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

by Leo McNeir

  “I can’t think of any other explanation, Ralph. When I asked Eustace what he’d found out, he confessed that he’d got absolutely nowhere. We’re not talking about a first-year undergrad here. This man has connections, years in the intelligence service, knows people. He says he ran into a stone wall.”

  “Could he be holding something back?”

  “It’s possible, but I think he was being truthful. When you’ve played chess with someone for five years, you know the way their mind works, how they react to situations. I’m sure he was genuinely surprised to discover that even he couldn’t make progress.”

  “Thanks for trying, Guy.”

  Fellheimer shook his head. “Now, of course, you’re wondering what I’m holding back.”

  Ralph shrugged and smiled. “When you’ve been a friend and colleague of someone for twenty years, you know the way their mind works. I don’t imagine you had to travel here from Oxford just to tell me your chess partner had drawn a blank.”

  “You’re quite right. It is more than that. He actually told me he’d been warned off.”

  Ralph’s smile faded. “Warned off,” he muttered. “Curious choice of words.”

  “Even more curious if you knew Henry Eustace. He’s not your run-of-the-mill don with a lifetime spent in libraries and seminars.”

  “You don’t think he’s been out of the game so long his contacts have just moved on?”

  “No. He’s not past his sell-by date. In any case, you’re never really out of the game, as you put it, once you belong to that circle.”

  “So, no progress, stone wall, warned off.”

  “A fair summary, Ralph.” Fellheimer drained his whisky and put the glass on the tray. “And it can mean only one thing.”

  Chapter 30

  Graves

  Angela Hemingway phoned early on Tuesday morning to ask when would be the least inconvenient time to come to Glebe Farm. Marnie took the hint and suggested coffee time.

  The vicar arrived to find DC Cathy Lamb talking with Marnie in the courtyard. Anne was walking back from the farmhouse and asked Lamb if she was staying.

  “Wish I could. Interviewing this morning. You know how it is.”

  “Are you any further forward with the two latest bodies?” Marnie asked.

  “Not yet. We’ll let you know when we’ve got anything. You are going to be around, presumably?”

  “Sure. I’ve had my holiday for this year.”

  When Lamb left, they went into the office and were soon sitting comfortably with mugs of coffee.

  “It must be hard for you and Anne to get on with your work,” Angela said.

  “To be fair, Angela, the archaeologists are no trouble. But frankly, the sightseers and all this shallow graves business are getting me down.”

  “I must say, Marnie, you do seem a bit stressed.”

  “Understatement.”

  “You could do with some light relief. In fact, that’s why I’m here. We were wondering – that’s Randall and me – if you’d like to come for dinner one evening this week at his place in Brackley.”

  Marnie gave the idea two milliseconds of thought. “I’m ready now!”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “Well, not literally, I don’t suppose –”

  “Marnie, you yourself have often said that things done on impulse are the best.”

  “Ye-e-es.”

  “So why not tonight? I’ll ring Randall and tell him that’s what you’d like. What d’you say?”

  “Just one snag: there are four of us here at the moment.”

  Angela grinned across the office at Anne. “What is it you usually say, Anne? No probs?”

  *

  Anne heard Marnie groan that afternoon and looked up to see DS Binns passing the window on his way to the office door. She saw Marnie take a deep breath and could almost feel the effort she was making to present a calm exterior.

  Binns accepted a chair.

  “I have some news for you, Mrs Walker.” He saw Marnie’s expression change. “Don’t despair. I think you’ll be pleased. It concerns the bodies in the shallow graves.”

  “I’m touched that you think news about dead bodies a few yards from my boat will bring me pleasure. May I assume you’re not going to be hauling me off to the cells?”

  “Correct, at least for the moment.” He smiled. “We’ve learnt that the graves contained the bodies of two men killed at the time the canal was being built.”

  “Navvies?”

  “It appears so.”

  “That was quick work. This stretch of canal was built in 1794. You’ve traced them in just a couple of days?”

  “Not quite. We, er, had some help with that.”

  Anne stood up and walked across the office. “Why weren’t they buried in the churchyard, Mr Binns?”

  “They weren’t killed in an accident, were they?” Marnie said.

  “Why do you say that, Mrs Walker?”

  “Well, the men were basically just digging a big ditch. It wasn’t dangerous work. I don’t know of any account of men being killed along here. And presumably, as Anne suggests, they’d have been buried in a proper graveyard and it would have been in the parish records.”

  “You’re quite right. It seems there was a brawl and these two men were casualties. Nothing was ever reported at the time and the whole matter was literally covered up.”

  “Then how did you find out about them so quickly?”

  “The archaeologists?” Anne said quietly.

  Binns nodded. “Yes. Dr Goodchild got in touch with the university’s local history department as soon as she saw what we’d sent her. A specialist in social history had them nailed in just a few hours. I was impressed.”

  “Why had no-one found them before?” Marnie asked.

  “They could’ve been buried anywhere, including under the canal or a bridge. But once we had the bodies, the experts had a pretty good idea who they were.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “No. Men just turned up for work in those days. They were paid cash in hand every week and travelled from job to job. Generally they couldn’t read or write and often they just gave a first name or even a nickname.”

