The Celtic Dagger

by Jill Paterson

  ‘You’ll find her in the last room on the left.’

  ‘Thanks, Sister.’

  ‘And please don’t stay too long. She’s suffered a mild concussion.’ James nodded.

  As he approached the doorway, a police officer emerged. James stood aside before looking across the room at Ashley. Her face was swollen and bruised.

  ‘Dr Wearing. How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Vera Trenbath.’

  Ashley sighed. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

  James walked into the room. ‘I was under the impression that you were away Ashley.’

  ‘I was. I came home yesterday.’

  James sat down on the chair beside the bed. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was followed when I left the museum last night.'

  ‘Were you able to give the police a description of the person who attacked you?’

  Ashley shook her head. ‘There was no need. I know who it was and I don’t intend to press charges.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because if I do, he’ll come after me again.’

  ‘But that doesn’t make any sense. Who was it?’

  ‘It was my husband, Robert Manning. We separated last year.’ Ashley paused. ‘I wasn’t too concerned when I realised he was following me. He’d done it before, on many occasions. But this time he grabbed me and started to...' Ashley put her hand up to the side of her face.

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘Just that he now knew I’d been seeing someone and he was going to make sure no man would ever look at me again. In the struggle, I fell backwards and hit my head on the pavement. I don’t remember anything after that.’ Ashley hesitated. ‘I did have a relationship, but it ended some time ago. I’m sure Robert didn’t know about it at the time. Someone’s told him since.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who it is?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but I doubt you’d believe me. He’s a businessman, well-known and well-liked. He’s even on the board at the museum for, heaven’s sake.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ James waited for Ashley to respond. ‘I don’t care who it is, Ashley, just tell me his name.’

  ‘Simon Rhodes.’

  ‘Simon?’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do, and it’s no surprise.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘No.’ James sat down in the chair next to the bed. ‘Is Simon a friend of your husband’s?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why would he get involved?’ Ashley fell silent. ‘Ashley. I want to help.’

  She looked down at her grazed hands and broken nails. ‘I don’t see that you can.’

  ‘Why don't you give me a try?’

  Ashley sighed. ‘All right. It’s about the artefacts you asked me about the other day. Simon Rhodes wants them and he wants me to help him get them. He threatened to tell Robert about my relationship if I refused. I tried to tell you at the library that night but...’

  ‘Is that why you went away.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did you come to know Simon?’

  ‘I’d been in Alex’s office on a few occasions when Simon Rhodes came to see him.’

  ‘Was it Alex you were seeing?’

  Ashley avoided James’s gaze. ‘Yes.’

  James nodded as things started to fall into place. ‘That’s why you acted the way you did at the excavation site last summer.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. At the time, I thought if we became friends, you might find out about Alex and me.’ Ashley paused. ‘Your brother was very good to me, Dr Wearing. He knew Robert bashed me about. He gave me the confidence to leave and find a place of my own, so I could start again. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. In hindsight, I don’t believe I was in love with Alex, but he made me feel safe. Perhaps I got the two confused. Anyway, after Alex’s death, Simon contacted me about the artefacts. I told him Alex hadn’t confided in me and I didn’t know where they were.’ Ashley looked up at James. ‘It was true, I didn’t know, but Simon wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘How does Simon know that the artefacts are missing?’

  ‘He knows because he was blackmailing Alex and the artefacts are part of that.’ She was silent a moment. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I knew about Alex being blackmailed, but I didn’t know who by.’

  James sat in thought. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised it was Simon.’

  ‘How did you find out about the blackmail?’

  ‘A colleague of Alex’s contacted me.’ James relayed his meeting with Patrick Spender. ‘Do you know why Simon was blackmailing Alex?’

  ‘No. Alex wouldn’t say.’ Ashley sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Wearing. I should have told you about this sooner, but I was frightened. You have no idea how intimidating Simon Rhodes is.’

  James took Ashley’s hand that lay on top of the covers as his mind went back to his conversation with Julian Gould about Louise’s death. He thought of Pamela Marquis’s hesitance to get involved. ‘I think I’m beginning to. Ashley, I’m going to see Chief Inspector Fitzjohn when I leave here. He needs to know that Simon Rhodes is the person who blackmailed Alex. I imagine he’ll want to talk to you. Do you mind if I tell him who attacked you? It’s for the best.’

