by SL Beaumont
The doorbell jingled at that moment and a middle aged woman burst in, wrapped in a long black overcoat, pulling black leather gloves from her hands. She had a grey cloche style hat on her head and her glasses hung on a chain around her neck. Michael and Stephanie exchanged glances and bent down to look in a low cabinet.
“Hilary—anything from Alex?” the woman asked.
Hilary cocked her head to one side, her eyes wide, drawing the woman’s attention to Michael and Stephanie.
“You,” she spat, looking at Stephanie. “What are you doing here?”
“Dr Pierce! I am, er… Christmas shopping?” Stephanie suggested.
Dr Pierce narrowed her eyes at Stephanie. “You need to keep your nose out of things that do not concern you.”
“Excuse me?” Stephanie said, taken aback.
“Just offering some free advice. It’s strange to find you snooping here—what did you think you would find, Miss Cooper?” she replied.
“How?” Stephanie began, wondering how she would know her name. Ignoring Dr Pierce, she turned to Hilary. “Do you know how to get hold of Alex?” she asked. “I know a number of people who would just love to talk to him.”
Hilary’s eyes widened and she stammered. “No, ah, he, ah sometimes leaves messages on…”
“That’s enough,” Dr Pierce barked, her dark eyes boring into Stephanie’s. She took several steps across the showroom so that she was directly in front of Stephanie. She leaned forward and whispered in Stephanie’s ear. “Keep away or you’ll be sorry.” Her breath was warm on Stephanie’s cheek and she smelt of stale cigarette smoke. Stephanie recoiled involuntarily.
“I think it’s time we left,” Michael mumbled and took Stephanie’s arm, pulling her towards the door. Stephanie allowed herself to be led. As the door closed behind them, she glanced back. Dr Pierce was standing staring at them, a look of hatred distorting her features.
“Frightful old cow,” Michael said and stopped abruptly as he registered the black Audi idling at the curb, its driver’s face obscured by a lowered sun visor. A tall, well-built man dressed in a suit was standing beside the car watching them. His hair was cropped short and he wore dark sunglasses. His expression didn’t change, but Stephanie could feel his eyes following them.
They hurried back along Piccadilly towards the underground station. Stephanie allowed herself a single look back over her shoulder and saw Dr Pierce talking to the man, gesticulating wildly in their direction.
“We need to let someone know about this,” Stephanie said.
“Who?”
“Do you remember Detective Inspector Marks? He’s that detective who was after Alex last summer.”
Once inside the entrance to the station, Stephanie pulled her mobile from her pocket and put a call through to DI Marks.
“Stephanie Cooper. Everything okay?” he asked in his thick east London accent.
“You said you that I should call you if I found out anything further about Alex Knox,” she replied.
“Yes, absolutely. What have you got?” he said.
Stephanie briefly explained visiting Knox Antiques and the altercation with Dr Pierce.
“You’ve never mentioned a Dr Pierce before,” he said, after she had finished.
“She didn’t seem relevant. I only talked to her once at the National Gallery and I had no idea that she knew Alex then,” Stephanie replied. “It might be nothing. She might just be a grumpy old cow, but she seemed to know Alex on a first name basis and it appeared that she had dropped into the shop to collect a message from him.”
“We’ll look into it. You said this Hilary at the shop was in contact with Alex?”
“I think so, yeah,” she answered.
“What were you doing there, anyway? Anything else I need to know?”
“Nah, just curious to see it, I guess,” she replied.
“Mmm… Okay. Let me know if you think of anything else.” He ended the call, sounding unconvinced with her answer.
Chapter 13
Evening, Friday 23rd December
Anna dropped by after dinner. She came straight from the set of her movie with her face still fully made up and her auburn hair elaborately styled. Max did a double take as he opened the door.
“I know—before you say anything, Max—I’ve overdone the lippy, haven’t I?” Anna joked.
Max laughed, leading her into the lounge, where Stephanie was sprawled on the sofa watching TV. “What are you filming?”
“It’s a futuristic sci-fi vampire flick,” she replied, pulling her scarf from around her neck to reveal two angry-looking fang marks. “Care of the special effects department—I got bitten today.”
“Sounds like dangerous work,” Max replied.
Marie stood from her armchair and embraced Anna. “Tea, Max?” she asked, taking his arm and leading him to the kitchen, leaving the girls with some privacy to talk.
Anna hugged Stephanie. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Like someone has scraped out my insides with an ice cream scoop,” Stephanie said, sitting down on the sofa again.
Anna sat beside her and, kicking off her shoes, curled her legs up beneath her.
“I still don’t quite understand what James was doing?” she said.
“I think he was showing his true muso colours,” Stephanie replied.
“I’m not so sure. He’s still denying having ever laid eyes on the girl before. Andy said that he was acting slightly strange after the gig and they returned to the hotel together, alone,” Anna said.
“That makes no sense. That girl was certainly looking very comfortable when I arrived,” Stephanie replied, tears welling in her eyes. She brushed them away.
