by D C Macey
Coffees finished, Grace left the study and headed upstairs to start sorting John Dearly’s clothes in the master bedroom, its windows faced out across the driveway, well placed so she would see the furniture delivery van when it arrived.
Helen called the group to order, and they responded without question. That she was the youngest in the room and still knew only part of the challenge they faced did not seem to matter.
Everyone felt more positive now the information engraved on the two stolen daggers had been recovered - whatever it meant. They were back level again.
Helen reiterated Sam’s suggestion that finding the solution and placing it in the public domain might be their best hope, perhaps their only hope to thwart their attackers, to bring the business to a close. Xavier had applauded the idea but cautioned over the danger. Those arrayed against them were not small-time locals. They faced a serious threat, an international threat that was focused, rich in resources and clearly very well informed.
In spite of a shared resolve to turn the tide, they faced huge challenges and did not really have any responses to offer. They did not even know their enemy, though they agreed with Xavier’s earlier suggestion that whoever it was would themselves need to be a holder of one of the daggers; it did seem the only way the killer could have come across information about the daggers and known that Scotland and Edinburgh was at the heart of the puzzle.
Sam insisted the best way to discover who they were up against was for them to track down the other dagger holders, to rule them out, one by one. And that would leave their enemy exposed. Though they would have to be careful such a hunt did not carry them straight to the killer’s door. Unfortunately, they did not know where John Dearly had hidden his dagger, which somehow seemed to be the key to finding all the other daggers and their holders.
They all recognised that the only real chance they had was to find the parish dagger before whoever they were up against did. While the previous day’s search of the church had proven fruitless, it was agreed that Elaine would return to the church and resume the search. Francis could not help at once; he had to attend a long-standing engagement with his bishop, but promised to join Elaine at the church as soon as possible.
Sam also had to leave for the moment. He had been invited to visit DCI Wallace at St Leonard’s Police Station to deliver his report on what if anything he had found in the MacPhersons’ house, and, to answer a couple of questions, which was slightly disconcerting. Sam had no intention of telling the police what they had found in the garden workshop, but nonetheless was happy his report on the contents of the house itself would be comprehensive and truthful. He promised to return as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Xavier had paused to read some messages on his phone before announcing that he would make both himself and Angelo available later that morning and would help wherever they were needed most. First, he wanted to spend a little time on his own church’s business that was being neglected in his absence.
The meeting ended on an optimistic note as the furniture delivery van arrived and Grace came downstairs to oversee installation of the new kitchen table. In just a few minutes it was in place, the house was quiet and the people all gone about their business, leaving Helen and Grace alone in the hall.
Helen was not quite sure what to do with Grace. They were friends but she did not want to drag the girl into the firing line. She needed to get Grace away from the manse, so she could get on and search it discreetly. She thought she could scribble down an urgent shopping list and wondered if Grace might go to the shops - but before Helen could suggest it, Grace broke her train of thought.
‘Helen, we need to speak.’ It was a tone that stressed urgency and as Helen tried to delay, Grace continued. ‘We really need to speak now. Whatever else you have planned today, give me ten minutes first, please.’ Grace did not wait for a response but turned and headed into the kitchen.
Helen followed her, figuring ten minutes either way would not matter and if nothing else, it would enable her to write a longer shopping list. Sight of the new kitchen table triggered a shiver right through her body. She forced herself to sit, being careful not to take the place John had normally used.
She looked at Grace who seemed a little on edge, seemed to be almost avoiding her eye. ‘Grace, what do you want to tell me? Are you in some kind of trouble?’
Grace hesitated, and then shook her head. She sat down in the place at the kitchen table she had considered hers all her life. ‘No. No, I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me, but you’re in trouble, I know that for sure,’ said Grace.
‘What do you mean, Grace?’ said Helen. Her guilt at keeping Grace in the dark was assuaged by the knowledge that it would keep her safe, but she could not allow Grace to start ruminating on half-truths and guesses. She could now see that Grace would need some explanation of events. The truth, but perhaps not complete; enough information to keep her content, but not enough information to put her at risk.