  “What happens now?”

  “As far as you’re concerned, Mrs Walker, you’ll get your land back and we’ll leave you in peace, more or less.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ve just made a statement to the media about the bodies for the early evening news on TV. There may be some morbid interest in the grave site for another day or two, but it should soon die down and that will be an end to it.”

  *

  Marnie had been right. Things done on impulse were often the best. Sitting in Randall’s candle-lit dining room in the Georgian rectory in Brackley, she felt relaxed and free of stress. Even when the conversation turned to the bodies in the shallow graves, she was able to discuss them dispassionately.

  Randall was pouring wine, a claret brought by Ralph. “Is it true the navvies mainly came from Ireland?”

  “Why do you ask that?” Marnie said. “Do you think Irish lads would be more likely to get into fights?”

  “No, I was just wondering. You see, if they were catholic, that might explain why they didn’t get a church burial. Few RC churches round here.”

  “Surely it was more likely they’d be buried by the others so they didn’t get into trouble with the authorities.”

  “I suppose so.”

  Angela was clearing away dishes from the first course. “Isn’t it surprising that no-one missed them? You’d think someone would ask what had become of them.”

  “Not in those days,” Ralph said. “People often went far away to find work.”

  “But they were some mothers’ sons.”

  “That’s the way it was in the 1790s. Communications were poor. They probably couldn’t write anyway. It was quite normal for young men to leave home and not see their families for years, or ever again.”
r />   “So, coming back to my question,” Randall said. “Were they from Ireland?”

  “Not necessarily,” Marnie replied. “I was reading an article in one of the boat magazines. It seems quite a few of them were recruited locally.”

  “What a sad thought,” Angela said. “They could have come from villages in the county and been lying there in their native soil, their families not far away, never knowing what had become of them.”

  A sombre mood settled on the room.

  “I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Marnie reflected.

  Suddenly, Angela brightened up. “Yes, there is!”

  “Absolutely,” Randall agreed. “There are lots of things we can do.”

  The dinner guests were bewildered, but Angela was beaming.

  “On Sunday we’ll remember them in our prayers. That’s a start. Then, when the remains are released, I’ll arrange for them to be buried in the churchyard. We can have a proper memorial service. And then …” Angela looked at Marnie. “Of course, it’s for you to say, but if you didn’t think it an imposition, perhaps we could hold a short ceremony down by the canal.”

  “What kind of ceremony?”

  “A sort of thanksgiving for their lives and all the hard work done by the navigators. I know you’re not a believer, Marnie, but –”

  “No, it’s a nice idea. You’re welcome to do it on our land. I assume you’d want to hold your ceremony near the grave site?”

  “If that’s all right with you, Marnie.”

  “A blessing of the waters,” Randall added. “To give thanks for all the canal builders, the engineers, the boat people and their families, living and dead.”

  *

  It had been a good evening and on the journey home in Ralph’s Volvo Anne dozed on the back seat beside Danny. Marnie turned to speak over her shoulder.

  “Not too spooky for you tonight, I hope, Danny?”

  “No. It was okay. I got a bit worried when they started talking about the shallow graves, but maybe I’ve got used to that kind of thing now.”

  “Good.”

  “There was one thing, though. All that talk about memorial services and ceremonies by the water for the dead people who’d built the canals, what was all that about?”

  “The power of ritual,” Ralph observed.

  “I thought it was a bit creepy, couldn’t see what good it would do.”

  “Ritual helps people come to terms with events. It helps to draw a line under them, bring closure. That’s all they want to do.”

  They drove on through the dark, Marnie resting a hand on Ralph’s knee, the girls leaning back against the head restraints, eyes closed. When Ralph slowed to turn off the dual carriageway, Anne yawned, blinked and looked up at the stars. A thin sliver of moon hovered over Knightly Woods, stars flickering between the trees on the hill, the silver outline of the moon in the inky blackness.

  Ralph waited momentarily in the filter lane while a few cars passed, before crossing the highway. The oncoming headlights lit up the interior of the Volvo, and for a few seconds Anne was dazzled by the lights reflected in the side window. It was almost as if the beams were shining through the woods on the high ground above them. Were lights shining through the woods? Anne blinked and tried to focus. Had she imagined it? Then they were rolling again, down the last mile or two towards the village.

  They turned off the road at the entrance to the field track and Danny leaned forward in her seat as the car’s headlights lit up the terrain before them. As usual the field was alive with bobbing tails as rabbits scampered off in all directions. Danny laughed.

  “That’s something you don’t see in Leighton – oh! What was that?”

  Marnie sat up. “Where?”

  Danny pointed forward between the front head restraints. “Down there, like little lights.”

  “Reflections of eyes?” Ralph suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  “Could be the badgers. “There’s a sett at the bottom of the field, to the left of the spinney.”

  “I’ve never seen badgers before,” Danny said.

  “Nor have we,” Anne said. “They’re nocturnal and very shy.”

  Ralph slowed down. “Perhaps this is our lucky night.”

