by Leo McNeir
“Are you working here today, Ralph?”
“Yes. We’ll face Binns together.”
“But first we’ll have to check with Dick or Rob, just in case it was an oversight by one of their students.”
Marnie shifted onto her back under the duvet and stretched both arms up towards the ceiling.
“You don’t really think it was one of them, do you, Ralph?”
“No more than you do.”
Marnie sat up.
“But if they’re not theirs, who dug them?”
*
At breakfast on Sally Ann the talk was of holes in the ground. Marnie had suggested to Ralph that they refer to holes rather than graves until they knew for certain what had been dug. This did not prevent the conversation from veering towards technical matters related to grave digging.
“How deep do you think the hole was?” Danny asked.
“You should know,” Anne said. “You’re the one who fell in.”
“I know, but I think I was in a state of shock. That seems to be my default setting these days.”
“I think it was three or four feet deep,” Ralph offered.
“So would that qualify as a shallow grave?” Danny asked.
“It’s a pretty deep hole to fall into,” Anne muttered, “whether it’s a grave or not.”
Marnie took warm rolls from the oven and laid them in a basket on the table. “I reckon a shallow grave would be about two feet. I also think there are more cheerful things to talk about over breakfast.”
“So how deep’s a regular grave?” Danny asked.
Ralph laughed.
“What’s funny about that?”
“Sorry, Danny. I realised I was about to say, you seemed determined to get to the bottom of it.”
The three females present scowled at him. Ralph raised both hands in surrender.
“All right. The serious answer to your question, Danny, is about six feet.”
“So these were neither shallow nor ordinary graves.”
“Perhaps the diggers were interrupted while digging them,” Anne suggested. “Maybe our headlights took them by surprise and they …” Her voice tailed off.
“What is it?” Marnie said.
“What on earth could they have been burying?” Danny said. “It’s horrible to think that while we were driving home, someone was out there –”
Anne interrupted her. “They weren’t burying anything.”
“Then why dig the holes?”
“You said it yourself this morning, Danny.” Anne got to her feet. “Excuse me a minute.”
She eased herself round the table in the confined space and headed down the boat towards the stern doors. The others hesitated for a second before getting up to follow her out.
It was a fine morning, the sky almost clear, the air warm and still. Anne led the way through the spinney, round the barns and into the field. Reaching the holes, she stared at the ground. Marnie understood at once.
“What are we looking at?” Danny sounded bewildered. “What was it I said, Anne? You’re getting as bad as Donovan.”
“Grave-robbers.”
“That’s right,” Marnie agreed.
Danny pulled a face. “How do you –”
“Look, Danny.” Marnie pointed. “It’s obvious. What’s the first consideration you have if you’re digging a grave?”
Danny shrugged. “You want to bury someone?”
“So?”
Ralph stepped closer to the nearest hole. “You make a pile of earth so that you can easily shovel it back in. Here, the soil has been thrown all over the place. Whoever dug these holes wasn’t concerned with burying anything. They just wanted to open up the ground as quickly as they could.”
Marnie walked between the holes and peered in. “And they’re both roughly the same depth.”
Anne looked back towards the canal as if making a calculation.
“What is it, Anne?”
“There’s another thing. I think these holes are aligned north-south, so if they were burials …”
Even Danny caught the inference.
“How did you come to work all this out, Anne?” Marnie asked.
“I suppose you could say, I saw the light.”
*
Anne had announced she wanted to clarify her thoughts before saying any more about the graves. She offered to clear away the breakfast things and wash up on Sally Ann while Marnie and Ralph went to phone the police and Danny took her shower.
Alone in the galley, Anne pressed buttons on her mobile. She listened to ringing tone for a long time. Surely Donovan should have reached home by now, she thought. Strange that the answerphone was off. She pecked out the number of his mobile.
The person you are phoning is not available. Please try again later.
Perhaps the solo journey was more difficult than they had imagined. Anne started thinking of everything that could have delayed him. After running through all the permutations, she tried both numbers once again and gave up. Her life seemed to be a series of what-ifs and maybes these days.
*
Back in the office barn, Marnie and Ralph seemed more cheerful. Ralph had made the call to DS Binns and explained that Marnie would be out at meetings for the first part of the day. Binns said he would call by that morning.
Marnie asked Anne to be ready to leave for Knightly Court at ten to nine. In the Discovery on the way up the field track, Marnie touched her friend’s arm.
“It’s good to be getting on with our normal life, even if it does involve Celia Devere.”
“Especially if it involves Celia, I think.” Anne grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to risk being alone with Celia.”
Marnie laughed. “Correct. And there is one other thing.”
“You want me to explain what I said about seeing the light.”
“I guessed you didn’t want to talk about that in front of Danny.”
“I’m not sure of myself in this, Marnie. I could be mistaken but, well, frankly if I’m right, it could be seriously creepy.”
Marnie shot a sideways glance at her friend. “Now you’re making my skin tingle. Does this have anything to do with Donovan?”
