Viridian Tears

by Rachel Green

  Michelle pulled up and waited while Meinwen got out and pushed the envelope through the slot. When the witch was settled again, she resumed the journey. “What’s all this about? You said it was urgent.”

  “I think I may have located your client’s missing money. It doesn’t mean you’ll be free of the blackmail but it should ease the pressure. If you don’t have the money you can’t be extorted.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “You told her about the blackmail?” Graham looked at Michelle. His profile against the brighter windscreen pricked at Meinwen’s memory, though she couldn’t place just what.

  “I had to tell someone. What else was I supposed to do? Mam always used to say a trouble shared was a trouble halved and the fear of it was burning a hole though my chest. It’s safe with Meinwen anyway. Telling her is like telling a priest in the confessional.”

  “Er…not exactly.” Meinwen leaned forward. “I don’t have immunity from judicial proceedings. If I was asked in court I’d have to say.”

  “But you wouldn’t volunteer it, would you? You’re like the old wise woman of the village.”

  “Not all that old, thanks.” Meinwen huffed and sat back again, racking her brain for where she’d seen Graham’s profile before.

  The rest of the journey was made in silence until they arrived at New Eden. Michelle parked in the visitors’ section, relieved there wasn’t a funeral in progress. DI White was already there and got out of his car as they pulled up.

  “Ms. Jones? What’s all this about? I do have a murder enquiry to get on with, you know.”

  “Inspector.” Meinwen struggled with her equipment until Graham assisted by taking the theodolite and its tripod. “How good of you to come.” She lowered her voice as she took his hand. “Here’s the spare key to my shop you asked for. Don’t ask questions, I’ll tell you later.” She stepped back, her voice returning to normal pitch for the benefit of Eden, who had come out when they arrived. “I think I’ve found Eddie Burbridge’s missing money.”

  “Really? Let’s hope you’re right and it isn’t a body we’re digging up.” She brandished a screwdriver. “Come on, then. I’ve got the digger keys.”

  “Right.” Meinwen followed the path into the cemetery, Michelle, Graham and Inspector White trailing behind while Eden fetched the backhoe and drove it down the cinder track as far as she could. She kept her eyes fixed on the jutting plateau of Dew Point. She couldn’t see the obelisk unaided but she didn’t need the binoculars just yet.

  “Do you actually know where you’re going?” White extended his stride to catch up with her. “What are you looking for?”

  Meinwen kept walking toward the canal. “Can you see the town hall yet?”

  White frowned. “Where am I looking? Yes. There it is.” He pointed to the west.

  “Okay. Wait there a moment.” She took out her laser sight and switched it on. The red beam was hardly visible, leading her to pull a notebook from her bag, which she gave it to Graham. “Inspector? Will you put this on your shoulder with the beam facing backward? Thank you. Now keep following me down the hill but stay facing the town hall. Graham? Use the notebook to track the path of the laser and tell me when it points to the spire of St. Pity’s.”

  “What about me?” Michelle looked west until she spotted the spire.

  “I need you to keep your eye on Dew Point. Can you see it?” She pointed until Michelle nodded. Keep heading toward it until Graham says stop.”

  “This is exciting.” Michelle’s grin was infectious and Meinwen found herself smiling with her. “What now?”

  “I have to find the Gaunt's Mast.”

  “It’s behind those trees.” White pointed to a copse of poplars. “I’ve had complaints from residents about the reception on this side of them.”

  “Of course! That’s why I didn’t see it before.” She waved at Eden as she arrived in the backhoe and turned it off. “Burbridge made four bequests when he came to Laverstone, and all four can be seen from one spot in the cemetery. We just have to locate it.”

  It took them another ten minutes before Meinwen was satisfied they were in the right place. “Well?” she asked Eden. “Is this the spot?”

  “The spot for what?” Eden looked down. “What am I supposed to know about it?”

  “Isn’t this the very plot Eddie Burbridge reserved when you opened the cemetery?”

  “I’d have to check the records.” Eden frowned, looking toward the buildings and back at the ground. “Maybe. I couldn’t really say.”

