Blood Ties

by Jane A. Adams

  She rummaged in the bag for her phone and then listened to the beep of the keystrokes as she found Alec’s number. She was used to this phone now and knew what keys got her where. Alec had bought her a voice activated smartphone but she couldn’t get along with it at all.

  No reply. Voicemail cut in and she left a message. ‘Alec, is everything OK? Get back to me when you get this.’ Frowning, she set the phone on the table.

  Kevin returned with tea. ‘Problem?’

  ‘He’s not answering. I left a message.’

  ‘Maybe he’s busy, maybe he’s driving.’

  ‘He’s got a hands-free. He’d at least answer.’

  ‘Busy, then.’

  Naomi shook her head. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  ‘Try him again in a minute or two. You want me to drive you out to Eddy’s place?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll try him again. It’s possible he’s gone somewhere else and we’d miss him. It must be getting dark?’

  ‘Um, yeah, pretty much, I think. Try him again.’

  He watched as Naomi picked her way through menus and again received no response.

  ‘Isn’t that hard? Why don’t you have one of those you can talk to?’

  ‘I’ve got one. For some reason it doesn’t understand me. I use voice activated input on the computer, but I’ve found it easier to just memorize how to do things on this phone. Where on earth has Alec got to? Why isn’t he picking up?’

  ‘I sometimes ignore my phone,’ Kevin said tentatively.

  ‘Most people do, but not Alec. It’s like a habit you get into in the police: you take messages and you answer the phone. It gets to be a habit.’ An annoying habit at times, but why wasn’t he doing that now?

  ‘Look, give him fifteen more minutes and then we’ll go out there. Oh, I wonder if Eddy’s phone is still connected? You know, it’s just possible he can’t get a signal.’

  Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? They’d noticed in their travels round the county, when they were still playing at being tourists, that Alec’s phone tended to lose service more often than hers did.

  ‘I’ll try phoning Eddy’s place. If he’s there he’ll probably pick up.’

  Naomi waited, listening hard as Kevin made the call. ‘It’s ringing,’ he said. They waited. Nothing happened. ‘Maybe he’s already left. Give it a few minutes. He might be on his way.’

  Naomi nodded, seeing the sense in that but not liking the nag at the back of her brain that told her something was definitely wrong.

  Alec roused; he was hearing a phone ring. Stiff and cold and with a head that threatened to explode, he lifted himself gingerly from the cold tiles. A cautious exploration of the back of his head revealed the main source of pain: a lump the size of half an egg. When he looked at his hand it was black and he realized the sticky substance must be blood.

  It was almost dark, faint light filtered in through the half glazed front door. He was lying pretty much where Eddy had been found, a sobering thought. What had happened? Muzzy headed and in considerable pain, he couldn’t quite put it together. The floor was threatening to turn into the ceiling and Alec collapsed back on to the bottom step, listening for any sound that might announce his assailant’s return. He’d suffered concussion before and was in no doubt that the next hours would be interesting ones. Already the nausea was almost overwhelming and he felt chilled to the bone from lying for however long it had been on the hard, cold floor. He blessed the fact that he was still wearing his winter coat. Hypothermia could well have been adding to his problems by now.

  How long had he been out?

  He tried to focus on his watch but the hands kept moving and finally he gave up, groped instead for his phone and wondered if he should call an ambulance or try and drive back to the farm. He attempted to get up. Nausea and dizziness intervened again and he sat back down, trying to control both. He must have passed out again because when he woke the phone was ringing once more and the hall was even darker. This time he made it to standing position, hauling himself up and clinging to the newel post. The ringing stopped.

  Naomi would be worried. He had to try and call her.

  Alec staggered over to the wall attempting to locate the light switch. He managed to find the one by the office door and the sudden brightness blinded him. Don’t be sick, he told himself, not at a crime scene. That was a rookie’s job, not that of an experienced policeman. Experienced! He laughed, then stopped. It hurt too much. What had he been doing when he was hit? That’s right, about to go upstairs because he’d heard something, except, whoever it was, they hadn’t been upstairs.

