by G. P. Taylor
‘So we’re not discovered,’ the other squealed as she attempted to stand straight and talk at the same time.
‘If we’re discovered dressed like this we’ll –’
‘It worked – we got the body and now she’s with us, and we’ll be waking the witch,’ her friend interrupted quickly as she bowed to the servant at the doorway before they both vanished inside to be consumed by the golden glow of the light.
The door was slammed shut. The garden was drenched in darkness and the grey-blue shadows of the moon returned to cast gnarled hands across the shingle drive. Mariah waited in his hiding place. There was a familiarity about the voice – he had heard it often before. Quickly Mariah realised that despite
their macabre disguise the two women were in fact Grimm and Grendel, so-called detectives …
As he waited, the light of a downstairs room shone above his head as the shutters were drawn back. He crept closer through the overgrown plants and under the canopy of gigantic hogweed that grew up like a forest of trees at the side of the gravel drive. Mariah could hear muffled voices. They jabbered in the room above him as the shadows fell against the glass.
‘We can’t keep her here,’ Mariah heard Grimm say.
‘Not for the night – it is not safe,’ he heard another voice say.
Mariah crept even closer. To the side of the window was an old ornamental pot stand. It was covered in ivy and dead Virginia creeper and looked like the wizened head of an old man. Taking hold of the fall pipe that ran from the roof and down the wall, Mariah put his foot on the stand and looked through the side window of the room.
From where he stood, he could just see Grimm standing by the fireplace. On the other side of the room was Mr Grendel. He was reclining in a shabby leather sofa with his petticoat around his ankles and his large bare feet stretched out towards the fire. The room was brightly lit by lamps and candles that flickered against the walls. The flames of the fire changed their faces constantly from black to red as they bathed them in light and shadow. In the corner by the door was the coffin that had been brought from the hearse. The lid had been removed and the body removed.
‘Bet you never thought you’d ever travel like that – did you, girl? Not when you were alive. Think of the privilege to see the inside of a coffin before you are dead,’ Grendel said as he snivelled and rubbed his swollen feet.
Mariah couldn’t see who he was talking to. The room was large and filled with old furniture; all he could think was that in the far corner of the room was the girl.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Grendel asked when there had been no reply.
‘She has a gag in her mouth, Mr Grendel – it is impossible for her to talk and you were the one who placed it there so you should know.’ Grimm spoke curtly as his shadow crossed the window just where Mariah was eavesdropping.
‘She could mutter or mumble. Very impolite just to sit there in silence staring at me with those sorrowful eyes. It’s not as if we’re going to kill the witch – just keep her until her father does what we’ve told him and then she’ll be free.’
‘Would have been different with Gormenberg – at least he knew how to treat a prisoner,’ Grimm replied in a melancholy voice. ‘If you tell anyone where you’ve been, girl, then you won’t be going home to your father, understand? See, Mr Grendel, that’s how you get them to reply – nodding away, she is. She knows what we mean.’
‘But does her father? If he doesn’t do what we’ve asked him then the Templar will not be a happy man,’ Grendel said.
‘He’ll do it. He has to – that’s if he wants to see his precious again,’ Grimm snapped as he paced the room.
‘But why did we have to dress like this?’ Grendel shouted.
‘How else could we snatch her from the street? You are the most well-known face in the town apart from the church clock. Anyway, I quite like it. It makes me look –’
‘Stupid, that’s how they make you look – like an overgrown owl,’ Grendel replied as he shrugged his shoulders.
Mariah edged his way closer and closer to the window to see if he could see whom they were talking about. He stretched one leg from the jardinière and the other to the metal railings that ran under the window and down the cellar steps. One hand gripped the narrow cracks between the stones, the other held to the strands of the creeper that covered the front of the house. Leaning out as far as he could, he peered around the stone mullion.