  “We’ll soon find out.” White marked out an X on the grass with the side of his shoe. “Let’s have a dig, shall we?”

  “We should have brought a spade with us.” Eden climbed into the cab. “A backhoe is good for the heavy work but I don’t have the finesse with it that Malcolm does.”

  Meinwen looked up. “Where is Malcolm, by the way?”

  “I gave him the rest of the day off.”

  Any further conversation was doomed by the roar of the diesel engine.

  Chapter 38

  “Stop!”

  Meinwen waved both hands at Eden, who lifted the hoe from the hole and backed up six feet. The inspector lowered himself gingerly into the hole and used the spade he’d fetched from the cryotorium tool locker to scrape off the last couple of inches of clay. He dug away at the soil until he’d revealed all for edges of an unexpected tomb.

  Beneath was revealed a concrete slab roughly six feet by four. White uncovered a ring in the centre and used his penknife to work it free.

  Graham squatted at the top of the hole, careful not to get to close to the edge lest it crumble and sent him into the awaiting grave. “Isn’t that an illegal hidden weapon?”

  “No sir it is not.” He held up the knife for display. “This is a folding knife with a non-locking blade with a maximum cutting edge of three inches. Perfectly legal for anyone to carry under Section one thirty-nine of the Criminal Justice Act, nineteen eighty-eight.” He folded it and put it back in his pocket. I also happen to be an authorised firearms officer but you won’t get a show and tell on that one.” He stood and with his legs on either edge of concrete attempted to pull at the ring. He huffed with the effort and gave up after two or three minutes. “It’s stuck solid.”

  “It’s probably too heavy for you.”

  “If you think you can do better, Ms. Jones, you’re welcome to try.”

  “No, I meant the digger. Could we not use that to lift it?”

  “Good idea.” He turned to Graham. “Mr. Browning? Would you ask Mrs. Maguire if she has some rope, please?”

  “Sure.” He went over to the backhoe and opened the door. Meinwen was unable to hear the conversation but he opened a panel on the side of the tractor and pulled out a towrope, which he tossed to the inspector. White tied it around the ring and passed the free end to Graham who tied it onto the excavator bucket while Meinwen helped White out of the pit.

  The motor roared as Eden began lifting the slab.

  White nudged Meinwen. “This had better not turn out to be a body. I could be cited as an accessory after the fact.”

  “It won’t be.” Meinwen tried to peer into the darkness as the slab was lifted. “Burbridge went to a great deal of trouble to reveal this spot. He wouldn’t have led us so eloquently to a murder victim.”

  “I didn’t mention anything about a murder.”

  “You didn’t have to, Inspector. I know that expression well enough by now.”

  “Will you look at that.” White peered into the hole. “It’s a ruddy big crate with letters painted on the side. Is that what we’ve gone to all this trouble for?” He grinned round at the others.

  “I think you’ll find that’s just the packing crate, Inspector. The real treasure is inside.”

  “Treasure? What treasure are we talking about, exactly.”

  “One that may lead you to multiple convictions in the Greater Metropolitan area.” Meinwen smiled. “It’s the legacy of Eddie Burbridg
e.”

  “The witchfinder’s chest.” Graham pointed into the hole as the concrete was lifted away. “You crafty bugger, Eddie. All this time I thought you’d hidden it in the house.”

  Eden moved the slab to one side and shut off the engine. She climbed down from the cab to view the hole. “What is it?”

  Meinwen gripped the inspector’s arm. “The seventeenth century chest of a witchfinder sergeant called John Stearne, but it seems Mr. Browning already knew about it?”

  Graham looked up. “Of course. Everyone knows about the chest.”

  Michelle looked from Meinwen to her housemate. “Graham? I don’t think they do. Meinwen and I only found out about it yesterday.”

  “That must be it then.” Graham gave a half-smile. “You must have told me last night when you were ranting about how manipulative this woman was, making you drive to the edge of Cornwall.”

  “No…I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” She looked at Meinwen. “I didn’t. You asked me not to.”

  “I think Mr. Browning knows about it from another source. Your father told you, didn’t he?”

  “Your father?” Michelle shook her head, looking at Graham. “What does your father have to do with this? You told me he was dead.”

