Stick in the Mud: A riveting murder mystery

by Leo McNeir

  “Where did you stay?”

  “That wasn’t a problem. I bought a small tent and got a bus to a camp-site on the edge of town. I had enough cash to keep myself for a while, using the shop on the site.”

  “Why didn’t you come back to me?” Judith said. “I would’ve taken care of you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight all along. I was worried about Gerald … what he might do. He was in a dreadful rage with me.”

  “All on account of the tracing paper?” Marnie could not keep the scepticism out of her voice.

  Dick swallowed. “There was more to it than that. Gerald wanted to claim more credit for finding the treasure than was really justified. It’s ironic, because at first he didn’t even believe I could locate it. He said without his boat and his collaboration I’d never have done it. When I told him his demands were out of the question, that’s what really started the quarrel. He was absolutely furious.”

  “So what’s brought you back now?” Donovan spoke for the first time.

  Dick shrugged. “I had to come back sooner or later.”

  “And you’re not worried about Gerald any more?” Marnie said.

  “I had to return to take up my life again. I’ve got my strength back and I’m on my guard … ready to take my chances. I’m hoping Gerald will have cooled off by now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Donovan said.

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I wish I shared your optimism, Donovan.”

  “I don’t know if it’s optimism, but I’m certain he’ll have cooled off by now … literally.”

  Everyone looked at Donovan, their expressions curious. He returned their stares calmly.

  “I don’t follow,” Dick said. “What do you mean, literally?”

  “Just that. You’ve no need to worry about Gerald Parfitt. He can’t harm you any more.”

  “Donovan,” Marnie said, “you’re talking in riddles.”

  “You’re right, sorry. Let me put it more plainly. Gerald isn’t a threat to you, Dick, or anyone. I identified his body at the morgue yesterday.”

  For a few seconds they sat as if captured in freeze frame. Then, with a sob that made Anne start in surprise, Dick thrust his head into his hands. At that moment the room darkened, and they heard the first raindrops lashing the windows. A summer storm had broken.

  Judith put an arm round Dick’s shoulders and pulled him gently to her. Anne was next to react, standing to pour more tea from the pot, while Marnie got up to switch on the table lamps.

  “What should we do now?” Judith said softly.

  Donovan replied. “Dick should go to the police.”

  Judith looked startled. “Why?”

  Dick raised his head. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I’m not saying you have,” Donovan said. “The point is, you’ve been reported as missing. There’s been a fatality. You’re the nearest thing to a witness, at least the last person to see Dr Parfitt alive.”

  Dick absorbed this and nodded slowly. “You’re right.” He looked at Judith. “Who reported me as missing?”

  “I suppose I did,” Marnie said. “We were all concerned about you. You were gone so long and you left so abruptly, without a word … even to Judith.”

  Dick breathed out audibly. “I’m so sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I’ll go to the police tomorrow. Right now I could use a shower and a good night’s sleep. I feel shattered.”

  “Nervous exhaustion,” Judith said. “It’s hardly surprising.”

  Dick looked at Donovan. “What do you think the police will ask me?”

  “They’ll want to know what happened on Arabella. They’ll want to check out the camp-site. Do you have receipts for the things you bought? Can you tell them who picked you up … the names of the people, their boat?”

  Dick looked thoughtful. “I think I’ve probably got receipts for the tent, maybe the clothes, but the people who picked me up … their boat … I’m not sure about that. I was in a daze … disoriented.”

  “Don’t worry,” Donovan said. “If the police want to speak to them they’ll put out an announcement and hope they come forward.”

  “But what if they don’t?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Then they don’t. There’s nothing they can do about it.”

  “The main thing is, you’re safe and well,” Judith said. “It’s awful about Dr Parfitt, but accidents do happen at sea, especially in rough weather.”

  “I know that, but all the same, I feel –”

  “Don’t,” Marnie said firmly. “First Zoë, now Dr Parfitt … you can’t take responsibility for every bad thing that happens.”

  Dick said nothing, staring bleakly ahead as if reliving the past. Judith took his arm and made to leave. As they were about to stand, Donovan spoke.

  “Dick, did you need to use the inflatable dinghy on Arabella for any reason?”

  Dick looked puzzled. “The dinghy? I don’t think so … don’t think we ever used it. Why d’you ask?”

  “No reason. It just occurred to me … I don’t remember seeing it when I visited the boat the day before yesterday.”

  “Sorry, can’t help you. I’m pretty sure it was on board when we went out … at least I think it was. Could it be significant?”

  “Probably not.”

  They all stood as Judith led Dick to the front door.

  “Perhaps it’s best if I don’t mention our quarrel when I speak to the police,” Dick said. “What d’you think?”

  “Not really relevant, is it?” Marnie looked at the others for a reaction. “I’d just keep to the bare essentials. You were out sailing, a storm blew up, you had an accident.”

  “That makes sense. Thanks, Marnie.”

  More rain struck the windows.

  “It’s pouring down,” Marnie said. “Let me lend you an umbrella.” She grinned at Dick. “You’ve had enough soakings.”