“Well, no one has seen her since, if that’s any consolation,” Anna replied. “But I should tell you that James is livid that he found you in the arms of that guy from Oxford.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Enough about my disastrous love life, tell me what’s been happening on set. Is Simon Walton really as hot in real life as he is on screen?” she asked, referring to the Hollywood actor who had the lead role in the film.
“Actually, he’s a bit of a dick,” Anna said, laughing.
* * *
Christmas Eve
“Y’know, it’s a shame that we didn’t get a chance to check out Alex’s study for the Knox half of that map,” Michael said, as he completed his turn on the computer game he was playing with Toby. The two of them sat side by side on the sofa in Stephanie’s bedroom at her grandmother’s house. Stephanie sat on a chair at her desk, gazing out the window. The sun was trying to break through the cloud and she could see all the way down the valley into Carlswick. The half map was lying on the desk in front of her.
“The police impounded all his stuff, after he disappeared back in August, so it wouldn’t be there,” Stephanie replied.
“They returned it all a couple of weeks ago and it’s all just sitting in boxes in his study,” Michael answered. “Ah, gotcha,” he grinned at Toby.
“Another game? Please?” Toby pleaded. Michael nodded and handed the iPad to his little friend.
“And you know that how?” Stephanie asked.
“Mum bumped into Grace, the Knoxes’ housekeeper, a few days ago.”
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah, well I’m not going over there. You’re on your own for this one. Besides, if it’s really important then I’d bet he’s got it with him.”
“Coward,” Michael muttered.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Alex is looking for a treasure map for a reason and I have a hunch it has something to do with this one. I think we’d be better to try to solve this half of the map. It might just give us a clue as to what he’s up to and where he is. I have a feeling that he is not that far away. Anyway, I’ve been thinking,” she began.
“Careful,” teased Michael.
Stephanie pulled a face at him. “I think this square with a cross on top represents a church. And this is a road leading from it wi
th an arrow which points onto the other half of the map. I don’t know what these other smaller squares are around the church—houses maybe. And I’ve been thinking about the poem. I think it’s Kipling, he wrote about smugglers, and I also think it’s been added to this map later. Look, the handwriting is different to all the other words on the page and the ink is nowhere near as faded.”
“Andy would know if it’s Kipling,” Michael suggested. “You know what he’s like with English poets.”
“So would Google.”
“Ha. Got you this time,” Toby exclaimed.
“What? While I was distracted. How devious,” Michael said as he grinned, leaning over and tickling Toby, who was giggling with delight. “Rematch?”
“It’ll have to be later, Michael. Toby needs his bath before dinner,” Marie replied from the doorway.
“Aww, but,” Toby began.
“No buts, young man, come along.”
“We’ll play later, bud. ’Way you go,” Michael encouraged.
Toby skipped off with his mother as Stephanie muttered, “Now that’s strange.”
“What’s that?” Michael asked.
“It is Kipling, but it’s a mishmash of two of his poems. A Smuggler’s Song and Song of the Red War-Boat,” she replied.
Michael read over her shoulder and looked at the map. “Y’know, I think maybe you are right.”
“About which bit?”
“About the poem being added later. It’s a definite clue. And what are those squares around the church?”
They looked at one another. “Gravestones,” they said in unison.
“But where is the castle? There is nothing else here to suggest this is Carlswick. It could be any village along this coast. We really need the other piece of the map,” Michael said in frustration.
“Well, what do we know?” Stephanie asked. “This is the sea, so it’s near the coast. This here is a lighthouse, but those are dotted all along this coast. The areas of trees here and here,” she said pointing them out on the map, “are probably long gone, so we can ignore them. This looks like a road leading to what we think is a church. Let’s assume for just a moment that this is a crude map of Carlswick. What other buildings would have been on this road back around 1800?”
“The Smuggler’s Inn and definitely the castle,” Michael suggested as his phone beeped announcing an incoming message.
Stephanie thought for a moment and looked at the map and twisted it around so that it was upside down. “In that case, the Smuggler’s and the castle would both be in this direction—on the other piece of the map”.
“You are such a girl, turning it around to get the right direction,” Michael teased.
Stephanie stuck her tongue out at him. She grabbed a blank sheet of paper and joined it to the torn edge of the map. With a pencil she continued the coastline, until it came to a point where the river now ran along through of the bottom of the village. She continued the road on past the church to join up with the river. She drew a box for the Smuggler’s Inn and a tower for the castle. “There. What other landmarks from that time are we missing?”
“Well, I think the harbour ran right up into the village in those days. It has silted up over the past two to three hundred years, so that there is just the river remaining in the village itself.”
Michael changed Stephanie’s drawing to reflect this.
“We’re only guessing. We really need the other half of this. If Alex found it and doesn’t have it with him, I wonder where he would have hidden it? If it was in that library at Knox Manor, it could take years to find,” Stephanie mused.
Michael’s phone beeped again.
“You’re very popular all of a sudden,” Stephanie commented.
Michael blushed. Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “Anything you’d like to share?” she asked. “Is Mary home for the holidays?”
Michael’s blush intensified. “She is, but it’s not her.”
“Oh, another one of your women?” Stephanie deadpanned.
