by Lily Ashton
“Oh no, not the boundary. The dog marked the spot where the body was buried.”
“Body?” Alice’s foot swung out and caught the table leg, rattling cups in saucers.
“Not that I knew about it at the time, of course. If I had, I would never have signed that agreement.” Sarah’s eyes narrowed.
“Just a minute, I can’t quite get my mind around this.” Alice put a hand to her head. “You’re saying that those men drew up an agreement about a body buried on one of their properties?”
“That’s it exactly. Shocking it was. I never thought the same about Mr Carberry after that.”
“Who was it? The person who was buried there.”
“Mr Trevelyan’s mistress.”
“No! What?”
If Alice had struggled to comprehend that Wilfred Carberry’s agreement was really about the burial of a real person, that it involved a mistress of Bill Trevelyan’s made her head tumble. Two respectable so-called gentlemen, burying a body and then agreeing to cover it up? If that’s what their agreement was, it was hardly believable. But Sarah Evans seemed very sure.
“I’m certain. Merry Elders told me and she was working at Barleyland at the time. Big kerfuffle there was in the house. Mrs Trevelyan made a terrible scene one day, then she took the children away for a while. This all happened the week before I signed Mr Carberry’s agreement.”
“So why did you sign it?”
“I didn’t know about Mrs Trevelyan’s leaving until later on. I used to meet up with Merry once a fortnight. We both had every other Saturday off, so we’d meet for a drink at The Three Bells. But by the time we next saw each other, it had all happened. Of course, I couldn’t tell her about me signing the agreement. And it didn’t cross my mind that Mrs Trevelyan going away had anything to do with the agreement anyway.”
Sarah felt that she had been tricked into being part of a cover-up, involving the discreet burial of Mr Trevelyan’s mistress. Disgusted with Wilfred Carberry’s behaviour, she handed in her notice to Mrs Carberry. Wilfred had reminded Sarah that her signature was on the agreement. And that it would be best for her if she forgot all about it and never mentioned it to anyone. But she did tell Jeremy. Then they had agreed to forget about it and neither of them had discussed it again. Until Nick Carberry presented the agreement to Jeremy.
“When George Carberry died,” said Sarah. “His will stated that the Carberrys’ solicitor hand Nick an envelope containing the agreement. Apparently, Nick’s father had received it in the same way from Wilfred. George had opened it, sealed it again and left it with the solicitor for safe keeping, so Nick told Jeremy. The agreement was never required and it remained locked away until George himself passed away and left it to Nick.”
Nick was already working on his ideas for a swimming pool when he received the agreement. Discovering that he had more land to play with than he thought, he showed the document to Jeremy. They discussed how the dead conifers could be removed, with the cleared space accommodating a pool and changing rooms.
“Naturally, Jeremy told me. We were worried sick that the whole story would finally come out, including my role as witness. Then suddenly Nick and Jeremy were dead.
“Bill Trevelyan discovered that Nick and Jeremy knew about the agreement and he panicked thinking that the body would be discovered,” said Alice. “So he shot them.”
Tears gathered in Sarah’s eyes. “I’d say so. Other than me, nobody knows about that wretched agreement.”
Alice looked over her shoulder. “And you feel safe here by yourself? You don’t think Bill will come for you too?”
Sarah shook her fists in the air. “Just let him try. I’ve got my poker ready for him if he does.”
Another dead body, but this one from the past. And Bill Trevelyan was responsible for them all. Now that Alice knew what Wilfred Carberry’s agreement really meant, it did provide an explanation for Nick and Jeremy’s deaths. But Bill’s mistress? How had she ended up buried in a pet cemetery marked by a stone dog? And more importantly, who was she?
Chapter 29
Claudia Rowan was dunking a croissant into a mug of milky coffee when Alice arrived at the Great Wheaton Courier’s office. Claudia was the paper’s arts reporter and Alice had asked her friend if she could search the Courier’s database. There was a scanned copy of every weekly edition on the computer, so it was likely there would be something to help identify Bill Trevelyan’s mistress. Claudia took Alice into a room at the back of the office and showed her where to start.
