The Carlswick Treasure (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 2)

by SL Beaumont

  “Mann and Masters,” she said quietly. “Hey, look at this,” she called to him.

  Michael walked over to her side. She pointed out the inscriptions on the doors above the two crypts. “Coincidence?”

  “Unlikely,” Michael said, frowning. “What are the dates on these?” He walked closer and read the plaques on the front walls. “Old, 1750 to 1850.”

  “Which means that they would have been here in the 1940s. I am increasingly wondering if the poem is a clue added to the map by David and Edward. Didn’t David say something in his memoir about using it for a treasure hunt?” Stephanie asked.

  “Well, if it’s a clue, it’s a pretty obscure one. What did the rest of the verse say?” Michael asked.

  “A Man must stand by his Master when once he has pledged his word. Brandy for the Parson, laces for a lady, letters for a spy,” Stephanie quoted.

  “‘Brandy for the Parson’ could be a reference to the church?” Michael suggested.

  Stephanie left the path and edged her way through the long grass at the end of the row of crypts and walked behind them.

  “Mike, I have to agree, these are a little disturbing. What do you think is inside? Old stone coffins, dusty candelabras and lots of cobwebs?” Stephanie shivered as a chill ran down her spine and she realised that the sun was rapidly disappearing from the sky. She checked her watch. It was three forty-five pm. It got dark so quickly in the northern hemisphere at this time of year.

  “You’ve watched too many trashy horror movies,” Michael said. “We should probably be getting back.”

  “Okay,” she replied, walking quickly back towards him, cutting between the Masters and Mann crypts. Her boot caught on something in the long grass and she tumbled forward, landing heavily on her hands and knees. “Ouch.”

  Mike rushed forward and helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

  Stephanie brushed herself off. “Yeah. I tripped on some…” she broke off as her eyes caught sight of what had tripped her up. A black iron ring was sticking out of the long grass. She bent to touch it, tracing it down to the ground with her fingers. At its base she felt something solid. Crouching down she pushed the grass away with her gloved hands. “Look.” A wooden door lay flat on the ground between the two crypts with a rose crudely carved onto the surface. The grass had grown up around it, obscuring it almost completely.

  “What is it? A trap door?” Michael’s eyes were wide. “Here. Let me see. Oh, it’s padlocked. We need a crowbar or something to break the lock,” Michael suggested.

  They stood up facing one another, their eyes shining. Stephanie’s mobile chimed, causing them both to jump. She gave a nervous laugh and pulled it from her pocket. The text was from her father.

  “Hey. I’ve gotta go. Let’s come back tomorrow and bring Matt. We could probably use his muscles,” she suggested.

  “And his nerves of steel,” Michael agreed. “I am a little spooked, I have to admit.”

  Stephanie looked around them at the long shadows cast by the crypts and the church and the darkness of the trees beyond. “Yeah, me too—you were right, this place feels sinister, especially this time of the day. Let’s get outta here.”

  Chapter 15

  Boxing Day

  The snow promised for Christmas Day arrived overnight, and by lunchtime it was still falling silently, settling on the already frozen ground. The grounds around the church were undisturbed—there were no worshippers on Boxing Day. But everything still looked a little menacing for some reason, despite the snow settling on the trees and tops of the gravestones. The sky was a strange colour—a silvery grey, unnatural almost, and the air seemed thick and cloying.

  “Y’know the smugglers used to make up stories about ghosts and spirits haunting the castle ruins on the hill and the lighthouses around here, as a way of keeping people away, because these were the places where they stored their contraband,” Stephanie informed her companions.

  “Really?” Matt wasn’t convinced.

  “According to a brochure that I picked up at the Carlswick Museum, the lighthouse on the point is apparently haunted by the ghost of a young woman lost at sea when the ship she was in smashed onto the rocks in a storm. She blamed the lighthouse keeper, who was drunk and had fallen asleep, for her untimely death and made life difficult for every lighthouse keeper from then on. People still report hearing voices and seeing unexplained lights at the lighthouse, especially during a stormy night.”