  What had he been doing before that? He really did need to call Naomi.

  He had found a box and that red file, that was it. Floor became ceiling again and he sank to what he hoped was ground, leaning against the door frame. The sound of a car engine caused panic. What if they, whoever they were, had come back? And then he heard Kevin’s voice and a crash against the door and the frame splintering as he burst through.

  ‘He’s here. I think he’s hurt.’

  Too right, Alec thought.

  ‘Alec, can you hear me?’

  ‘Under the sofa. A folder and a box, under the sofa.’

  ‘What?’

  Oh God, he thinks I’m losing it, Alec thought. ‘See if they’re still there. Please.’

  Kevin left his side and his space was replaced by a large black dog with a curious nose and a tongue that licked his eyes. Napoleon’s attempt at sympathy.

  Naomi knelt beside him. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Someone hit me on the head.’ He felt her fingers exploring the wound, protested that it hurt.

  ‘Is this what you wanted?’ Kevin asked.

  Peering at him through a haze, his eyes still refusing to focus properly, Alec saw Kevin holding a red folder and a little box, the padlock still in place. Despite the hurt, he smiled. ‘Found what the key fits,’ he said and then it all went black again.

  From Roads to Ruin by E Thame

  The next solid evidence we have about Catherine Kirkwood is from the winter of that terrible year. She is in Dunfermline, visiting with a relative and preparing for her marriage. She writes that she is happy, or: ‘As happy as a woman can be when all that she ever knew is now lost. I consider myself grateful for the small mercys God has shown to me and that Elmer is with me. So I will be Catherine Grove, though it has been decided that, since there is no male heir to carry the name, my husband will take my family name for his own in honour of my dead kinsmen. What is left of the Kirkwood wealth is no more than we had the fortune to carry away and I do not hope to return at this time for that greter treasure which we were forced to hide.’

  So, as far as we can ascertain, the Kirkwood hoard is still there for the finding.

  TWENTY

  Late afternoon, the day after Alec had been attacked, he was resting in their bedroom at the B&B, having been released from the hospital only an hour or so before. Kevin had called the police – Blezzard, ironically – and the ambulance, and Alec had been taken to the local A&E but he didn’t recall any of it.

  Vaguely he remembered Blezzard talking to him in hospital and the fact that the DI was not amused. Then he’d slept, and he had eventually persuaded the doctors to let him leave that following afternoon. They had been of the opinion that this was a bad idea, and the way he felt now he was inclined to agree.

  The bedroom door opened. ‘You have a visitor,’ Naomi said. She came in and sat down on the edge of the bed. Adam Hart followed, carrying a large box with a selection of folders balancing on top.

  ‘I’ve just heard what happened,’ he said. ‘If I’d known I’d have delayed coming over. Sure you’re all right?’

  He was, Alec realized, making a great effort not to ‘boom’, but he still sounded incredibly loud. Alec tried to smile and made an effort to sit up. Adam dumped the boxes and tried to help, plumping pillows and fussing. Alec, eventually arranged, smiled his thanks. ‘What have you got
there?’

  ‘Oh, boxes. Eddy’s things. I’ve brought over the Lorenz papers – I thought you’d like a look – and a copy of Eddy’s manuscript.’

  ‘You had the Lorenz papers?’

  ‘Well, yes. Eddy left them with me so I could fact check. Didn’t I say?’

  Alec laughed, then regretted it profoundly. ‘No. That was one of the things I’d gone looking for.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I could have saved you a bash on the head. I’ve brought you something else as well, but I’m not sure . . . Look, when Eddy lost Karen in the car crash it so happened I’d got friends in various places that I thought could be useful. Well, to cut a long story down, I got a copy of the accident report. Eddy read it, of course, but somehow or other it ended up filed at my place along with a lot of other stuff.’

  ‘Somehow or other?’

  ‘Well, Eddy stored a lot of his papers in my spare room. Much of it is his research into what happened to Karen.’

  ‘Research?’