From where he was now perched he could see Grimm and Grendel clearly. Grimm stood with his back to the window, shadowing whoever was sitting in a winged chair that had been pushed into the far corner of the room in a small alcove. Grendel slouched on the leather sofa near the fire. They were both dressed in the most ludicrous costumes Mariah could ever imagine and looked as if they had modelled their look upon the most cantankerous of creatures they could find. Grendel had painted his face with rouge and lipstick, whilst Grimm swished his posterior closer and closer to the flames of the fire. His bustled dress whooshed back and forth like the feathers of some gigantic fat bird.
Mariah leant out even further to see who was in the chair. With a sudden crack the jardinière snapped and fell from its stand. Mariah fell, and as he did he clutched the top of the mullion and hung in mid-air like a startled monkey, his face pressed grotesquely against the glass.
The sound echoed around the house. Grimm turned with a start and stared him in the eyes as Grendel jumped to his feet.
‘MUNDI!’ they screamed together as Grimm stepped back in complete surprise, the shock wrinkling his face like an old Aunt Sally.
‘Get him!’ screamed Grendel as he searched the room for his shoes to give chase.
As he hung from the mullion, Mariah saw Sacha for the first time. She was bound and gagged and looked at him with frightened eyes.
‘Don’t let him escape!’ Grendel screamed even louder as Grimm jumped out of his way and stepped onto the fireplace, his dress wafting in the flames.
Mariah looked down to the drop below. A line of sharp black railings ran the length of the window and followed the steps to the cellar door. They pointed fearfully upwards to where he
dangled precariously, holding on to the stone mullion with stretched fingers.
He looked into the room and saw Grendel run to the door. Sacha twisted in the chair as if she was trying to escape, whilst Grimm fought to extinguish the flames that now leapt from the back of his dress.
‘I’m on fire!’ he screamed as he rolled on the floor to put out the burning mass of bolsters and crinoline.
‘Quickly, Grimm, before he escapes!’ Grendel shouted as Mariah saw him leave the room.
Outside, in the chill night air, Mariah could feel his fingers stretching and slipping from the stone. He looked at Sacha through the misted glass and tried to smile as he clung to life. He heard the bolts on the front door being opened one by one as the sound of Grendel’s commotion billowed from the hallway. A chink of bright light broke the darkness of the garden. Mariah looked down into the black pit of the cellar steps. Unable to keep their grip any longer, his fingers slipped from their hold and Mariah fell into the blackness.
[ 13 ]
Paradise Mislaid
IN less than a few seconds Mariah hit the floor at the bottom of the cellar steps and slumped against the rotten wooden door. It smashed open, giving way quickly as he fell forward into the pitch-black room. It had a stench of damp wood and rotten apples. From outside he could hear Grendel screaming for Grimm to come to his aid as he skipped across the gravel drive in his short stiletto heels. In the blackness Mariah scrambled to his feet as fast as he could and looked for somewhere to hide. He knew he could not be caught. There would be no bargaining for his life, and now his eavesdropping had even put Sacha in jeopardy.
He stumbled over a pile of broken chairs and an old bicycle with one wheel. Grendel’s shouts drew ever closer and now Mariah could hear that more people had joined the chase. Blindly he stumbled on, not knowing where to run. He searched t
he walls for a doorway but was unable to see even a hand in front of him. The blackness swirled around him without a single piece of light to show him the way. Mariah fell against the wall as his foot caught in the spokes of the bicycle wheel.
Footsteps came slowly down the cellar steps as the swinging of a lantern reflected off the walls.
‘He must be down here,’ Grendel said sharply as he stood at the door, hesitating to enter the vast cellar that stretched out in the gloom before him.
More footsteps echoed down the steps. Mariah hid in the darkness and waited as Grendel held the lantern above his head and peered into the vast dome-shaped room.
‘How can we find him in there?’ he asked as Grimm scurried inside the cellar.
‘We have to look for him. Should have known he would come looking. How do you think he found us?’ Grimm asked as he kicked over an old perambulator by the door.
‘Never know with that boy. We should have finished him when we had the chance last time. I knew Monica wouldn’t have the guts to kill him. You should have done it, Grimm.’