  Ashley nodded. ‘All right.’ James squeezed her hand, realising with sudden clarity that the attraction he had felt for her last summer was still there.

  ****

  James left the hospital and arrived at the police station to find Fitzjohn in his office. The Chief Inspector looked up from his paperwork and put his wire-framed glasses on when James appeared in the doorway.

  'Ah, Dr Wearing. I’m glad you came by. I’ve been trying to contact you.’

  ‘I’ve been at St Vincent's, Chief Inspector. I don’t know if you’re aware but, Ashley Manning was admitted last night. She’d been attacked while making her way home from work.'

  Fitzjohn put his pen down. ‘I had no idea. How badly is she hurt?’

  ‘Concussion and bruising. She’s shaken and she’ll need rest, but there’ll be no lasting effects.’

  ‘Is she able to describe the person who attacked her?’

  ‘Yes. In fact, that’s why I’m here. You see, she knows the person and she believes she knows why he attacked her.’ James recounted his conversation with Ashley.

  ‘So, she was involved with your brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And these artefacts. Are they the ones Miles Bennet reported to you as missing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’ Fitzjohn adjusted his glasses as he sat back in his chair. 'And she claims it was Simon Rhodes who blackmailed your brother. Why does she think that?’

  ‘She said Alex told her, although he wouldn’t say why. The artefacts were part of the blackmail.’

  Fitzjohn sat forward and focused his attention on James. ‘These are serious allegations, Dr Wearing.’

  ‘I'm aware of that, but I think she’s telling the truth.’

  ‘Why are you so ready to believe her?’

  ‘Because it seems to me Simon Rhodes has a pattern of intimidation. When I spoke to him at my brother’s funeral, he told me he’d moved to Sydney from Melbourne a few months ago. After I left you with the Spenders, yesterday, I went to Adelaide.’

  ‘Adelaide?’

  ‘Yes.’ James recounted his conversation with Pamela Marquis. ‘After four years, the woman is still frightened Simon Rhodes will turn up on her doorstep. Looking at the photograph I gave you, it seems obvious that he was in Sydney two years ago. And, if Julian Gould is telling the truth, then it would seem that Rhodes left Melbourne after his separation from Pamela Marquis. Of course, she’d have no way of knowing that.’

  Fitzjohn sat back again. ‘I’d like to speak to Ms Marquis.’

  ‘I don’t think she’d thank me for getting her involved, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Neverthel
ess, if what she says is true, it reinforces the picture that’s building up around Rhodes.’

  Tension hung in the air for a moment.

  'I’ll need to have a word with Ms Manning, too. Is she well enough do you think?’

  ‘Yes. She knows I’ve come to see you. She’s expecting you.’

  ‘Good.’ Fitzjohn looked at his watch. ‘I suspect it’s too late now. I’ll go and see Ms Manning first thing tomorrow.’

  As he spoke, Sergeant Betts appeared at the door. ‘I’ll be right there, Betts.’ Fitzjohn looked back at James. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Dr Wearing. I have a meeting to attend.’ Fitzjohn stood up behind his desk.

  ****

  James returned to the hospital the next morning, accompanied by Edwina Parker. They found Ashley standing at the taxi rank outside, her scarf wrapped high around her neck, shielding her from the biting wind. ‘Ashley!' She turned when she heard his voice, her face pale. 'I thought they’d keep you in the hospital at least for another day.’

  ‘I imagine they need the bed.' She looked toward Edwina.

  'Oh, this is Edwina Parker. She has The Gallery, in North Sydney.'

  Ashley smiled. 'I know it. I've been in a few times. Pleased to meet you, Edwina.'

  'Did Chief Inspector Fitzjohn come to see you?' asked James.

  ‘Yes. Early this morning. I don’t know whether he believed me about Simon blackmailing Alex, though.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a case of not believing you. He needs proof.’

  ‘Well, he told me to contact him if Simon approaches me again. He also asked me if I wanted to press charges against Robert, but I told him I’m undecided. I hate the thought of facing him in court.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  'Ashley, I came along with James, this morning, because I thought you might like to stay with me for a few days. Just until you're feeling stronger.'

