by Helen Harper
His brow furrowed. ‘So?’
Reverend Knight wasn’t being deliberately obtuse, he simply couldn’t fathom what was right in front of his eyes. ‘The graveyard has been disturbed twice since you started your tenure at St Erbin’s, and it was disturbed several times before your arrival.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘How do you suppose someone would gain access to this basement without you noticing?’
The vicar goggled at me as his face turned pale. ‘You’re not suggesting that Reginald Baxter is behind all this? That he’s been taking bodies from their graves and … and…’
I sighed. ‘No. He’s not the main culprit.’ Knight started to relax. My eyes hardened. ‘But he colluded with the main culprit.’
Knight’s mouth dropped open. ‘He can’t have.’
‘You said it yourself. Baxter hated the werewolves being interred in his church. He used to live here. He presumably gave you the keys to this building?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Did you change the locks when you moved in?’
‘No. It never occurred to me.’
I scratched absently at my arm. ‘Baxter must have made a copy of the front-door key and given it to Edward Nappey,’ I said, as much to myself as to the hapless Reverend Knight. ‘And he gave the only copy of the basement key to him at the same time. He wouldn’t have wanted you to come down here, find the trapdoor and investigate it. He didn’t want you to know that ghouls weren’t the ones stealing corpses – he didn’t want you to know that he was involved.’
‘That’s preposterous!’
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Because he’s a vicar?’
Knight flapped his arms. ‘Because it doesn’t make any sense! Who is this Edward Nappey fellow, anyway?’
‘He’s the one who’s ultimately responsible for all this mess,’ I explained.
‘How on earth would Reverend Baxter get involved with such a man?’
‘I don’t know,’ I started, ‘but—’ I stopped. Maybe I did know.
I reached into my pocket and drew out my phone. It was almost two in the morning and Fred was almost certainly asleep, but this was important. I dialled his number and held the phone to my ear while Knight paced up and down the empty basement, muttering to himself.
It took several rings before Fred answered. When he spoke, however, it was clear that I hadn’t woken him up. For one thing, there was thumping music in the background; for another, he sounded more than slightly tipsy and he was burbling with happiness. ‘Boss! How’s it going?’
‘Where are you, Fred?’
‘I’m dancing!’ He let out a whoop. ‘I’ve never danced before in my life, but you know what?’ He continued before I could say anything. ‘I’m really good at it. Better than good. I think I might have missed my calling. I shouldn’t be in the police force at all. I should be on the dance floor!’
I passed a hand over my eyes. Unbelievable. ‘Fred,’ I snapped. ‘Sober up. I need you.’
‘Wh – what?’
‘You heard me. Get out of Heart so we can talk properly.’
Confusion lit his voice. ‘How did you know I was in Heart?’
‘Lucky guess,’ I muttered.
‘I’m not doing anything wrong. It was a long day. I needed to blow off some steam.’
I drew in a deep breath. ‘I didn’t say you were doing anything wrong.’ I had no doubt that Fred’s presence in Lukas’s club was Scarlett’s doing. ‘Right now, I don’t care why you’re in the vampire nightclub. I need you to go somewhere quiet. It’s important.’
‘Eh?’
‘Get out of there so I can talk to you properly,’ I repeated, doing my best not to snap.
For several seconds I couldn’t hear anything but the music growing quieter. When Fred finally spoke again, he sounded considerably more sober. ‘I’m outside,’ he said. ‘What is it that you need?’
I closed my eyes briefly. Fred was still with me; I could still count on him. ‘Ted Nappey’s grandfather,’ I said. ‘You were looking into him. What was his name? Was he also a Nappey?’
‘No.’ Fred’s response was instant. ‘Not Nappey. His surname was Collins. Sean Collins.’
I glanced at Knight. He was still pacing up and down. ‘Is there a Sean Collins buried in St Erbin’s?’
The vicar came to a stuttering halt. ‘What? Sean Collins? Yes, but—’
Bingo. Ted Nappey had probably bonded with Reverend Baxter at his own grandfather’s funeral.
‘Anything else?’ Fred asked anxiously.
