by Leo McNeir
“I don’t think the police are treating it as anything else.”
*
When Anne returned to the flat with her news plus a carton of milk, she found Donovan chatting with Marnie and Ralph at the dining table. The skyscape visible behind them through the window was dramatic, a thin veil of high clouds through which the sun was poking long fingers down into the river.
Donovan accepted Marnie’s invitation to join them for breakfast, and they positioned themselves round the table so that each of them could enjoy the view. When Anne was pouring orange juice, she could contain herself no longer.
“Well?” She looked pointedly at Donovan. “Is our man of mystery now ready to reveal all?”
“Yes,” Donovan said simply. “I think so.”
“Mystery?” said Ralph. “Have I missed something?”
“We all have,” said Anne, “apart from Donovan, that is.”
Ralph turned to Donovan. “Reveal away,” he said. “But first, can someone tell me what actually is the mystery.”
Marnie said, “It’s this business about Dick apparently discovering something important. Neither he nor Dr Fennimore was willing or able to talk about it.”
“Yes, yes, I was aware of that,” Ralph said. “But that’s no great surprise. It’s normal for the academic world. Information has to be kept confidential until such time as the facts have been verified by independent peer group assessment or a report has been published … all quite routine stuff.”
“Just a question of being patient for a while,” said Marnie.
“Exactly,” said Ralph. “I thought that was the case here.”
“Donovan thought otherwise,” said Anne.
“Any particular reason why?” Ralph asked.
“This is the world of archaeology,” Donovan said quietly. “It’s all about digging up the past, uncovering ancient relics. It’s also about fierce academic rivalry.”
“You think that’s what we have here?” said Marnie.
“I’m sure it’s what we have here. Think about it. Zoë believes these Roman vessels could point to the original port of London. That’s quite a significant discovery … major league. But Dick obviously thinks he’s found something that trumps her ace.”
“And you believe you know what that might be?” said Ralph.
Donovan nodded. “I tried to work it out. Several possibilities immediately came to mind, all rather obvious.”
“Staring us in the face,” Anne said with a hint of a smile.
“Yes,” said Donovan. “I thought so.”
“Go on, then.”
“Well …” Donovan took a sip of coffee. “I dismissed things like the discovery of King Arthur’s tomb or his round table or Avalon or the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. They’re just myths. I ruled out a Viking ship burial or a Saxon king’s tomb like the Sutton Hoo treasure. They’d be important but not so as to rival Zoë’s ships.”
“And they’d be outside Dick’s field of interest, presumably,” Ralph added.
“Quite,” Donovan agreed. “This initially left two important unsolved mysteries as far as I could tell. It was a while before I realised there was a third.”
Ralph chuckled. “Would Boudicca’s tomb be one of them?”
“Yes.”
“And the remains of the lost Roman Ninth Legion?”
For once, Donovan looked wrong-footed. “Yes. I did say they were staring us in the face.”
“But surely they’d both fall into Zoë’s field of study,” Anne said. “Or were you thinking that would rub salt into the wound … Dick stealing a find she might regard as rightly hers?”
“I did wonder about that at first,” Donovan said. “But I reckoned that that wouldn’t account for Dick’s level of excitement. Then I asked myself what would be the greatest unsolved mystery of the Middle Ages, Dick’s period.”
The phone began ringing. Marnie reluctantly got up to answer it.
“Can you hang on a minute,” she said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
Donovan took advantage of the hiatus to eat his toast, while Anne followed his example and Ralph sat lost in thought. Marnie took the call in the kitchen area and a minute later called out across the peninsular unit.
“Donovan, it’s for you.” As Donovan rose from the table, Marnie put her hand over the receiver and said quietly, “It’s Dick Blackwood.”
Donovan crossed to the sitting area and picked up the cordless phone by the sofa, returning slowly to the others as he spoke.
“Hang on a sec, Dick.” He held the phone down at his side. “Dick wants to meet. I think he’s intrigued by my enquiring into his travels yesterday.”
“Would he like to come here and join us?” Marnie said, making no attempt to disguise her curiosity.
Donovan put the invitation to Dick. He said he would come at once.
“Are you going to tell us what this unsolved mystery is?” Anne said.
“I’m almost a hundred per cent convinced I know what it is,” Donovan said, “but perhaps we might just wait a few more minutes so that Dick can confirm or deny it?”
Anne and Marnie sighed in unison.
Ralph said, “You can at least tell us where your enquiry about Dick’s travel arrangements fits into the scheme of things.”
“And have Anne accuse me of trying to be a man of mystery again?” he smiled.
“A small price to pay,” said Ralph.
Donovan nodded. “For the moment, let me just say I think the whole thing became clear when I was given a telephone number from the Wisbech exchange in Cambridgeshire.”
Three blank faces looked at him.
“Now I’d better go downstairs,” Donovan said. “I told Dick I’d wait outside to show him where to come.”
*
Anne and Ralph cleared the breakfast table while Marnie brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Anne looked up from loading the dishwasher.
“He’s a strange boy, isn’t he?”
“A rum cove,” Ralph said with a grin.
Anne shut the dishwasher door. “Sometimes I think he just enjoys playing a part.”