  'That's very kind, Edwina, but I can't impose.'

  'Of course you can. I insist.' Edwina's face broke into a wide smile. 'And besides, I'd like the company.'

  ****

  After spending the week with Edwina, James drove Ashley home to her flat in Paddington where he parked alongside the curb. 'Are you sure you'll be all right?'

  Ashley pushed a few wisps of hair back from her face. 'Yes, and thank, Dr Wearing, for everything.'

  'Please, call me James.' He paused. 'I'll see you inside.'

  'There's no need, really. I'll be fine.'

  'I know you will, but I'd still like to see you inside.'

  Moments later, they climbed the narrow staircase to Ashley's flat, where she unlocked the door.

  'Would you like to come in for coffee?'

  'I'd love to, but I can't. I have a lecture to give before lunch.' He hovered in the doorway.

  'Edwina mentioned you're both going to spend the weekend at Cragleigh. I'm glad. It'll be a good break for both of you.'

  Ashley smiled. 'I'm looking forward to it. I haven't been to the Blue Mountains. Actually, Alex mentioned it a couple of times. It's where you two grew up, isn't it?'

  'Yes, but it's rarely used now since my parents moved to Port Macquarie. I spend the occasional weekend there but that's about it.' James paused. 'Did Alex tell you he wanted to sell the place?'

  'Yes, to raise money.'

  'For the blackmail.'

  'Mmm.'

  James shook his head. 'I wish I'd known. I couldn't understand him at the time.'

  A moment of silence followed. 'Anyway, I know you and Edwina will have a great weekend. Are you driving up?'

  'Yes, and no. I'm going by train on Friday morning and Edwina's driving up in the afternoon after she closes the gallery.'

  'Then I'll ring Tom Gregory and have him meet you at Blackheath station. He's our neighbour. He keeps an eye on the place.'

  CHAPTER 17

  James arrived home tired and restless. He pulled his overcoat off, threw it across the banister and walked into the kitchen to find a sink full of unwashed dishes. The fridge revealed a drop of milk in the bottom of a carton and a plastic bowl, its contents speckled with green mould. He groaned and ran his hand across the back of his neck. Seconds later, the telephone rang.

  'James Wearing.'

  'Oh, James, I'm glad I've been able to reach you.'

  James sensed the urgency in Edwina's voice. 'What is it?'

  'I'd arranged to leave for Blackheath late this afternoon, but this morning's storm has caused the gallery to flood. I'll have to stay and clean up. The problem is contacting Ashley. I've telephoned Cragleigh and she doesn't answer. I've also tried her mobile with no luck. I didn't think Cragleigh was in a black spot.'

  'It isn't.' James tried to keep any hint of uneasiness out of his voice. 'But with the weather the way it is today, there could be a problem with the mobile phone tower.'

  'Oh, of course. I hadn't thought of that. Well, I wonder if you could keep trying to reach her, James. She'll wonder where I've got to. Let her know that with any luck, I'll be there sometime tomorrow morning.' Edwina paused. 'I'm sure we can salvage, at least, part of the weekend.'

  'Don't worry. I'll let her know.' James hesitated. 'Can I do anything to help?'

  'No, my dear. I have loads of help, I assure you.'

  Moments later, James dialled Cragleigh's number. After listening to the phone ring out, he rang Nick Ellis at the inn.

  ‘Nick, it’s James. Have you a room available for the weekend? I’d like to get away from here for a couple of days.’

  ‘Of course. At this time of year, you can take your pick. But why my bed and breakfast? Why not Cragleigh? Let me guess. You want to sample Mrs Thompson’s fine cuisine.’

  James tried to hide the disquiet he felt and looked back into the open fridge. ‘Yes, and the fact I have someone staying at Cragleigh.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Mmm. One of my postgraduate students.’

  ‘Female?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

  Nick laughed. ‘Thought so. I’ve never known you to drive up here at this hour.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, joking aside, when can we expect you?’

  ‘A couple of hours, I expect.’