  “Yeah, right. That’d be good. But how will I return it to you?”

  “I’ll be in touch. You must come to dinner … both of you. I’ll call you soon.”

  Judith kissed Marnie on the cheek. “Thank you so much, for everything.”

  Marnie kissed them both. “It’s good to have you back.”

  “What about King John’s treasure?” Donovan asked, as they shook hands. “Did you manage to keep your tracings?”

  “Luckily, I did.” Dick smiled ruefully. “That’s the one good thing to come out of this tragedy.”

  “And the master map and the other papers?”

  “I’ll collect them when I go back to the house.”

  “Oh?” Donovan frowned. “You mean Dr Parfitt didn’t give them to you?”

  “He couldn’t. Don’t you remember? He just took the overlay … the tracing diagram. That’s why we quarrelled.”

  “I’m confused here.” Donovan looked from Anne to Marnie. “I understood he’d gone back and fetched that folder and the maps.”

  “What gave you that idea?”

  Donovan shrugged. “They weren’t there when I visited the house on Tuesday. I assumed he’d retrieved them earlier … or you had.”

  Dick stared at Donovan and shook his head. “No. That can’t be right.”

  “There’s an easy way to find out,” Judith said. “ We can call in at the house on our way back.”

  “It’s teeming down,” Marnie pointed out, “and a long walk in the rain … in the opposite direction.”

  “You could phone Jonathan,” Donovan said. “Is he still staying in London? He might be there.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Judith said. She took out her mobile. “I’ve got his number. Shall I ring?”

  “Yes.” Dick spoke without hesitation.

  Judith pecked out the number and handed the mobile to Dick. ’You speak to him. You’ll know what to say.”

  They were in luck. Jonathan was in the house. Dick told him where to look in the living room/study. He described the ye
llow folder containing documents and maps in the top right-hand drawer of the desk. After an extensive search, Jonathan confirmed that the relevant folder was definitely absent. They hung up.

  Dick had turned pale. “He must’ve had them all along. Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Everyone looked blank, except Donovan.

  “At the risk of sounding like a cliché,” Donovan began, “I would’ve thought that was rather obvious.”

  Dick’s head snapped round. “Why?”

  “I would’ve thought he’d want you to agree to his recognition in the venture before handing over the documents that would guarantee your success.”

  Dick stood transfixed. “Yes,” he breathed. “Of course …”

  “But you can work it out, can’t you?” Judith struggled to sound reassuring. “You know where to search.”

  Dick looked horrified. He closed his eyes, inwardly imaging the endless coastline, the vast expanse of wetlands, the wide grey empty sea under the enormous sky. “You don’t understand. Those maps, those papers … many of them were irreplaceable. They represented years of work, years of my life. Without them …”

  “You think Parfitt carried them to his death?” Donovan said.

  Dick’s eyes widened. “Arabella! They’re probably on the boat. Yes. They must be.”

  Donovan shook his head. “I checked her over thoroughly. There was nothing on board.”

  “Of course not,” Dick said hastily. “They’ll be in his study or at the university. He wouldn’t want to risk them getting lost or damaged. That’s why he didn’t produce them when we sailed.”

  “That’s it,” Judith said. “That must be it.”

  Marnie squeezed his arm. “Let’s hope so.” She looked into Dick’s eyes. “You still look off-colour. Are you sure you’re well enough to go out? You could relax here for a while, till you feel better.”

  “No, it’s all right.” Dick attempted a smile, but it fell flat. “I suppose I’m still upset about Gerald. I hate to think of him drowning like that. And it could so easily have been the same for me.”

  “Dr Parfitt didn’t drown.”

  Once again, all eyes swivelled towards Donovan.

  “What d’you mean?” Marnie looked confused.

  “Which part didn’t you understand?”

  “Any of it. Can you explain?”

  “I asked the mortuary technician what was the cause of death. He showed me a very nasty wound to the back of the head. Dr Parfitt was probably unconscious by the time he went into the water. He died of a fractured skull.”

  “Oh God …” Dick looked distraught. “Poor Gerald. He must’ve hit his head as he fell in. Perhaps … I will sit down for a minute or two, Marnie.”

  They resumed their seats. Anne fetched Dick a glass of brandy, and he downed it in one gulp.

  Marnie looked at Donovan. “So that’s what they believe happened? He hit his head on the side of the boat as he fell?”

  “The technician checked the autopsy report. It described the wound as being made by a small object, not like the deck or gunwale of a yacht.”

  “What sort of object? Could they be more specific?”

  “He said it was like a hammer head or a spanner or … a lock key.”

  “But you don’t have a lock key on a sailing boat, do you?” Anne said.

  Judith made a sharp intake of breath.

  “What is it?” Marnie asked.

  Judith’s cheeks flushed. “It’s nothing … just that … you know I had to get a new lock key the other day. I mislaid ours, so I replaced it.”

  “It was that day we saw you at Dick’s house, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. I expect it’ll turn up some time, but I couldn’t risk not having one on board. Sorry. That’s got nothing to do with what we were talking about. It was just a horrible coincidence.”

