“With worry. Think, Lillie. We had no idea where you might be. He came to check the church earlier, but the front door was locked.”
“Oh,” came sheepishly out her lips. “Yes, well, all in all, we’re quite all right.”
Hugh frowned. “You are at the moment.”
“I know this is distinctly exasperating, Hugh.” Berdie summoned her valor. “But, we need your help, desperately.” Berdie gave a glance Lillie’s way.
“Desperately.” Lillie mimicked.
“First,” Berdie went on, “may I have my mobile to call Edward?”
Hugh lifted his chin. “You didn’t charge the iPhone, even though I told you it needed to be done.”
“I was busy. I’m sorry, Hugh. Truly I am.”
He gave her the mobile. “What else?”
Berdie measured her words. “Please tell Mr. Slade to wait out front of the church. Lillie and I can then wash up a bit. Suggest to him that you lock the tower door after us.”
Hugh’s collar looked snowy white against a red tinge that sprung up on his neck.
Berdie pushed on. “Then, return the keys to him when Lillie and I get outside.”
“Really, Berdie. You want me to be a part of this subterfuge and commandeer the man’s keys?”
“Please, Hugh. It’s important to keep him at arm’s reach.”
“Then we can promptly get back to Loren,” Lillie suggested in a try-to-convince tone.
Hugh shook his head. “A bit late for promptly.”
A rapid knock at the door interrupted the conversation.
Berdie marshaled all her pleading capabilities and put her hand to her heart. “Oh, please, Hugh.”
“I’m not at all happy about this.” Still, he grasped the door handle. “I can’t guarantee anything.”
Berdie shut the torchlight off.
Hugh joined Mr. Slade just outside the door.
Instantly, Berdie was on the mobile. Thank heaven, Edward answered on the second ring. She began rapidly spilling all she had found in the tower wall into Edward’s inquisitive ear.
“Absolutely no one else can know about this.” Edward made the statement a command. “No one.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll give some reason for closing the church entirely. Then, I’ll dispatch historical experts, university, museum types, to the site immediately.”
“Of course.”
Berdie watched Lillie who had her ear next to the door.
“I’ll keep in touch, Berdie,” Edward assured. “And tell no one.”
“Yes, Edward,” Berdie pledged. He rang off.
Lillie signaled a thumbs-up. “Mr. Slade has bought our plan to give keys to Hugh and meet outside.”
Berdie stuffed the mobile in her pocket. “Well done, Hugh.”
Retreating steps sounded and the door swung open. “Get on with it then. And be quick about it,” Hugh commanded, shaking the keys.
Berdie and Lillie found their way to the lavatory, just aside the sacristy. Few other times was Berdie so grateful for modern facilities. She and Lillie exhaled with a great sense of relief, and did a quick tidy up of their clothing. Berdie’s long shirt tail covered everything to her lower thighs. It was a masquerade, but in keeping with Lillie’s on-the-spot tower ruse. She did the best she could to shake plaster dust from her hair, and prayed the dark would mask what remained.
When Berdie and Lillie left the small washroom, they made their way past the sacristy, Lillie in the lead. But Berdie noticed the door was slightly ajar. Her curiosity rose to a point higher than her sense of propriety.
“Wait, Lillie,” she beckoned.
“What?”
“Hello?” Berdie blithely gave a quick rap on the sacristy door. It swung open. “Just a little look-see.”
Lillie brought her palms forward and shook them. “No, Berdie. No.”
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“It doesn’t matter if I am or not because you’re going in whether I say yes, or no.”
At the same moment Lillie spoke, Berdie felt a swish of cool air.
“I say, that’s chilly,” Lillie quipped.
“Isn’t it just?” Berdie glanced at the security system camera just above them that was tilted slightly downward. A nearby roof vent silently closed. “My goodness,” she blustered. “That’s not half clever.” More determined now, she stepped inside the sacristy and a light came on.
“I didn’t notice that you turned on the light, Berdie.”
“That’s because it turned itself on. Just as I suspected.”
