by Mark Walker
“But that’s where some of the best psychic vibrations occur,” added Fauna added with her gamine twinkle.
“Oh, yes, sister is right,” said Flora, “There’s Mên-an-Tol, which means ‘stone with the hole,’ and the Mên Scryfa, literally the ‘stone inscribed,’ are all nearby one another. And then there’s the Nine Maidens, or Nine Stones of Boskednan, the standing stones sister was speaking of, located just a few kilometers from there. All these places are located up in the northern part of the peninsula.”
“The Nine Maidens are a part of an ancient stone circle, and when we were girls we used to visit there,” continued Fauna. “And the Mên-an-Tol, the stone with the hole, was an ancient place of healing— especially for children. But it was also used for fertility rites, so we used to crawl back and forth through the stone trying to get pregnant!” She laughed, “But I’m afraid we didn’t know then it doesn’t quite work that way!”
They all laughed at this, but Flora added, “It’s all right though. Neither of us ever did marry, we’re just old bachelor girls, and that’s fine. But we do enjoy children and having these little ones about here has certainly cheered things up.”
“I think I know what you mean,” said Riggs meaningfully, “Never fear, as I said, we’ll get things sorted with our pirate friends.”
“It’s funny…” said Flora Phipps thoughtfully, “there’s nothing like those stones at all round these parts. Other than the Roundhouse, there’s really nothing around here at all except the cliffs at Land’s End. The next nearest inn is all the way up in Sennen’s Cove, and that’s north of Land’s End. I suppose that’s one reason we find this place so special, because it’ so desolate, but still, it does seem rather strange.”
Sergeant Bellows put in, “Wasn’t this considered the ‘edge of the world’ back in the olden days? Well, perhaps people were afraid they’d fall off the edge.”
They had a good chuckle and he and Riggs excused themselves, thanking the Potters for lunch. They stood near the front door making plans for the afternoon.
“What sayest thou, old chum?” inquired Riggs.
Fred Bellows said, “I think I’ll stay here and do some experiments upstairs, maybe look about for a bit. This old place interests me.”
“Sounds like a plan,” replied Riggs, “I think I’ll go for a stroll and take a look at the tin mine, and then maybe the famous Land’s End. I’ll see if I uncover anything interesting along the way.”
“Did you say ‘anything’ or ‘anyone’ interesting, sir?”
Kelly Riggs gave his lopsided smile, tipped his hat, gathered his fox and hound cane and was on his way.
4
HE MADE HIS WAY UP THE ZIGZAG PATH to the top of the cliffs and headed north. The road was smooth, paved and undulating, running roughly along the line of the cliffs inland at varying distances. He walked easily for a few minutes and breathed in the fresh sea air. It had turned into a glorious day, with less of a chill in the air now that the sun was fully out. Fluffy, billowing clouds had appeared in the blue sky and it seemed scarcely possible that the storm was barely thirty-six hours away. He sensed the onset of the coming Anti-Gravity forces in the old war wound in his left shin only slightly now but his every step became lighter, his anticipation growing.
He could still feel that strange presence of the unknown in the wild, bleak, distance that seemed to separate this place in time and space. Perhaps it was the Phipps sisters’ litany of ancient manmade rock formations that brought the feelings on. And they were right, as he looked about—other than the grass, and a smattering of rocks and boulders here and there—there was absolutely nothing out here. Folks had stayed away for centuries, and maybe Fred Bellows was right about them being afraid of falling off the edge of the world. Riggs found himself leaving the deserted road and trekking through the grass between it and the cliffs.
He sauntered along, whistling an off-key tune, swinging his stick as he was wont to do. Ah! Suddenly he heard the sound and saw a family of gulls appear above the cliffs, chattering away. So, he wasn’t alone after all! He trailed along, and growing curiosity pulled him ever near the cliff’s edge. Before long he saw what appeared to be a dip in the ragged rocks that fell away below. Carefully, he made his way close to the edge and looked out at the vista before him.
The sun was strong now, and he had to squint slightly as he gazed out to sea. It was so clear he could discern in the hazy distance, the Longships Lighthouse that (if he remembered his chart correctly) should be about two kilometers out to sea. He held up his walking stick, with its bold head—the double-sided faces of a fox and hound glinting in the sun. He popped two small, hinged caps that were the animal’s noses. He held the stick upright, the fox’s nose to his eye, and focused the miniature monocular on the lighthouse that had saved many a maritime traveler over the years.
