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

by Leo McNeir

  “So it is you.” The visitor eyed Marnie appraisingly. “My rescuer from the storm.”

  “Shall we …” Marnie’s voice had become a croak. She cleared her throat and gestured towards the office door. “Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea, Ms Winterburn?”

  “Why not? It’s your usual reaction on meeting me. And it’s Miss.”

  As they crossed the courtyard, leaving Bob grateful to return to his work, Anne felt relieved that the newcomer had not heard her comment about the ‘poor old thing’. Unlocking the office door, she stood aside to let Marnie and their guest enter. In the doorway, Iris Winterburn turned to Anne as if to thank her.

  “You were right, young lady. I am gasping.”

  Anne gulped, followed her in and headed straight for the kitchen area to put the kettle on. Marnie moved the spare chair over to her desk, noticing the red light glowing on the answerphone and the morning post still piled in the in-tray. After brief introductions, they settled down with tea and biscuits.

  Marnie attempted friendly conversation. “I wonder what became of Attila.”

  “Attila?” Winterburn considered the name. “I’m not that old.”

  Marnie smiled. “The skinhead. Almost your first words when we got you on board Sally Ann. You said he looked like Attila the Hun at a vicarage tea party or something like that.”

  In the background Anne sniggered.

  “Did I?” The old lady reflected. “I must have been feeling charitable.”

  “You were feeling a lot of pain, as I recall.”

  “It took the best part of a year to get over that. A bad sprain, that’s all it was, but at my age …” She shrugged.

  “It could’ve been worse,” said Marnie. “We were lucky Attila was there to help me transfer you to the boat. I’ve often wondered how you got on.”

  “Did you think we’d eloped to Gretna Green?”

  Looking at the old lady, with the slightly Roman curve to her nose and the firm pointed chin, a question was forming in Marnie’s mind. She did not delude herself that this was a journey to express gratitude. Her visitor could not have known that Marnie now lived there. So why had Iris Winterburn come to Glebe Farm?

  “I heard you’d discharged yourself from hospital, Miss Winterburn.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The nurse in charge of your ward. She sounded Scottish, I think.” Marnie could have added that the poor woman also sounded as if in shock.

  “Oh yes, prim woman with red hair. I never trust people with red hair. So you phoned the hospital.”

  “I was worried about you, wanted to know you were all right.”

  “The … er … Attila took me to where I was staying. I offered him ten pounds towards his petrol, but he declined. I slept badly and the next day I went home. Some holiday that was!”

  Winterburn looked up at the ceiling where the spray of lavender was hanging, her expression thoughtful. Her eyes strayed to the wall-ladder leading to Anne’s attic room. She drank her tea.

  “Your injury doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage, Miss Winterburn. In fact, you don’t look any different from when we met. That must be about three years ago.”

  “Oh, I expect I creak in a few more places, but I manage to survive.” She put her cup down and looked at Marnie’s desk. “So this is where you work.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a lot to do, judging by the amount of paper there. I mustn’t get in the way. I’ll leave you to it.”

  The old lady stood up. Marnie and Anne got to their feet.

  “It’s been nice to see you again, Miss Winterburn. I’m glad you suffered no lasting effects from your ordeal on that awful day.”

  The old lady paused before replying. “I’m glad to have had the opportunity to thank you for helping me.”

  Marnie did not point out that Miss Winterburn had not so far expressed any thanks.

  “But that isn’t why you came, is it?”

  For the first time Winterburn smiled. “You’re very perceptive, Ms Walker.”

  “Sometimes, perhaps, and it’s Marnie. It used to be Mrs, but now Marnie will do. You’re right about me having a lot of work to get through, but I wonder, would you like to come for dinner on Friday?”

  A hesitation. “That would be most agreeable. I have to return home on Saturday.”

  “Shall we say seven o’clock?”

  Winterburn nodded. “Can I meet you here?”

  “We’ll eat al fresco beside the boat, but I can meet you here if you’d like that.”

  “I have my reasons. Don’t show me out. I know the way to my car and you have things to do. Until tomorrow, then.”