Lillie stood aloof. “By itself?”
“It’s motion activated, like that sassy little Honk, Honk thing at the garage.”
“Sassy what?”
Berdie took in the small room which held those things often found in a sacristy: a garment wardrobe, chairs, desk, cupboards, plus a laptop computer.
“Where did that cool breeze come from?” Lillie questioned.
“Think about it, Lillie.” Berdie went to the desk and looked round.
“Berdie, I can’t believe you’re doing this. Aren’t we in enough bother?” Lillie sounded impatient. “Remember? Your Hugh said be quick. Besides, something feels, I don’t know, eerie.”
“That’s just what you’re meant to feel.” Berdie scrutinized the laptop and several flash drives clipped together and chained to it. “Very clever.”
Lillie still stood in the doorway. “Whatever you may find clever, I don’t. Now, we need to get on.”
“Lillie, do you see the screens of the CCTV system? Come take a good look.”
“I don’t see them from here. That’s good enough.”
“Indeed. Nor do I see them from where I stand.”
Berdie bent down and pulled the desk chair from its place. She lifted out a large bin liner bag, rounded by its contents.
“Not the rubbish,” Lillie grumbled.
“Interesting things, bin liners.” Berdie unwound the cable tie that held it closed. When she spied the contents, several puzzle pieces smacked together in a perfect fit. “Of course. Technology and environment meet in a blend of pick and mix. Let nature take its course.”
“What are you blithering on about?”
“This is something you might appreciate. Come, look.” Berdie knew curiosity would eventually win Lillie over.
Lillie cautiously made her way to Berdie’s side. “This better be good.” She peeked inside the liner and scowled. “What on earth is that?”
“Toast, Lillie. Crumpled up toast.”
“Crumpled up toast?” Lillie’s scowl deepened. “Really Berdie. What possible good can that be?”
“Oh, I think I know exactly what Keith’s doing with it. Remember running into Aggie when she was bringing him tea and toast?”
Lillie poked her finger at the side of the bag. “I dare say he’s not had a bite of it in six months judging by this lot.”
Berdie put the cable tie back on and returned the bin liner to its place under the desk.
“What a waste of perfectly good toast,” Lillie lamented.
“Not wasted. Redirected.” Berdie tapped the laptop touch pad. “What would a verger use as a password?”
“No,” Lillie backed up. “That’s going too far. That’s off limits.” Lillie crossed her arms. “In fact, all of this is getting tiresome. I need to get back to my Loren. Poor lamb.”
Berdie was snapped out of her detective mode. Loren. She had momentarily forgotten all about the lost dinner and proposal that didn’t happen.
“Nose round if you wish. I’m leaving.” Lillie proceeded to the door.
“No, Lillie. Wait. I’m coming.” As much as she wanted to continue her snooping, it was right to move on. And her concerns here were settled enough. She had plenty of what she needed. “You’re right. We need to get you back to your Loren.”
After leaving the sacristy, its light went off. Berdie and Lillie walked to the church’s front door where she heard faint fo
otsteps once again. She eyed the security camera. “Incorrigible.”
“You’ve suddenly gone rather somber,” Lillie said.
“How can such a bright and positive mind create such a dark, deceptive plan?”
“What do you mean?”
“And why cover up such an amazing treasure? Because something there intimidates, or threatens, someone!”
“Berdie, you’re rambling.” Lillie step-dragged as quickly as she could to the door.
“Oh, no, not rambling at all. In fact, I’m right on target.”
****
The morning sun was nothing more than a fuzzy cotton ball hidden behind the dark cloud bank that painted the sky.
“Two things, Berdie,” Hugh said whilst getting in the hire car to leave for his morning classes. “Give Lillie and Loren space to spend some time together today. A day of Loren missing classes is certainly understandable in the situation. Secondly, let’s see if you can manage, in the next twenty-four hours, to resist knocking down any ancient walls.”
“Yes, Hugh,” she said with a smile. “I can manage both.”
