to be, of course it did, but she had been wrong about the woods and now felt she could not risk being wrong again.

  Dr Jacobs glanced up at her.

  “It is. From an adult male, I would say, by the length and thickness.”

  Clara did not know whether to be relieved or heartbroken. At last they had located Father Lound, but with it came the knowledge he had been murdered and would never return to his family. How could anyone be happy about that?

  More bones emerged from the rubble. Dr Jacobs asked that a large sheet be laid on the grass and he began to reconstruct the skeleton one piece at a time. The leg bone was placed first, followed by a couple of vertebra and then another leg bone. As each piece was placed in its appropriate position on the sheet, it seemed as if the doctor was putting together a gruesome jigsaw puzzle. The rubble was being removed stone by stone now, the process time-consuming, but no one wanted to be responsible for damaging the remains. More vertebra emerged, and then someone spotted tiny bones that had fallen to the soil. These were the bones of the foot, the most delicate of the bones in the body, next to those of the hand.

  “It seems our man must have been put in head first,” Dr Jacobs said as the remains mounted up.

  Clara was restlessly walking about in the Coppens’ garden. They had some bones, but no definitive proof, as yet, that this was Father Lound. But it had to be him, didn’t it?

  On the road just beyond the house, people were gathering. Word was spreading that something was going on. It wasn’t long before someone peered over the garden wall and spotted the bones being laid out by Dr Jacobs and reported back to the others. Now there was a ripple of excitement among the crowd.

  Peeters prowled on the outskirts of the excavation area, eyeing up the growing crowd of onlookers with a stern expression. No one was going to interfere with police business, not while he was in charge.

  “We have a pelvis!” Dr Jacobs called out, he sounded quite excited. “I am now certain this fellow is male and young. No signs of wear and tear on the bones yet that would indicate he was aging.”

  Peeters was distracted from the crowd for a moment, when he looked back his face fell.

  “No, no!”

  Lina Peeters had pushed through the crowd and was opening the garden gate to the Coppens’ property.

  “No one is to enter!” Peeters told his sister fiercely.

  She paused with her hand on the gate latch and glowered at him.

  “I have not waited all these years, not know whether I should be mourning for a man who was dead or hating him for leaving me, just for you to stop me now,” Lina said firmly.

  She depressed the latch and entered. Her act of crossing the threshold seemed to spark the rest of the crowd into action and people started to pour into the garden. Peeters ran forward in alarm. Clara called out to Colonel Brandt and Tommy, along with any of the men who were free to run forward and stop the surge.

  Lina slipped past her brother, he made little effort to prevent her. But the other spectators were forced back. People pushed and barged, wanting to get a better look at what was going on, but Peeters’ authority and the physical barrier of the men with him, stopped them. After a few moments of arguing, the crowd retreated to the street again and Colonel Brandt stationed himself with Tommy at the gate to deter any future attempts to enter.

  Lina had made her way to the sheet on the grass and was looking at it as if the bones upon it were something unreal, something alien. Clara stepped near her, trying to offer her as much support as she could.

  “I… I don’t recognise him,” Lina said, tears trickling down her face. “I know that sounds foolish. How would I recognise the bones of the man I loved? But, I thought… I thought I would sense it was him, somehow.”

  Peeters came up behind his sister and placed an arm around her shoulders.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “I am so very sorry.”

  “We have a skull!”

  Deep in the hole the men had come across the most important piece of this puzzle. Dr Jacobs took gentle possession of the skull, bringing it to his sheet with an air of reverence. He placed it at the top of the skeleton and then crouched to look closer.

  “I was worried this might have been crushed when the body was buried,” he said. “However, it is intact, except for this portion over the eye socket.”

  Clara joined him to examine the skull. It appeared that a sharp object had slammed into the priest’s head just above his left eye.

  “I would say a stone or similar heavy blunt object did this,” Dr Jacobs postulated. “You know, a fragment of bone has sheared off and gone into the brain, and it remains inside the skull. I can see it, just.”

  “This killed him?” Clara asked.

  “I would suspect it did. This does not look to me like something caused by rubble being piled on top of the body,” Dr Jacobs was examining the skull further. “No other signs of injury, though he does have a tooth missing and that came out not long before his death.”

  Lina gave a soft sob.

  “That is Christian,” her voice trembled as she spoke. “A week before he vanished, he fell down some steps near the river. He was trying to catch an old lady’s cat that had escaped her house. The silly man knocked his tooth out in the process.”

  Lina put her hands over her face and her whole body shook with the terrible realisation of what she was looking at. Her brother tried to pull her to him, to comfort her.

  “If this is Christian…” he started to say.

  “It is Christian,” Lina wept. “I have no doubt, no doubt at all.”

  Peeters paused for a moment, then he looked to Clara.

  “Ramon buried him here, it has to be. In the police report Father Howard mentioned how he had come across Ramon backfilling this hole and asked him if he had seen Father Lound. Whoever filled in this space was clearly responsible for putting the priest’s body here too.”