Alice did not know the name of the woman buried beneath the stone dog, so she typed the word ‘Barleyland’ into the search box. Several articles popped up. At one point, the Trevelyans had held open garden sessions at their property to raise money for repairs to the local church. The paper had covered the open days. The garden was found to be ‘pleasing’ and the vicar had given his thanks for the donations received. But there was no mention of another woman.
Alice tried Bill’s name next and a surprising number of articles popped up. Bill had been an enthusiastic cricketer in his younger days and there were reports of his batting prowess and athletic fielding. There were photos of him marching in Remembrance Day parades, dressed in a suit and beret, medals pinned to his jacket. Alice played with other keywords, but she could find no trace of Bill’s mysterious mistress. She went back to the main menu, where the paper’s sections were listed. Arts, Sport – no. Obituaries – not much good without a name. Towards the bottom of the list was a section entitled ‘Missing Persons’.
The Courier ran a short Missing Persons column from time to time. Started at the end of 1943, it was a service for people looking for loved ones missing during the war years. The column had proved effective and was continued after the War. Alice typed in the date of Wilfred and Bill’s agreement, figuring that the woman must have been buried around the same time.
The computer found a number of entries and Alice read messages asking – pleading – for information about family and friends with whom local people had lost contact. Alice pictured distraught parents, siblings, children composing messages they hoped would finally bring home someone special and relieve their agony.
Alice’s eyes filled with tears. She walked around the room until she could push emotion to the back of her mind. She sat down again and clicked onto the next page. A message halfway down caught her eye:
MIRIAM GONZALES
5’ 1”, dark hair, Mexican. Last heard of living with Mrs Dorling in Great Wheaton, but has not been in contact since February 1972. Concerned for her welfare.
A woman, perhaps alone in a foreign country and lodging with a local family. But crucially, Miriam had stopped contacting her sister a few months before Wilfred and Bill’s agreement. Could this be the mysterious woman?
“How are you getting on?” Claudia peered around the door.
“Really well, I think I may have found the right person. Now I just need to find an address.”
“Oh that shouldn’t be difficult.” Claudia pulled the laptop towards her. “Call out the information you have and we’ll see what we get.”
Claudia tapped some keys, then swung the screen back to Alice. “Easy. There’s your house, picture and all. Freaky, isn’t it?” She perched on the desk. “And what’s inside? A body under the floorboards?”
“You may be closer than you think.” Alice smiled at her friend. “Thanks, that was a great help.”
“Good luck. And if there’s a good story in this, don’t forget who gave you the address.”
No. 27 Poplar Street lay in the shadow of a poplar tree. Alice stepped into a narrow hallway, the peeling wallpaper contributing to its gloominess. But Susan Dorling’s smile was as warm as the sun that streamed through the living room window. She urged Alice into a chair in the corner and turned on a standard lamp.
“There’s a bit of light on the subject.”
Susan showed Alice a photograph of her mother. “Mum moved here when she and Dad married in nineteen sixty-four. That was Mum in the garden that year. She was beautiful and such a kind person. I do miss her.” Susan looked over Alice’s shoulder. “Anyway, Mum started taking in lodgers after Dad died four years later. Me and my brother were only young, but I remember all our guests, as Mum called them. Including Miriam.”
“When did Miriam arrive?”
Susan flicked a long blond plait over her shoulder. “It was January nineteen seventy-one or two. Two, I think. She’d been living in London. She’d come to England with her sister and the pair of them worked in a restaurant. Shepherd’s Bush, as far as I remember.”
“And the sister stayed on in London?”
“Yes. Miriam said that a friend of hers suggested she move here so the two of them could be closer. Of course Mum knew she meant a man, though Miriam never let on who it was. Anyway, she worked at a French restaurant on the river near The Shipwreck. It’s gone now.”