They looked at one another, neither quite ready to start.
‘Well? What’s bothering you?’ Supportively, Helen reached across and squeezed Grace’s forearm as it rested on the new table.
‘You’re looking for something,’ said Grace, a statement not a question.
‘Yes,’ said Helen, trying to think where the conversation was heading. ‘I am looking for something. Something of John’s. How do you know? You shouldn’t be worrying about it though,’ she hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s just something I need to find so I can do the job properly. If, when, I take over his post.’
Grace fixed her gaze down on her hands and nodded an acknowledgement. ‘It seems you’ve got everyone looking for it, everyone except me. Francis, my mum, Sam, even Angelo and old Xavier are getting stuck in, but you’re keeping me out.’ She looked up, fixing Helen with an almost defiant stare. ‘I grew up here. The church, this manse, they were my playground. John looked after me here. Let me help out over school holidays when my mum was at work. This place and John mean just as much to me as to anyone else, maybe more.’
Helen tried to placate her. ‘I know that Grace, I know this is your home patch. I know you loved John too.’
‘So don’t leave me out then. I want to help too. I’m on your side, Helen. And I know stuff,’ Grace was desperate to help. ‘I may not be so clever, or some tough guy or heavyweight like the others, but you know what? I care too.’
Helen tried again to deflect her. ‘It’s not that easy, Grace. I know it sounds weird, but sometimes there is stuff it’s better not to know. Safer not to know, even.’
Grace gave Helen an almost scornful look. ‘You think I don’t know? I’m not stupid. I told you I know this place, better than anyone alive, better than my mum even.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, follow me.’ Leading Helen into the study, she switched the radio on and without speaking turned and headed up the stairs. Helen hurried after her, catching up just as Grace entered the master bedroom and slid open an air vent set in the wall. Instantly, the room filled with the sound of the radio flowing with perfect clarity through the air vent from the study below. Helen realised immediately what it meant.
‘Grace, you heard all this morning’s conversation?’ said Helen.
Any sense of guilt at having eavesdropped had been swept aside by the growing sense of indignation over her exclusion and in the knowledge that she was the only one who could help solve the problem. ‘I heard everything this morning, and the previous meetings too. And you know what? You’re all wasting your time,’ said Grace, with supreme confidence.
Helen was mortified. Grace had plunged herself right into the middle of the danger zone, made herself a target to be silenced too. She would have to warn Elaine and the others at once. ‘Oh Grace, you shouldn’t have done this, you don’t understand the danger.’
‘Of course I do. I’ve listened, I’ve watched, I’ve seen,’ Grace was not making an apology for her actions. ‘I’ve shared things with John too. Remember, for years I was his Grace, his little helper. I k
now exactly what you’re all looking for, in fact, I know better than any of you. I know where it is.’ Grace ran out of words. Her defiance spent, she turned away to stand at the bedroom window, looking out over the drive, her eyes full of tears; sadness for John, frustration at the way the others had excluded her, exhilaration at getting her message out at last, and, lurking in the corners, a growing fear at what might now be coming her way.
Helen was stunned by the revelation, but she moved instinctively to Grace’s side, sliding an arm around her shoulder to support her. Grace was comforted by her friend’s presence and bent her head towards Helen as they stood for a long moment resting against one another. Eventually, Helen pulled gently on Grace’s shoulder and turned her back into the room, pressing a tissue into her hand.
‘Friends?’ said Helen.
Grace nodded again and they both smiled. Helen kissed her cheek and led her towards the stair. ‘Come on girl, I think you and I need to put the world to rights,’ said Helen.
