The Plantagenet Mystery

by Victoria Prescott

  ‘Will you stop the blushing maiden act? You didn’t mind – ’

  The touch of his hand on her throat seemed to rouse Laura out of her misery. She whirled round, fingernails raking at his face.

  ‘Get your hands off me! Don’t you touch me!’

  ‘Bitch!’

  He slapped her and she stumbled back, but then Claire was there, giving him a smack on the other side of his face that should have made his ears ring.

  ‘Bastard! Don’t you dare touch my sister!’

  The thug was watching, a smirk on his face, the crowbar loose in his hand. Chris took his chance, and launched himself at the man, one hand reaching out to grab the crowbar from him. But the man was too quick, and bigger and stronger than Chris. He lifted his free hand, striking Chris across the cheek, sending him staggering. Chris forgot about the steps behind him, felt himself stepping back into nothing, then falling, hitting the floor with a force that knocked the wind out of him. He could only lie there, gasping, as the man came forward, looming over him, the crowbar raised to strike.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Rob watched until Claire and Chris were out of sight before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He wished he had asked Chris to turn the van before leaving. The lane was narrow, and even with the added width of the lay-by, it took Rob considerably more than three points to get the van pointing in the direction he wanted to go.

  The pub’s car park was half full. There was a minibus, the name of a hire company along the side, and a number of private cars. Rob found a space at the far side where there was plenty of room to manoeuvre in and out. The restaurant was busy with what appeared to be a big family gathering. Rob stood at the bar, waiting until one of the staff had time to attend to him.

  ‘What can I get you?’ the barmaid said eventually.

  ‘Actually, I wanted to borrow the key to the church. I gather it’s kept here.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll have to wait for Derek.’ She indicated the landlord, busy serving at the tables. ‘I don’t know where he keeps it. Can I get you anything while you’re waiting?’

  Rob dug in his pocket and found enough change for a cup of coffee. He had nearly finished it by the time the landlord came over.

  ‘Sorry to keep you. Golden wedding anniversary party, and one of my waitresses is off. You want the key to the church?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s OK. You asked if I’d like to look at it.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Hold on a minute, I’ll go upstairs and get it.’

  A few minutes later, Rob was on his way out of the pub, key in his hand. He pulled out of the car park and headed back towards the church.

  The road ran between fields, harvested and awaiting the sowing of next year’s crop. No space wasted on hedgerows on this fertile soil, Rob noted. The road was slightly below the level of the farmland, but from his elevated position in the van Rob could see across to where it turned the corner of the field and continued at right angles to the stretch Rob was now travelling along. He could see the top of a blue van, moving towards him. In less than a minute, it would round the corner and Rob, in Chris’s van, would be in full view of the driver.

  Rob stamped on the brakes, then the clutch, throwing the gear lever into reverse. There was enough of a verge for Rob to turn the van and head back the way he had come, driving as fast as he dared on the winding road. He thought that if the blue van was not in sight when he reached the pub, he could turn into the car park and conceal the van among the other vehicles there. But the pub was on a straight stretch of road. At the moment when he would have had to commit to the turn, a glance in the rear-view mirror showed Rob the blue van coming into sight around the bend. For a moment he considered taking refuge in the pub, then he thought of the old couple enjoying their party, the young children who had been among the guests. He put his foot down on the accelerator again.

  The man in the blue van was a better driver than Rob, or perhaps just more reckless. Soon he had closed the distance between them and was just a few feet off the rear bumper of Chris’s van. Repeated glances in his mirror left Rob in no doubt that this was the van, and the driver, that had been in Gladstone Street earlier. He drove on, mind working furiously as he considered and rejected different courses of action. With the other van so close, it was not safe to stop. Rob imagined the crunching of metal as the blue van ran into him. Quite apart from what Blue Van Man might do if he got his hands on Rob – assuming they both escaped a crash unhurt – there was the thought of having to confess to Chris that he had wrecked the van.