“So Miriam worked, got to see more of her friend, and stayed here. And then she disappeared.”
“Exactly. Just didn’t come home one day. Mum called the police and they searched for her, but they couldn’t find a trace of her. She completely disappeared.”
Alice held out her hands. “But you told me on the phone that you knew what happened to Miriam.”
“Mum had a good friend called Whitey Bale. I thought he was a bit strange, but Mum liked him a lot. Whitey was an eco-warrior long before it became fashionable. He lived in the woods beside the Narebridge Road, fished in the river and foraged for plants and herbs.” Susan pushed her sweatshirt sleeves up to her elbows. “One day, he was looking for rabbits in the woods between Barleyland and Renton Hall, when he heard Wilfred Carberry and Bill Trevelyan talking. He didn’t want them to see him, so he hid.”
“You mean Whitey was poaching and he didn’t want to get caught?”
“Exactly. And Whitey listened. Bill Trevelyan explained that he and Miriam – so Mum was right that they were an item – had argued. He had pushed her, she had fallen and hit her head against one of the headstones in the pet cemetery.”
“And she had died. So Bill had killed her?”
“Yes, though it sounds as if it was an accident.”
“And they buried her in the cemetery, putting the dog there as a marker,” Alice said.
“They marked her grave with a dog?” Susan coughed and slapped her chest. “Sorry. Tea went down the wrong way.”
“A stone dog. Like a garden ornament.”
“You’re joking … Poor Miriam, what a horrible end. And she was such a sweet lady.” Susan wiped her cheeks with a tissue. “I’m glad Mum didn’t know about the dog bit. She’d have been even more upset, knowing that Miriam had been shoved under an animal like that.”
Alice was not sure that Susan had fully understood that the dog was not real, but she decided to leave further explanation. Having got all the information Susan had to give, Alice walked onto the high street and towards the police station.
Nathan Salisbury beckoned Alice into his office as he was finishing a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich. He wiped his hands and opened a thin folder on his desk.
“Thanks for calling yesterday, Alice. Luckily it was not too late to send a forensics team up to the woods and they did recover a body last night. It was buried exactly where you said it was.”
“Where the dog sculpture had been?”
“That’s right.”
Alice told Nathan about her conversation with Susan Dorling and her account of how Miriam had met her end.
“We’ll have to try and find this Whitey Bale, to confirm what he heard. Though it was a long time ago. I’m not sure that even the most determined eco-warrior could last that long around here.”
“And now that you’ve got a name, you can formally identify the body.”
“That’s really helpful, thanks Alice. Show me the missing person ad you found in the Courier, would you?” Alice turned on her phone and zoomed in on the photo she had taken of the ad. Nathan read it through, jotting down the details and adding them to his folder.
“If the body does turn out to be Miriam Gonzalez, I’ll have to contact her family. I don’t suppose her sister is still on that number.”
“When will you know for sure that it is Miriam?”
“After the autopsy. Though you’ve speeded things up by giving a steer on the name. Then we’ll be able to speak to her family. We should be able to confirm it’s her within a few days.”
“Will that include a confirmation on how she died?”
“I hope so.” Nathan pulled out a sheet of paper from his folder. “Though I have a preliminary report from the pathologist at the scene.” He handed the paper over.
Alice read the two paragraphs and peered at Nathan over the page. “He’s sure about this?”
“Absolutely. Given the type of trauma to the head, there was only one way it could have been caused. He’s certain.”
Alice turned the Defender into Barn End Road and pulled up just before the entrance to Barleyland. She killed the engine and looked at the wood that separated the Trevelyan estate from Renton Hall. It would have been about this spot that Whitey Bale had crept amongst the trees looking for dinner. Before his hunt had been interrupted by a gruesome conversation between the two property owners.
