by Ruby Loren
Eleanor and I watched transfixed, as Lowell and Harrison struggled for control of the gun. Someone pushed me hard and I stumbled forwards.
“No you don’t!” Eleanor yelled and pulled Marie back from the door by her hair. She shrieked and stopped trying to escape, instead turning on Eleanor and launching herself at her with a war cry. No longer protected by Harrison’s gun, Eleanor was left to fend for herself.
I rushed across to Mr Crawley and applied pressure to his wound. I grabbed a pack of gauze that was just lying around on the ground from earlier, and opened the plastic packaging.
The vet shouted a warning and I was forced to press myself against the wall when the two fighting men got a little too close.
“Press that onto the wound. I’m sure we’ll be getting you some help in no time at all,” I said, doing my best to sound reassuring.
I looked round and was relieved to see Lowell land a punch on Harrison Marl’s face. It looked like he’d broken his nose. The other man’s hands reflexively flew up to clutch his face and Lowell finally managed to get his hands on the gun.
He got to his feet panting. Sweat dripped from his forehead and I found myself surprised that he appeared so unfit. The fight had been full on, but Harrison Marl wasn’t anywhere near as big as Lowell and despite the blood streaming from his nose, he looked ready to go again.
Lowell obviously thought so, too, as he levelled the gun at him.
He glanced over at Eleanor and Marie, who were still scuffling on the floor, tearing at each other’s hair and screeching. He cleared his throat and they both looked up and found that the situation in the room had changed.
Lowell took a breath. “Right. I want someone to tell me exactly what is going on here.”
“It’s all just a bit of a misunderstanding," Harrison blustered, attempting to turn on the charm despite his broken nose.
“Shut up, you shot a vet in the shoulder,” I said, disgusted. I turned my gaze to Lowell. “They know about the money…” I hoped the direction his eyes had just moved hadn’t been as obvious as I feared it was. “They told some cock and bull story about Mr Limey having eggs when really he’s had a rock inside him all along.” I looked sideways at Eleanor. “A pretty valuable rock, I think,” I finished.
She scowled at me.
I had my suspicions about the item that currently sat in her jacket pocket, but I still couldn’t figure out how it was possible. One thing was obvious, the way they’d behaved made it clear that these people weren’t above violence to get their way.
Perhaps they weren’t above murder, either…
“I found the stuff from the job I was doing. It’s all in a shed near the big cats.” He said cryptically, for the benefit of our audience, I guessed. “I’m going to call the police and the ambulance. We're all going to stay exactly where are until they get here,” Lowell said, droplets of sweat falling from his face and onto the floor.
His fingers shook when he reached a hand inside his well-worn leather jacket and I noticed the hand holding the gun also trembled. I glanced to my right and saw Harrison’s eyes narrow.
Keep it together, Lowell! I thought.
His hand never made it into his pocket. Instead, he raised it back up to his forehead and massaged his temple. “My head," he said and a high pitched giggle escaped his lips. “What's happening,” he said and dropped the gun. I pressed myself to the floor when it bounced on the linoleum. Fortunately, it didn’t go off.
Lowell looked down at his hand in horror and then giggled again. Now he pressed both palms to his head and sank to his knees.
It was then I fully comprehended that he had lost the gun. I dived forwards, but Harrison Marl was quicker. He rolled, pointing the silenced barrel at my face. I stopped moving. Behind him, Lowell gave me a despairing look and passed out, crumpling to the floor.
Harrison Marl brushed himself down and stood up, keeping the gun pointed in my direction. “Well, that was quite the turnabout, wasn’t it?” He said, managing to smile despite the half-congealed blood that still dripped down his face in places. He jerked the gun at me and I stood up, trying to look past him to see if Lowell was okay.
Harrison followed my gaze and laughed. “Your boyfriend there must have sticky fingers,” he said and then turned his attention to Eleanor, who was looking sulkily at Marie. Both of them had hair sticking up in tufts and I could see strands of the stuff littering the floor.
“We should get out of here. We've got what we want,” he said.
“But the money!” Eleanor protested.
Harrison gave a frustrated sigh. “It’s not the important bit. It was meant to be payment, but we’ll get it all… don’t you worry.” He looked at me with glittering eyes. I thought that despite my attempts to divert attention back to Marie, he probably knew exactly who it was that held the responsibility for the disappearing cash.
“So, we’re cool. You’d better get the vet to his feet. He’s your responsibility now,” Harrison said, and before I could open my mouth to protest that he needed proper medical care, Harrison had levelled the gun at Marie and pulled the trigger.
She slumped to the floor, her mouth still open and a pool of red already spreading beneath her.
Eleanor jumped to the side in disgust.
Harrison grinned at her. “Well, that’s nearly all of the loose ends tied up.”
He knelt down and pressed the gun into Lowell’s palm, folding his fingers around it. “Dear oh dear… a private detective turned thief, and now a murderer, suspected of having drugs in his system. When he wakes up and tries to tell them about us, no one will have a clue what he’s talking about. Hey, maybe they’ll even get him for what we did to Jackie, too,” he said and laughed. “That would be brilliant.”
