A Well Kept Secret (45 page)

“Perhaps not, and we must not forget the subscription; ‘Rhodes [WO 1] 5791’. I think this is a reference, possibly to a book. Maybe a book that has a large number of items of information listed numerically. I’ve had a pretty good classical education, and yet I cannot recall any writer called ‘Rhodes’ who published anything containing over five thousand items.”

He took the piece of paper from her and frowned at it for a moment, and then suddenly his face lit up as he smacked his hand to his forehead.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, “It sticks out like a sore thumb when you look at it right!”

“It does?”

“Rhodes [WO 1]; if you look at it the right way it is an anagram of my own surname, Isherwood, and 5791 reversed is the year of my birth! That settles it! There can be no doubt now that the good doctor left this message solely for me! He willed me his property and kept certain matters pretty dark because he obviously feared someone might come here in the event of his death and turn the place over in an attempt to find something that is concealed. That
has
to be the reason why he hid the stethoscope in the junk room. He obviously knew me well enough to believe I wouldn’t just throw it out without looking at it, and even if I never came here, he knew you even better! He knew that sooner or later they house would have been cleared, and you being the sort of person you are would supervise everything, just as you supervised young Perkins when he removed all the private papers. You would never have thrown this away; you would have ensured that it was passed to me through the solicitor. Without question, one or the other of us was meant to find it.”

“Even if you are right, what does it mean?”

“I’ve always had a thing about puzzles, particularly word puzzles, ever since I was a child. My uncle either remembered or discovered that this interest has always remained with me. It is all too obvious now that I think of it; he wants to tell me something, but only
me
, and not the person or persons he presumably feared. Somewhere in these few lines lies the answer; and the answer must have something to do with this key.”

He looked up at June as an idea crossed his mind. “Did my uncle have a safe concealed somewhere?” he asked.

“If he did, I never knew anything about it.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure this is a key to a small document-safe. Now where would he keep such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I’ve regularly cleaned this house from top to bottom; I’ve never seen anything resembling a safe.”

“Well, this key fits
something
, or he wouldn’t have hidden it. We just have to think where. I suspect it is quite small; it might easily fit inside another piece of furniture. The obvious place for a safe is in here, yet if he feared that some other person might be looking for just such a thing, then I doubt it is. My guess it has to be located somewhere quite unlikely.”

He sat there in thought for a moment looking at the furniture and fittings of the room. Something was niggling away at the back of his mind; something to do with the bit of doggerel.

“What was it you said to me a few moments ago?” he asked absently,

“What about?”

“When you were trying to analyse these lines.”

“Oh, something to the effect that they all seem pretty obvious, except the last one.”

“Yes, but what
exactly
did you say?”

“As far as I can remember, ‘autumn leaves only lie there at the end of the year’.”

As she spoke, it came to him as a flash of sheer inspiration. “June, you are not only beautiful, you are a genius!” he exclaimed.

“I am?”

“You have some paintings on the wall of your lounge do you not?”

“Yes.”

“I was looking at them when I was last there, and I’m pretty sure that one of them is called 'Autumn Leaves'!”

“That’s right; and you think that is it; that is what this is all about, a valuable painting?”

“No, I think that the safe that fits this key lies not in the house, it is behind that picture in your flat! Tell me, have you ever taken the picture down?”

“No, as a matter of fact I haven’t. I did try once and couldn’t move it, it appears to be fixed permanently to the wall.”

“Then let us go this very moment to see if we can
un
fix it! That will tell us at once if we are on the right track or not!”

It was a warm pleasant evening, and it only took a manner of a minute or so for June to collect her flat-key from her room and to accompany Martin on the short trip across to her home. No sooner were they in her lounge than he crossed over and looked at the painting he had seen earlier, Autumn Leaves. He seized hold of the frame tentatively, and discovered as June had already warned him was the case, that it was fixed firmly to the wall.

He walked round the room and quickly tried the others, and discovered in moments that they were all simply hung on standard fixings. That meant that ‘Autumn Leaves’ was fixed for a purpose! He didn’t want to damage the painting, so he felt carefully round the edges, his fingers seeking a switch or a key of some description that would free it. It took longer than he thought, and he was on the point of deciding that brute force was the only answer when his probing fingers found a tiny projection at the top of the left hand side, and with a click, the painting swung free on that side. The whole picture swung out on hinges like a cupboard door to reveal the unmistakable outline of a tiny safe set deep into the wall beyond. It was the simple, low-security key-operated model he had expected to find, and he gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he inserted the key he had brought with him and found that it opened the safe without effort.

“Success!” he exclaimed, and thrust his hand within expectantly.

At first he thought that the safe as empty, and then his fingers closed on a single piece of paper. He withdrew this slowly and stood back to look at it.

“What does it say?” June asked.

“There’s just one word; Abbadon.” He answered slowly in a puzzled voice.

“That,” said June scratching her head, “does not make any sense at all!”