  Rob was having to drive much faster than he wanted, to try to stay a safe distance ahead of Blue Van Man. But the blue van was always closing the distance, always there just a few feet behind, sometimes so close Rob thought they would touch. Rob knew he could not keep going at this speed indefinitely. Sooner or later he would make a mistake and the chase would be over. The only question was how much damage would be done, to drivers and vehicles. He took another bend, the van bouncing over an unexpected dip in the road. Claire had a point about the suspension, Rob thought. His palms were sweating, slipping on the gear stick as he changed up again, on the steering wheel as he turned it left and right. He was thankful they had met no traffic coming towards them. The roads were often too narrow for two vehicles to pass, and at this speed, even if he could stop in time to avoid a head-on collision, the blue van would certainly hit him.

  Rob wondered whether it might be better to head for a main road. Blue Van Man would surely have to back off if there were witnesses, speed cameras, maybe police. But main roads meant other cars and a greater risk of someone being hurt. And they had twisted and turned about so much Rob was no longer sure which was the quickest way back to a main road. And that was surely what the driver of the van wanted, for Rob to head away from Ashleigh and away from Chris and Claire and Laura. The fact that he was being pursued suggested that they were in trouble. He could not abandon them. He clenched his jaw and gripped the wheel tighter.

  They were leaving the open cornfields now, dropping down into more wooded country. Rob used the brakes as the road made a sharp turn down a steep hillside, checking the mirror to see how close the blue van was. The road was overhung with trees, deep shade alternating with dazzling patches of low autumn sun. Rob squinted, barely able to see the road ahead.

  He swung around another bend, and swore. Ahead, filling the whole width of the road, was a lorry, stacked high and precariously with crates or boxes. Packing for fruit or vegetables, Rob thought. The load was high enough to brush against the overhanging trees, striking branches and bringing down twigs and leaves that had not yet fallen. Rob tried to hang back, not wanting to get too close to the load that looked as if it might topple at any moment, but there was the blue van up close again, the driver, clearly visible in Rob’s rear view mirror, grinning.

  Rob was tiring; he could not keep this up much longer. He no longer even had the option of turning off this road; Blue Van Man was forcing him to drive so close to the lorry, he did not see the side roads until it was too late. He took another look in his mirror. The blue van was drifting a little from side to side, the driver’s attention not fully on the road as he looked at something in his hand. A mobile phone, perhaps, Rob thought. The lorry ahead tilted as it rounded a bend, its load slipping. Rob hastily returned his own attention to the road ahead. The lorry driver seemed oblivious both to the state of his load and the cat and mouse game being played out behind him.

  The trees to the right of the road were thinning, then there was a grass verge, a wooden fence and a field beyond. Rob saw a chance, perhaps the only one he would get. Another look in the mirror showed him the van driver still fiddling with his phone. Rob turned the steering wheel hard to the right, then the left, putting his foot down and pulling out and overtaking the lorry on the grass verge, hoping that there was room and there were no unseen hazards ahead. The van lurched, dipped and momentarily stuck, but whatever the obstruction was, it cleared it and move
d on.

  The lorry driver belatedly saw Rob in his wing mirror and instinctively steered to the left. The sudden swerve was too much for his load. As Rob pulled ahead of the lorry, a glance in his mirror showed him the packing cases spilling onto the road. The blue van driver evidently noticed the danger too late; Rob heard metal colliding, and glass shattering, as he drove away.

  He drove on for some distance, turning right and left, until he had no clue where he was. He could not resist frequent looks at the road behind, even though he was sure there was little chance of pursuit. Even if the blue van driver was unhurt and his van driveable – unlikely, Rob thought – it would take him some time to extricate himself from the mess.

  Suddenly, Rob could go on no longer. He managed to steer into a lay-by at the side of the road and switch off the engine. He leaned forward, putting his head down on his hands, which still clasped the steering wheel. He was shivering and shaking, the sweat chill on his body. Reaction, he knew, as his body continued to pump out the adrenaline it no longer needed. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply, forcing back the nausea that now rose in his throat. He was exhausted; he wanted nothing more than to lie down and not move for hours. But he had to get back to Chris and Claire and Laura. His hands still trembling slightly, Rob turned the key in the ignition and set off to find his way back to Ashleigh.

