Smoke and Mirrors: The next instalment of the riveting Marnie Walker series

by Leo McNeir

  Anne grinned. “What about the grave site?”

  “Got a team up there already, dropped ’em off on the way in.”

  Returning to the office barn, Anne found her way converging with a man. He looked like one of the archaeologists, but she had not seen him before.

  “Hi! Are you looking for Dick Blackwood and the others? Their barn’s round the corner.”

  “Marnie Walker,” he replied. “I was told her office was opposite the cottages. Are you from the dig?”

  “No. I’m with Marnie. You’re pointing in the right direction.”

  In the office the stranger extended a hand to Marnie and introduced himself as Rufus Maitland, consultant on the Timeline project.

  “I just wanted to come and say hallo. You probably know of me.”

  Marnie held his gaze. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No, but I know your brother-in-law, Paul Sutton. We’re both at UCL.”

  “Right.”

  “And Steve Boyd, of course. He’s a colleague. I believe you and he were … seeing each other for a time?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you might’ve heard of me.”

  “Possibly. So you’re here with Timeline?”

  “Just for today, initially. I may be back later in the dig, depending on what they find.”

  “Are you an expert on witchcraft?”

  “Not exactly. Medieval monasticism is my current area of research.”

  “What do you hope – or should I say, expect – to find round here?”

  Maitland smiled and shrugged. “You can never be quite sure.”

  “But you must have some idea, presumably. I mean, you don’t just go around the country digging holes in the ground, hoping for evidence of witches, do you? Or are you specifically interested in Sarah Anne Day?”

  “That’s a good question.”

  Marnie waited, still looking Maitland in the eye. He seemed to find the experience uncomfortable.

  “Well, we have some background evidence, research findings and so on. The rest, we’ll have to wait and see. That’s what makes it so interesting.”

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  Anne watched this exchange without speaking, sitting at her desk going through the morning’s post. Marnie escorted Maitland to the door and watched him walk past the windows. She stood thinking in the doorway for a while before turning back to her desk.

  “You do know about him, don’t you, Marnie? He’s the one who said the poem about the man on the stairs, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t want him to know that Paul had been talking about their conversation?”

  “Partly that.”

  “What else, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “A lot of people seem to know more about what’s going on in Knightly St John than they say. I think the less I tell them, the better.”

  “Why do you think he’s here? Isn’t it just to see how the dig goes, like he said?”

  “You know, Anne, I’m not sure even he knows what’s going on. The question is, who does?”

  *

  By the end of the morning Anne could contain her curiosity no longer. She announced that she was going to do the post run earlier than usual and take the opportunity to look in on the grave site. Two Land Rovers in the green and yellow livery of Timeline passed her coming down the field track. In the first, she caught a glimpse of one of the programme’s presenters, a strikingly attractive young woman who had become a national icon.

  The high street reminded her of war films. Timeline vehicles were spread along the road like an invading army. A cluster of people stood outside the churchyard gate, surrounded by boxes of equipment. Passing them, she caught a snatch of conversation.

  “… inconclusive, so Terry wants to open up four or five more test pits.”

  “Why not open up a trench and have done with it?”

  “That’ll come later.”

  Anne posted the letters and turned to enter the shop as two men walked out. One of them was Rufus Maitland, the other a tall, rangy figure with white hair, dressed all in black. She recognised him as the programme’s lead presenter, a professor from somewhere, but she could not recall his name. Neither man noticed her, so intent were they on their discussion.

  Anne went direct to the post office cubicle and asked Richard Appleton for a pack of one hundred first class stamps. His wife, Molly, came over, eyes sparkling.

  “Did you see them, Anne? That was Barny Guthrie.”

  “Who?”

  “The professor on Timeline. He’s very famous, lovely voice, very polite.”

  “Oh, yes. Professor Guthrie.”

  “He was being pestered by that other one. Don’t know who he was, haven’t seen him on the programmes.”

  “How was he pestering him?”

  “Well, he kept his voice down, so it was hard to tell, but I did hear him say something like, Sooner or later it’s got to come out.”

  “What’s got to come out? What did Professor Guthrie say?”

  “I couldn’t hear very much. People in the shop, talking. It sounded like, That’s not for us to decide.”

  Anne wondered about what Molly had said as she walked through the churchyard and pushed open the gate in the wall leading into Martyrs Close. Yellow tape still marked off Sarah’s grave, but there was no longer a policeman on guard. Instead, Dick Blackwood was talking with Celia Devere, pointing at the grave. He broke off as Anne approached.

  Celia turned and gave her the briefest of smiles. She was dressed in fawn slacks and safari shirt with a matching silk neckerchief that once again made her look like the star of a Hollywood blockbuster.

  “Hallo. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt, just came to see how things were going up here.”

  “Nothing is going up here.” Celia’s voice had an edge to it.

  Clang! Anne thought. Dick looked as if he was less than pleased that Anne had encouraged Celia to express her opinion.

  “Right. I’ll, er, leave you to it, then.”