“Oh, I think there’s more to it than that,” said Ralph.
“Now you’re starting to sound like Donovan,” Marnie said.
Anne looked in the store cupboard. “Anyone seen the evaporated milk?”
“Tried the fridge?”
“Thanks, Marnie.” Anne took out the tin and opened it, pouring some of the contents into a small jug. “I got it for Donovan. He likes it in coffee.” By way of explanation she added, “It’s a German thing.”
Marnie lit a nightlight in the base of the coffee stand and placed the cafetière on it. “What were you saying, Ralph, about there being more to it?”
“Well … to be fair to Donovan, I don’t think he’s deliberately keeping us dangling for the fun of it, not just for the fun of it.”
“But that’s always his way,” said Anne.
“Yes, but in this instance, I think he’s using guesswork to a greater extent than usual. Remember, we’re faced with something apparently major in a field that isn’t his own.”
“You think he wants to hear more from Dick before committing himself?” said Marnie.
“I do. And I get the impression that that throw-away remark about the telephone number in Cambridgeshire was perhaps his way of telling us how precarious his thinking is.”
“Have you worked out what’s the third great unsolved mystery, Ralph?” Marnie asked. “You were on target with Boudicca and the Ninth Legion. I was impressed.”
Ralph reflected. “That telephone reference has got me foxed. It might help if we had another clue.”
“How about the Crown Jewels?” Anne said.
“Where do they fit in?” Marnie asked.
“Dunno, but you should’ve seen Dick and Dr Fennimore’s reaction when Donovan mentioned them.”
“The Crown Jewels,” Ralph repeated thoughtfully. “Could he have meant that metaphorically, perh
aps?
Marnie considered this. “In what way metaphorically? And the Cambridge connection … what’s that all about?”
*
Donovan saw Dick coming along the cobbled walkway between the wharf buildings and waved to him. Dick quickened his pace and the two young men shook hands.
“Is this it, where you’re staying?” Dick looked surprised and impressed.
“Marnie has a flat here,” Donovan explained. He turned towards the entrance lobby. “Before we go up, is there any news from the site?”
“Industrial accident,” said Dick. “That seems to be the verdict.”
“Is that what you think it was?”
Dick looked wary. “What d’you mean? What else could it have been?”
“You can never tell with the police,” Donovan said casually, “… what slant they put on things.”
“No,” Dick relaxed. “I see what you mean.”
Donovan keyed in numbers on the pad and held the security card against the touch screen. A buzzer sounded and Donovan pushed the lobby door open.
The lift was waiting for them, and as its doors closed, Dick said, “I need to talk to you some time about my project … the other one, the one you seem to have been enquiring about.”
“Sure.”
“You know I can’t really go into any detail about it.”
“That’s okay.” Donovan looked down at the control panel. It showed they were passing the third floor. “We know what it involves,” he said simply.
Floor four, Floor five. The lift came to a gentle stop, and the doors slid silently open. Donovan gestured to Dick.
“After you. It’s the door opposite.”
Dick remained where he was, his expression suspicious, puzzled, concerned.
“What d’you mean, you know what my project involves?”
Donovan stepped out into the hall and indicated that Dick should do the same. He followed, not taking his eyes from Donovan’s face.
Donovan was inserting the key card into the lock. “Let’s talk about it inside, shall we?”
Dick grabbed him by the elbow. “No, wait a minute. Who is we? Who knows about it? How did you find out?”
“I think you mean, who are we?” said Donovan.
“Whatever. Tell me what you know,” Dick looked worried. “… and how you know.”
“Of course.” Donovan’s tone was reassuring. “But perhaps not out here in a place where we might be interrupted at any moment?”
Behind them, as if underlining the point, the lift doors closed and it descended with a faint hum. Donovan pushed the front door and held it open for Dick to enter. The smell of coffee created a welcoming atmosphere in the flat, and three smiling faces completed the picture. But their expressions faltered when they saw Dick’s worried countenance.
“Come in, Dick,” said Marnie, stepping forward to take his hand. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure,” he said hesitantly.
Marnie led him towards the spacious sitting area. “Come and have some coffee. Make yourself at home.”
He sank into a deep-cushioned sofa while Anne poured coffee and set it down beside him.
“Is there a problem?” Ralph said, taking a seat opposite. “Has there been a development concerning the accident?”
Dick shook his head. “No. That is the official decision, I believe … an accident. The announcement will be made some time soon, but I’ve heard unofficially.”
“That’s good. At least we now know for sure.”
“Have you eaten?” Marnie asked. “Perhaps you’d like some toast?”
“No … I mean yes, thanks. I have eaten.” He took a sip. “This is great coffee. Look, I need to know …” He looked at Donovan. “What were you saying in the lift?”
“You mean about knowing what your other project involves?” said Donovan.
Dick frowned. “Only Miles Fennimore knows … knew about it. So how do you all know?”
“We don’t, actually,” said Ralph. “But Donovan thinks he has a good idea.”
“Go on, then,” Dick said to Donovan. “Tell me what your good idea is.”