  James hung up the phone. Nick was right. He had never started out for Blackheath this late in the day, but as his concern for Ashley grew, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

  After packing an overnight bag, he grabbed a jacket and torch from the hall closet and left. Outside, he climbed into his car, started the engine and turned the heater on. Within minutes, it took the edge off the sharp crispness in the air. He drove through the city streets and emerged into the countryside, its landscape mottled with shadows cast by the moon. As he did so, his thoughts turned again to Ashley and their conversation over the telephone the night before, her enthusiasm about getting away for the weekend evident.

  It was not until he was well into the Blue Mountains that the first flakes of snow hit the windscreen, and by the time he reached Blackheath, two hours after he left Sydney, it was blowing horizontally across the headlights, making visibility minimal. James parked in front of the inn, grabbed his bag and climbed out into a biting wind. The front door opened as he approached and Eileen Thompson appeared. A short, stocky woman in his late sixties and a village local, she had come to work as Nick’s housekeeper when his military career ended.

  ‘Nicholas told me to expect you, James.' Come in where it’s warm.’ James stepped inside the nineteenth-century house, its walls echoing the past. ‘He's gone out to help with a fallen tree. There’s a severe weather warning for the area so, it’s a good thing you got here when you did. We haven't had this much snow for years.'

  James put his bag down, pulled off his coat and hung it on the coat stand. ‘Do you mind if I use the phone, Mrs Thompson? I want to phone Cragleigh and my mobile seems to have lost its signal.'

  ‘No, go right ahead. Nicholas said you have a student out there. She might appreciate a call, especially with this storm brewing
.’

  As Eileen Thompson bustled off to the kitchen, James dialled Cragleigh’s number without any response. Putting the receiver down, he walked along the hall to the kitchen, his anxiety growing. Eileen Thompson turned as he entered.

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘I can’t get through. There must be a problem with the line.'

  ‘It’s no wonder with this howling gale.’

  ‘I think I’ll drive out there.’

  ‘Is that wise in this weather?’

  ‘I have to make sure she’s all right, Mrs Thompson.’

  ‘Well, drink this before you go.’ Eileen Thompson handed James a steaming mug of tea.’

  ****

  As James left the shelter of Blackheath, the road disappeared under a mantle of snow, the trees that lined its sides his only guide. He stared ahead, mesmerized by the snow that crossed his field of vision, and watched for the entrance to Cragleigh. When it appeared on his left, he pumped the brakes. The steering wheel whirled and the car’s back end spun out to the right before the wheels caught the gravel on the drive. He continued on following the winding driveway bordered by oak trees, their bare limbs creaking in the wind. When he rounded the last bend, the house loomed ahead, its darkened stone edifice illumined by the headlights.

  Pulling his coat collar up, James grabbed the torch and climbed out into the wind, his senses deadened by the cold. As he approached, a shutter hanging from its remaining hinge, banged against the house. Another lay on the porch. James's heart quickened as he stepped over it to the open front door, it’s stained glass window broken. Walking into the oak panelled hall, now open to the elements, he flicked the light switch with no response. In the darkness, his unease grew as he edged his way along the passage toward the kitchen. Entering, he flashed the torch across the room. A coffee mug sat on the large table in the centre, another lay broken on the floor, its contents spilt. Porcelain crunched under his shoes as he walked around the table to where a chair lay on its side, the kettle on the floor beside it. He put his hand on the Aga, its warmth still evident. It was then he caught sight of a trail of blood across the floor that led him to the unlatched back door.

  James’s head reeled as he pulled the door open and stepped out into the courtyard, where a thin layer of snow covered the ground. He raised the torch and flashed it out across the yard. As he did so, he glimpsed the outline of a car, its surface shimmering with ice. He lunged toward it, but his foot caught in something hidden beneath the snow, and he fell forward. Now on his knees, he turned to see an arm protruding through the snow next to his leg. ‘Ashley!’ Frantic, he scraped at the snow to see a face. ‘Tristan? My God!’ Pulling his glove off with his teeth, he put his fingers on Tristan’s neck. No pulse. Seconds passed. James remained hunched over, unable to move, oblivious to the piercing cold before he began scraping away the snow that encased the man. When his hand touched something hard, he lifted the torch, its light revealing the handle of a knife protruding from Tristan’s back. Stunned, James sat back on his haunches and wiped the sleet from his eyes before getting to his feet and stumbling back to the house.