I suddenly realised he knew Lowell’s occupation and a few things slotted into place.
He turned back to us with the grin on his face, as if he hadn’t just killed someone. “Shall we get on?”
Neither of us moved now the gun was back on the floor. Harrison splayed his hands in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. I was about to make a second dive for the gun when Trinity walked in, carrying her own weapon.
The pistol looked practically prehistoric. I reckoned she only had one shot at a time, and it would probably sound like a bomb going off in the confines of the critical care unit. And that was if it fired at all…
Trinity must have seen me looking at the pistol because once more, I was the one who had the gun pointed my way. “I can see you’re thinking about trying something daring and heroic. I’m afraid you’d better not… I’m a crack shot.” In the next second, she jerked the gun round and fired at the only glass measuring beaker to have survived Marie’s search. It shattered on the shelf. I suddenly realised the gun had barely made a sound.
Trinity smiled at me. “You didn’t really think I’d use it without having a few modifications made, did you? I love history. But I love it even more when you make an old idea better. Now, you’d better walk in front of me until we get to the car. Madi, you’ll be driving and the vet will take the passenger seat. Don’t think it’s your chance to escape. I’ll be right behind you, holding a pistol to the back of your neck.” She grinned. “Better hope we don't go over any bumps or my finger might just slip.”
I bit my tongue and looked across at the vet. He looked pale and hopeless. The gauze was already soaked with red.
“Could you at least call an ambulance for him? Just leave him here and call,” I said, knowing the vet was in trouble.
Trinity shook her head. “No can do. He’s seen too much. However, I could put him out of his misery…” She raised the gun, and I desperately shook my head.
“No! It’ll be fine. He’ll be no trouble,” I said. Next to me, the vet groaned and I wondered if I’d be able to get him to walk as far as their car. My rather short stature wasn’t going to do me any favours when trying to support a grown man. But if I failed, the consequences were unthinkable.
My eyes were dr
awn to Marie’s still body and then to Lowell with that damned gun in his hand.
“You planned this all, didn’t you?” My brain felt like a pile of mush. A few things were clicking into place, but the main feeling I was getting was that Trinity Snidely had played us all - masterfully.
“I did employ Lowell without telling anyone important, figuring he might come in handy as a fall guy, or just to have around. He is nice to look at, isn’t he?” She shot me a smile that I ignored. “Actually, I did want to get the heirlooms back, so if he found them, that would be great. I’d pay him off and take all of the credit. Harold would be so pleased. It would make all of our hard work worthwhile.” She sighed happily and looked down at Lowell again. “In the end, I assume he must have found the missing haul. Too bad it was such bad timing."
“What did you do to him?” I said, wondering if Lowell would be okay.
Trinity looked down at her watch and ignored me. “Let’s get going. People come in here all the time with wretched creatures. We don't want to hang around here.”
She waved the gun and I did my best to support the semi-conscious vet on the way out of the unit. By the time we reached the pavement outside, Harrison got frustrated and half walked, half carried the vet himself.
I slid into the blue car - perfectly matching the description Steve the caretaker had given - and silently wondered how I could have been so blind until now.
“Where’s George?” I asked, adding some facts together and realising that I wasn’t the first person to drive this car at gun point. George Ashdown had never tried to run from the scene of murder. He’d been kidnapped.
Trinity slid into the back with Eleanor and I felt the cold steel press against the back of my neck.
“Enough small talk. Start driving and follow my instructions precisely… If you want to live.”
I allowed myself a small eye roll, confident that she couldn't see my face. Had she taken lessons on threats from James Bond villains?
Harrison opened the door on the rear passenger side, where Eleanor was already seated.
“Sorry, Harry. You’ll have to walk,” she said with a smile and then shut the door again. I saw his furious expression and wondered if they really were married after all. Come to think of it, what had just happened fitted exactly with a lot of people's idea of marriage.
“Drive!” Trinity ordered.
I turned the key in the ignition and drove away from Lowell, Lucky, and any hope of rescue.
10
Prisoner
Why didn’t I realise? I thought when Trinity ordered me to take a left, only a few seconds after we’d pulled out of the car park. I took the turn and started up the drive towards the ever-imposing, Dracondia Manor. Now it made perfect sense that Steve had thought the car he’d seen had been a group of disorientated guests - the blue car driven by George Ashdown had gone to Dracondia Manor!
I pulled up on the gravel, desperately hoping that there would be some workers or members of the public still around. The car park was empty, with the exception of Lord Snidely’s Aston Martin.
As Harrison was presumably still hiking up the hill to reach the manor, I was in charge of dragging the vet inside. I focused all of my attention on keeping him upright. It made a pleasant distraction when compared with what was really going on.
After trudging along corridors and down several flights of stairs, I was ready to pass out myself. It was almost a relief when Eleanor opened the door to the basement.
“Get in!” Trinity said.
I stumbled into the gloom, only just managing to stop short of falling down the stairs on the opposite side of the door. I balanced precariously for a second or two after the sound of the deadbolt sliding across had faded into nothing.