Berdie closed the vehicle door and blew a kiss to her long-suffering husband who drove away.
Reception was quiet when she went back inside the inn, and the morning tea was brewed. She dressed a cup with milk and sugar, poured the dark liquid into it, and went up to her room.
Having momentarily put everything else aside, she relaxed in the upholstered chair that was part of her charming room in the Bell Tower Inn. “It’s up to Edward, now,” she said aloud with a sense of relief.
She considered the heated discussion from last night. Hugh had put it to her. Why had she not told him what she was doing? How could she take such risks? Had she not given thought to Loren’s hopes and plans? From the moment she had gotten out of the most-appreciated shower until she put head to pillow, the conversation didn’t cease. Still, Hugh seemed better this morning.
Happily, all that was now behind her now.
Berdie relished this moment of peace, and felt content despite aching, over-worked muscles. She leaned her head back. The rousing cup of tea was warm in her hands. “A moment’s peace,” she said aloud.
“Mrs. Elliott,” was followed by a rapid knock at the door.
Really? This can’t be happening she thought. “Who is it?” she called unwillingly.
“Sorry to bother. It’s Sydney, Mrs. Elliott.”
Berdie wanted to call out, “Go away.” She wanted to stay in her chair for at least another hour, to enjoy unabated quiet. But she stood, put her cup down, and went to the door.
“You’ve a guest,” Mr. Owl Eyes informed her when Berdie opened to him. “And she’s not half piqued.”
“Who is it?”
“I think you’d better come down now. Go to the sitting room, straight way.” With that, Sydney dashed off.
Who could it be? Someone displeased by the sound of it. “Just great.” With little energy, she made her way down stairs, steeling herself as she went.
The moment Berdie entered the sitting room, her guest burst into strident words.
“What is my brother’s game, Mrs. Elliott? What’s he about?” Meg stood firm like a castle battlement and thrust her index finger toward Berdie. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” Meg apparently wasn’t concerned about pastoral peace and mercy at this moment.
Berdie saturated her attitude with poise. “Good morning Dr. Rhys.” She paused. “Meg.”
The disgruntled woman put hands on hips and grunted. “Well?”
“Have you asked your brother what he’s doing?”
“I can’t get into my church,” she wailed, one hand flying heavenward. “He’s got the whole thing shut solid. And posted a guard besides.”
“I’m sorry, Meg. That must be genuinely difficult for you.”
Meg glared at Berdie who felt the scorch of it.
“Why don’t we sit down?”
“I don’t want to sit down. I want some answers.”
Berdie positioned herself on the nearest chair and worked at staying calm. “Why should I have answers about your brother’s business? What makes you think I know more than you do?”
“Don’t play puppies with me,” she boomed. “When he invited you to dinner, he told us about you. His ‘best investigative reporter ever’ he said. You could find the sniff of truth in a rubbish heap of deceit.”
“Edward always did have a tendency to over-egg the pudding.”
The fuming woman pursed her lips.
“Besides, Meg, I’m now a vicar’s wife. I left the newspaper business.”
Meg began to pace. “Just why did you come here to Criswell?”
Berdie bristled. “What kind of a question is that? You know why.”
“Do I?”
“Look. See sense. I didn’t even know Criswell was Edward’s home.”
“So he didn’t deliberately ask you to come here?” She spun round and paced the opposite direction.
“Meg, Hugh came to the church conference and I came with him. We wanted somewhere charming to stay, and the Bell Tower Inn ticked all the right boxes. It’s that simple.”
“What is Edward up to?” Meg put her hand on her forehead. “I have a vested interest in St. Baldred’s.”
Berdie’s ears perked. Vested interest? “Whatever he’s doing with the church is in everyone’s best interest, I’m sure.”
Meg threw her hands in the air. “I can see I’m wasting my time here.” She glanced at the station clock on the hearth. “I need to get on to my lecture.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Berdie addressed the pacing woman, “why did you choose to become a doctorate in Divinity?”