Helen could tell that Grace was not going to be fobbed off and maybe she really did have the information they needed. If so, Grace more than anyone else had to be within the circle of friends, to receive what little protection, if any, they might be able to offer. As soon as the pair had settled back at the kitchen table Helen tried to phone Elaine. She needed to know that her daughter was becoming involved. When Grace realised who Helen was calling she had given a resigned shrug of agreement, accepting that Helen would need to make the call. Elaine did not answer her phone. It would be safe in the pocket of her jacket and that was invariably left hanging in the vestry while she worked in church. She probably could not hear it ringing. Putting the phone down, Helen turned her focus back to Grace.
‘Well, Grace, what is it that you want to share with me?’ asked Helen, feeling guilt at allowing her in still deeper, but real excitement too. Perhaps Grace really did have the answers they needed.
Grace grinned nervously at her. ‘I know you are looking for a dagger, and I know you’ll never find it. John had a great hiding place; no one would ever think of looking there. It was just sheer luck that I discovered it, and it was the only time I ever saw him even close to being angry with me. He made me promise never to tell. I never have,’ said Grace. She looked at Helen and waited for a response.
Helen nodded, considering carefully the implications of Grace’s words. A sudden thought crossed Helen’s mind and she pulled Sarah MacPherson’s reproduction of the dunes dagger from her bag. She placed it slowly on the table. ‘Does this look familiar?’ she said.
Grace gave a gasp. ‘Where did you get that from? How did you get it?’ she said, puzzled. Then, on turning the blade, she visibly relaxed. ‘Oh, it’s not the same. It’s not John’s dagger, similar, but not the same.’
‘How do you know it’s not the same?’ said Helen, surprised at Grace’s confident assertion.
Grace allowed her fingers to trace the pattern engraved on the blade’s side. ‘That’s easy, they look the same in almost every way, but this one has a pattern on it, and this single Roman number, see? John’s blade has no pattern, just a random column of Roman numbers engraved down the blade. Like this number here, but lots of them, different numbers.’
Helen’s mind was buzzing, she almost had to pinch herself; the parish dagger really existed, it was within their grasp. To be able to describe the difference, Grace must really have seen the parish dagger, must really know where it is. At last, they were going to get ahead of the game. She fixed a calm face and pressed Grace for details. ‘So, where is it then? What hiding place has been so good that nobody, including your mum, has ever discovered it?’
Grace gave a knowing smile and felt a burden sliding off her shoulders. ‘I only found it by accident, years ago. I’ll show you. It’s in the church. We can go over there now.’
Helen wondered why Elaine could not find it. She knew the church so well and yet her daughter had managed just to stumble across it. Well, they would know soon enough. ‘Come on then,’ she said, standing, ‘your mother’s over there now. Let’s go and surprise her.’
Grace stood up to follow Helen out of the manse. ‘I’m only going to show you, Helen. John made me promise to keep it a secret. He said it was a great secret that had lasted for years, and only the minister should know it. Then, of course me too, because I found it. But he knew he could trust me.’
Sensing Grace’s concern, Helen gave assurance that she need show only her. Then, as a minister, it would be up to her to decide who needed to know, who to share the secret with. She could feel that Grace was not entirely happy with this response, but they left the manse and turned out of the driveway onto the road, walked the short distance to the corner, turned right to head north along the main road to church. They reached the church’s great doors and found them closed and locked.
Helen knew immediately that things were not right. Elaine should be inside searching for the dagger. She could see the newly installed alarm system’s active light was out, so the system was disabled. This didn’t make any sense. If Elaine was here, the doors should be open; if she had gone away, she would surely have switched the alarm system back on. Helen tried her key in the lock; for some reason the door was jammed. With growing unease, they walked quickly down the side of the church to the rear access, the old wooden door set at the end of the short corridor behind the vestry. It was securely locked too and only Elaine carried that key. Helen tried Elaine’s phone again, but it rang out without answer.
