The Lost Shrine
Page 27
Margaret had agreed to buy the alcohol – the Hart Unit wasn’t entirely out of financial trouble yet. And Val’s husband, whom it transpired was a part-time DJ of the weddings and birthdays variety, was spinning the discs. Rather proficiently as it turned out.
Clare, who’d been standing behind Sally, turned to Jo and whispered, ‘Where does that woman get off having a go at Margaret?’
Jo laughed. ‘Which woman?’ She glanced over Clare’s shoulder. ‘Oh, that woman who saved your life, you mean.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. It was you who saved my life, Jo.’
‘As I recall it was a bit of a team effort. Me and Mark.’ Jo nodded in the direction of Mark Stone, who was making headway on his second pint of cider. ‘And David and Sally. It was David who found that film and he would never have spoken to Beth’s father if Sally hadn’t told him about Jack Tyler.’
Margaret descended from the stage and joined Clare and Jo, scooping up a plastic cup full of water along the way.
Jo said, ‘Off hard liquor, Margaret?’
Margaret delved into her handbag and, producing a hip flask, poured a shot of its contents into her plastic cup. ‘What do you think?’
The two younger women laughed.
Jo said, ‘What I still don’t understand is whether Neil did it for the money or because he’d really lost it.’
Clare said, ‘When I was in that bathroom I can tell you there was no doubt in my mind that Neil had really lost it. I was talking to Mark about it. He reckons Marshall was only paying Neil to get the dig done and dusted, no questions asked. He needed the money from the development – his business was on its uppers. What Neil hadn’t counted on was Beth finding out that he was taking backhanders from Marshall.’
Jo asked, ‘Do you think she confronted him about it?’
Clare didn’t look convinced. ‘Perhaps. But Beth was a smart woman. She must have realised he was dangerous, otherwise she wouldn’t have left the video footage with her father or given Crabby the inscription. I’m not sure she would have risked tackling him head-on. My guess would be that she was trying to gather enough evidence together to present to the police. She may have just inadvertently let something slip that made Neil realise she knew what he was up to.
‘Either way he killed her to shut her up. The hare and all of the dead animals started out as an attempt to make it look as if Beth was the obsessive Stuart Craig had wanted everybody to believe she was when they split up. But it was killing Beth that seems to have pushed Neil over the edge. Mark reckons he might have started using again. Or maybe he was suffering psychotic episodes from his previous drug use. It’s not uncommon, apparently.’
Jo nodded. ‘I guess it would explain why Sadie walked out on him.’
Margaret butted in, ‘But what about this Tyler chap?’
Clare said, ‘You mean the one whose murder Sally banged up some poor builder for?’
Margaret looked over her spectacles. ‘Quite so.’
Clare said, ‘Apparently Tyler somehow found out about Neil taking money from Marshall and was threatening to spill the beans unless he got his old job back.’
Jo said, ‘How desperate would you have to be to want to work alongside a murderer?’
Clare shook her head. ‘Mark reckons he may not have realised. Just because he knew Neil was on the take it doesn’t necessarily follow that he had any idea Beth’s death was anything other than suicide.’
Margaret asked, ‘Did you ever hear any more from DCI Stone about that antiquities dealer?’
Mark Stone appeared behind Clare.
He tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?’
Clare flushed. ‘Mark, have you met Professor Margaret Bockford?’
Margaret stepped forward. ‘Oh, Clare, really. I think Margaret will suffice given the circumstances, don’t you?’ She proffered a hand, which Stone shook warmly. ‘How lovely to meet you, DCI Stone. I gather it’s you we’ve got to thank for Clare still being with us.’
Stone dipped his head in recognition of the compliment. ‘I wish I could take all the credit. But I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that I think Jo had as much to do with it as I did.’
‘Well, either way, you’re just the man to answer my question. Did anything ever come of the little encounter Clare and I had with that antiquities dealer? The last time I heard anything was when Sergeant Hughes came to see me.’
Stone nodded enthusiastically. ‘Funny you should mention that now. We traced the number plate of the van to a bloke living over in the Forest of Dean. We’ve been keeping an eye on him and his mates for a while. They caught them red-handed last night detecting on a Scheduled Roman villa site out Cirencester way. One of them took a side swipe at one of my lads with a spade. So he’ll be going down for attempted assault on a police officer too.’
‘And I’ve just taken a call from our Heritage Crime lads. They’re well chuffed. They said when they got back to the dealer’s place and turned it over it was stuffed to the gills with stolen goods. He seems to have been dealing in all sorts. They’ve even got him bang to rights for a couple of thefts from churches – reckon he was stealing to order. So I guess I’ve got you and Clare here to thank for that.’ He turned towards Clare. ‘Though I wouldn’t recommend going it alone again with their sort any time soon.’ He took a sip of his cider before asking, ‘Fancy a dance?’
Clare hesitated for a second. Then over Stone’s shoulder she caught a glimpse of David and Sally in a world of their own on the dance floor.
Jo nudged her and pointed towards the speakers. ‘Go on, Clare! They’re playing your tune, “Strawberry Fields Forever”.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It takes many people to help bring a book to life. And The Lost Shrine is no exception. I would particularly like to thank my publishing director Susie Dunlop, Kelly Smith and all the staff at Allison & Busby. And I’m grateful too for the advice and support of Diane Banks, Kate Burke and the team at Northbank Talent Management. Though many people have helped make this book happen, all faults or errors that remain are my own.
The Lost Shrine is a work of fiction and the characters, events and organisations depicted are imaginary. But the places are an amalgam of the real and the imagined.
The Bailsgrove shrine site is fictional but was inspired by the Iron Age and Roman ritual complex at Uley, in Gloucestershire. Gardoms Edge, so familiar to Dr David Barbrook, is a real site in the Peak District, where I dug while studying for my PhD at Sheffield University. But Wrackley Cop is a figment of my imagination, conjured from a blend of Iron Age sites.
Crickley Hill though is most definitely real. Perched on the edge of the Cotswold scarp it possesses, in my opinion, both some of the finest views in England and some of the most extraordinary archaeology. From 1969 to 1993 it was the location of a long running excavation that investigated variously its Neolithic, Iron Age and post-Roman past. And though David never dug there I did, spending many happy summers on its slopes. The many, many months I spent working there helped nurture a love of archaeology that has remained with me ever since. This book is a small token of thanks to my companions on ‘The Hill’.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NICOLA FORD is the pen-name for archaeologist Dr Nick Snashall, National Trust Archaeologist for the Stonehenge and Avebury World Heritage Site. Through her day job and now her writing, she’s spent more time than most people thin
king about the dead.
nicolaford.com
@nic_ford
By Nicola Ford
The Hidden Bones
The Lost Shrine
COPYRIGHT
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2019.
This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2019.
Copyright © 2019 by NICOLA FORD
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–2397–3