  The rain lashed the windows again as they sat in silence. Dick was staring into his empty glass.

  33

  The Lost Treasure

  Friday, 3 August, 1997

  On Friday morning when Marnie woke, as her eyes focused for the first time that day she saw Ralph’s dark head on the pillow beside her and heard his rhythmic breathing. Round the edge of the curtains the light was not as bright as usual, and her first thought was that summer had ended. She slipped out from under the duvet, put on a dressing gown and padded into the living room. From the large windows looking out to the river six floors below, she saw that the day was overcast and dull. The rain had stopped but a thick blanket of grey was spread over the great city, and the river looked like shiny pewter. It felt like one of those quiet London Sunday mornings that she so disliked, and she found herself longing to be back home in the country.

  After Dick and Judith had left the previous evening, she had phoned Ralph and suggested he come down to join them at the flat.. They had eaten with Anne and Donovan at a restaurant in Saint Katharine Docks on the Tower side of the river and brought him up to date on the sad story of Dick and Parfitt and Arabella.

  When they had finished their meal, Donovan surprised them by saying he needed to get back to deal with various matters at his house and also had things to do on the boat. He explained that he had brought some food back with him from Germany and invited them to join him for what he called Kaffee und Kuchen the following afternoon to return their hospitality. They arranged to meet on XO2 at three. Neither Marnie nor Ralph had ever been on board, and both were curious to inspect the interior of the stealth narrowboat that had featured so much in their lives in the past few years.

  Marnie went back to the bedroom and laid out her clothes for the day before taking a shower. Ralph was still sleeping. Nothing ever seemed to disturb his slumbers, whereas she had spent a restless night dreaming of tsunami waves crashing down on the decks of helpless sailing boats, sweeping their hapless crews overboard. The drowning sailors had been surrounded in the water by swirling maps and papers that gradually disintegrated in the turbulence.

  By the time Marnie made her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she could hear the faint hissing of another shower. Anne was up and about. Soon the two of them were chatting together as coffee brewed and toast browned under the grill. Ralph soon made his appearance, and they laid their plans for the day. Ralph had brought his laptop with him and would work in the flat while Marnie and Anne would spend the morning at the Horselydown site.

  Marnie had arranged to meet Professor de Groot for a final discussion. He was about to leave for three weeks lecturing on archaeology on a luxury cruise liner, visiting the major sites of the eastern Mediterranean. He had made the old joke that it was hard, but someone had to do it, and Marnie had obligingly laughed politely, as required. Her intimation that she had news of Dick Blackwood’s return had sparked his interest. She wondered how long his good humour would last once he knew the whole situation.

  *

  Marnie was impressed with the progress of construction works, and Anne was astonished to see how much of the building had been extended since their last visit just four days earlier. The archaeological dig area was now entirely enclosed within the structure, and many of the deep trenches carrying services around the site had been filled in as all attention was now focused on raising the steel framework skywards.

  They found Bernard de Groot in the staff hut talking with Terry Jackson, the clerk of works. Jackson used their arrival as a cue to leave them together and get back to his office. De Groot was keen to show Marnie how the enclosing of the excavation was progressing, but she asked instead that they first concentrate on Dick Blackwood’s return. De Groot agreed and sat silently listening while Marnie narrated the whole story from the time Dick had left the site believing Zoë Tipton to be dead, to his return on the previous day. The professor was deeply distressed to learn of the death of Gerald Parfitt. They had met at numerous conferences over the years, and de Groot held his colleague in high regard.

  When Marnie reached the end of her narrative de Groot announced that he too ha
d some news, though nothing as shattering as the events that Marnie had described. It was still highly confidential, but the finding of the Roman ships had been recognised by English Heritage as being of national importance. He assured Marnie that this would in no way delay the construction of the hotel. In fact, he believed it would add to the prestige of the project and all concerned with it.

  “Zoë must be mightily pleased about that,” Marnie observed.

  “Pleased is not the word.” De Groot tapped the side of his nose in conspiratorial fashion. “Strictly off the record, I can tell you that contract negotiations are in hand as we speak for Zoë to present a television programme inspired by the Roman ships. In fact, I have it from an impeccable source …” He raised both eyebrows.

  “Professor Barney Guthrie, by any chance?” Marnie suggested.

  “Ah, so you’re in the loop, Marnie.”

  “Just an inspired guess.”

  “A good one,” de Groot confirmed. “It seems likely that our young lady could well be fronting a whole TV series telling the story of how London grew from earliest times to become the major city it is today. What d’you think of that, eh?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Quite. She’s confidently being tipped to be the new face of archaeology in Britain.”

  “Won’t that put a lot of noses out of joint?”

  “Naturally. But if someone like Zoë can raise the profile of archaeology, that has to be good for us all.”

  Marnie and Anne could both think of one archaeologist who might not share that opinion.

  *

  “That’s a sting in the tail!” Ralph exclaimed when Marnie finished recounting de Groot’s latest news. “I can’t see Dick Blackwood queuing up for Zoë Tipton’s autograph when she’s become a TV star.”