The scent of sea air was strong, and he filled his lungs gratefully. The sound of the surging waves came up to him. He moved closer to the dip, only to discover a path, that led gently down the cliff face to a small crescent of shale and sand cupped in the hand of some dark jutting rocks. But then, over the sound of the waves, another sound reached his ears—yes, it was the unmistakable sound of a violin!
Riggs started gingerly down the path, using his stick to steady himself. He had gone only a short way before he could see Kendra Danes, who before had been hidden from his view by the cliffs. She was playing up a storm, dancing with wild abandon, looking like an elfin gypsy. He paused, leaning against the cliff and watched with a grin, his eyes steely. He was pleased to note that she was kitted out in a smart-looking plaid ensemble, with a long skirt, and a matching beret. As she played, he was still too far away to pick up any exact melody, but apparently Kendra Danes was playing a variety of tunes, segueing from one to another as she continued to dance and skip about. Now she turned back to the cliff, but did not look up, and did not see him. She crossed beyond his view and after a few minutes, the playing stopped. Other than the waves and some distant gulls, it was quiet for a few minutes.
Then Kelly Riggs saw something that literally made his jaw drop.
Kendra Danes emerged from the cliff face and rocks clad in only what appeared to be her slip! She moved slowly, stretching her bare long arms, shaking her long blonde and strawberry hair. Riggs uncapped the noses of the fox and hound cane and peered through the monocular, catching her in his sights on the beach in four-power magnification. She continued to stretch, and he heard her cry “Whee!” as she dashed toward the surf, raising her slip and he caught a brief glimpse of pale bum as she plunged into the waves.
He followed her with the monocular as she splashed about, finally submersing herself up to the shoulders and letting out another “whee!” She shook her head and hair wildly and pranced about some more. Riggs lowered his stick, recapping the fox and hounds’ noses, and made his way down the path to the beach. He crossed round to where he could see Kendra Dane’s clothes and violin case on some rocks at the base of the cliff. She was still cavorting and had not seen him. He found a heavy towel, which she had obviously brought purposely. He threw it over his arm, and strolled across the beach, just as Kendra Danes emerged from the sea. Seeing him startled her, and she let out another cry, before coming forward, awkwardly through the surf. He held out the towel to her, as she reached him, she grabbed it, throwing a mist of sea spray over him.
“Oh, Inspector, I’m afraid you’ve caught me with my pants d-d-down,” she said through chattering teeth. She was flushed and radiant. “If -f-f I’d known you were c-c-c-oming, I could have invited you to come join me. Brrrr!”
“Nothing like a bracing dip,” rejoined Riggs “though it’s a bit cold for me. Anyhow, I’m here now, and I can warm you up.” At this she threw her arms around him, and her lips found his. She was a passionate and eager kisser, and as she pressed her sodden form against him, he found it easy to respond.
Finally, he was able to get out, “I’ve never kissed a wet violinist.” Before the k
issing resumed.
Later she muttered dreamily, “Scotland Yard is certainly on the case, at least one Yard Dog.” He would never forget her just then, soft from love, emerald and sapphire eyes sleepy-lidded, her tawny, damp blonde and strawberry hair blowing with the breeze, unable to decide which color to be. Behind her was the backdrop of the shimmering sea and crashing waves, set against the brilliant sky. But he was on a case, and lovemaking, should there be any more, would have to wait.
“Yes, and you are quite a case, Miss Danes, but let’s get you into some dry clothes,” he said rather roughly and pulled away from her. They both turned toward the rocks and cliff.
“Oh, well, so my attempt to seduce you has failed?”
“No, you’ve quite succeeded in catching my fancy, it’s just that we police officers mustn’t have too many distractions, and you’re certainly one, lass, so come on, hop to it, and then you can play me some tunes.”
“Tunes, now is it? Weren’t you watching and listening before?”
“Only for just a bit, but not long enough to really hear what it was,” Riggs smiled his lopsided smile, not telling her about the monocular. “Look, I’ll even be chaste and turn my back as you dress.”