  “Which means that it’s the wind whipping through the holes in the stones and the moon shining intermittently,” Michael said.

  “Exactly,” Stephanie said. “Although, did you guys ever read the Stephen King novel Pet Sematary? Graveyards always make me think of that, with the weird little boy coming back to haunt them all.”

  “Stop with the ghost stories or I’m outta here,” Matt said.

  They reached the back of the church and quickly made their way to the Masters and Mann family crypts. Between the crypts the long grass was heavily flattened, except, strangely around the iron ring and wooden door. It was almost as if the grass had risen to hide its secret again.

  “Wow,” Matt said, crouching down to take a closer look. “I wasn’t entirely sure that I believed you.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Stephanie replied. “I just go around making this stuff up, y’know.” She stood glaring at him, hands on her hips.

  “Settle down, little cuz.” Matt grinned up at her. “Now let’s see if we can get this thing open. It might just be an old drain cover.”

  Matt inserted the bolt cutters that he had brought from the farm into the top loop of the padlock and squeezed the handles together. A sharp snap and the padlock fell open. Matt ran his hands around the outline of the wooden door looking for a hinge. Rather than stand above the door and pull, he stood to one side and pulled the ring back towards him. There was a low creak and groan as the hinges reluctantly moved, probably for the first time in years. Slowly the cover began to open on one side.

  Stephanie and Michael exchanged excited glances.

  Matt was straining to hold the cover. “Here, stop gawking and give me a hand,” he groaned.

  Stephanie and Michael ran to his side and between them they pulled the cover until it was vertical with the ground. Matt found a large branch and used it to prop the door open. Stephanie peered underneath. A damp smell rose from the black hole. Stephanie’s heart was pounding as she switched on her torch and shone it into the hole. There was a drop of almost two metres to the ground below. She moved the flashlight beam around.

  “What can you see?” Matt asked. “Are there any coffins?”

  “No. It looks like a storage room of some sort,” Stephanie said. “There appear to be wooden crates or something.”

  “It’s probably part of these tombs,” Matt said.

  “I dunno. I think these crypts are all above ground. I mean look at the foundations,” Michael said, pointing to the thick stone base around the two crypts either side of them. “Maybe the rock was too hard at this point to dig graves, so they built these above ground instead?”

  “It could be where the smugglers stored their loot?” Stephanie suggested. “We’re going to have to take a look.”

  Matt shook his head. “I’m not going down there.”

  “It’s okay, I will,” Michael said. “Can you keep the cover open?” Matt nodded.

  Stephanie shone the flashlight into the hole as Michael sat over the edge with his feet dangling in. “Be careful,” she said to him. He nodded and, holding the strap of his small flashlight in his teeth, he used his arms as support and eased himself over the edge and disappeared from view. A soft thud reached their ears a second later as he landed below. A low whistle sounded. Stephanie got down on her hands and knees and peered in after him. “What can you see?”

  “You are not going to believe this. It’s like a little cave. You gotta come down, Steph,” Michael’s muffled voice floated up out of the ground to them.

  “How will I ge
t back up?” she called.

  “That’s not a problem. Come on.”

  Glancing at Matt, she too swung her legs over the side. “Catch my torch,” she called to Michael and dropped it down to him. Her heart was racing and her legs shaking as she flashed back to another dark, enclosed space.

  “I can do this,” she said in a whisper.

  She took a deep breath and after one last look at Matt she slid down.

  The darkness momentarily surrounded her as she landed feet first on the hard dirt floor. She fought the panic that threatened to engulf her as a musty smell assaulted her senses. Michael steadied her and handed her the torch.

  “It’s okay, we can get out easily,” he said.

  Stephanie swung the beam of her flashlight around the little underground room. The walls looked to have been carved out of natural rock. To one side several old empty wooden crates were stacked, forming a haphazard set of steps back up to ground level. Her eyes followed the beam of Michael’s flashlight. On the far side of the room was an arched opening in the rock.

