by David Haynes
“Why not now? You said you’d leave if I ever told anyone you were here.”
Joe exhaled loudly. “Because, anywhere else will be second best. Besides, you’ll never tell anyone.”
May turned to face him. “Won’t I now? What makes you so sure of that?”
“This.” He kissed her lightly on the lips and withdrew.
“It goes some of the way to convincing me.” She smiled up at him.
“So what else would I have to do?”
“I’ll let you know.” They both laughed and simultaneously turned back to look at the ocean. May reached down and took his hand. “And we won’t be sleeping on that ragged old sofa of yours tonight either.”
16
The morning was grey and a persistent drizzle hung in the air like a swarm of spiteful flies. The weather suited David’s mood; he had a headache which was borne out of too little sleep and too much dark, dry, Shiraz. Still, during the uneasy and fitful sleep, he made a decision which seemed so simple he couldn’t understand his reluctance to take the step before. It was as simple as it was effective; Hooper’s diary had to go.
He banged on the vicarage door and waited for Treleck to answer. The drizzle clung to his skin uncomfortably. He banged again and irritated by the lack of response called out. “Treleck open up.”
There was still no response. David turned and looked at the church; maybe Treleck was in there doing whatever religious men did. He sighed loudly and looked back at the door then tried the handle without expectation.
David was amazed when the door slowly opened inwards under his slow direction. “Treleck! It’s David, are you in there?” He cautiously remained on the doorstep. He called again. “Treleck?”
‘What a stupid man.’ David thought, as he stepped out of the rain into the vicarage.
Immediately he knew this was an opportunity to get what he’d come for. This way he wouldn’t have to put up with any of the inevitable and irritating arguing from the Reverend. He walked straight over to the bookcase, but still cautious of being interrupted he glanced around the room. His eyes rested on the figure of William Treleck asleep in his chair.
David coughed loudly “Sorry, Treleck, I knocked several times and when the door just opened up like that, well, I thought I’d better…”
Something was wrong, Treleck hadn’t moved, not only had he ignored the knocking but hadn’t so much as moved a muscle while he was talking to him. He stepped toward the sleeping man. “Wake up you fool.” He hissed then put his hand on Treleck’s shoulder and shoved him.
Treleck’s head slumped over to the side exposing his neck. There was something about his skin which made David grimace; it was grey and waxy. He touched Treleck’s face gingerly with his fingertips and stepped back; the skin was cold and it reminded him of the plasticine he’d played with as a child. He wiped his hands down his trouser leg and stepped back. It was then that he noticed the empty blister packs discarded in Treleck’s lap. There must have been four or five empty packs. As strong as he was physically, he couldn’t prevent the stomach-churning sensation going on in his guts. He reached forward and placed his hand on Treleck’s neck; there was no pulse. David reached inside his coat pocket for his mobile phone “Bloody coward.”
He looked at the screen on his phone. Two number nines were waiting for a third. He paused and looked over his shoulder at the bookcase. There was no harm in delaying the call for a few minutes; Treleck was already dead after all. He cancelled the call and walked to the bookcase.
The first tingling of anger started in his stomach when he saw the untidy gap in the normally neatly arranged books. There had been no attempt to disguise the cavity but a dismissive attempt to make it look less ordered. He clenched his teeth together loudly, the reverberation tangled with his headache and made it magnify instantly. Quickly he scanned the other books but he knew it was a futile gesture; the book hadn’t been misplaced by accident or hidden in a last humorous gesture by Treleck. No, it had been concealed or even destroyed. David rubbed both his temples. He hoped it was the latter, because the former only led to another loose string, and he could do without that. He pulled back his right fist and punched 1893 – 1900 Rev J.A Reeve in the spine. With a small sense of satisfaction he felt a loose cracking sensation under his knuckles.
As he passed the cold corpse of Reverend Treleck, he sneered at the flaccid figure. “Spineless priest, I’ll catch up with you later.” He was already pressing three nines on his phone. “Police, oh and you better send an ambulance too, our Reverend has swallowed a pharmacy, sorry? No, there’s no need to talk me through all that, he’s quite dead I can assure you.”
Joe blinked his eyes rapidly. A block of white light shone directly into his confused vision. ‘Where the hell am I? And why are my feet so damn hot?’ He kicked rapidly until he felt the cold air tickle the soles of his feet. He wasn’t used to waking up under a duvet, or in a bed for that matter and not only was he doing both of those, he was also waking up next to another human. He stared through the roof window above the bed and into a fathomless grey sky. A grin played on his lips.
“You look like the cat who got the cream.”
He turned his head. May lay on her side with her hand under her face, she still looked sleepy. “Do I? Maybe because that’s exactly how I feel.” He rolled over onto his side and placed his hand on her naked hip. “And what do you look like then?”