Yes, there was. ‘There’s a heap of printouts from the Carlyle Library on my desk in the office. They are the names and addresses of everyone who’s requested access to the Arcane Works room during the last ten years. I need you to look through them and find out whether Reginald Baxter is one of those names.’
There was a brief pause. ‘Now?’
‘Yes, Fred. Now.’
‘Okay.’ Rather than sounding reluctant to curtail his drinking and dancing, Fred sounded eager. He wasn’t daft; he knew by now that I was on to something. ‘What’s going on? What have you found out?’
I jabbed a finger at Knight. ‘Do you know where Baxter lives now?’
He nodded. ‘Travis Close. It’s about a mile from here.’
‘Good.’ I addressed Fred again. ‘Tell Scarlett to speak to Lukas – to Lord Horvath. He needs to meet us at Travis Close as soon as possible. Once you’ve checked through the list of names, you should head there too. I’ll explain what’s going on when you get there.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He disconnected without another word.
Knight watched me put the phone away. His mouth was turned down and it didn’t take a genius to know he was upset about something.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘It’s two o’clock in the morning.’
‘Yep.’
His mouth drooped further. ‘No matter what you think Reverend Baxter might have done, he’s an old man. You said yourself that he’s not the main culprit. Can’t you wait until morning before you bang on his door like you’re the Gestapo? He’s not going anywhere. I know you want to find this Nappey fellow, but surely it can wait until daylight. No-one’s life is in immediate danger. Right?’ Knight frowned. ‘Right?’ he repeated.
Oh no. My stomach dropped. I was a prize fucking idiot.
‘Detective?’ Knight asked in a small voice.
‘I have to go.’ I was already sprinting for the stairs. ‘Get out of this room and don’t enter it again. I’ll make sure Forensics get here first thing in the morning.’
‘What is it?’ he called after me. ‘What’s wrong?’
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t have the time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I took three wrong turns before I found Travis Close. Apparently even the satnav on my phone didn’t know where to go. When I finally clocked the street sign, I didn’t feel relief, however. The only emotion flooding my system was dread.
It wasn’t a long road. I estimated there were only about thirty houses – and only one of them had lights on inside. There was a small car in the driveway and another parked directly outside. I pulled Tallulah up behind it and checked the number plate before radioing it through.
‘I need ID on a car,’ I said without preamble, relaying the number through to the switchboard.
It didn’t take long. I’d barely unclipped my seatbelt and climbed out of the Mini to stride up to Baxter’s front door when the answer came through. ‘That vehicle is registered to a Vivienne Clarke,’ the operator told me. ‘Do you require her address?’
‘No.’ I grimaced. I knew where she was – and it wasn’t at home tucked up in bed. ‘Thank you.’
I marched to the door, leaving the crossbow I’d grabbed on my way out from the manse on Tallulah’s worn backseat. It wouldn’t do me any good here, not with two humans who needed a cool, calming touch. A weapon was far more likely to cause problems than solve them.
I wondered whether I should try to
enter surreptitiously round the back, but I suspected that time was of the essence and that in the end it wouldn’t matter how I got into Baxter’s house. With that thought in mind, I rapped sharply on the door then twisted the doorknob and walked straight in.
‘Police!’ I yelled. ‘Nobody move!’
I ran through to the living room. Television. Chair. Bookcase. Other than the furniture, it was empty. Then I heard a muffled shout from somewhere further inside. The kitchen – it had to be. I turned and darted towards the only other door.
Before I reached it, a voice called out. ‘Don’t come in, DC Bellamy! Don’t come any closer!’
I kept my voice as gentle as I could. ‘Mrs Clarke, whatever you’re doing in there, I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘Help me! Help me! Stop this woman!’ No doubt that was Reverend Baxter.
I moved closer, hoping to peer through the tiny gap between the door and the jamb to see exactly what was going on. My priority was to calm things down and prevent Mrs Clarke from doing something she might regret. I prayed I had the wherewithal to manage it.
Unable to see anything more than flickering shadows, I carefully toed open the door. I didn’t cross the threshold; I didn’t want to alarm Mrs Clarke any more than I had to. It wasn’t going to take much to provoke her into action and I needed to give her the space she needed to feel she was in control.