  “I didn’t make the connection until he turned up with you today.” Meinwen clasped the inspector’s arm. He sensed what she was doing and shifted slightly to cover her hand from the others as she felt for his pocketknife. “You’re the son of Malcolm Glover, aren’t you? Right-hand man to Eddie Burbridge when he was an East-End crime magnate. You grew up with the stories of Eddie ducking out with the profits from his life of crime and followed him here.”

  “You’re a clever woman, Miss Jones. I’ll give you that.” Graham took a long step to one side and whipped out a seven-inch knife, a replica Japanese blade supplied by the local army and navy outlet. Its hilt was in the shape of a Chinese dragon. He pressed it to Eden’s neck. “Best you drop that little blade, Inspector, and your gun, too. I can see it there, under your coat. This knife isn’t quite legal to carry but I assure you it is quite deadly.”

  Meinwen stepped away from the inspector, her hands empty. “If you hurt her your life won’t be worth living. Why don’t you give me the knife and we’ll talk this over like sensible adults.”

  “I bet you wish I would.” Graham pressed the blade closer to Eden’s neck where it pricked the skin, a drop of blood welling up and spreading across the blade. “I bet you wish I’d give up my advantage and watch my money go sliding out of my life.”

  “Your money?”

  “Yes. It was supposed to be shared among all the members of the syndicate. My dad should have got upward of three hundred grand which would have gone to me.”

  There was a sudden clang and White crumpled to the ground. “I’m not dead yet, son.” Malcolm leaned on the shovel. The noise of the backhoe had completely covered his approach. “Now stand to one side while I pull this crate out.”

  Chapter 39

  Meinwen hadn’t seen Eden’s kitchen before and would have preferred to have been invited to see it as a friend, not forced up the private stairwell at gunpoint and bound to a Shaker style kitchen chair that was, unfortunately, far too sturdy. John Stearne’s chest, carried up between Eden and herself, had been given pride of place on the kitchen table. She pulled against her bonds. By the feel of them, they were competent but not fancy. Graham was no bondage aficionado with a mental catalogue of shibari techniques. She glanced across at Michelle, who looked as terrified as a five year old in a class full of high school kids. She hadn’t been in on the plot, then.

  She assessed their captors. Malcolm was the more dangerous of the two, even if he didn’t have White’s knife and gun. He had a hard look in his eyes that made her think it would bother him to kill all of them in pursuit of his goals. He’d killed before, obviously. At the moment he was investigating the contents of the fridge. She looked at him. “Why did you kill Joe?”

  “Hmm?” He held a block of cheese as if it was an apple, taking multiple bites and speaking through a mouthful of processed fats. “Who?”

  “The old man on the canal. You bashed his head in with a rock. Was he that much of a threat to you?”

  “Huh.” Malcolm glanced across at Graham, methodically tying up the inspector. “I didn’t. Not really. I did catch him snooping about on the towpath. It wasn’t until then that I realized it was him who’d found the key. Could have saved us a lot of trouble if we’d known. All night, we spent dredging that canal, looking for some clue to the Burbridge fortune. He was looking for more of the same when I came up to him. He was so frightened he dropped his bag of rocks then slipped on the mud and cracked his head open.”

  “But why just dump the body on the compost heap? You had all the facilities to bury him where no one would find him.”

  “Too big a risk. If he was found it’d come straight back to me. This way, it almost certainly wasn’t.”

  “Was it you who killed Eddie Burbridge too?”

  “No. That was an accident an’ all. Couldn’t hold his drink any more. We bumped into each other outside the Laverstone Arms and had a drink for old times sake. Times were, he could drink an alcoholic under the table. Not any more.”

  “He’d been teetotal since he met Shirley. Did you push him in?”

  “No. He slipped and fell, like I said.”

  “But you didn’t try to help.”

  “How could we? He was dead in an instant.”

  “You could have rung for help.”

  “Who would I have called? The coastguard?” He laughed and took another bite of the cheese. “Now I’ve answered your questions, Miss Jones, I think it’s time you answered one of mine. Where’s the key to that chest?”