  Anne collected the tea cups and plates on a tray when she and Marnie were alone again.

  “You must tell me how you met her, Marnie. What was that about rescuing her from a storm?”

  “It was during my summer sabbatical on Sally, not long after I first met you. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “Okay. One last thing before we get back to the grind, what do you think she meant when she said she had her reasons?”

  “No idea. Perhaps we’ll find out tomorrow evening.”

  *

  Danny surprised Marnie by preparing a ploughman’s lunch for Walker & Co plus Ralph, and they ate it beside the docking area. Danny announced that while she was at Glebe Farm she would like to do what she could to help, adding that she didn’t want to outstay her welcome. Marnie assured her that she could stay as long as she wished, and Anne suggested they might do the post run together that afternoon.

  Danny duly appeared at four o’clock and changed out of her bikini into shorts and T-shirt ready for the trek up to the village. Anne gathered up that day’s letters for posting, together with a shopping list and they set off, calling in to check that all was well in the HQ barn on their way.

  Dick Blackwood was examining photographs outside the barn and he bounded over when the girls went by.

  “Your tan’s coming on well, Danny.” He managed to keep his smile just short of a leer.

  “Sociology obviously agrees with me.”

  Anne was trying to figure that out when Dick turned his attention to her. “Is your friend Irish?”

  “I think I’m missing something here. Danny comes from Leighton Buzzard, like me.”

  “The other friend, the boyfriend, the one dressed in black.”

  “Why d’you ask?”

  “Someone was asking about him. They’d seen him on the TV news.”

  “Who had?”

  “Some young guy. I hadn’t seen him before.”

  “Not an archaeologist?”

  “No, a sightseer. I heard him asking one of the girls. She said she thought perhaps he was Irish; he had an Irish name. She couldn’t remember it, though, said it was something like Dooley or Donnelly. I couldn’t quite remember it myself.”

  “Not a bad guess,” Danny said. “Actually it’s –”

  “Why was this man so interested?” Anne interrupted, shooting a sharp glance at Danny.

  Dick shrugged. “Dunno. He was just wandering around, looking at the dig, just seemed to be making conversation with one of the girls. Does it matter?”

  “Not sure. Dick, if anyone else asks about him, just say he was with the TV people and leave it at that. Okay?”

  “Fine by me.”

  Anne checked her watch, said they had to catch the post and led Danny off up the field track. Danny chatted merrily as they walked along, while Anne only half listened. Her thoughts were on Donovan. She was becoming convinced that perhaps he wasn’t paranoid after all. She heard his voice: they don’t know who I am. Maybe not, she thought. But how long before they find out, whoever they are?

  *

  That night on Thyrsis when Marnie came out of the shower, she called through to Ralph in the sleeping cabin.

  “Can I borrow one of your shirts as a dressing gown?”

  “Of course. I always wanted to live wit
h a transvestite.”

  Marnie went through and sat on the bed, wearing a pale blue shirt with double cuffs that flapped about. She waggled them provocatively at Ralph.

  “You’ll find the cufflinks in the second drawer down if you wish to be formal,” he said.

  Marnie laughed. “Do you think it would add to my allure?”

  “Unquestionably. Anyway, what’s become of your dressing gown?”

  “I lent it to Danny. She’s running out of clothes.”

  “I didn’t realise she wore any.”

  “Ah yes.” Marnie grinned. “You must have a good view of her from your study, lying there in the sun on Sally’s roof all day. I hope she doesn’t distract you too much.”

  “I don’t so much as spare her a glance.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want her giving you any wicked ideas.”

  “Although, actually, if I did just happen to … accidentally cast half an eye in her general direction, absentmindedly, you understand, I might just observe that she now spends most of the time reading.”

  “Magazines and chick-lit?”

  “Textbooks, I’d say. If I was noticing anything at all.”

  “Of course.” Marnie smiled sweetly. “Talking of bodies –”

  “Were we?”