She did so, rather quickly in fact, and when she called to him, he found her surprisingly well put together. She produced a brush from her small bag and whisked it through her hair, and then replaced her beret, set at a suitably jaunty angle, smiling.
Riggs smiled back. “So how about a tune on your fiddle—a Gilbert and Sullivan Symphony or a Beethoven Opera song.”
“Really, now, I think you’re trying to catch me out, Inspector,” she scolded. “Surely a Detective Chief Inspector can’t be so obtuse as not to know that old G & S wrote operas and operettas—and they aren’t called ‘tunes’ by the way, and Mr. Bee wrote symphonies.”
“I was just making sure you weren’t stringing me along…” said Riggs dryly. “So, will you play us a tune or two?”
“Well, I might have to charge a hefty fee for performing—you know how we musicians are. Oh, and it isn’t a ‘fiddle,’ it’s a violin. That’s your Scots coming out, Inspector, but I’ll relent. This is almost like a holiday out here in the wilds, even though it’s just a few days.” She took out her bow and rosined it continuing, “Or more like an adventure, with ghosts, and pirates, and dead parrots!”
He was pleased she chose a couple of old Scottish “fiddle” favorites, My Heart’s in the Highlands, and Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, and after she finished with a flourish, he gave her enthusiastic applause, his handclaps echoing off the rocks. A flock of gulls and razorbills had come to listen, and they cackled and screeched as they wheeled about.
“I think they liked it too,” smiled Riggs. “Would you like to do some exploring? I’d intended to check out the coastline, maybe go up to Land’s End.”
“Well, I’m not sure, I really should be getting back… but I suppose I could be persuaded, then you can tell me all about your big case. Unless I can persuade you to stay here for a while…”
Kelly Riggs pulled away and pointed with his stick toward the curve of dark rocks to the right, at the end of the crescent of sand. “That opening looks interesting!” he exclaimed. It was at the base near the cliffs that rounded hole had been carved into the rock by the surf. “This looks fun!” He led her by the hand, and they crossed the beach to the hole. It was an oval fissure that was about three meters high and perhaps a meter wide, with as many colors as Riggs had noticed in the Black Rock.
“Feel how smooth it is. It must have been formed millions of years ago.” They ran their hands over it, and as Riggs looked through, he could see another, longer beach, and toward the end of it, cut into the rock just above it he saw the smokestack of the old tin mine.
“Shall we hoof it on up to the mine?” Riggs passed through the gap, and held out his hand, and took Kendra Danes’ to lead her through it, but she resisted. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Oh, I—ah, my skirt’s caught—there!” replied Kendra Danes as she stumbled on through the opening.
“Just be careful you don’t get preggers,” he quipped, and told her about the Phipps sisters and the fertility hole in the ancient manmade stones.
5
SHE WAS LAUGHING WHEN THEY entered the beautiful hidden cove. This beach was similar to the other, though about twice as deep and twice as long. The gold and grey crescent of shale and sand ended in a pile of black rocks that jutted from a promontory just past the mine. The water was calm here; protected by a reef they could observe about twenty meters out. There was a narrow channel running past the rocks, that could prove treacherous going for any ship or boat trying to maneuver into the cove.
Riggs’s sharp eyes ran up and down the beach and he poked about here and there with his stick.
“Searching for seashells, Inspector?” asked Kendra.
“Searching for any of those coins and doubloons the Captain said he found up this way. Don’t suppose you saw any on the other beach?”
“If I did, I’ve got them all stuffed in my pockets, and you’ll have to search me to get them.” She was up close again and her blue-green eyes sparkled. “Are you sure you trust me, Chief Inspector?”
“Down, down, Miss Danes!” he cautioned, holding up a hand, “There you go again. It’s a good job I’m a policeman and am able to maintain my professional composure.” They began to stroll along the beach. “So, where do you hail from?”
“I was born in Maidstone, an ‘only child.’” she replied, “but we moved to London when I was little, soon after my mum died. But I was so young then, I don’t really remember her. Dads has always been quite the businessman, though, don’t you know, and he was always traveling here and there doing his big deals. I didn’t see a lot of him growing up, and still don’t, but he always did me right, and supported my career. You may have heard of him—” She paused and continued casually—
“Kenneth Danes.”