“No.”
“Only, when you stayed behind after breakfast, it did cross my mind –”
“I rang to see if Donovan had got home safely, that’s all.”
“Is he all right?”
“No reply.”
“Mobile?”
“Recorded message, not available.”
“How many days is it since we parted company?”
“He should easily have got back by now, Marnie.”
“Maybe he’s just travelling at night, and he does have an injured foot. Anne, if there’s anyone capable of looking after himself, it’s Donovan.”
“I know.”
“So what did you mean about seeing the light?”
Anne gave a quick outline: the headlights shining in her eyes on their way home the previous night, and her impression that lights were flickering up in Knightly Woods. She now wondered if the lights might have been fires. By the time she completed her narrative they were passing through the gates onto the drive of Knightly Court.
Marnie brought the car to a halt near the front door and turned off the engine.
“So what are you saying, Anne, exactly?”
“The holes at Glebe Farm weren’t intended for burying anything, or anyone, were they? Someone had been digging something up, from holes aligned north to south, in a hurry, at dead of night.”
“I get the picture. And you think …”
“I think we’d better continue this later.” Anne nodded meaningfully over Marnie’s shoulder. “Here comes la belle châtelaine.”
As Celia approached them, Marnie opened the car door and climbed out. It occurred to her that in all her contacts with Celia she had never seen her wear the same outfit twice. On that day her client was wearing a shor
t-sleeved summer dress in pale green silk, very much the Lady of the Manor preparing to meet the workers. To Marnie’s relief the decorator’s van arrived at that moment and pulled up beside the Discovery.
Marnie shook hands with Celia, who seemed distant, preoccupied. Anne joined them but remained unobtrusively beside Marnie. In the background, two men in white overalls were opening the back doors of the van and unloading equipment.
“Unless you need to change the schedule for any reason, Celia, we’ll start in the drawing room, as planned.”
“That’s fine, Marnie. Do I need to do anything?”
“Nothing at all. The men are quite self-sufficient.”
“So I can just leave them to get on with their work?”
“Absolutely. We’ve just come in case there are any last-minute queries.”
“My father-in-law always says you plan everything very … what’s the word he uses? … meticulously.”
Marnie smiled. “Is he here this morning?”
Celia stared at Marnie for some seconds before replying. She lowered her voice.
“Marcus is … unwell.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“For some time he’s been ill, Marnie, very ill. I’m sure I mentioned it to you.”
Marnie searched her memory. “You did tell me he had a condition. I hadn’t realised it was so –”
“Oh, yes. He’s never had very good health, but for the past several months he’s …” Celia’s eyes flickered towards Anne. “Well, let’s just say things have got worse, much worse.”
*
In the car on the way back to Glebe Farm, Anne was the first to speak.
“That went all right, didn’t it?”
“It was fine. We know their work. They’re reliable. They’ll do a good job.”
“Pity about Mr Devere. You like him, don’t you, Marnie?”
“He’s a nice old chap.”
“Do you think he really is very ill, or was that just Celia acting a part, as usual?”
“Sadly, I think that was genuine.”
“Did you notice, Marnie, she didn’t want to say any more with me there? Not in front of the servants. Huh!”
They lapsed into their private thoughts until they reached the high street.
“Anne, tell me about the lights in the woods. What were you going to say about them?”
Anne sighed. “I know it’ll seem daft, but I was wondering if whoever dug up whatever was in the holes on our site was, well, reburying it up in Knightly Woods, or even cremating remains.”
Marnie blew breath out through her lips. “Bloody hell!”
“I know but, of course I could’ve been mistaken, though I’m pretty sure I saw something up there.”
“I think that would probably qualify as fairly creepy. So who d’you think was doing all this digging up and reburying or cremating?”
“I dunno.” Anne shuddered. “Some sort of weirdoes, I suppose.”
“How certain are you that you really did see lights up there?”
“Fairly. It was dark, though, and I was a bit dazzled by oncoming cars.”
Marnie slowed and turned left into the field leading down to Glebe Farm.
“You see, Anne, the question is, what do we say to good old DS Binns when he puts the thumbscrews on us?”
“Binns?”
“Sure. He’s going to be asking all sorts of questions about what he’ll regard as more graves on our land. They may not be shallow, but he won’t care about that. To him, they’ll be graves. And as far as he’s concerned, we’ll have some explaining to do.”
“Do you think he’ll be lying in wait for us when we get home?”
“That’s a thought.” Marnie stopped the car halfway down the track and reached for her mobile. She hit a speed-dial button and waited. “Ralph, it’s me. Any sign of Binns of the Yard?”
“He’s been here, but only for a fleeting visit. He looked in and asked what time we got home and what car we were in. Then he said he was going to the site of the new graves –”
“He called them graves?”
“Yes. He said he’d be back later. I haven’t seen him since.”
When Marnie parked in the garage barn she was surprised to find a small posse waiting for her. First to approach her was Danny wearing a flimsy muslin shirt thrown over her bikini. Behind her came Rob Cardew and Dick Blackwood.