“You gave me a number of clues,” Donovan said. “First, your absence from here for some days in a row. That struck me as odd, given how excited you were over your find in the excavation. No-one knew that better than me, filming you.”
“It’s true, and I still am excited about it. But I could have been away for any number of reasons.”
“Dick, you came back even more excited than when you left, and Dr Fennimore told us something important had happened … a secret.”
“We could see you were bubbling over,” Anne added.
Donovan continued. “So I asked myself where exactly you’d been.”
“No-one knew that,” Dick said firmly, “no-one at all.”
“Aren’t you forgetting the departmental office?”
“What about them? They have no idea what I’ve been working on.”
“Maybe not, but they handle your travel and expense claims. They know where you’ve been and where you stayed.”
“So? That wouldn’t give them any clues.”
“But you did, Dick. Or rather you let your guard down. You and Dr Fennimore jumped like startled rabbits when I made my quip about the Crown Jewels.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you just come out with it?”
“Okay.” Donovan collected his thoughts. “You seem to have made a major discovery, something obviously monumental, somewhere in East Anglia up near King’s Lynn. At first I thought it might have had something to do with Queen Boudicca. Her tribe, the Iceni, lived in that part of the country.”
“That was my first guess, too,” said Ralph.
“But,” Donovan went on, “I suspected it would have to be a medieval find to get you so wound up. I’ve noticed that you archaeologists seem to think yours is the only period that matters.”
“It’s the only one that matters to me,” said Dick.
“Quite. Then came the Crown Jewels thing. I think I struck lucky there. I only made the joke because we were just opposite the Tower of London, where the modern Crown Jewels are on display. It just slipped out.”
“You didn’t do it deliberately?” Marnie said.
“Not at all. But Dick’s and Dr Fennimore’s reaction got me thinking, and then suddenly it all became clear.” Donovan counted on his fingers. “East Anglia, major mystery, the Middle Ages, the Crown Jewels …”
“King John’s lost treasure,” Ralph said quietly.
Donovan smiled. “The last great unsolved mystery of the medieval period, and you’ve solved it, Dick. Am I right?”
Dick was unsettled. Looking down, he seemed to be wrestling internally with a dilemma. He reached for his cup, and they noticed his hand was trembling.
*
The restaurant was busy with the usual Friday lunchtime crowd. Philip Everett had booked a table that morning and had invited Marnie and Ralph, Anne and Donovan. On learning that Dick Blackwood was with them he was happy to extend the invitation to include him, too, but Dick declined. He had a meeting arranged with Professor de Groot.
Philip had spent the entire morning in back-to-back meetings with the contractors and consultants, the health and safety inspectors and the police. He looked exhausted when they met in the entrance to the restaurant. Marnie could well understand why he was so drained. As principal architect in charge of the project, he might easily find himself being held responsible, at least in part, for the fatal accident.
They took their places at a table with a view of Tower Bridge and Saint Katharine Docks across the river. On any other occasion it would be a cause for delight, but none of them felt in a festive mood that day.
“How did it go?” Marnie asked as soon as they were seated.
“It went,” Philip sighed. He attempted a smile. “An industrial accident. No blame. The contractor had informed me he was clearing that part of the site for remedial wor
ks. I’d agreed on safety grounds. It was put down to bad luck that Dr Fennimore went below with Dick during a brief lull in the works.”
“That’s a relief,” said Marnie.
Philip accepted a menu from the waiter. “Yeah, but poor Miles Fennimore is still dead.”
“But you could hardly be held responsible, surely,” said Ralph.
“Don’t you believe it.” Philip looked grim. “We take dozens of decisions every week, and any one of them could have dire consequences if things went wrong. It’s something they don’t teach you when you sign on at college to study architecture at eighteen.”
“It’s true,” said Marnie. “Architects carry a huge responsibility. Ever since the Summerland disaster of 1973 –”
Philip waved a hand. “D’you mind if we change the subject?”
Marnie nodded. “Yes, of course, Philip. Sorry.”
They studied the menus, made their choices, and Philip ordered the wine. A waiter fussed discreetly over cutlery and glasses, brought a basket of mixed breads and two bottles of mineral water which he began pouring. Gradually the atmosphere at the table became more relaxed. The waiter went away and returned with a bottle of white wine. He invited Philip to taste it and, when approved, placed it in an ice bucket on a stand beside the table.
Eventually Philip said, “Do you know what all this carry-on’s about … this business with Dick Blackwood?”
The question was addressed to Marnie, but it was Donovan who replied.
“We worked out what it was,” he said.
“Donovan worked out what it was,” Marnie said.
“Worked out?” said Philip. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“No,” said Marnie. “He was sworn to secrecy. No-one was supposed to know what it entailed.”
Philip looked at Donovan. “How did you work it out?”
Donovan outlined his method, during which time the first course arrived. Conversation ceased as they began eating, and the waiter served wine. When he withdrew, Philip looked over at Donovan.
“That’s very interesting,” he said. “Sherlock Holmes would be proud of you. But you’ve missed out the main point. What had Dick actually discovered?”
Donovan glanced at Ralph.
“This is the difficult part,” Ralph said. “It’s a question of academic confidentiality, you see.”