“Sir Kenneth Danes, the industrialist?”
“That sounds so, I don’t know, unlike Dads, it sounds too important somehow. I just know he’s a hard-working mug. Does all right he does, and he’s pretty generous with me and everyone and all sorts of charities and such.
“What about yourself, Detective Chief Inspector, any brothers or sisters?”
“Born and brought up in Scotland. My parents are gone, I’m afraid. Two brothers—an older and a younger, but we lost Kieran, the oldest, in the War.” The lines around his eyes tightened.
“Oh, yes, the War, and your unit was the famous Black Watch?” the girl asked brightly.
“Yes, the ‘gud’ old Black Watch, Royal Highlanders, 42nd regiment, 1st battalion,” replied Riggs, adding, “the ‘fighting jocks’ and the Germans used to call us ‘the ladies from hell.’”
“Ah, yes, but of course, the kilts—your ‘skirts.’ Tell me, Blackie—Inspector,” she continued mischievously, her emerald-sapphire eyes dancing, “is it true what they say—about what you wear under your kilts?”
“No comment,” answered Riggs with his lopsided smile.
But she continued merrily and (gratefully for Riggs) changing her tune a bit, “And that’s when you met old Dinky, in the War, is it? He’s a sweetheart he is, and so is Mrs. Potter, and Delia’s a real chum.”
“Yes, it’s delightful to see him after all these years; and you’re right—he’s got himself a wonderful family. Anyway, after the War was over, I came down to London and applied at the Metropolitan Police, and the rest as they say, is history.”
“And somewhere along the way you learned to fly a plane?” she inquired. He smiled and nodded, but before he could reply, she said, “The children told me you even buzzed the inn; and they told me you said Sergeant Bellows squealed like a schoolgirl.”
He laughed and regarded her. “Indeed, he did at that. So, what about you, fair lass? And how did you come to be a nanny, and a violinist for the Philharmonic?”
“Oh, I was already playing—have been si
nce I was eight—been with the Philly now for three years, but as to the nanny-bit, I suppose I wanted to broaden my horizons. Besides it was a chance to give some violin lessons, and little Jenny’s really got the bug, you know, and oh—I just remembered! Speaking of the children, I must be getting back!”
“Oh, they’ll be all right back at the inn,” said Riggs encouragingly. “Besides, I need some company exploring this old mine, and you’re rather easier on the eye than my usual partner. Besides, without Sergeant Bellows, I’m in need of an assistant.”
They had reached the end of the beach and turned to look up at the old, derelict structure. There was a wistfulness exuding from the worn, partially cratered-out stone façade, the single smokestack standing in solitary tribute to another age. The mine clung stubbornly to the edge and side of the cliffs as stubbornly as it seemed to cling to the past.
Kelly Riggs could see clearly the layers of rock, graduating in color from jet black (like Black Rock Island) to a rich, almost rust-like copper, then to a charcoal that mixed into a sandy verdant green of scrub and grass. If only he could see the layers of the case quite so clearly, but even still, the layers seemed to be coming together. And in answer to his last comment, Kendra Danes spoke:
“Well, Detective Chief Inspector Kelly Riggs, are you admitting you need the assistance of a fair female violinist to help with your case? A case that you still haven’t clued me in on, by the way,” she chided.
“Yes, fair lass, I admit it. But this is official police business and I have to have a few secrets now, don’t I?” he admitted. “But let’s just say it has to do with our pirate friends, some deadly games they may have been up to, and perhaps the buried treasure of the great Sea Ghost himself! So, if you’re up to it, you may be my Girl Friday,” Riggs said smiling, “Shall we?”
The base of the building ended in a crumbling concrete foundation that extended to a rocky ledge that might have been just above the level of high tide, two meters above the beach. Riggs found a rock that formed a step, and hoisted Kendra Danes and her violin case up to it. He followed, and they stood on the concrete landing where a few more steps lead to another wider landing, and a door to the mine. Riggs tried it, but found it locked. As he turned to his left, he saw that the landing extended to the end of the building and split the promontory of rock. Following along the building until the concrete landing ended, he noted a shimmering light reflecting off the cliff face, high above their heads, to the left of the mine. Where the landing ended there was flat rock and as they rounded the corner, their eyes grew wide with surprise.