“The police are here, Marnie. They’ve cordoned off the place where I fell in last night. The sergeant’s been to see Ralph.”
“Did he say anything to you, Danny?”
“No. I was putting the li-lo out on the roof of Sally Ann. He just gave me a look.”
“Can’t think why,” Dick said with a twinkle in his eye, glancing down at Danny’s suntanned legs.
She turned and flashed him the heavy eyelids. Rob Cardew stepped forward.
“You’ve had another visitor, Marnie.”
“Really? I wasn’t expecting anyone. Who was it this time, the Gestapo or the Witch-finder General?”
“An elderly lady.”
Marnie raised an eyebrow at Anne, who shook her head. They could only think of one person of their acquaintance who matched that description, Mrs Jolly, a friend from Little Venice.
“What was she like, pleasant, homely, motherly type?”
Rob reflected. “Not really. She was petite, with quite striking features, a rather challenging manner, the type who has definite opinions.”
“You can say that again,” Danny chipped in. “I saw her too. I was lying on the roof of the boat when I heard someone come up. She seemed to be examining Sally from front to back, nodding her head as if she knew her. When she noticed me, she gave me a look like she didn’t approve of the bikini.”
“I do,” Dick said.
The others ignored him. Marnie was lost in thought.
“I wonder …”
“D’you know her, Marnie?” Anne asked.
“Possibly.”
Danny laughed. “Maybe it was Donovan in disguise!”
Marnie grinned. “Very likely.” She turned to Rob Cardew. “Did you want to talk to me about anything else, Rob?”
“I wanted to give you an update on where we are with the dig.”
“Is the visitor still about?”
“She left …” Rob looked at his watch. “… about half an hour ago. She said she’d come back another time.”
“Rob, I’d love to hear about the dig, but I think I ought to see Sergeant Binns.”
Rob’s expression became serious. “You might like to have a word with me first, Marnie.”
They agreed to split up. Anne went off to open the office with Danny. Dick returned to supervising the dig. Marnie went with Rob to the HQ barn.
*
The red light was glowing on the office answerphone. One message. Anne pressed the button.
“Hi. Ring when you can. Mobile.”
That is one succinct message, Anne thought. She had no need to look up the number. It answered on the third ring. Donovan had made the journey back to London in reasonable time, travelling mostly by night. He was sure no-one had followed him, no-one was watching the house.
Anne told him about the new graves, the return of the police and the arrival of the old lady. As usual he listened without interruption. His questions all concerned the visitor. Did they have any idea who she was? Had she come alone or with others? How had she travelled there? Was she coming back? When? Did she ask about anyone in particular? Did she ask about him?
When Anne could answer none of his questions, he became silent. Anne scoured her brain for anything she could tell him.
“Donovan, listen. I think I saw lights up in the woods when we were coming home last night. I was wondering if people were burying whatever they dug up from down here.”
“Do the cameras show anything?”
Anne was thrown off-balance by the sudden change. “What cameras?”
“The surveillance cameras, the ones that go
t me on the TV news.”
“I’d forgotten about them.”
“Worth checking if they run all the time, even at night.”
“I will.”
“I’d better go.”
“Glad you got back all right.”
“Yeah. It seems like they don’t know who I am.”
*
In the HQ barn Rob took a marker pen and drew four small circles on the cellophane sheet over the site map pinned to the wall. He explained to Marnie that they had discovered two further opened graves when they arrived on site that morning. The holes had certainly not been there when they left the previous day. All of them were aligned north-south. Current thinking was that they were pagan burials, and the hot money was on witch-graves.
Marnie asked if he had any idea how old they might be. He was not prepared to speculate.
“Why were they buried down here?”
“There could be all sorts of reasons, Marnie. There are indications of a spring, so they could be associated with some ancient holy place. This site is very secluded, little risk of being seen.”
“You think the graves predate the building of the canal? These aren’t more navvies killed in brawls?”
“I’d be very surprised.”
“I wonder where they’ve taken the remains.”
“I have no idea. Have you, Marnie?”
“Without actual evidence, I couldn’t possibly comment.”
Rob flashed her the owlish grin and walked with her out of the barn.
“There was one other thing I wanted to tell you, Marnie. Celia phoned Rosemary yesterday to ask if she’d analyse a hair sample she’d found in their cottage.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I kid you not. She was quite offended, apparently, when Rosemary explained – diplomatically – that what she was asking was impossible.”
“That’s why she’s got the sulks.” Marnie sighed. “Oh, that woman.”
Their stroll had now taken them round the HQ barn and into the field. The slope was dotted with small clusters of archaeologists at work. Marnie tried to imagine the field without the diggers and realised that for all the upheaval, she would probably miss them when they were gone.
On the lower ground, away to their right, she could see areas cordoned-off by the police. To one side she made out a group of plain clothes officers, including Binns and Lamb, locked in conversation.