  Stephanie gasped. “Is that a tunnel? Hey, you don’t think that road under the church on the map was actually a tunnel, do ya?” she said.

  Michael shrugged. “We don’t even know that this is related to the treasure map, so don’t get carried away,” he cautioned, as Matt’s voice came down to them.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” Stephanie called, stepping back into his line of vision. “Looks like there’s a tunnel. We’re going to follow it.”

  “Be careful, Steph.” Matt sounded concerned. “Don’t be too long.”

  “Okay. Five minutes tops,” she called and shone her flashlight forward. Just as they started walking, her eyes caught something. She crouched down.

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  “Look at these footprints. They look like they’ve been made by trainers. I was kinda thinking that no one would have been down here for years and years. Boot prints maybe, but not trainers,” she said, frowning up at Michael, feeling disappointed.

  “We obviously aren’t the first to stumble across this,” he agreed. “Maybe the sexton uses it to store things. After all, that padlock wasn’t really all that old.”

  Together they gingerly walked towards the narrow opening. It was lower than the room itself and Michael had to duck his head to avoid hitting the low ceiling. The tunnel was only a metre wide, narrower in places but, like the cave room, it looked to be natural rather than man-made. Stephanie took a deep breath, fighting the feeling of claustrophobia that was beginning to overwhelm her, and trained her eyes on Michael’s back.

  After about a hundred metres the tunnel widened into another cave. The heady scent of fermentation surrounded them. Stephanie wrinkled her nose to stop herself from sneezing. Michael shone his torch around the room. There were empty wooden crates and old wine barrels stacked up against one wall. The roof of this cave was lower than the first and it too had a trap door cut into it. A rickety old wooden ladder rested against the wall.

  “Man, this is freaking amazing,” Michael said.

  Just before Stephanie could reply, they heard a dull thud behind them, followed by another and the sound of men’s voices.

  Michael grabbed her arm. “Quick, let’s hide,” he whispered, shutting his torch off. Stephanie put her hand over her torch. They squeezed into the gap between the rock wall and the wooden barrels and crouched down out of sight. Michael leaned over and switched Stephanie’s torch off and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Maybe it’s just kids, y’know,” said a deep throaty voice, with the wheeze of a dedicated smoker.

  “Yeah and maybe it’s not. The boss wanted us to keep an eye on things and the trap door being propped open in the cemetery ain’t right,” a second voice answered.

  “Let’s just have a quick look. I hate being down here beneath all those graves,” the first man said.

  Stephanie and Michael could see the beams of flashlights bouncing off the walls of the cave. The owners of the two voices were steadily moving through the tunnel and getting closer.

  Michael and Stephanie froze as a beam of light swept across their hiding place.

  “There’s nothing here besides some old crates,” the first man said, giving the stack of crates nearest him a kick. The stack gave a shudder, but remained standing.

  Stephanie gave Michael’s hand another squeeze. He too was shaking.

  The two men retraced their steps. Stephanie strained to listen. She heard creaks from the crate staircase at the far end of the tunnel and just as the cover closed with a crash one of the men shouted, “Hey you, kid. Come back here.”

  “I guess that was Matt they were chasing,” Michael said, wide eyed, switching his torch back on and unfolding his body from their cramped hiding place.

  “Matt’s way too fast to be caught,” Stephanie said. “But that was really strange. I wonder who the boss is and what he wants an eye kept on?” she mused as she stretched her back to get the kinks out.

  “More importantly, right now we are trapped, because they closed the cover back into the cemetery. If we try to lift it they might be waiting for us,” Michael said as he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. “Damn, no signal down here.”

  “Well, should we give this one a try,” Stephanie said, shining her torch up to the roof.