May smiled “Probably as rough as a badger’s arse, because that’s how I feel. I think you got me drunk on purpose Mister.”
“So I could take advantage of you?”
“Exactly.”
Joe laughed “Well it worked, didn’t it.” He kissed her gently.
May closed her eyes. “Well I’m not drinking any wine this early, so what tactic are you going to employ this time eh?”
Joe traced his hand lightly over her hip, up and over the side of her ribs until he reached her neck. He cupped his hand around the nape of her neck and pulled her gently forward. “Maybe a bit of this?” He kissed her again.
Joe stood in front of the little window and looked out over Priest’s Cove. Rain battered against the glass and the accompanying wind drove the water droplets in a crazy, frenzied pattern across the vista. He placed a single finger on the cold glass and traced a water streak from one side to the other. The pattern obscured his view of the sea but he could hear the constant crash of the waves as they beat the cove in metronomic repetition.
“There’s no way I’m going out in a boat today.” He called to May who appeared on the mezzanine.
“Spoil sport. I was so much looking forward to getting cold, wet and possibly drowning today.” She disappeared from view.
“I think we need to find this book first anyway.”
May walked from the corridor into the living space. “I’m ready when you are.”
Joe raised his eyebrows. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, honestly, but don’t you have a job to go to?”
May sighed. “I guess so but this won’t take long. I’m assuming you’ve got a plan?”
Joe shrugged. “Something will come to me on the way, I’m sure.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“That’s because I’m not, but as long as our vicar doesn’t catch on then I’ll be happy.”
17
May pulled her car into the reserved parking space outside her office. She was relieved not to see David’s Range Rover parked up; the last thing she wanted was a few mood spoiling questions from him. They started walking towards the church but as they reached the village square she whispered. “Shit.”
“Sorry?” Joe asked.
May pointed towards the unmistakeable hulk of black which was David’s car. “That’s David’s car.”
Joe stared straight ahead and pointed past the car. “I don’t think his car is the worst of it.”
Vivid against the grey, granite backdrop of the church was the yellow fluorescent jacket of a police officer. “Shit” Ma
y whispered again.
Joe turned to her. “Come on, we’ll go and see what’s going on. Do any of the local coppers know you?”
“There aren’t any local bobbies here anymore. One comes over from St Ives once a month for a meeting, that’s all.” She pointed at the officer standing at the gate. “And that’s definitely not him.”
“Sure?”
“Unless PC Wilson reversed the aging process and lost half his body weight then I’m positive.”
Joe laughed. “Okay, let me do the talking.” They walked towards the church gate; a liveried paramedic’s car was dwarfed behind David’s.
They approached the uniformed officer who eyed them cautiously. Joe spoke first. “Morning, what’s happened?” Joe knew from his days in uniform he would receive a bland answer; the officer obliged. “There’s been an incident at the vicarage, that’s all I can tell you.”
Joe peered over the officer’s shoulder; a band of blue and white scene tape had been drawn across the top end of the graveyard. Another police officer was filling in his notebook whilst talking to a large man. He felt a tug at his sleeve. “That’s David,” she whispered.
Joe brought his attention back to the officer and sighed loudly. “The thing is, we’ve travelled down from Exeter this morning.” He pointed towards the church. “We’ve got family buried in the graveyard and it’s been a long drive. I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could come in is there?”
The officer looked in turn from Joe to May then back to Joe again. “Hold on I’ll check.” He turned his back on them and spoke into his radio. His back didn’t provide much soundproofing so Joe was able to hear the conversation, one side of it anyway.
“Sarge, I’ve got a couple come down from Exeter to visit a grave. Are we alright letting them through?” It was followed by a brief pause.
“No, the D.I.’s still in there with the paramedics.”
“No, it’s what we thought. He’ll be releasing the scene in ten.”
“He’s taking details now.”
“Will do.”
The officer turned back to them. “That’s fine, but you can’t go any further than the tape up there.” He indicated with his thumb to a spot over his shoulder.
May smiled at the officer. “Thank you.” Over his shoulder she saw two paramedics pushing a trolley out of the vicarage. A pale blue blanket entirely covered what lay underneath. They hurried immediately left across the front of the church to access the rear of the graveyard.
May pulled on Joe’s jacket again. “Did you see that?”
“Yes, I think we can assume the vicar is dead.” His voice was matter of fact.
May stopped walking. “My God! Do you think so? What do you think happened?”
Joe stopped too. “Well, if they thought it was suspicious, there’s no way we’d be allowed anywhere near the place. Natural causes or suicide would be my bet.”
Mays eyes widened. “So why on earth is David in there talking to the coppers?”