  “And then Ramon was killed,” Clara frowned. “That still makes no sense. Especially with the discovery of the British pistol.”

  Clara, for a brief moment, wondered if Colonel Matthews had lied when he said he had not taken justice into his own hands and executed the person he suspected of being a traitor. But she dismissed the idea rapidly. A British colonel lurking about the woods would have been noticeable and Captain Mercier would have surely been in on the scheme. Brandt and Tommy had quickly updated her on what the Belgium soldier had told them, and he did not think the spy had been caught. Therefore, he did not know about Ramon’s body being in the woods.

  “Well, we can’t ask Ramon what happened that day anymore, but I believe it mentioned in the police report that he had someone assisting him in filling this hole?” Clara said to Peeters.

  “Louis Maes,” Peeters nodded. “Wherever Ramon went, Louis followed. He was like a loyal dog, that boy.”

  Clara glanced to the street outside the Coppens’ garden, and to the people there.

  “What are the odds that talk of this has not already circulated through the entire town and reached Louis Maes’ ears?”

  Peeters snorted.

  “This is a small town, and everyone knows how to talk.”

  “Then we need to hurry, before the only person who might be able to tell us what happened here disappears too,” Clara glanced around her. Dr Jacobs was capable enough of seeing that the body was secured and respectfully removed from the garden. Colonel Brandt and Tommy would act as reliable sentries. She felt it was safe for her and Chief Inspector Peeters to leave. “Will you join me?”

  Peeters was reluctant to leave his sister
, but she pulled out of his grasp.

  “Go. I want you to speak to Louis. I want to know why Christian died and who is truly to blame.” She said.

  Peeters turned back to Clara.

  “I am ready. It is about time this mystery was solved.”

  Together they hurried out of the garden and towards the far side of town, hoping they were not too late to catch the one person who could tell them the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Louis Maes lived in a cottage towards the edge of town. He was a farm labourer and the house came with the work. Peeters remarked that it was a way for the farmer to save on paying wages.

  The cottage was tiny, smaller than Clara had expected, but it was very well maintained and every inch of the garden had been turned over to growing vegetables for the occupants. As Peeters and Clara drew near they could hear raised voices coming from inside, though it was impossible to make out words.

  “Maes is married these days,” Peeters added, in the process of opening the gate to the garden.

  At the same moment the cottage door flew open and Maes stumbled outside; it almost looked like he was shoved out. He was carrying a haversack, the sort soldiers carried their belongings in, in his arms. Behind him a woman was yelling that she never wanted to see him again and calling him all manner of names.

  Maes took a step onto the path that joined the narrow space between the cottage and the gate, then he came to a complete halt looking at Peeters. There was a moment when everyone froze, before Maes threw his bag at Peeters and took off across the garden.

  Peeters was nearly knocked down by the heavy haversack which had taken him by surprise. Clara was quicker off the mark. She turned on her heel and ran alongside the garden fence, knowing that Maes’ headlong sprint would require him to jump the fence at some point. She was banking on that slowing him down a fraction. She was still behind him when he reached the fence and attempted to leap it in one move. He clipped his knee and fell over onto his hands. Clara skimmed around the corner and dived at him. Maes wrestled with her, pulling at her dress and nearly ripping her clothes, but Clara kicked out at whatever part of him she could, and must have struck something important because he gasped and stopped fighting.

  “Stay still!” Clara commanded him.

  Maes was on the ground, groaning to himself. Peeters hurried to join them, while in the background Mrs Maes peered out of her front door.

  “You are quite dangerous!” Peeters remarked to Clara as he grabbed Maes’ hands and pulled him to his feet.

  “You would be amazed at what I have to deal with,” Clara shrugged her shoulders.

  “As for you, Maes,” Peeters addressed their groaning suspect, “I have quite a few questions. I am guessing you know what about, too.”

  Maes gave a miserable sniff and looked about ready to burst into tears. He briefly tried to grapple himself away from the Chief Inspector, then gave in.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said bleakly.

  “You and I both know that is a lie. Else you would not be attempting to run away,” Peeters replied to him sternly. “Come on, let’s get to the station.”

  Maes was defeated. The walk to the police station was uneventful and he seemed resigned to his fate, whatever he imagined that might be. Once at the station, he was escorted up to Peeters’ office and offered a chair. He took it without hesitation, all his fight had evaporated. Peeters locked the door, all the same, and placed the key on his desk. Clara took a seat to one side, intending to ask her own questions when she got the chance.

  “Well Louis,” Peeters pulled some paper from a drawer and began to take notes. “This is rather a pickle, isn’t it?”

  Maes hung his head and didn’t answer.

  “You know we have found the remains of Father Lound beneath the old Albion Hope?” Peeters continued.

  Maes gave a small nod, so small it could have been mistaken for a twitch.

  “I have a statement on file from Father Howard that you and Ramon Devereaux were responsible for filling in the excavated hole beneath the house. You were seen filling it on the day Father Lound disappeared. Would you care to explain how the priest ended up in your hole?”