“To get up my sister’s nose,” she snapped. “She thought it absolutely useless, impractical, and she never approved. Particularly for a female Kavendish.” Meg became more thoughtful. “Well, originally that was the reason.” She stopped dead and glared at Berdie. “How is it that you’re asking me questions?” She nodded her head, making her dark page-boy hair bounce. “You see, you still have that investigative instinct. You do.”
Berdie rustled in her chair and glanced at the clock.
“O-h-h,” Meg nearly growled, “this is tiresome. I’m off.” She took rapid steps toward the door and turned. “You’re up to your eyeballs in this…whatever it is.”
Berdie stood. “If I was in a place,” and she wasn’t, “to give you information,” which she was honor bound not to do, “I would try to ease your frustration,” and nothing short of breaking down St. Baldred’s door seemed to be able to do that at the moment.
“You must think I came down with the last shower.” Meg raised her dark brows. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, you know. Eventually, you’re going to tell me everything.”
Oh, yes, my dear. In my time, and on my terms.
Like a bull on the rampage, Meg left the room and barged through reception. In a flash, Berdie heard the inn’s front door slam so hard she wondered if it was still on its hinges.
As if having gone through a major spin cycle, Berdie tottered into reception where Sydney stirred a teapot.
He dispensed some of the steaming liquid into a dainty tea cup, sat it on a matching saucer, and handed it to Berdie. “I should think you need this.”
“Thank you, Sydney.” Berdie knew the cuppa in her room would now be cold. Halfway up the stairs to her room, she wondered what Meg’s fuss was about. Was there really a guard at St. Baldred’s? One could only imagine who else may be up in arms. Berdie’s stomach grumbled. “Some breakfast is in order,” she mumbled.
Within five minutes, Berdie had nearly reached the pub. She noticed that five different vehicles were parked on the road’s grass verge closest the church, Edward’s experts come to do their work presumably. But, then, something quite interesting caught her eye at St. Baldred’s. And she went straight way to the well-kept garden.
“Surely, Mr. Cavendish didn’t intend that I should be
kept out of the church,” Keith half shouted. “It’s some kind of a mistake.” He stood ramrod straight as he addressed the sizeable man anchored in front of the church door.
“Sorry, sir,” the man said. “No one’s allowed in.”
“But, I’ve already told you, I’m the verger.”
“Yes, we’ve established that, sir.”
Keith tapped his chest. “I have every right to be inside.” He made an attempt to step past the man who looked as though he ate nails for breakfast. Agile for his size, the Goliath moved laterally and thwarted Keith’s attempt. The verger was no match for the burly fellow who was determined to do his duty.
“Good morning, Keith.” Berdie appeared as casual as possible.
“Is it?” Keith tramped to her side. “He,” he nodded toward the guard, “seems to think he owns this place.”
“Does he?”
“I know Edward said the church was closed, but certainly not to me.” He waved his index finger toward the fellow. “I can’t reason with him.”
Berdie tried a gentle tone. “Perhaps you could think of it as a well-deserved day off.”
Keith reared. “My dear lady, if some kind of repair work is being done in there, which Edward seems intent on doing, I must direct it.” He eyed the tower. “Who knows what kind of damage they could be inflicting?”
“But, repairmen make things better,” Berdie countered. “They fix what’s broken.”
Keith’s cheeks pinked. His gaze fell past Berdie. “Ah.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, here comes someone who can help sort this.”
13
Berdie turned to see a rather gloomy Pip Horsham of the Cavendish household approaching. His trousers, beneath a leather bomber jacket, looked in need of a good iron, as though he slept in them and crawled out of bed just moments ago. And judging by the slits that served as eyes, the young man was in need of some strongly caffeinated beverage. With little fortitude, he situated himself next Keith.
“I should think you can do something about this.” Keith switched his gaze from Pip, to the guard, and back to Pip.
Pip scratched his neck. “Yeah, Gus rang.”
Keith glared at the young man. “Gus, who? Certainly not my brother, Gus.”
All Hallows Dead (Berdie Elliott Mysteries) Page 18