Grace tensed and pressed her ear to the outside of the old wooden door. A very faint ringing could be heard from the inside, the sound becoming clearer with recognition. ‘It’s my mum’s phone, it must be in her jacket hanging in the vestry,’ said Grace. ‘She can’t have left the building. She always keeps her keys in the jacket too, with the phone.’ Her voice was breaking as worry for her mother started to take a grip. ‘She must still be inside, so where is she? Why isn’t she answering her phone?’
Grace banged on the door with her hand, but it was tight fitting and solid hardwood. It scarcely made a sound in response to her blows. ‘Mum. Mum. Come on, open up. Mum! Mum! We need in. It’s me and Helen, open up,’ her voice rose in volume and pitch as anxiety bit deeper. A couple of kicks at the solid wooden door generated no significant extra sound and Grace stepped back, scanning up the soaring wall of the church in a futile attempt to spot a way in; there was none.
As Grace continued to beat on the door, Helen phoned Sam. His phone went straight to answer phone; he must already be in the meeting with DCI Wallace. Perhaps she should just phone the police directly. Suddenly, Grace turned away from the door and raced back the way they had come while muttering what seemed like garbled nonsense. Helen ended her call and gave chase, hoping to calm Grace down.
• • •
From behind the vestry’s net curtains, unseen eyes watched them go. Satisfied, they turned to focus on activity within the church. ‘They’ve gone. Carry on, while we can.’ The voice delivered perfect English but with the slightest of French accents. The women would certainly raise the alarm, but he had been assured by Cassiter that the police response time would be about twenty-five minutes, perhaps even thirty: much longer than might normally be expected for the city.
Cassiter, ever resourceful, had organised his people to create a scattering of diversions across the city if required. They were now required: a car crash, a tenement fire, some yobs brawling, a nasty assault on two elderly ladies as they made their way to their local pensioners’ club, and a firearms incident in Leith, the city’s port. Cassiter sent a single letter text message that launched his mini crime wave. Time was tight but still on their side. Every officer on duty in the city would right now become very busy dealing with a flurry of serious emergency calls. Very soon the force would be putting out requests for reinforcements from neighbouring areas. A securely locked church door and the alarm not sounding would hardly be a top priority for the emergency call handlers right now.
With an encouraging wave of his hand, Parsol started his two guards back to work. Elaine’s arms and legs were immobilised, tied tight to an office chair that had been placed in the middle of the vestry. The two men resumed their steady assault. After each blow to her face or head, a gasp of pain slipped through her teeth and out of the vestry into the nave where it seemed to fill the whole church. Then as silence returned, the next blow was delivered, triggering a further wave of anguished sound and a fresh spattering of blood onto the old and threadbare rug that covered the middle of the vestry floor.
Cassiter and Parsol stood in silence, watching the men work. The guards were enthusiastic in their task, but Cassiter was a little disappointed in their traditional approach, confident that for all their blunt force his creative brand of interrogation would have brought answers more quickly. A sustained beating like this was certain to break the woman’s jaw quite soon and one thing he knew was that people with broken jaws did not say very much. But Parsol paid the bill so he could choose the tune.
Like the other men, Parsol was dressed in a disposable forensic suit. He felt slightly uncomfortable in it; but was nonetheless enjoying the spectacle. However, not to the exclusion of his main goal. And as the blows steadily turned Elaine’s face to a swollen bloody mess without producing answers, he was becoming frustrated. He looked beyond the guards and their violence, focusing once again on the church’s safe, now empty, its door hanging open. The fool McPhee had actually carried the key to the church safe on her personal key ring.
He crossed the room to the table where the safe’s contents had been placed for inspection. His first scan had been fruitless, now he decided to go over things again. To the sounds of Elaine’s breaking body and her cries of pain, he gathered the contents back into a pile and methodically reviewed each item. Papers, chequebooks, various statements, some small trinket boxes and the carry case for the church’s old set of communion silver: nothing. He looked at the communion silver disdainfully; these Scottish churches were so austere, so plain. Then, on an impulse, he grabbed the carry case and emptied out the silver. Plate, cup and cross tumbled onto the table and clinked together as they landed.