Wishful thinking. She was freaked out, looking for reassurance, and he didn’t blame her.
‘I shouldn’t have brought you up here.’
‘I’m a big girl. I bet that bag belongs under the tarp.’ Capacious and made of green canvas, a bag leaned against a wall and Alex looked inside. She held it out for Tony to see and he lifted out the contents.
He produced a box of Italian glacé chestnuts, a sealed blue envelope, not addressed, that felt like a card, and a heavy, leather case. ‘Crikey.’ He had unclasped the lid. ‘Zeiss binoculars – tip-top stuff. Worth a bundle. No one would deliberately leave these here.’ He snapped the lid shut and replaced the case in the bag.
‘This isn’t a kids’ hangout,’ Alex said quietly, picking her way to the top of the steps.
‘It could belong to teenagers with imagination and major pocket money.’
Rather than answer him, Alex put a hand against one wall and started climbing down.
Tony put the bag with the rest of the supplies, swept the tarp back into place and went after her. Once outside they were met by a wind that stopped and started, unenthusiastic about its haphazard efforts.
‘It was a mistake to bring you here,’ he said, draping an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s depressing and you don’t need reminding of past …’ He let his words trail off.
‘Past horrors, is that what you were going to say?’ Alex slipped a hand under his jacket and around his waist. He felt her hold on to his sweater.
Nose to the ground, Bogie snuffled back and forth, moving in and out of the torch beam, intent on some quest known only to him.
The ruins of the manor house, with its jagged reminders of lost walls, made a forlorn white sketch in the gloom.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Alex said. She called the dog but he continued to run aimless patterns on the ground with his black nose.
‘Bogie,’ Alex cried. ‘Come, boy. Now.’
The answer she got was wild barking that trailed into a thin yowl. Alex found Bogie with her light. He stood near the grill-covered well, his neck stretched upward, barking in spurts that ended in almost soundless croaks.
Alex leaped forward but Tony caught her arm to stop her.
She looked back at him, her face stark, and jerked her arm away.
Tony ran toward the dog.
FOUR
The instant they closed on him, Bogie lay down, his head on his paws, dark eyes flicking from side to side.
He whimpered.
‘Come on, boy,’ Alex said gently, but her throat tightened sickeningly. Once before, on a snowy early morning she’d rather forget, Bogie had behaved like this. ‘There’s nothing here. You’re being silly.’
There was nothing to see. Silence blanketed the whole deserted area and she noticed an ugly odor, as if sheep might have been grazing in the area.
‘Would you mind staying here, Alex, and holding Bogie?’ Tony kept a neutral expression on his face as if he weren’t really telling her he was expecting something nasty and wanted to protect her.
Sometimes keeping the peace made things simpler. ‘Come here, Bogie,’ she said. And added, ‘Now!’ when he didn’t move.
Slowly, bottom first, he raised himself from the ground. His head remained on his paws.
‘I’ll get him,’ Tony said and moved in, saying gentle, mostly meaningless words all the way. He reached Bogie and scratched his head … then he stood still, staring at the clumps of pale grass and the rocks illuminated around the dog’s feet.
Alex didn’t wait another second. She ran to the spot and frowned at the debris.
‘Oh, no,’ she whispered when she saw what was different. ‘My God, Tony, we’ve got to do something fast.’
‘Sometimes I wish you didn’t rush into the middle of everything,’ he said. He clipped on Bogie’s lead. ‘You aren’t trained for this type of thing.’
Alex crouched.
‘Don’t touch anything.’
‘I know the drill,’ she told him, glancing at the grill over the well. ‘Could anyone be alive down there?’
‘It’s my job to find out. Your job is to get the police and anyone else who can deal with this.’
They stared at one another, both putting a hand over their noses and mouths. The stench that reached them grew stronger.
‘The smell doesn’t have to mean …’ She broke off, pressing a fist to her thumping heart. ‘It’s vomit and other things, and if we mess with anything … Tony, it could be a crime scene. No one could do this to themselves. The police will go mad if we disturb anything.’