Michael quickly pulled on his jacket. “Yeah, you know me—babe magnet. I need to pop home and check something. Matt’s coming to take us to the Smuggler’s shortly, but I’ll be back before then,” he said walking to the door.
“I’m not going to the Smuggler’s,” Stephanie said, shaking her head. “It’s Christmas Eve, and James and his mates are bound to be there.”
“I think you’ll find that you are,” he replied, grinning.
* * *
“Toby was really concerned that Santa wouldn’t know that he was in England and not New Zealand for Christmas,” Stephanie told Matt as they followed both sets of parents into the Smuggler’s Inn.
Matt laughed. “He is such a cute wee guy.”
“Yeah. I think Grandma has her work cut out babysitting tonight. You should see the pile of books he had amassed beside her chair. He already has her around his little finger,” Stephanie replied.
Across the room, Stephanie saw James with Andy, Jack and a group of their mates. Her family chose a table in the window on the opposite side of the room. James looked like he was making an effort to appear as though he were enjoying himself, laughing and chatting. But she did notice that he glanced her way when he thought she wasn’t looking. He looked a little dark, that slightly dangerous undertone that had attracted her to him in the first place, and she had the sudden urge to go over and pretend that the incident in the hotel had never happened. She wished she could sit beside him and debate and argue as they always had, entwine her fingers with his and gaze into his gorgeous eyes. But when she closed her eyes all she could see was James lying there with that girl. She shook her head and decided that it would be churlish to ignore them all, however. Just because she and James had fallen out, it didn’t mean that she had to lose all of her friends. Gathering her courage, she wandered over to their table. She saw Max and Marie exchange a concerned glance and Matt stood up to follow her.
“It’s okay,” she told him, pushing him gently back in his chair.
Andy saw her first and jumped up. “Hey, Steph, Merry Christmas,” he said, giving her a warm hug.
She smiled at him. “Merry Christmas, Andy.”
Jack gave her a mock salute by way of greeting. She allowed herself a glance at James, who had sat back in his chair and was studying her.
“James,” she said.
“Stephanie,” he replied, not moving. “Slumming it with the less intellectual? I don’t see any academics in tow?” He feigned looking behind her for someone.
“James,” Andy warned in a low voice.
“No half-naked groupies, either,” Stephanie countered.
James winced. “I knew that I’d forgotten someone.”
“You are unbelievable,” she said, and turned and started walking back to her table.
“I know, right?” James called after her. She paused, a sharp retort forming on her lips, but continued back across the room to where her family were seated.
“Okay?” Max asked.
She nodded.
“He’s such an arrogant bastard. Wish you’d let me wipe that smirk off his face,” Matt muttered.
Stephanie smiled. Turning to her mother she asked, “So what has Santa bought for Toby?”
Chapter 14
Christmas Day
“There’s something creepy about graveyards.” Michael shivered.
“Oh, I don’t normally mind them. Especially old ones like this. All those lives. All those stories. I mean, look at this plot.” Stephanie bent forward to read the inscription on the gravestone. “Blackwell 1851 to 1895. They had six children, all died before they turned two, except one. How tragic.”
“Your family must have a plot here,” Michael said. “The Wakefields were major landowners around Carlswick, back in the day.”
“Yeah, I dunno. I guess. We could try to find it,” Stephanie suggested.
They wandered amongst the gravestones, their feet crunching on the frosty ground. The church was a landmark bui
lding in Carlswick. It was perched on the side of the hill in the centre of the main street leading down to the village green. Its austere grey bricks shimmered in the late afternoon light. The graveyard was spread out on the hillside around the church and was bordered by a small wood.
Christmas morning had been a flurry of activity with gifts and boxes and paper, intermingled with Toby’s squeals of delight. Santa had even left a stocking for Stephanie filled with trinkets such as earrings, charms, nail varnish, pens and chocolate.
Stephanie had continued her quiet observation of her parents; Max patiently building an elaborate Lego star-ship with Toby, and her Mum’s obvious delight with the book on French cuisine that Max had given her.
After an enormous Christmas lunch with the extended family, followed by a ton of dishes, she needed a break from all things familial, so she had been relieved when Michael sent her a text message suggesting a drive. Of course their conversation had veered onto the map, so it was no surprise when Michael drove them to the Carlswick church and graveyard.
“Hey, come and look at these,” Michael called. She followed him around the back of the church where amongst the gravestones stood a row of stone crypts. “Now you have to agree, they are spooky.”
Stephanie looked up at the little grey stone buildings. One had a stone angel perched on its roof with one wing broken. Another had a rusty gate leading through what once would have been a little garden, but was now overgrown with weeds and tall grass. Some had been vandalised; one had the drawing of a skull spray painted onto its door. Stephanie shuddered. She walked along the pathway in front of the crypts reading the inscriptions above the door on each; Eldridge, Partridge, Knox, Masters, Mann, and Silverman. She paused and walked back, something niggling at her subconscious. There was something familiar here, the names, they meant something.
That was it.
“A Man must stand by his Master. When once he has pledged his word,” she murmured.
“What?” Michael looked over at her.