  ‘Investigation, I suppose you’d call it. Eddy called everything research and he was as meticulous about this as he was about everything else. I just thought, you know, seeing as you’re interested.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alec said. ‘Did he find anything?’

  ‘No, I don’t believe so, not then, though recently he asked me to dig it out again, which is how I knew where to lay hands on it now. I had the feeling he’d found something new, but . . .’

  ‘He didn’t say what?’

  ‘No.’ Adam sounded uncomfortable. ‘To be honest, we argued a little about this. Oh, not enough to spoil the friendship, but we did reach the point of not discussing it any more. Not Karen’s death. That fell off the list, if you like. I thought he should be leaving things alone after all this time. What good could it do reopening old wounds? But Eddy seemed decided that something more could be done now.’

  ‘You don’t know what?’

  ‘Not really. He wanted to look at something in the file about a man arrested for drink driving on the same road. They checked out his car and there was nothing to connect him to the scene, but Eddy seemed to have found something else about him. I really don’t know more than that, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You didn’t ask him?’ Naomi asked. ‘I’d have thought that would have been the natural thing.’

  ‘Oh, no doubt you’re right.’ Adam sounded miserable. ‘Look, Eddy was the most delightful companion, but the thing with Eddy was he’d get these sudden enthusiasms, sudden interests. They’d absorb him, utterly, and if you didn’t share them, then . . . I won’t say he shut you out, but he just didn’t share that part of his life with you any more. When Karen died I did everything I could to help him come to terms with it and reading the accident report for himself really did seem to help. When he started this all over again I didn’t feel . . . It didn’t feel appropriate and I told him so. After that he ceased to mention it, and when I asked him he just shrugged and moved the conversation on. Eddy was an odd man in some ways. A good friend, but not someone you ever knew completely, if you see what I mean. I don’t think anyone ever knew the complete Eddy Thame, not after Martha died.’

  After Adam left, Alec tried to read through the accident report but his eyes still wouldn’t focus and his head began to pound once more. Naomi firmly took it away from him. ‘You are meant to be resting.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ He closed his eyes, mind racing, but not in any particularly conclusive direction. ‘How did you get on with Kevin? What was in the notebooks?’

  ‘Well, as we already knew, there was a list of finds, including the cedar tree seal ring and various others. Some of which Kevin knew about. Eddy had recorded compass positions for each find and Kevin reckons he would have plotted them on a map, apparently that’s what he usually did, but he doesn’t remember seeing one. He assumed Eddy just had random finds out of that field, not the quantity he actually turned up. I think he was a little put out; he’d shared everything with Eddy.’

  ‘Picking and choosing on the information front seems to have been typical behaviour for Eddy though. Any clue as to why he’d been so secretive?’

  ‘No, not really. Kevin reckons Eddy must have been putting everything together first and then planning on surprising him with it. I mean, after all, he gave the notebooks and diary to Kevin, didn’t he?’

  ‘Gave them secretly. Which brings us back to the notion that he was worried about something, that he wanted to hide them or at least keep them safe. What was in the box?’

  ‘Ah, the box. Actually, we didn’t get to look. I just shoved that and the folder into my bag, and Kevin and I followed the ambulance. He’s getting a friend to take him out so he can bring our car back later on, when he gets back from work.’

  ‘Ah, of course, it’s a Monday for the rest of the world. A workday. I’m losing track. Get the box. The key’s in—’

  ‘My purse. Don’t worry. Right.’ She rummaged, came back with the folder and the tin box. ‘You want to do the honours? Incidentally, I think you’re going to have to talk to Blezzard about all this. You were rambling about boxes of buried treasure when he came to the hospital last night.’