‘And my conscience will go mad if I don’t go down there,’ he said, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside. ‘Wish I had gloves.’
He was a very strong man and hauled the heavy grill aside without too much trouble. ‘Don’t let Bogie touch those,’ he said as he lowered himself onto the ladder inside the well. Make some calls, please.’ He even managed a little smile that looked more like a pain-induced grimace.
Watching him disappear into the hole, Alex made an emergency call and got the usual round of questions about what service she wanted and where she was calling from.
‘I think someone’s fallen into a well,’ she said, gasping for non-existent fresh air. ‘Up at the old Ebring Manor site. And it could be someone else put the grill back in place over them.’ Thinking about that Alex added, ‘Or someone messed with the grill and had an accident. They would have gone for help right away. But whoever it was left the severed tips of three fingers behind … how do I … I know because there are fingernails.’
FIVE
Alex sat on the ground, cradling Bogie in her lap. Having Tony down there where she couldn’t see him was too much. Anything could happen to him. She heard him scuffling against the brick lining of the well.
Maybe it wasn’t a well. But it was a deep hole in the ground and whoever lost the ends of their fingers to the kind of ghastly pain that made Alex shudder, could be at the bottom. She prayed it wasn’t the case, that the police would check hospitals and find the person who mangled his or her fingers.
She hadn’t looked down the shaft, hadn’t wanted to. Tony’s torch sent up a sickly, jiggling light that sometimes grew paler, as he had it pointed down, sometimes brighter when he palmed it to keep climbing.
The emergency dispatcher kept her on the phone but Alex had stopped trying to talk to him. She wanted to be sick and if she moved much she feared she’d faint. The breeze kept wafting an odor of animal dung.
‘Tony?’ she yelled when the waiting grew too long. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ came a short, hollow echo.
The wind blew in circles now, ladling up leaves and dancing them around as if this was a jolly celebration of the season.
Bogie leaned closer and licked her chin.
Shuffling sideways, Alex got close enough to lean over the edge of the hole. ‘Are you at the bottom yet?’ She kept her eyes averted from the mutilated fingertips.
‘Yes.’
A distant siren sounded. ‘I hear the police or someone coming. How can they be here so fast?’ She was almost weak with relief at the sound of the sirens.
No reply came from below.
Tears stung Alex’s eyes. ‘Tony, is there someone down there?’
‘Yes, Alex.’ His echoing voice had an extra hollowness. ‘I think it’s Pamela Gibbon.’
Alex’s mind didn’t want to work. She glanced at the three black ends of fingers, nails jagged and caked with dried blood. ‘No, no, no. Why?’ What kind of hate made one human being do this to another. It couldn’t be a mistake Pamela had made on her own.
‘The sirens are getting closer,’ she called out. ‘There’s nothing you can do …’
‘Nothing, but try to find the bastard who did this.’
She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Come up. Please, Tony.’
His boots rang on the ladder rungs again, at the same time as the splitting sound of sirens and the scorching flash of red and blue li
ghts arrived on the abandoned road a few hundred yards above the mansion ruins.
Figures running in her direction quickly took shape. She flashed her torch toward them. Detective Inspector Dan O’Reilly and Detective Sergeant Bill Lamb were easy to pick out. They were familiar and brought with them the kind of feelings Alex had hoped never to experience again. Uniformed officers fanned out behind them, making Alex feel trapped. Someone headed into the tower at a run and she wondered at the efficiency these people could show.
‘That’s O’Reilly and Lamb,’ Tony said, making her jump. ‘I hoped we’d never see them again. What do they do? Sit around in some dingy office in Gloucester waiting for a call about Folly-on-Weir?’
Before she could answer, Lamb steamed up with O’Reilly at his shoulder. The two men stopped short to survey the whole scene.
‘Hugh told me Constable Frye said they might come to the village,’ Alex said quietly.
The detective inspector had good ears. ‘We got into the area a couple of hours ago,’ he said. ‘They needed help. Things didn’t look good.’