  Rob drove straight up to the church, his anxiety about Claire and Laura and Chris overriding any idea of caution. True, there were three of them against Pierson and perhaps one other. But he did not think Laura would be much use in a fight, and however much Claire might insist on equality, she did not have the strength of a man. There was a new looking 4x4 parked at the church gate. Pierson, Rob thought. He got out of the van, closing the door as quietly as he could, and locking it. He could see from the gate that the church door was ajar. He walked up the path, intending to listen, to try to find out what the situation was. He had barely reached the door, however, when he heard a woman yelling.

  ‘Bastard! Don’t you dare touch my sister!’

  Claire, of course. He pushed the door fully open and went in. Laura and Claire were kicking and pummelling Pierson, who had his hands up, defending himself. Then he saw Chris, on the ground, the thug standing over him, an iron bar – no, a crowbar, Rob realised – in his hand. He ran forward, yelling. It was not much, but it proved to be enough of a distraction. The thug looked up, his arm falling to his side. Chris rolled away, then brought his foot up to kick the man on the kneecap. Chris was wearing his workboots; it must have hurt. The man dropped the crowbar with a howl of pain and fell to the floor, clutching his knee.

  Chris stood up.

  ‘Nice timing.’

  They looked over at Pierson. He had managed to back away from Claire and Laura, hands out in front of him to fend off any further attack. They stood in front of him, Claire grim and threatening, Laura pale but determined.

  ‘He said you wouldn’t be coming,’ Chris said to Rob, indicating Pierson. ‘He said he sent the other one to sort you out.’

  ‘Ah.’ Rob looked down at the man still lying on the floor. ‘I hope that wasn’t your van your mate was driving.’ He looked at Pierson. ‘And I hope you’ve allowed for replacing all these vans in your calculations. That’s two now, isn’t it? Oh, and your car, of course. You will give him a lift home, won’t you? He’ll have a long walk, otherwise.’

  ‘What have you done?’ the man growled.

  ‘I didn’t do anything. Your mate needs to learn not to use a mobile phone while he’s driving. There’s a reason it’s illegal. I hope he’ll walk away from the smash. I didn’t wait to find out.’

  ‘Mobile phone?’ said Chris. ‘That’s who you were calling?’ he said to Pierson. ‘You made him crash? There’s a name for that sort of thing, isn’t there?’ he appealed to Rob. ‘Poetic justice or something.’ He was grinning.

  ‘Well, let’s be fair,’ Rob said. ‘He might have made the call, but the other man didn’t have to try to answer it.’

  Chazza had got to his feet, cautiously putting weight his sore leg. He picked up the toolbag, putting the crowbar back in.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ he growled. ‘Coming out here to the middle of nowhere, digging up dead bodies, getting attacked. I’ll take my money, then I’m out of here.’

  ‘I haven’t got – ’ Pierson began. The man began to limp towards him, a threatening look on his face. ‘All right, all right. Here you are.’ He took a folded wad of notes from an inside pocket and handed them over.

  ‘What about Kev’s share? And the cost of the van?’

  ‘That’s all I’ve got with me. You’ll have to come and see me next week.’

  ‘I will. And you’d better have it ready.’ He limped towards the door, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went.

  ‘We’ll take our phones, too,’ Claire said, her hand held out. Pierson gave them back, with an attempt at his usual smooth smile that did not quite work with the deep scratches down the side of his face.

  ‘Since it looks as if we’re going to be partners after all,’ he said.

  ‘Not on your life,’ said Chris.

  ‘Partner with a vile scumbag killer?’ said Claire.

  ‘Killer?’

  Rob thought Pierson looked genuinely shocked at the accusation.

  ‘Wayne Simpson,’ Claire said.