‘I’ll do it now if I find him,’ Grimm replied as he drew a revolver from a purse he had strung over his shoulder and pulled back the hammer with a loud click.
Mariah could hear Grimm’s footsteps getting closer. He twisted his foot from the wheel and moved as quietly as he could, slithering along the floor.
‘I can hear him, Grendel,’ Mr Grimm shouted as he aimed the pistol and fired a shot in the dark.
There was a sudden flash as the bullet blasted from the gun, then a deafening explosion as the bullet ricocheted around the cellar, bouncing from the floor and embedding itself in the wall behind Grendel’s head.
‘That could have killed me, you fool!’ Grendel screamed as he got up from the floor. ‘It missed me by an inch.’
‘He’s there,’ Grimm insisted as he picked his way through the debris of boxes and old wardrobes that filled the cellar.
‘And so am I – and I don’t want you to forget that when you fire the gun,’ Grendel moaned, worried that the only person Grimm would shoot would be him.
‘Stay by the door – he can’t escape again,’ Grimm replied as he drew closer and closer to where Mariah was now hiding in a stack of rolled carpets.
Mariah held his breath. He could feel Grimm close by. There was a scent of roses and sweet apples. Grimm didn’t speak as he searched for him in the dim light of the lantern that Grendel held by the door.
Grimm could see nothing in the faint light. The cellar was cold and foreboding. He listened hard, hoping to catch the briefest clue as to where Mariah was hiding. He stumbled forwards in the dark, the rolls of carpets tumbled about him like falling trees. Mariah was curled up at his feet like a rat frightened to move.
‘Are you sure he came this way?’ Grimm asked, hoping he would have to look no more. ‘He can’t be here – nowhere for him to hide.’ As he turned to move his foot pinned Mariah’s fingers and pressed them into the soft earth floor. Mariah knew he could not call out in pain.
‘I … I heard noises.’ Grendel hesitated before he replied.
‘So he might not be here at all?’ Grimm asked as he stepped from Mariah’s hand and made his way through the cellar and back to the light.
‘I just thought –’
‘Just thought he could be here?’ Grimm replied with obvious annoyance as he bustled by Grendel in his burnt dress and scorched camisole.
‘He fell from the window,’ Grendel protested.
‘But not in here,’ Grimm replied earnestly.
‘Perhaps not …’ Grendel said.
‘Perhaps he ran off back to the Prince Regent,’ Grimm said quickly as footsteps came down the steps.
‘Then I would have seen him,’ said a voice from outside the cellar.
‘Inspector Walpole – how nice of you to come,’ Grimm flustered.
‘Having trouble?’ Walpole asked as Grimm hid the gun in his purse.
‘Just a burglar,’ Grendel replied. ‘ But he appears to have … disappeared.’
‘Can’t have anyone burgling the Towers – what would the Templar think to that?’ he asked.
‘Dismayed, Inspector Walpole, he would be dismayed,’ Grimm said feebly.
‘He would indeed, and he wants to speak to you upstairs,’ Walpole said.
‘But we have to find him – he could still be hiding,’ Grimm protested.
‘He wants to see you and he can’t be kept waiting,’ Walpole snapped as he went on. ‘I’ll have one of my men stand guard. If your burglar tries to escape then we shall have him. Time is pressing in our task and we cannot let anyone distract us from it. If he is here he will do us no harm,’ Walpole said as the cellar door was pulled shut and the bolts slid across.
Mariah sat in the darkness and listened as the procession of footsteps climbed the cellar stairs. He felt in his pocket for the phosphor torch that he always carried in his jacket. Just as he was about to charge the lamp he heard the sound of leather soles on the gravel outside the cellar.
Following a small chink of light he made his way to the door and pushed against it. It was stuck tight, the bolts barring his way. He followed the walls around the cellar, hoping to find another way out – there was nothing. Then, just as he was about to give up in despair, his hand felt the jagged corner of the brickwork. There was a strong draught that sucked air from the room, and he was sure that high above he could hear voices.
‘A chimney,’ he said to himself as he felt his way into the large alcove where the kitchen range had once stood.