Alex remained sitting, and holding Bogie. Had the police already expected to find Pamela dead? If so, why? Surely a village with a history of two murders only months earlier wasn’t marked as a likely spot for more atrocities. Tony’s head stuck out of the hole in the ground.
Both policemen put a hand over their noses.
‘What happened?’ O’Reilly said, sounding as Irish as Alex remembered.
‘Do you know about a woman called Pamela Gibbon being missing?’ Tony asked.
Lamb’s face grew red. ‘The Detective Chief Inspector asked you a fucking question,’ he snapped.
Alex wondered if his last job around here had helped with O’Reilly’s promotion.
‘Bill, help Dr Harrison out of there,’ O’Reilly said. He didn’t look happy.
‘Pamela Gibbon lives in Folly-on-Weir,’ Alex said, stiff-lipped. ‘She’s been missing for several days. Tony and I came up here to have a look around and found bits of fingers there.’ She pointed. ‘Tony went down the shaft and found Pamela. She’s dead.’
‘We already know all about Pamela Gibbon going missing,’ Lamb said, with no sign of a thaw in his manner. His sandy crew cut was just as it had been the last time she saw him. Thick and not a hair out of place. ‘Why would we be here if it didn’t look as if—’
‘Come on out, Dr Harrison,’ O’Reilly said, sounding pleasant enough, although the last time they’d all met, they’d been on Tony and Dan terms by the time it was all over.
Bill Lamb offered him a hand, which Tony ignored, vaulting out under his own steam. Bill turned to Dan O’Reilly. Alex couldn’t see his face but imagined he was looking to his boss for instructions.
More vehicles arrived at the top of the acreage.
She recognized pale blue SOCO uniforms, rapidly being pulled on over other clothes. Scene of Crime types weren’t her favorites. They went in for black humor that might help them but did nothing for her.
‘Pathologist is on her way,’ one man said, already completely suited, his head and feet covered and gloves in place. ‘You want to go down and take a look?’ he asked Dan O’Reilly.
‘Not before Molly gets here. She hates it if she isn’t first.’
‘Bit late for that,’ Bill said without looking at Tony.
Tony ignored him. ‘There’s not much room down there. You won’t both be able to be with Pamela at the same time.’
‘Don’t worry about us,’ Bill said. ‘We work out our own logistics.’
Alex wondered why the detective sergeant was trying to bait Tony, not that it got any reaction from him.
‘Tell your people to seal off everything,’ the inspector told the SOCO team member. ‘Hold off on tenting until Dr Lewis gets here and gives you the word. Plan on securing a large area. We could have a big crime scene.
‘There’s evidence right there beside the shaft opening. Bag it and say we want the area under lights. Until then, they snap on their wings and don’t touch a thing, including the ground if they can get enough loft. You never know, we may have more fingers to come, among other things.’
‘If I know Molly she won’t be long, unless she’s driving herself,’ Bill said.
‘She doesn’t do that much anymore, and almost never at night.’
O’Reilly planted his feet apart. Alex couldn’t see his dark eyes but his wavy hair tossed in the wind. ‘Our Molly is a whiz. Just can’t find her way out of a paper bag.’ His casual approach was something Alex liked, although she remembered well how tough he could be. ‘Why don’t we get preliminary statements from you and Tony?’ he asked Alex.
What she really wanted was to get away from here and fast.
Spotlights were quickly put into place. They bathed everything in a sickly, blinding white that felt intrusive.
With Bill Lamb taking notes, Tony and Alex answered questions rapidly, those they could answer at all. She was aware of the silent row of police slowly covering the ground, their torches brilliant and each with a stick they occasionally used to move something aside. An officer had arrived with a dog.
‘We came straight up here when we got to the village,’ O’Reilly said. ‘We’ll need a lot more from you two. Want to toss in any ideas about who might have had a grudge against Pamela Gibbon?’
Alex and Tony looked at one another with matching frowns. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘This is … damned if I know.’