Her back was to me. I couldn’t see Baxter’s face, but I could tell he was seated on a kitchen chair in front of her. I licked my lips and spoke carefully. ‘Mrs Clarke.’
‘Go away. I told you not to come in here!’ Her head swung round towards me. Her eyes were wild and her usually perfectly coiffed hair was unkempt and coming loose from its clips.
I held up my hands. ‘I’m staying right here. I only want to talk to you.’
‘This woman is crazy!’ Baxter screeched. ‘She’s crazy! She—’
Mrs Clarke back-handed him. He yelped loudly then fell silent. Thank goodness for small mercies.
‘Vivienne,’ I said. ‘I’m not coming in, not unless I have to. But I need you to move away from Reverend Baxter. We both know he’s not going anywhere. Just take three steps back.’
Her body was stiff and rigid, but she wasn’t so far gone that she didn’t react to my command. She moved away, though only one step. For now, that would have to be enough.
I glanced at Baxter. He was tied to the chair with rope and he was bleeding in several places but, as far as I could tell, he wasn’t in life-threatening danger.
I ignored his pleading eyes and focused on Mrs Clarke. I had to get through to her. ‘This is because of what I said to you in the graveyard, isn’t it?’ I said softly.
She managed a tiny nod. ‘I thought that Julian was the only one. I hadn’t realised that more graves had been desecrated. I didn’t known that St Erbin’s had been targeted in that way.’ She turned accusing eyes onto Baxter. ‘You told us Julian should be buried in your church. You made us think that he would be looked after.’
‘I had nothing to do with any of that,’ Baxter blustered. ‘I retired almost a year ago, remember! If you’ve got problems, you should talk to Knight. He’s the one at fault here. Not me!’
‘He’s not the one who went out of his way to befriend us. He’s not the one who manipulated Patrick and me into putting our poor son into that grave.’ She stared at him. ‘Was it you? Were you the one who ran him over?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Baxter snapped. ‘That was an accident. I don’t know anything about your son’s death beyond what you told me.’
‘Tell him, DC Bellamy,’ Vivienne Clarke said. ‘Tell him what you found out.’
Perhaps a little self-awareness would help Reverend Reginald Baxter’s cause. If he could show true contrition, Mrs Clarke might stand down. ‘We have reason to believe,’ I said carefully, ‘that a man named Edward Nappey was responsible for the theft of Julian Clarke’s body, not to mention several others. He was also the driver of the car that hit Julian and killed him.’
‘Ted is not a violent person,’ Baxter sneered. ‘He wouldn’t hurt a living being.’ The old vicar glared smugly at us. He hadn’t realised what he’d admitted to.
‘Vivienne,’ I said, alarmed. ‘Wait—’
It was too late. She’d already rounded on him. ‘You know him?’ she whispered. ‘You know this Nappey bastard?’
Baxter blinked as he realised his massive error. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. I made a mistake.’
‘And here was me thinking that you knew what was going on at your church and didn’t care,’ Mrs Clarke said. ‘It’s worse than that though, isn’t it? You wanted it to happen. You colluded with that man Nappey. You’re a part of this as much as he is.’
Baxter’s eyes narrowed. I’d thought he would continue with his denials but instead he threw caution to the wind. ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so fucking upset,’ he said in a low voice filled with irritation. ‘You seem to forget all those hours I spent with you and your husband. You despised your son for what he did. You knew that by turning to the werewolves, he’d turned away from you. You hated everything he stood for. You can’t backtrack on that simply because he’s dead. You can tear your hair and gnash your teeth and wail all you like but, deep down, you’re secretly thrilled that he’s gone.’
Baxter had given me no choice and I stepped into the kitchen. ‘I strongly advise you to keep your mouth shut from now on!’ I turned to Mrs Clarke. ‘Vivienne, you have to get out of here. I am ordering you to leave.’
She didn’t glance at me. ‘How dare you?’ she breathed, her focus on Baxter. ‘How dare you say such a thing to me?’