  They moved the rickety ladder into position and Stephanie gingerly climbed up three rungs and pushed hard on the trap door with both hands above her head. The ladder wobbled. “Shit, Michael, hold onto it, I don’t want to fall,” she said. He steadied the ladder and she climbed one rung higher and pushed again, but no amount of effort would budge the door.

  As she was about to climb down her phone rang. They both jumped. “Hey. I have a signal up here.”

  Stephanie fished the phone from her jacket pocket and went to answer it. The caller ID displayed James’s name. She hesitated.

  “Who is it?” Michael asked.

  “James.”

  “Just answer the bloody thing.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Steph. I’m at The Café with your very out of breath and anxious cousin. Do you want to tell me what’s going on? ’Cos he won’t.”

  “Put him on.”

  “Doesn’t work that way.”

  “James,” she said, annoyed. “Now is not the time to play games, just tell Matt to come back and get us.”

  “Us?” he asked.

  Stephanie clicked end, terminating the call. Michael raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “Matt’s coming back to get us, I think,” she said. She hoped James would pass her message on. “Hold the ladder while I climb down.”

  They quickly explored the rest of the little cave. The trap door gave a creak as it opened again and Matt called out to them. They hurried back along the tunnel to the first cave, just as a pair of jeans-clad legs appeared over the side of the opening and a second later James landed in front of them.

  “What the hell is this?” he said, looking around. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” Stephanie said. They stood glaring at one another.

  “Come on,” Matt urged. “They could come back at any time.”

  “He’s right, Steph. Let’s get out of here.” Michael started climbing up the crate staircase.

  Stephanie held her hand out, indicating that James should go next.

  “Oh no, after you,” he insisted.

  Stephanie climbed up quickly, desperately hoping that James wasn’t watching her climb—it wasn’t her best angle. She took Matt’s outstretched hand at the top and he pulled her back to ground level. They closed the door after James climbed up the makeshift stairs and together they ran back to their cars.

  “Where did you go? How did they get in without seeing you?” Stephanie asked Matt.

  He looked a little sheepish. “I had to take a leak and just popped into the trees. I had my eye on the trap door the whole time and they just appeared out of
nowhere and went straight down. I waited to see what happened and when they came back up they saw me and chased me. I thought that would give you time to get out.”

  James’s hand caught the car door as Stephanie was about to pull it shut. She glared at him.

  “Not so fast,” he said. “What’s going on? What was that all about?”

  Stephanie glanced at Michael and Matt, her question unspoken. They both shrugged.

  “We just stumbled across an underground storage room and I think the sexton didn’t like us being nosy,” she said.

  James frowned. “Right,” he said in disbelief.

  Stephanie gave the door a firm tug, wrenching it out of his hand. She stamped her foot on the accelerator and drove quickly away.

  Chapter 16

  Afternoon, Tuesday 27th December

  Matt was sprawled out on the rug in front of the open fire in Ellie’s sitting room, working his way through a bowl of nuts and satsumas, a large pile of shells and skins slowly but surely forming beside him. Michael sat in an armchair by the window, tapping away on his iPad while Stephanie was pacing.

  “So what do we think we know?” she asked. “Masters and Mann has to refer to the caves and tunnel below the graveyard.” The other two nodded.

  “What we should do is research Masters and Mann and see what we can find out about them,” Michael said.

  “Good idea. I’ll look into that,” Stephanie said. “‘Where once he has pledged his word’, what does that mean?” she mused.

  Michael tapped quickly on his screen. “Pledge could be an oath. Maybe an oath sworn on a bible—another reference to the church?” he suggested.

  Stephanie pulled a face. “Could be, let’s park it as that. What about ‘brandy for the parson’?”

  Matt said, “I’ve been thinking about that one. You said that there were old crates and barrels in the tunnel, did they have anything in them? Brandy used to be stored in barrels, like wine, but smaller.”

  “That’s a really good idea. We are gonna have to go back and check,” Stephanie said.

  “Whoa, hold up. Not sure about that,” Matt said. “Look what almost happened yesterday.”