From above him he could hear the whispering of voices and the crackling of the fire. He knew that the chimney would be wide enough to take him, but was unsure if there would be any way of escape from the roof. The walls of the alcove were smooth brick, with damp plaster hanging in places.
Mariah ran his hands to find a finger-hold and just as he was about to give up came across a narrow crack in the wall. He pulled hard and wedged his feet against the sides of the alcove as he reached up. Step by step he made his way higher. Within six feet the smooth brick gave way to coarse stone, which made it easier to climb. The walls became hotter as he got nearer the room above and the voices became louder. He could hear them speaking clearly.
‘If he comes out of the cellar door, then one of my men will be upon him,’ Mariah heard Walpole say.
‘And what about the girl?’ Grimm asked.
‘Take her to the castle and we’ll keep her there until her father does what we have asked of him,’ Walpole replied.
‘And if he does not?’ said a voice that Mariah had not heard before. It sounded cold, dark and edged with gin.
‘Then, sir … she will have an accident and be found below the bridge,’ Grendel said slowly.
‘If her father won’t help us then we cannot succeed. I have come too far for all this to fail,’ the man said in his gruff voice.
‘Sir, you should not worry – I would do it myself, but I have my position in the town to think of,’ Walpole grovelled. ‘Mr Grendel or Mr Grimm should help us out of our predicament.’
‘I hope they will, I hope they will. Has Mr Lucius reported to us?’ the man asked.
‘He is with Zogel,’ Walpole replied.
‘Then all is well at the Prince Regent. I was disturbed when I was searching suite 217. I think what we are looking for is still there. See to it that it is found immediately, Walpole,’ the man said as Mariah heard heavy footsteps cross the floor.
‘And what of the boy – Mariah Mundi?’ Grimm asked slowly, as if mentioning the name would be a bad omen.
‘Kill him. At your first opportunity, kill him,’ the man said in a matter-of-fact way as he left the room.
There was silence; all Mariah could hear was the crackling of the fire logs. He climbed higher. The walls of the chimney grew so hot that soon he could barely touch them. They were drenched in soot that covered him like a fresh fall of black snow.
‘Better get the girl and take her t
o the castle,’ Mariah heard Walpole say.
‘I’m not going dressed like this,’ Grendel replied.
‘Shame,’ Walpole scolded. ‘I thought you looked … fetching.’
‘Then I’ll look fetching in a suit and tie with shoes that fit,’ Grendel snapped back as he stamped from the room.
‘I hope your friend can be trusted in this, Mr Grimm. I employed you because you were the best detective in the business and I don’t want to be let down. When her father does what we want him to do – I expect her to fall from the heights of the castle to the sea below, understand?’ Walpole said quietly.
‘Kill her anyway?’ Grimm asked in disbelief.
‘Loose ends, Mr Grimm, loose ends,’ Walpole replied. ‘She’ll talk and the secret will be out.’
Sliding his hands into the sleeve of his coat, Mariah pressed on silently. He didn’t know what to think – he couldn’t believe an inspector of police would be prepared to kill. What Walpole had said was repeated over and over in his mind. Loose ends … All Sacha and her father were to Walpole were loose ends.
Smoke filled the chimney until it grew thick and choking black. Mariah climbed even higher until he got to the open fireplace of the room above. Slipping through the mouth of the fireplace he was soon in the room. It was cold and empty and the moon shone in through frosted windows. For a brief moment he caught his soot-stained reflection in the glass.
Mariah listened by the door. He could hear the complaining of Grimm and Grendel below. He twisted the handle and, pulling gently, knew the door was locked from the outside. It was then that he heard footsteps on the stone tiles of the hallway. They were crisp and bright and edged with steel. The front door opened and then shut suddenly. Mariah looked out of the window and in the dim light saw the tell-tale figure of Inspector Walpole walking down the drive and into the night. By his side was a tall man and in the man’s hand was a silver-capped walking stick. There was something about him that was familiar: Mariah knew it was the man he had followed from the Prince Regent.