The sound of another engine got closer. Alex shuddered again, tried to calm herself. There was no need to fear the kind of hateful events that closed in around her the last time someone was murdered in Folly. Anyway, Pamela might have had an accident.
In your dreams.
Tony’s hand, closing around hers, steadied her, and Alex didn’t hesitate to lace her fingers with his.
A small, blond woman, already suited for business, strode toward them. When she got close enough, Dan O’Reilly said, ‘Molly Lewis, this is Alex Duggins and Tony Harrison. They found the body.’
The woman, pretty and slim, but older than her initial impression suggested, snapped on her gloves and made for the open hole without more than a nod at Tony and Alex. She slid a light on a band over her head and settled it on her forehead, before disappearing down the ladder with sure, rapid movements.
‘At the top of that drum tower, you’ll find what looks like a bunch of supplies for people who plan to return, possibly regularly. It probably means nothing, but—’
‘When did you intend to mention that?’ Bill Lamb asked, his chin thrust forward.
Alex squeezed Tony’s hand. ‘You can be such an idiot, Bill Lamb,’ she said. ‘You think it’s easy to get everything straight and in order on a night like this? I think I’m just going home. Hope you’ll come with me, Tony. You people know where to find us.’
‘Would that be at his place or yours?’ Lamb said. ‘Not that you’re going anywhere until we say so.’
‘Asshole,’ Tony muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear.
‘I’ll need to interview both of you,’ Dan O’Reilly said. ‘When we’re finished here for tonight, where can I find each of you?’
‘I’ll be at the Black Dog,’ Alex told him without hesitation.
‘I might as well go there, too. Easier on everyone,’ Tony said.
Lamb snickered.
‘When did you say you thought the victim fell in here?’ The pathologist, Molly something, popped her head just out of the shaft.
O’Reilly said, ‘We’re thinking as long as three days.’
‘I thought that’s what I heard,’ the woman said, starting down again. ‘Tell them to get the tent up. And we’re going to need lights down here and some fast work. Poor thing could have been there a while. Looks like several blows to the head, but she may only have been dead hours.’
SIX
Tony stopped outside the Dog. He just stood still, arms crossed, staring at the ground. He hadn’t spoken on the drive down to the village. A Ma
zda sports car had been parked, haphazard, across three parking spots. Alex didn’t recognize the vehicle.
‘Look at that,’ Alex said, ‘I don’t have the energy to hunt down the owner tonight. Selfish creep.’
Tony remained quiet.
‘Let’s go in through the restaurant,’ Alex said. ‘I should have a word with my mum.’
‘I don’t feel like talking to anyone, Alex. Sorry.’
‘You can’t stay out here,’ she said gently and touched his jaw. ‘I can’t make you think or do what I want you to, but none of this is your fault. And we don’t know what happened up there or how.’
‘We may never know what happened – or if her death was my fault. For all I know, she could have been saved if I’d stopped that night, or even looked for her earlier.’ He drew her closer to the building. ‘I do get it. I can’t change what’s happened but I would love to get rid of what I’m feeling right now.’
Alex nodded to a couple arriving at the restaurant and said, ‘Good evening.’
Resting an elbow against the wall, Tony propped his head on his fist and waited until the door closed again – which gave Bogie an opportunity to whip inside. ‘I think a brandy sounds good, how about you?’ Alex said, ducking her head to see his face until he looked up. She gathered a handful of his coat and pressed her knuckles into his collarbone. ‘We can do this, Tony. We’ve been through … horrible things.’
‘There was so much blood. I knew she hadn’t died instantly. There was glass – not much – a few sharp little pieces.’
Tears stung Alex’s eyes. ‘It’s sick. I’m surprised you could see the glass amongst the junk that must be down there.’
Even with the tinted and dappled glow through stained-glass windows, Tony’s eyes looked black, and empty. ‘She’d hit the back of her head, hard – that’s what the pathologist was talking about, but she landed on her face. Bits of glass … there were some puncture wounds in her face. Broken bones and who knows what other damage they’ll find at the post-mortem.’
Out Comes the Evil Page 4