  “Oh yes, I think we were. What about the bodies in the not-so-shallow graves? Why did people come and take away the witches’ remains, if that’s what they were? Any ideas?”

  “Possibly they just didn’t want them dug up by anyone else.”

  “So they removed them for cremation? Is that what they were doing up in Knightly Woods?”

  “Seems reasonable.”

  “Perhaps we’ll find out tomorrow, if Binns comes by.”

  “Talking of tomorrow, Guy Fellheimer rang this afternoon. He said he might come over. I was wondering if he might stay and have dinner with us. Would that be all right?”

  “Fine. We’ll see what he makes of Iris Winterburn.”

  “I think he has some more news about the man who wasn’t there.”

  “Good. Is he kosher?”

  “Guy? Absolutely. He’s regarded as one of the foremost modern historians in Britain. He has an international reputation.”

  Marnie laughed so much she rocked the bed. Ralph looked bewildered.

  “What’s funny about that?”

  “I meant foodwise kosher. He is Jewish, isn’t he? And Friday is a special evening, the start of the Jewish Sabbath. Gammon followed by cheesecake may not be appropriate.”

  Ralph reached up to the shelf over the bed for his mobile.

  “It’s not too late to ring him to find out. He’s a night owl.”

  The call was answered at once. Fellheimer confirmed that he would be pleased to stay for dinner and that he was not strict about the food laws. Ralph was chuckling when he disconnected.

  “Guy says to tell you he doesn’t go the whole hog.”

  Marnie grinned and sprawled across the bed, propping herself up on one elbow.

  “It should be an interesting evening. Oh sorry, am I creasing your shirt?”

  Ralph leaned forward and began undoing the buttons. “Talking of bodies,” he murmured.

  “Were we?”

  “Oh yes, I think we were …”

  Chapter 33

  Unanswered Questions

  To Marnie, Friday felt almost like a normal day, at least by the standards of that chaotic summer. In the office by seven-thirty, she had completed a full hour’s work before the post arrived, while Anne occupied herself with the finances and made a things-to-do list as she sorted out invoice records and budget statements, humming quietly to herself. Dolly took up station under a reading lamp on Marnie’s desk, purring softly, eyes closed. From time to time Marnie absent-mindedly stroked the velvet ears while concentrating on a design or a brief. The office was in total harmony.

  After a quick visit to Knightly Court to check progress, Anne surprised Marnie by asking if she could have some time to herself that morning.

  *

  By the end of the afternoon Marnie felt she had put in a solid day’s work for the first time in weeks. Leaving Anne and Dolly in charge of the office, with Danny on the post run, she strolled to Sally Ann to prepare the meal. It was to be a light summer collation of smoked salmon, asparagus quiche with mixed salad, strawberries and cream. Three bottles of sauvignon blanc from Gascony were chilling in Sally’s fridge.

  Sliding the quiche into the oven, she saw Guy Fellheimer come out of the spinney and head towards Thyrsis. The sight of him made her realise she had hardly given a moment’s thought all day to the unresolved questions of the remains in the various graves dotted about the village. What would Fellheimer add to their knowledge, she wondered, before returning happily to more mundane matters.

  Twenty minutes later, Ralph and Guy were setting the table under the parasol so that all would be in place for them to eat as soon as they came back from tootling on Sally Ann. Leaving the quiche to cool in the galley, Marnie crossed the docking area to change her clothes on Thyrsis while Ralph showed Guy round the dig sites.

  Clouds were gathering in the west as Marnie set off from the boat to receive her visitor, and she worried that history would repeat itself. Her first meeting with Iris Winterburn had taken place in a ferocious storm, with howling winds and near-horizontal rain. Ralph and Guy ambled out from the trees and readily accepted the task of opening a bottle of wine.

  On her way through the spinney, Marnie met Anne and Danny, both changed into tank-tops and fresh jeans. Anne handed Marnie the office keys and announced that so far their guest had not arrived. Anne warned Marnie that she had propped up some ‘things’ in the kitchen and asked her to be careful not to disturb them if she went there.