  Anne glanced at Sarah’s grave. It was now covered with a dark grey tarpaulin, secured with tent pegs. She was turning to go when Celia spoke.

  “Tell Marnie I’ll be down to see her later on, will you?”

  “Okay.”

  Anne walked off. The maid had been sent on her way.

  *

  Back at Glebe Farm, Anne entered the office to find Marnie on the phone.

  “Sure, Beth, it is very interesting, but totally disruptive.”

  She listened some more.

  “No, it’s not their fault. They get on with their work. It’s just so fascinating, I have to go out every now and then to see what’s happening. Now, it’s like a film set out there, all these famous faces in our little village. It’s hard to concentrate on the job in hand.”

  When Marnie ended the conversation she looked across at Anne. “All okay?”

  “Yes. Had a look at Sarah’s grave. It’s all wrapped up like a parcel. The good news is, I got the stamps we needed.”

  “And?” Marnie looked suspicious.

  “Madam gave me a message to pass on.”

  “Celia? No doubt she was standing guard over her grave site?”

  Anne nodded. “Not so good news: she’s coming down to see you later on.”

  Marnie reflected. “Thank you, my girl. No reply. You may return to polishing the silver in the pantry with the under-valet.”

  “Yes’m. Forgive me if I don’t manage a curtsy. My apron seems to have got tangled up in my computer.”

  *

  Marnie and Anne escaped to the sanctuary of Sally Ann for a sandwich lunch. Ralph joined them from Thyrsis. While they ate, Anne outlined what she had heard that morning.

  “What could it all mean?” she asked.

  Marnie shook her head. “It could mean anything.”

  Ralph swallowed. “I think there are some indications. First, we can see there�
��s more going on than just the Timeline dig and the university excavations.”

  “It doesn’t tell us much, though, does it? Or are you going to give us one of your impenetrable insights?”

  Ralph pretended to ignore the question. “Second, we can deduce that some of the people here know what is going on in the background.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s the question. Obviously, Rufus Maitland isn’t one of them.”

  “So who does know?”

  “The Timeline people,” Anne cut in. “They must.”

  Ralph nodded. “I think you’re right, but in my view, it can only be a few of them.”

  “Professor Guthrie? He’s the top man on the programmes.”

  Ralph raised a finger. “Guthrie’s the top man in front of the cameras. The producer’s the top person overall. He’ll know what’s going on.”

  “What about Rob Cardew?” Marnie asked.

  “No. Neither Rob nor his wife has a clue, I’m sure of that, even though her work is at the heart of the investigation.”

  “Which means that someone else in the background is setting the agenda. Who could that be?”

  Ralph folded his arms. “Someone at a higher level than Guthrie or anyone else at Timeline.”

  “Do you think Celia knows the whole story?”

  “I very much doubt it. If she had the slightest idea, she’d be regaling us with tantalising snippets to show that she was in the know.”

  “We’re up against a brick wall with no way of getting any further.”

  Ralph looked thoughtful. “Not quite. We do have a secret weapon.”

  “Oh?”

  “Professor Fellheimer,” Anne chipped in. “He might come up with something.”

  Ralph smiled. “Perhaps. We shall see.”

  *

  That evening Anne lay on her bed reading about Le Corbusier and his grand designs while Vivaldi and a sandalwood joss stick kept her company. Marnie and Ralph had gone for a drink in the village pub.

  When Danny rang on the mobile, Anne settled in for a chat.

  “Celia didn’t show up in the end, probably retired to her tower in the north wing of the castle with an attack of the vapours.”

  Danny laughed. “Probably waiting for her Sir Galahad.”

  “No, he’s apparently away on so-called business with his floozy, or should that be trollop?”

  Danny hooted. “Anne! Are you kidding?”

  “That’s what Celia says.”

  “She tells you that kind of thing?” Incredulous.

  “No. She entrusted it to Marnie, valuing her discretion and on pain of death –”

  “Naturally.”

  “I heard about it when Marnie told Ralph. He then wrote it down and sent it to the editor of the News of the World. I made that bit up.”

  “Soap opera – I told you!”

  “So presumably you’ll be booking your usual penthouse suite for the weekend?”

  “How about Wednesday?”

  The conversation had been over for barely five minutes when the mobile chirped again. Donovan.

  “You’ve got a better social life than I have. Every time I try to phone you, your line’s busy.”

  “It was Danny wanting the latest news on the hotline to the stars. Anyway, how are you? Mutti gone home yet?”

  “Uschi went Saturday. She was a great help, but, ah, the freedom!”

  “Are you hobbling?”

  “I can manage without a stick most of the time. Do I take it you’ve got the TV people there?”

  “They’re all over the village. Danny’s coming up on Wednesday for a few days to gawp.”

  “Wednesday?”

  “Why?”

  “I was wondering …”

  “Are you fit enough to travel?”

  “Thought I might come up, see you for a day or two, then bring the boat back at the weekend. Would I be in the way?”

  They agreed to meet at the station at ten o’clock.

  Chapter 24

  Fame

  On Tuesday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Marnie found her thoughts straying to Celia Devere and her eyes straying to the phone. She looked across the office at Anne.