For Wilfred Carberry it was a calm discussion over how a lovers’ tiff ending in tragedy, had presented an opportunity to extend his own estate and increase its value. For Bill Trevelyan, it was about burying his mistress and his crime against her. The price? A few metres of woodland and one pound.
Alice’s opinion of both men nosedived. She had no need to brace herself for the conversation she was about to have at the Trevelyan household. She marched up Barleyland’s driveway and knocked on the door.
“Hello dear, how nice of you to pop in again.” Elsa broke a smile and pulled the door open. “Come in and I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Don’t bother with tea, Mrs Trevelyan. I won’t be staying long. Where’s Bill?”
“He’s in his study, but—”
“Bill Trevelyan,” Alice said to the back of Bill’s head when she got to the open door of the study, “I know all about your agreement with Wilfred Carberry.”
Bill spun around. “What agreement?”
Alice pulled a piece of paper from her jeans pocket. “This one.” She gave Bill the paper. “That’s just a copy, the police have the original.”
“Police?” Elsa clutched the edge of the desk.
“Yes, Mrs Trevelyan. Police.”
Red blotches appeared on Bill’s cheeks. “Now look here, young lady …”
“Don’t you young lady me. You killed two people to keep your sordid secret quiet. And for what? Nick had no intention of touching the pet cemetery. He was going to use the land on the other side of the wood.”
“Yes, for now. But what was to stop him having other plans in the future that would involve digging around the cemetery? I couldn’t take the chance.”
Alice spotted a set of golf clubs beside Bill’s desk and she was tempted to wallop him with the driver.
“It’s all in the past now, dear.” Elsa’s soft voice broke the tension. “There’s no bringing Nick back.”
Alice turned to Mrs Trevelyan. She stepped towards her, towering over the older woman. Alice looked down into her eyes. “But we did bring back Miriam Gonzalez.” Elsa’s face switched from pink to white. “The police dug her up yesterday.”
“I don’t know who—”
“Yes you do. You know perfectly well that Miriam was your husband’s mistress. You found them together in the woods. Squabbling.”
Elsa backed away, but Alice followed her. “You confronted them, didn’t you? And they admitted their affair.”
�
��They said they wouldn’t see each other again. And I was fine with that.”
Alice put her hands on her hips. “You, Elsa, were a long way from fine. In fact you were furious with Miriam. So furious that you went for Bill’s rifle and shot her.”
Chapter 30
Eleanor Carberry stood at Renton Hall’s open door. Wilson, a blue ribbon in his topknot, stood at her feet. Eleanor kissed Alice on both cheeks and shook Joe’s hand.
“I’m delighted that you’re amongst the first actual guests to stay at the hotel. We’re fully booked, so we’re doing a special dinner tonight to celebrate. Come in and let me show you Gina’s finishing touches.”
Gina had already given Alice a room-by-room tour. But there were some small final decisions that had not been made and Alice was keen to see how they had turned out. The estate plans hung just inside the front door. They were surrounded by photos that Alice had found in the attic, of the Carberry family and the staff and pets over the years.
“I was thinking of putting the inventory you did in a glass case here in the corner,” said Eleanor. “What do you think?”
“Open at a random page for people to read, I assume?”
“Yes, we can turn the pages every now and again. As there’s only a fraction of our collection on display – it will show our guests the other pieces we have.”
“That’s a lovely idea.”
In the bright and welcoming reception area, a young man with a blue streak in his hair and wearing a tweed jacket, took Alice’s bag.
“Jeff.” Eleanor clutched the man’s arm. “This is Alice Haydon and her partner Joe Buchanan. They are my very special guests this weekend, so please take good care of them.”
“My absolute pleasure. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything at all. Would you like a drink?”
“I’ll take a Guinness.” Joe followed Jeff to the bar.
Eleanor and Alice wandered into the library. Logs crackled beneath lustrous flames in an arch-shaped fireplace. “When Gina suggested replacing the fireplace with this modern, rather streamlined structure,” said Eleanor, “I was dead against it. But it works perfectly in this room.”