  “I never killed him,” Maes lifted his head and begged them with his eyes. “I never hurt the man, never. He was a priest, I wouldn’t dare. You go to Hell for things like that.”

  “But you were prepared to bury his body?” Clara pointed out. “I assume you were recruited by Ramon for the task.”

  “Ramon was my best friend,” Maes agreed, turning to Clara. “He looked out for me.”

  “You mean he involved you in all his illegal activities,” Peeters interjected. “I know all about you and Ramon. Every burglary we arrested Ramon for, you were somewhere nearby. You made your mother despair.”

  “I was only helping him out. He was my friend,” Maes was pleading with them, trying to get them to see his point. “You help out friends.”

  “Is that what happened on that day in 1917? You were helping a friend?” Clara asked, her tone gentle. She was hoping that a soft, persuasive voice might appeal to Maes and make him talk. He seemed to be easily led and eager to please. Both things that Ramon had used to his advantage.

  “Ramon said there had been an accident,” Maes explained slowly. “Something awful, he said. And if I didn’t help him, Ramon said he would be hanged for it. He was extremely upset. I have never seen him like that before. It scared me a little.”

  “What was this accident Ramon claimed had happened?” Peeters asked.

  “Ramon said he had argued with Father Lound. The priest was always pressuring Ramon to change the way he lived his life. He didn’t understand that Ramon had family to provide for and he did things for them. That day, Ramon had been so angry about everything and he had walked home after arguing with other lads at Albion Hope. I was there, I saw that part,” Maes paused for breath, he was talking fast. “He just wanted to go home and forget about everything, but Father Lound followed him. He followed him to his house and they argued in the garden, before Ramon stormed indoors and refused to speak to him anymore.

  “Ramon went upstairs, and he was there for a while. Then he had to go out again, and when he walked back into the garden, he saw Father Lound lying half under a bush. His head was all bloody and when Ramon tried to rouse him, he realised he was dead.”

  “Wait a minute,” Peeters was stunned by this information. “You are saying that Father Lound mysteriously died in Ramon’s back garden, while Ramon was inside the house?”

  “That is what Ramon told me,” Maes answered. “Why would he lie?”

  Peeters glanced at Clara, his look incredulous. She just shrugged. Maes was either too stupid, or too loyal, to see how ridiculous the story sounded.

  “What happened next?” Clara asked Maes.

  “Ramon said we had to hide the body,” Maes stated.

  “Did he not suggest calling the police or a doctor?” Peeters asked in astonishment.

  Maes shook his head and it was obvious he had thought nothing suspicious about his friend’s plans.

  “I went with him to his house. Father Lound was still under the bush. Ramon said we should transport him in a handcart, covered with rubble for the back-filling of the hole we had dug beneath Albion Hope. So, that is what we did. It took us a while to get the cart, and to suitably hide the priest in it,” Maes paused. “I remember that Ramon’s sister came to the door and looked out at us. She must have seen the body, but she just turned away and walked back in. Ramon said she was cold, so very cold. He hated her, he told me that as we place Father Lound in the handcart. He hated her, but she was family and that meant he had to look out for her.

  “We pushed the handcart to the garden of Albion Hope. No one looked at us. I felt sick with nerves, but Ramon said no one would know. He was confident, as always. Once at the house, he said he was going to fetch Father Lound’s suitcase, so it looked like the priest had left town. It was never hard to enter the p
riests’ rooms at the house. They never locked the doors and people were always coming and going.

  “Once that was done, we put Father Lound into the pit and covered him with rubble and then threw in the suitcase. I had never touched a corpse before. He was already quite cold and his skin looked so pale. I felt sick and Ramon slapped me, telling me I had to be strong, for his sake. We had barely put the priest in the hole when Father Howard and Father Stevens walked past and asked Ramon if he had seen Father Lound. He lied, of course.”

  Maes hefted his shoulders.

  “That was it. We filled the hole and left.”

  “When did you last see Ramon?” Clara asked Maes.

  The man looked miserable.

  “About an hour later. I was fetching milk for my mother and I saw Ramon crossing the road. I went to stop him, and he was really upset and pushed me away. I tried to ask what was wrong, but he just told me to be quiet. I was going to tell him that I had seen his sister walking in the same direction a short time before. Ramon was always trying to keep track of her. She was in a lot of trouble with men,” Maes looked sheepish at saying this of his friend’s sister. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him. That night he left.”

  “Only, he didn’t leave,” Peeters said solemnly. “We now know that the bones found in the woods are those of Ramon Devereaux.”

  Maes’ mouth dropped open, he gaped at them like some strange gargoyle with a spout in its mouth. He shut his eyes and seemed about fit to collapse with the news. When he opened his eyes again, they glistened with tears.

  “No…” he whispered.

  “You must have always suspected, Louis?” Clara said softly. “You were the only one in town who knew the body could not be that of Father Lound. If it was not Lound, then who else could it have been?”

  “Not Ramon,” Maes’ voice trembled. “He was my best friend. He looked out for me. I should have looked out for him.”