  “Didn’t you give me a message that Celia would be coming to see me yesterday afternoon?”

  Anne looked puzzled. “That’s right. It was delivered by the under-chambermaid, I seem to recall.”

  Marnie smiled. “I’m sure she doesn’t really think of you like that.”

  “Of course not. She just treats me that way.”

  By mid-morning there was still no word from Celia. Anne went out on her rounds with the chilled water and spotted Dick Blackwood in the HQ barn talking to – or rather being talked at by – Suzi Fraser-Jones, the Timeline assistant producer. Poor bloke, she thought, constantly being hectored by forceful women. She passed by with a friendly wave.

  “Anne!” Suzi called out. She abandoned Dick and strode towards Anne.

  “All going well?” Anne asked.

  “Great, great. Is Marnie about?”

  “In the office, trying to meet a deadline.”

  “Good. I’ll need a minute or two if she could spare it.”

  “Lunchtime, perhaps?”

  Suzi checked her watch and clipboard.

  “Earlier if possible. It won’t take long. God, I’m running behind.” She spoke rapidly. “Anne, could you please just say we’d like some shots of local people – herself, you, anyone else from Glebe Farm – a little later in the week. Also, I may ask her to do a short interview on camera with Barny, depending on what we find. Could you do that?”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. See you later.”

  Suzi turned and sped off, pulling the mobile from her pocket. Dick came over, breathing out audibly between his teeth.

  “Everything all right?” Anne asked. She could guess the reply.

  “Wonderful.” Dick’s tone was not overly enthusiastic.

  “You’ve got problems? Sorry. Silly question. Every time I see you, you’re being harangued by some woman or other.”

  “You should’ve seen me yesterday.”

  “I did, up at the grave site.”

  “No, down here, later in the afternoon. We nearly had a mutiny, or a riot.”

  “Whatever happened?”

  Dick looked pained at the memory. “You know how hot it’s been …”

  Anne waggled the water container. He continued.

  “When it got to afternoon break time, some of the students began packing up to come down.”

  “Clear up your loose?” Anne suggested.

  “Yeah, only we aren’t shouting that at present. It interferes with the soundtrack of the filming. So they kept an eye on the time and cleared up for their break. They were gasping. Next thing, they’re told to get back in their pits by the TV people. They needed them to stay for continuity. With a few groans they got back to work, some of them putting on sunhats – it was nearly forty degrees up there. Take off the hats, they were told.”

  “Continuity again?”

  “Yep. So we had one girl pass out in her pit and another one threw up in hers.”

  “I bet the TV people got the message then.”

  “Oh yeah, they were very concerned, concerned that their filming was ruined.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me right. The students just abandoned their test pits and came down here to protest to me. To me! I thought they were going to walk off, go up to the pub or something.”

  “Did they?”

  “No. I managed to pacify them, said it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “You did well.”

  “Not according to Suzi Fraser-Jones. She then came down and gave me a right earful for letting them desert their posts. Honestly!”

  “What did you do?”

  “When they got their break I told them they had to wear sunhats and carry water bottles with them at all times, sunblock too.”

  “Good idea
. I’d better keep out of the way so as not to spoil their shooting. I’ll leave supplies of water in the HQ barn instead.”

  “Oh no, they want you in view.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. Timeline want shots of you taking water round. You’re extra atmosphere on the dig, local colour.”

  “Fame at last.”

  “Fame is a fickle mistress, Anne.”

  Anne smiled ruefully. “Not your day.”

  “Oh no, the Celia episode ended all right. I had to tell her she’d be wanted for an interview, too.”

  “I bet she liked that.”

  “Absolutely. She set off immediately to buy clothes, muttered something about staying overnight in London.”

  *

  After she had completed the water run, Anne explained Celia’s absence the previous day to Marnie. They were pondering the hardship of having to decide what the well-dressed châtelaine wore for an interview on television, when one of the students appeared in the office. They had run out of milk and the tea-drinkers were gasping.

  Anne offered her a litre of semi-skimmed, and she departed, pledging that it would be replaced later that day. When the student left, Marnie looked thoughtful.

  “You know, Anne, I’m wondering if it would make sense to take a break sooner rather than later and catch up after they’ve gone. It’s hard to settle down to work here with all this going on.”

  “Should I put Danny off?”

  “No. Let her come, but we may have to be flexible. D’you think she’d understand?”

  “No probs. We’re just one big soap opera to her.”

  Chapter 25

  Pendant

  “Keep an eye out for traffic wardens, Danny.” Anne scanned the car park in front of the station. “They travel about on mopeds and strike like paratroops.”

  It was Wednesday morning, and Anne met Danny from the coach before crossing to the railway station to meet Donovan. She double-parked immediately opposite the main entrance where they had a strategic view of every coming and going. Danny nudged Anne as a crowd of people issued out from the concourse.

  “What does he look like, your boy- … er, Donovan?”

  “Blonde hair, slight build. He’ll be dressed in black, maybe dark grey.”