‘Your son was an abomination,’ Baxter said. ‘You know it and I know it. So what if his body has gone? He never deserved to be buried there anyway. He—’
I saw the knife too late. Vivienne Clarke had probably been holding it all this time and I hadn’t noticed it. With a loud war cry, she flung herself towards Baxter. Gritting my teeth, I threw myself between them. First her husband, now her.
‘Enough!’ I roared. I grabbed her wrist and wrenched hard. She dropped the knife almost instantly and it fell to the floor with a clatter.
‘Why are you trying to stop me?’ she shrieked. ‘Why are you getting in my way? You know I’ve got nothing left now. Julian’s gone. Patrick’s gone. The least I can do is honour my son’s memory by getting rid of the bastard who hurt him!’
‘But,’ came a calm, steady voice from the doorway, ‘that bastard isn’t the one who hurt him.’ Lukas, exuding calm strength, offered her a gentle smile. ‘He is involved and he is culpable, but he’s not the man who ran over your son. He’s not the man who has your son’s remains. He does, however, know where we can find them. Let DC Bellamy do her job. Your revenge is coming but, for now, you have to stand down.’
I occasionally had the power to command weaker supes using only my voice but that was nothing compared to the power that Lukas could exert. I knew he was deliberately twisting Vivienne Clarke’s emotions to try and stop her harming Baxter, but his words were powerful enough to stop me in my tracks. Even Baxter seemed to relax.
‘I want to kill him,’ Mrs Clarke said, her features strained and her voice pleading. ‘I want to reach inside and rip out his guts. I want to see him suffer.’
Lukas reached for her hands. ‘I know. You’re not the only one who feels that way. But your husband isn’t gone. He needs you out here, still fighting for him. And we need Reverend Baxter to tell us where we can find Julian.’
‘You will find him?’ she asked.
‘Detective Constable Bellamy will. I know she will.’ Lukas’s black eyes flitted to mine. ‘There’s no-one more capable, I can promise you that.’
Mrs Clarke nodded. She allowed Lukas to tug gently on her hands and lead her out to the waiting vampires in the hallway.
I breathed out. That had been close.
‘That’s Lord Horvath,’ Baxter said.
‘Yep. Where
is Edward Nappey, Reverend?’
‘Lord Horvath is a vampire.’
‘Yep.’ I gave him a hard look. ‘Tell me where Ted is.’
Baxter’s face started to suffuse with red. He struggled against his rope bonds.
‘I will let you go,’ I told him, ‘but I need to know where I can find Ted. This will go easier on you if you tell me.’
Baxter didn’t seem to hear me. ‘A vampire in my house!’ he yelled. ‘How dare a vampire come into my house?’
‘Mr Baxter,’ I started.
‘It’s Reverend!’ His voice was growing high pitched and whiny, increasing in decibels with every word. ‘Just because I’ve retired doesn’t mean that I’m not still Reverend!’
‘Reverend Baxter, then.’ I gave him a long look. ‘You need to calm down.’
‘A man’s home is his castle! I can’t have a vampire in here. I can’t! He has to get out! He has to get out!’ he all but screamed.
Baxter wasn’t just red now; his skin had turned a distressing shade of purple. He started to choke and his fingers gripped the arms of the chair. Uh-oh. This didn’t look good. His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and beads of sweat were breaking out all over his face. Either he was having a panic attack or a heart attack. Unfortunately, I suspected the latter.
I bounded over to him and scrabbled at the rope, untying him as quickly as I could. ‘Lukas!’ I shouted, as I lay Baxter on the floor. ‘Call 999!’
‘What is it?’ he reappeared in the doorway. His expression contorted when he saw Baxter. ‘Shit.’
Baxter moaned. ‘I need you to stay calm,’ I told him. ‘Do you have any aspirin in the house?’
‘Hurts,’ he gasped. ‘Hurts.’ Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped breathing.
I worked fast. Moving his arms out of the way, I knelt by his side and ensured his airway was clear. ‘Reverend?’ I tilted his head. ‘Baxter?’
Nothing. Damn it. I linked my fingers together and started chest compressions. Baxter remained unresponsive. After a minute or two, Lukas took over.