  Within moments of Marnie reaching the office door, Iris Winterburn drew up in her car and parked it beside the farmhouse. She climbed out with no trace of stiffness. There was also little trace of a greeting, other than a brief nod.

  “Shall we go through the spinney?” Marnie asked.

  Winterburn looked up at the office barn. “I’d like to see in there first. May I?”

  “That’s the office, where we sat yesterday.”

  “I know. I’d like to see inside again, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Of course.” Marnie turned to unlock the door. “Let me open the barn doors. You’ll see better that way.” She pulled the heavy doors aside to reveal the glazed frontage.

  Winterburn walked in and stood in the middle of the space, taking in her surroundings. Marnie watched her without comment.

  The old lady walked over to the wall-ladder and pointed upwards. “What do you keep up there?”

  “That’s Anne’s attic room. We’ve turned it into a kind of bed-sitter.”

  “May I see it?”

  “The ladder’s the only way up, Miss Winterburn.”

  “I know. Perhaps I should ask her permission?”

  “There’s no need. She’d be happy for you to see her room. Shall I go up first to put the lights on? There isn’t a window, other than a narrow slit.”

  “Yes.”

  Marnie climbed the ladder and reached up to the light switch. She was surprised to find Winterburn close behind her. Marnie stood aside and let her wander round.

  Before descending the ladder Winterburn muttered, “Creature comforts.”

  Back down in the office, the old lady turned her attention to the spray of lavender suspended from the ceiling.

  “Did you hang that up there to conceal the hook?”

  “The hook? I didn’t actually. Anne did. But if that had been its purpose, it’s failed completely if you can see it so easily.”

  Winterburn shook her head. “That will do now. Thank you … Marnie.”

  *

  The stern deck on Sally Ann was more crowded than usual when Anne untied the mooring ropes and Marnie reversed out of the dock. With one foot on the bank, Anne pushed the bow clear and skipped down the gunwale.


  Marnie pulled the lever into forward gear in mid-channel. She turned towards Iris Winterburn, who was standing at the rear of the deck, looking out at the countryside.

  “Miss Winterburn, the tiller is yours.” For a few seconds their eyes locked. “Please.”

  Without a word the old lady stepped forward and grasped the steel bar firmly. Sally Ann motored on, her course straight and true. All eyes were on the steerer, who seemed totally focused on the task in hand, all eyes except for Anne, who turned away to look out across the passing meadows. Marnie touched her friend on the shoulder and heard a faint intake of breath. Anne simply nodded without turning round.

  “I believe you have some experience as a boat captain, Miss Winterburn,” Fellheimer said.

  “Some, but not since 1945.”

  “You haven’t lost your touch.”

  “I was used to bigger boats, a motor with a butty, but this one, Sally Ann, runs well.”

  Anne went below, followed by Danny. When they reappeared, Anne was carrying glasses of white wine on one tray, while Danny brought bowls of nuts and olives on another. They cruised for an hour, with Iris Winterburn at the helm all the while.

  On the return run, approaching the final bridge, they noticed activity in the field where the police had cordoned off the grave sites. A uniformed officer was pointing at them, talking to a man in plain clothes, DS Binns. By the time they reached home base, he was waiting for them, standing beside the table and the parasol.

  Normally at this point when a guest was steering the boat, Marnie would take over, tactfully pointing out that the entrance to the docking area was narrow and tricky. On that evening, perhaps because it seemed inappropriate to ask an idle woman to relinquish control, they left Winterburn in command.

  Setting the engine to idling speed, she drifted in mid-channel until the bows were almost level with the entrance, then threw the tiller hard to the left and pushed the heavy gear lever into reverse. Sally Ann pivoted slowly on her axis, the nose coming round to face the dock entrance, the tail sliding towards the opposite bank. In one fluid movement, Winterburn pulled back the gear lever in mid-swing and pushed down on the accelerator. The water boiled at the stern within a few feet of the edge and, while the nose continued its trajectory, she eased back on power and let the boat slip quietly into the dock. The old lady gave enough reverse thrust to stop Sally Ann without a bump.