  He stopped the car outside the garage barn to let his passengers out before driving in. Danny grabbed Anne by the hand and tugged her round the corner.

  She spoke in a low voice. “Is the sett this way?”

  “Not sure,” Anne whispered. “Ralph seems to think so.”

  “Let’s go and see.”

  Rounding the corner of the barn, they immediately found themselves in total darkness, relieved faintly by starlight. Danny hesitated, but Anne had an idea.

  “Wait here. I’ll fetch a torch from the garage.”

  “But they’ll see it and run away.”

  “I’ll be careful. Just hang on a sec.”

  Anne seized a torch from a shelf in the garage, muttering to Marnie and Ralph that Danny was intent on a badger hunt. She was turning to leave when a scream pierced the night. The three of them rushed out, Anne switching on the torch. Danny was not where Anne had left her. She swept the powerful beam across the ground.

  “Danny!” Ralph called out.

  Some way ahead they heard a sound like a whimper. Running towards it, Anne’s torchlight picked up a shape on the ground. As they drew nearer they realised that Danny was in a hole.

  Ralph knelt down to help her. “Are you all right, Danny? Are you hurt?”

  “I … I think I’ve fallen … into one of the graves.”

  “Let’s get you out.”

  Ralph and Marnie took one arm each and heaved Danny out of the hole. They guided her towards Thyrsis, where they satisfied themselves that she had suffered no injury. Her clothes were dirty but undamaged and she dusted herself down.

  “Sorry to be such a nuisance. I didn’t want to miss the badgers, thought Anne’s torch would scare them off. I never dreamt I was that close to the shallow graves. Ugh!” She shuddered.

  “Shallow graves?” Marnie said.

  “Yes. Didn’t you see? There was another one nearby.”

  Marnie and Ralph traded glances.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Marnie, I know a grave when I see one. I’m getting to be quite an expert on the subject.”

  Ralph picked up the torch from the table. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Marnie followed him out. “I’m coming with you.”

  Alone in the saloon, the girls looked at each other. Danny spoke first.

  “Am I missing something here?”

  Anne nodded slowly. “You certainly are.”

  “I don’t get it, but that’s not unusual these days.”

  “Whatever you fell into, Danny, it wasn’t one of the shallow graves. They’re over there.” She indicated with a flick of her chin. “You must have fallen into some other grave.”

  Without speaking, Danny lowered herself onto a chair as the colour drained from her face.

  Chapter 31

  Lights in the Woods

  In her attic room Anne propped herself up on one elbow in bed and opened an eye. The glowing alarm clock told her it was just on seven. Taking a deep breath, she slid her feet out from under the duvet and dropped them deftly into her slippers. Daylight was seeping through the window slit. She stood up and began tiptoeing towards the opening for the wall-ladder.

  “No need to creep about.” A voice from the floor beyond the bed. “I’m awake, sort of.”

  “Hi, Danny. Restless night?”

  “No. Actually, I slept rather well.” She yawned. “I think I must be becoming immune to all the things that go on here.”

  “Must be a good sign. All right if I use the shower?”

  “Sure. I’m not going to rush off and fall into any more holes. Once is enough.”

  “I didn’t mean –”

  “I know. I’m only kidding.”

  “At least you didn
’t injure yourself.”

  “But you were right, Anne. I should’ve stayed put and waited for you to get the torch.”

  “You could hardly have expected to come across open graves in the field, Danny.”

  “Do you think it was the archaeologists?”

  “I did wonder, only they wouldn’t have left holes open like that without some kind of protection. And it wasn’t the badgers, that’s for sure.”

  Danny chuckled. “Pity. I would’ve liked to see them.”

  An image flashed through Anne’s mind: headlights piercing the night. She was aware of Danny’s voice in the background.

  “I mean, who’d be digging graves down there anyway? And what – or who – were they burying?”

  Anne stood poised by the opening for the wall-ladder, staring down the hole into the darkened office. Danny was still speaking.

  “Just shows how I’ve got used to the weird goings-on at Glebe Farm. We’re surrounded by grave-robbers and I manage to get a good night’s sleep.” She laughed.

  Anne turned and looked across the room.

  “What did you say?”

  *

  Marnie was normally awake earlier than Ralph, so it surprised her to see him lying on his back beside her in bed, gazing up at the ceiling.

  The previous night, they had found the second hole mentioned by Danny. They had shone torches down, wondering how deep a grave had to be to qualify as shallow.

  Marnie stretched an arm under the duvet and wrapped it round Ralph’s chest.

  “Been awake long?”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the tips of her fingers.

  “Not very. I’ve been wondering whether we should’ve reported the holes to the police last night.”

  “But we agreed, Ralph. What if it had been a careless young archaeologist, who didn’t think anyone would walk round there in the dark? DS Binns wouldn’t have thanked us for disturbing his beauty sleep.”

  Ralph chuckled.

  “It’s not that funny,” Marnie said.

  “I just conjured up this thought: Binns arriving with curlers in his hair, wearing teddy bear pyjamas.”

  They laughed silently together in the semi-darkness. Only the palest light penetrated into the sleeping cabin, but even at that hour they could feel it was going to be another warm day.