So, that was that. I was a prisoner.
Mr Crawley groaned and I realised my priority had to be him. Summoning the last reserves of my strength, I dragged him down one final flight of stairs and made it onto the stone, basement floor. I could hear the sound of water dripping in a dark corner, and the smell of damp and animals was all around. What kind of basement is this? I wondered.
“Hey,” a voice said, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“George! You’re alive,” My eyes had adjusted to the dim light and I realised the basement wasn’t pitch black after all. Each wall appeared to be glazed and I could see a greenish light filtering through. It was enough to recognise the man in front of me.
“Yeah, they need me alive,” he said.
Rather proudly, I thought. Oh boy, did I have questions I wanted answering. But right now, I needed a miracle.
“Mr Crawley’s been shot in the shoulder, and he’s bleeding really badly. Have you got anything down here that might help?” I started to say.
The sound of the basement door opening made me jump. A bag was flung through and landed at the bottom of the stairs. The door slammed again and the bolt slid across.
I opened the bag and found it contained antiseptic wipes, a needle, and some nylon thread.
“Great,” I muttered, realising this was the full extent of the medical assistance our captors were willing to provide.
“I have good news and bad news,” I said to the vet, whom George was propping up, using a couple of cushions that were down here.
“Bad news first,” the vet managed with what looked like a hint of a smile. I wondered if he was starting to become delirious.
“Okay, the bad news is, I have nothing to make this not hurt a lot. But the good news is, I have a needle and thread and some antiseptic wipes, so you might not die.” I hesitated. “Well, you won't die as quickly," I amended, still not certain about the game that was being played. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if we were being kept alive, merely so that we could be conveniently framed, or murdered, at a later date, once I’d given up the location of the money. These people were masters of misdirection and Trinity Snidely was definitely a snake.
“You’d better get started,” the vet managed to say and then lapsed into silence.
George helpfully undid the belt he was wearing and handed it to me. I folded it and placed the leather in the man’s mouth.
I cleaned the wound as best as I could, confirming that the bullet had fortunately passed all the way through. There were no tweezers included in the medical pack. Then it was time to get stitching.
“I don’t suppose you’re any good at sewing, are you?” I said to George, who looked blank and shook his head.
“Right, okay,” I said, making the vet ‘mmm’ with worry. “When it comes to creative pursuits, I’m more of an illustrator than a seamstress,” I explained to him. “Sorry.”
And with that, I stuck the needle into his skin and did my best to figure it out. Even if I had been any good at sewing, I had a sneaking suspicion that stitching skin was a bit different from sewing up a cushion. But as the most qualified person in the room was also the one with the potentially life-threatening injury, I had no choice but to carry on.
“There, all done,” I said, several minutes later.
Mr Crawley, to his credit, hadn’t moved an inch while I’d sewn his shoulder. He’d made plenty of noise and I wasn’t convinced that George’s belt would ever look the same again, but he’d been a good patient. I only hoped my basic sewing skills would be enough to do the trick. I wiped my work with a fresh antiseptic wipe and looked at it hopefully. No blood seeped through. It had done the trick.
“The sooner we can get out of here and take Mr Crawley to a hospital, the better,” I said. The vet was slumped against the wall and I wasn’t sure if he were unconscious or just regaining his composure.
I turned to face George. The light was curiously fading, as I assumed the daylight outside was. I cast a look at the mysterious glazed walls, all covered with moss and other debris. Just where were we in the manor?
“I want some answers and I think you have them,” I said to him, gearing myself up for a fight - the way it had been with Marie. The difference was, we were s
tuck in a basement with no way of knowing when we were going to be let out or disposed of. I may be small, but I still had the sewing needle they’d thrown down. I was also incredibly angry. If I were to bet on who would win this battle for information, I’d bet on me.
George shrugged. “Answers to what? I don’t know much of anything.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I couldn’t resist saying, “but what I mean, is answers about why we’re here. And even where here is.”
“Do you mean in a, like, existential way?” George asked and it was too dark now to see if he were being sarcastic or not. I didn’t know if I wanted to credit him with possessing that level of humour.
“Hey, how’s Mr Limey? Is he okay? Did Jackie get him?” he asked, sounding more animated.
I felt my heart drop.
He didn't know.
“Mr Limey’s okay,” I said, figuring I’d start with the happier truth. “The reason Mr Crawley is here is because he’d just finished operating on him.”
“Operating?” George said, and although I couldn't see, I thought his eyes were probably wide.
“The lump he had didn’t come out with the usual remedies. Mr Crawley decided that surgery was the only way. It went really well and he got the blockage out.” I paused for a moment while I thought.
It was time for a gamble.
“What was the Serpentine Emerald doing inside Mr Limey?”
“I…well. I never meant…” George started to stutter.
I knew I’d hit the jackpot. Mr Limey had swallowed the priceless Serpentine Emerald - the supposedly cursed treasure of the Snidely family.
“What did you do?” I pressed and George caved.
“I stuffed a mouse with it and fed it to him. I thought it would be a good hiding place and that it would just go right through. I never realised it would get stuck,” he admitted.