Joe shrugged. “He probably found him.” He paused and rubbed his neck. “How’re we going to get a look at this book now then?”
May shook her head and looked around. “No idea, why did we come in here anyway?”
“I just wanted a bit more time to think without Polglaze seeing you.” They were both silent for a few moments before Joe spoke again.
“Henrietta said the miners had some sort of communal plot in here, didn’t she?”
“Yes I think she did.”
Joe scanned the graveyard. “I think it’s time we paid our respects then.”
They walked through the headstones, scrutinising each one in turn. Some were single plots while others held families. After searching for some time they both were soaking wet. “I don’t think we’ll find them amongst the normal graves, and there’s no mausoleum I can see.” May said.
“You’re right, but I think a mausoleum might be a bit overt for them anyway. I think we’re looking for something a lot less obvious. A memorial or something?”
“You mean like that?” Joe followed the direction of May’s finger to the great yew tree at the furthest edge of the graveyard. “Maybe.”
They set off towards the tree; the bulk of the church offered some protection from the elements but not enough to stop their effects entirely. The tree seemed to hover above the ground like a dark, sombre cloud silhouetted against the leaden sky. As they got closer they both became aware of the granite block standing in its shadow. Simultaneously they touched the black marble top and read the inscription. “Pretty unobtrusive I’d say.” May spoke quietly. The marble was cold yet dry, the tree’s thick evergreen foliage offering shelter.
“Yes, hidden would be how I’d describe it. October 20th 1919. Sacred to the memory of, The Thirty One – No longer to labour in the dark.” Joe spoke in an equally hushed voice. He traced his finger repeatedly over ‘The Thirty One.’
May watched him closely. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
“With the Thirty One. That’s what she said. It’s with the thirty one.”
They both looked at each other, then in unison, down at their feet. The earth wasn’t as muddy as it was in other places because it was protected, but it was loose. May kicked her foot through the topsoil then stepped back from under the yew tree canopy. “The soil is different where the monument is. I’m no gardener but I reckon it’s been dug over recently.”
Joe crouched and picked up a lump of soil. “I think we’ve just been very, very lucky.” He looked over May’s shoulder and nodded towards the church. “And I think our dead vicar over there has given us our book.”
May raked her hands through the loose soil. “Shall we?”
Joe nodded over her shoulder again. “I’m not sure exhuming anything from the graveyard would be a good idea at this very moment. Even if it is only a book.”
May peered over her shoulder; she could see part of the police officer’s fluorescent jacket flapping in the wind. She turned back. “Point taken, how long are they likely to be here do you think?”
Joe clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “The coppers won’t be here much longer, but I’m sure the place will be crawling with people all day.” He stood up. “We’ll come back later, when it gets dark.”
May looked at him, then back at the soil, she was so close. The thought of leaving the book behind was almost painful.
Joe held out his hand. “Look, none of this will matter if we get locked up will it?”
She took his hand and pulled herself upright. “No, you’re right. We’re just so close that’s all.”
They started walking back towards the churchyard gate. “I know but just a little more patience and we’ll have some answers.”
May suddenly froze. David Polglaze walked across the path and out of the gate, literally five metres in front of them. They watched as he walked past his Range Rover without a second glance. “He’s going to the office.” May whispered. “And he looks pissed off.”
They got as far as David’s car before May released Joe’s hand. She turned to face him. “Right, I need to go and see what he wants.”
Joe shook his head. “Are you kidding?”
“No I’m not. The longer I leave it the worse it’ll be. I need for him to see me too. Look, if he thinks I’m avoiding him or doing something behind his back he’ll be furious and maybe start doing some digging of his own? You understand what I mean?”
Joe bit his lower lip. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Right now we don’t know what he’s capable of. I just don’t think he’s safe to be around, not alone anyway.”
May winked. “And you’re not safe to be around either Mister. Honestly, I can handle David, he fancies the pants off me. I’ll flutter my eyelids and smile nicely; he’ll be putty in my hands.”
“Even so I’ll feel better if you let me hang around until he’s gone.” Joe paused. “Even better, he doesn’t know me right?”
May shook her head.
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br /> “Okay, so what if I give you five minutes to placate him. Then I’ll come up to the office, pretend I want a job or something?”
She took a moment to think it over. It was true they didn’t know what David was capable of or what he’d done and he did look incredibly pissed off about something. What was the harm in it? “Okay, make it ten minutes though, and please just follow my lead when you come in. Say you’ve heard a rumour about Tants Meadow being sold to Tesco’s. It’s just nonsense but it’s completely benign, okay?”
Joe nodded. “Tants meadow, got it.” He looked back at the churchyard; the last of the liveried vehicles was pulling away and out of the village. A small crowd watched as they drove away.