  “Why would I have it?”

  “We know you do. You took a picture of it and sent it to…” He scowled and looked at Graham.

  “Winston’s computer.” Graham stood from his task of binding the inspector. “It was just chance it popped up but once I saw it I knew one of you had it, and it wasn’t Winston.”

  “How did you…”

  “Know it was on Winston’s computer? Serendipity. I’m a jobbing builder with Burbridge Construction. I was renovating the garage on Gaunt's Lane.” Graham gave a smile of triumph, revealing his crooked teeth, and began to tie up Michelle. “Sorry, love. I’d like to say it’s been fun but you really are a cold fish.”

  “I posted it to the British Museum.” Meinwen glared at Graham. “You saw me post it this afternoon.”

  “I saw you post something. No telling what, though.”

  Eden spoke up. “Why did you try to blackmail me? You tipped your hand, stopped me trusting you.”

  Malcolm picked up a tea towel to wipe the remnants of cheese from his hands. “Endgame. Had to flush out the interested parties, didn’t I? I knew you’d tell your mate, here.”

  Graham finished binding Michelle and stepped toward a painting on the wall. “That’s an interesting choice of décor.” Graham squinted at the surface. “Post abstract modernism, influenced by…” He chewed at his bottom lip. “Klee?”

  “Seurat.” Eden struggled against her bonds but the knots were tied with boy scout competency. “But it’s pre-naturalist, not post-modern.”

  “Figurative?” Graham approached to within a few inches of the surface. “Interesting technique.”

  “What all this bollocks?” Malcolm brandished a gun at the woman. “We didn’t come here to talk about bloody paintings. Cut her up a bit. Where’s the key to the chest? That’s all I want to know.” He sneered at the artwork. “Anyway, a kiddie could do better than that.”

  Graham stepped back. “It’s a body, isn’t it? A decomposing body with maggots in a gravitational mass. Clever.” He gave a brief smile to the bound woman. “Odd choice for a kitchen, though. What’s it called?”

  Eden gave a slight shrug. “You Are What You Eat.”

  “Are we finished with our chat?” Malcolm picked
up a steak knife and slashed the canvas in a long, jagged diagonal. He turned to Eden. “That’s what I think of your bloody art. Now where’s the key? You might as well tell us. If you don’t I’m just going to crack open that chest and it’ll break my heart to do so, considering its historical value.”

  “You bloody thug.” Graham growled at the other man. “You’re forgetting I went to St. Martin’s for five years. I’d still be an artist today if crime and violence didn’t pay better.”

  “I know you did, son, of course I do. Third class degree but a first class engraver, eh?” Malcolm cackled. “Best plates in the business. We’d all be rich if Burbridge hadn’t scarpered with them.”

  “Plates? You’re forgers?” Meinwen shook her head. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “We’re not unreasonable men.” Graham picked up the hourglass from the kitchen shelf and turned it over. Pink sand began dribbling into the belly of a rooster. “Just tell me where the key is. We’ll take the chest and you can go on with your lives and forget all this…unpleasantness…”

  Meinwen could never understand the use of poultry as egg timers. It was like using a cow to sell milk or a pig to represent a butcher’s. It seemed part of the collective unconscious to remind ourselves that, like Lamia, we were all capable of devouring our children. The sand streamed grain by grain to the bottom while that in the top bulb clumped, paused, fell.

  “Miss Jones?”

  Meinwen looked up. Had she missed something? “Yes?”

  “Tell me where the key to the chest is. He really will crowbar it open and I’d rather that not happen. I know you’ve been researching the history of this chest. You know its historical value.”

  “I couldn’t possibly.” Her fingers tingled, indicating the ropes were too tight. Across the room Eden’s eyes were wide, terrified.

  “You really want to see your friend suffer?” He picked up a kitchen knife, one of the small ones used to cut tomatoes. Sweat beaded on Eden’s forehead.

  “I don’t want her to suffer, no. Best you kill her quickly, really. I harbor no illusions about our fate. You’ve admitted killing several times for this box already and we know who you are.” She shrugged as best she could with her hands tied behind her. “Besides, I don’t have it.”