  ‘Ah. That little delinquent. He wanted money, but since he hadn’t done the job I sent him to do – ’

  ‘You mean stealing Auntie Emily’s book.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to pay him. He attacked me, I had to defend myself. He fell and hit his head. An accident, but no great loss.’

  ‘It’s a loss to his mother,’ Chris said. ‘And you covered up his body and went away and left him. He might have been still alive, might have been saved, if you’d called for help.’

  ‘He was already dead. Don’t blame me, blame the person who dumped whatever it was he hit his head on. And I didn’t cover him. The mattress fell. I wasn’t going to move it.’

  ‘I told you he wasn’t the sort to get his hands dirty, didn’t I?’ Chris said to Rob. He turned back to Pierson ‘You’re pathetic, you are. You haven’t got the balls to be a proper villain.’

  ‘And yet I’m going to walk away from here with a chance to make a fortune, while you’ll still be slaving away at that grubby little house of yours, hoping to make enough to escape from that sewer estate, full of drug dealers and prostitutes.’

  ‘You – ’ Chris lunged forward. Rob gripped his arm, holding him back.

  ‘Don’t soil your hands. He’s not worth it. And he’s not going to make any money out of this.’

  ‘Oh, but I am.’

  ‘No. You’re not.’ Rob was definite. He did not know where this confidence, this certainty had come from. Perhaps he was still riding the wave of adrenaline from the car chase. The words came without him consciously thinking about what he was going to say.

  ‘You’re not going near that tomb again.’

  ‘I still have the ring, and thanks to Laura, I now have a copy of the document the two of you – I don’t like to say stole – the document you acquired from Ashleigh.’

  ‘And the one you stole from the record office. But no-one will buy them from you. Because I will post on every internet forum relating to Richard III, send e-mails to every website, contact every society, warning them that someone is offering fake Ricardian memorabilia for sale.’

  ‘And ruin your own reputation at the same time by admitting your part in this?’

  ‘I won’t have to. No need to give my name. Just yours. No-one will touch anything you have to sell.’

  ‘The customers I have in mind won’t take any notice of someone posting anonymously on the internet.’

  ‘But they might decide to make further enquiries. The sort of customers you have in mind will know how to check up on you. And then they’ll find you’ve sold fake antiques before, won’t they?’

  Rob waited, watching Pi
erson. Chris had flung ‘pathetic’at him as an insult, but now Rob looked closely, he did look pathetic, with his trousers muddy around the hems, his hair dishevelled, and the deep red scratches down his face. The suave charm was gone, what was left was a weak and ineffectual man.

  ‘All right,’ Pierson said. He reached into his inside pocket again and brought out the ring. ‘You might as well take this.’ He threw it to Rob.

  ‘What about the document you stole from the record office?’

  ‘That’s in the car.’

  ‘You can give it to me before you go. And the copy of the transcript that Laura gave you.’

  Rob stood with Chris at the church door and watched Pierson walk down the path and out of the gate to his car. It seemed strange to think that only that morning he had felt threatened by him. They waited while Pierson unlocked his car, took out the document, the transcript and Laura’s handbag, and handed them over. Then he got into the car and drove away. They watched until he was out of sight.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  ‘Well,’ said Chris ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Can you do something about the tomb? We can’t leave it like that,’ Rob said.

  ‘Won’t be able to make it look like new. But yeah, I’ll get my tools, see what I can do. You got the keys to the van?’

  Inside the church, there was an awkward silence between Claire and Laura. Laura was sitting on the steps up to the chancel, hugging her cardigan around her, head down, hair hanging round her face. Claire was standing with her back to her, ostensibly studying the tomb. Her face looked tight and blank. Rob thought angry words might have been exchanged while he and Chris were outside.

  Chris returned with his tools. He picked up the panel Chazza had levered off.

  ‘Ignorant pillock,’ he said, looking at the damage that had been done by Chazza’s crowbar. ‘He could have been more careful.’ He began to sort the bricks and stone Chazza had displaced while trying to break through into the vault, piling the bricks up neatly to one side. Rob picked one up and weighed it in his hand.