  ‘Oh, God, really?’ He took the box from her and looked more closely. About the size and shape of a pack of after dinner mints, it was made of green tin, textured with a mock leather paint job. The little latch was closed with a shiny new padlock but had probably simply fastened with a hasp in its earlier existence. He fitted the key into the padlock, momentarily afraid that it wouldn’t fit, and then opened the lid.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  ‘What? What’s in there? You’re not telling me he really found treasure, are you?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d go that far, but . . .’ He placed an object in Naomi’s outstretched hand. ‘That, I’m guessing, is the seal ring. You can feel the intaglio. Definitely a tree of some kind. More of the coins that Kevin found. Seven, eight of them, all the same. And a locket; that’s gold, too, by the look of it.’ He placed that also in Naomi’s palm.

  ‘Heavy,’ she said. She ran her fingers over the surface. ‘Engraved?’

  ‘That Cedar tree again on one side. Some sort of starry design on the other.’

  ‘Oh, yes. There was a stone set at the centre, I think. It feels like a gallery of some kind.’

  ‘I think you could be right. Let me see if I can get it open. Did he mention anything like this in the notebooks?’

  ‘Not a locket, no. We found references to more James coins, so we assumed he must have found more of these medal things. But we didn’t read through everything. Does it open?’

  ‘It’s tight, it got a bit warped, but yes, it opens. Empty.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘So we can assume all this stuff belonged to the Kirkwoods and was part of the hoard the daughter and the servant were sent to hide. What happened to them, I wonder.’

  ‘Probably in Eddy’s book,’ Naomi said. ‘It looks as though there was some truth to the stories after all. Alec, you don’t think he was killed for this, do you?’

  ‘People have been murdered for less, but no, it’s hard to figure that was the reason. Unless, of course, someone suspected there was more and that Eddy had found it?’

  Later, after the application of large quantities of painkillers and tea, Alec read about Catherine Kirkwood:

  The night Catherine Kirkwood left her father’s home, she knew, despite his assurances, that she’d never see him again. The last battle had been fought and the Kirkwoods had chosen the losing side.

  Catherine’s brother, Thomas, had ridden out ten days before to join the forces of the Duke of Monmouth as he headed north. He had taken with him a dozen men from the estate and, more importantly, gold, especially struck for the occasion. More of the same – little medallions in silver and gold commemorating a victory they had been so certain of – remained at Kirkwood Hall.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Wright and Cole, solicitors, occupied a mews-style office reached through an arch and across a
courtyard. Susan had told them it had once been part of a coach house. The building, here in Somerton, was of more golden tone than the one a few miles away in Matthews’ village of Walton, and Alec decided he preferred it.

  ‘If we bought a house down here,’ he told Naomi, ‘I’d want it to be of this stuff rather than the grey.’

  Mr Cole was expecting them. A short, rounded man, slightly balding, he was wearing small rounded glasses that framed even smaller rounded eyes. He had a blob of a nose and a beam of a smile. He welcomed them into his office and bid them sit down.

  ‘Mrs Rawlins, Susan, has authorized me to give you every cooperation,’ he said. ‘So what can I do for you?’ He smiled at Alec. ‘I had a meeting with Inspector Blezzard yesterday,’ he said. ‘He seems to regard you as something of an interfering nuisance.’

  ‘That sounds about right,’ Alec confirmed. ‘I do seem to be getting in the way – of someone, anyway.’

  ‘Yes, he mentioned you’d been hit over the head. I did rather get the impression he thought it should have been a bit harder.’

  Alec laughed, then regretted it. His head still wasn’t up to laughter. ‘I think he feels I’m poking my nose into his business,’ he agreed. ‘I imagine I’d feel the same, but there you go.’

  ‘Anyway, about Mrs Rawlins. Edward left just about everything to her. There are some small gifts to friends, his books, his finds, small bequests to charities. The largest is a sum of five thousand pounds which goes to Kevin Hargreaves, with the proviso that he uses at least a part of it to pursue his education. The balance from the house, the trust fund and a variety of investments goes to Susan.’

  ‘No mention of family?’

  ‘No, none at all, and the will is very specific. My colleague, Mr Wright, actually drew it up. He’s now deceased, but he was very careful, in accordance with Mr Thame’s request. He even arranged for a medical assessment to be done so that no one could oppose the will on those grounds.’