“Oh, I think it does,” he said, trying to hide his initial disappointment. “We just have to figure it out.”

He moved away from the safe and sat down on her couch still gazing at that small scrap of paper. He had given no real thought as to what he might discover in a safe even if he had been successful in locating one, and whatever he may have imagined would have been inside, this certainly wasn’t it! June came and sat down beside him, glancing across at the enigmatic message held in Martin’s hand.

“Abbadon” she said. “Could it be some sort of code?”

“If it is, it’s nothing like one I’ve ever heard of before. No, I think it is some sort of clue my uncle confidently anticipated I would be able to resolve.”

“Could it be like one of those things you sometimes find in a cryptic crossword puzzle, what do the call them; an anagram I think?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” he said dubiously, “there’s not much you can make out of these few letters. ‘And a bob’, for example, or maybe ‘dab on a b’, which makes even less sense than the word itself.”

He scratched his head ruminatively.

“Abbadon,” he muttered, “You know, I’ve heard that word somewhere!”

“Isn’t there a place called something like that in Berkshire?”

“That’s Abingdon.”

He gazed absently at the ceiling for a moment, and then he abruptly stood up.

“I think it has to be some sort of classical reference,” he announced. “If we go back to the study, there are a good many reference books in there, maybe we will strike lucky.”

They exited the flat, and after ensuring that it was secure they returned into the house and went once again into the study. Here Martin ran his fingers along the bookshelves, occasionally taking out a volume and checking through, only to replace it before moving on to another.

“Martin,” June exclaimed suddenly, “look at this!”

He turned and saw that she was holding a large volume, the title just visible, ‘Dictionary of Phrase and Fable.’ She passed the book over to him.

“There was a folded piece of paper marking the place,” she said. “You were right, Abbadon is a sort of classical reference, only I don’t see how it helps us much. It says, ‘Abaddon, the angel of the bottomless pit, (rev. ix. 11)’ ”

“It’s probably a quotation from the bible,” Martin said as he took the book from her and looked. “The Book of Revelations, chapter nine, verse eleven.”

“Yes, but what does it
mean
?”

“I’m not sure, but it must mean something!” he muttered. “Is there a bible anywhere on these shelves?”

She ran her fingers along a shelf as her eyes scanned the various books.

“Here’s one,” she exclaimed, dragging a volume from the end of one of the lower shelves, “Good News Bible”

“Right, let’s see what it says.”

He took the book from her hand and turned the pages until at last he found what he was looking for.

“Right, Revelations, nine, verse eleven,” he said half to himself, “Hm.”

“Why ‘hm’?”

“I’ll read it out to see if it makes any more sense to you than it does to me. ‘They have a King ruling over them who is the Angel in charge of the Abyss. His name in Hebrew is Abbadon, in Greek the name is Apollyn, meaning “The Destroyer”.”

“Doesn’t mean anything, does it?” she ventured after a few moments. “Maybe it isn’t meant to, just a code word?”

“I disagree, if it was just a code word, he wouldn’t have added the biblical reference. I think the Doctor is trying to tell me something, only in the form of a riddle in case the wrong person should come across this.

He studied it for a few moments, and then his eyes strayed to the folded piece of paper that had been used as a page marker. He put the book down and opened the paper up.
 
Inside there were a few lines in his uncle’s writing.

“Go to JSCD,” he read out slowly “Say ‘Abbadon’, and your reversed date of birth. ”

“Is that all?”

He looked at her thoughtfully without answering.

“Who or what is JSCD?” she asked.

“That,” he said, replacing the book on the shelf but retaining the enigmatic message, “as the Americans would have us believe, is the 64 dollar question!”

It was quite late by the time the girls gave up their meticulous search of the grounds, and they were naturally disappointed that in spite of their efforts, nothing really suspicious had been uncovered. There were no mysterious humps in the ground, no strange holes, no concealed hiding places in the rockery, no secret panels in any of the trees. Glum faces vanished swiftly when Martin promised them that he would take them out for the day on Saturday, and they immediately clamoured for a chance to visit a theme park that was probably less than a couple of hours drive away. Finally they went to their beds, and this gave Martin and June a chance to settle quiet and return to worrying about more serious matters.

“As I see it,” Martin said once they were settled back in the lounge with drinks to hand, “we now have little choice than to take our suspicions to the police. They have the proper facilities for investigating a situation of this sort, and as a pair of amateurs we can only make the situation worse rather than better.”

“I suppose you are right,” she agreed, yet there was a tone in her voice that betrayed her reluctance to admit defeat, “And yet I feel that we are so close to success.”

“By success, I assume you mean that we are on the verge of locating a grave somewhere out there which we assume will contain your father?”

“I suppose I do.”

“Look, I know that it is important to you, yet doesn’t the fact that whatever happened here all those years ago isn’t just some academic exercise in deduction, it is something that an unknown person may well go to any lengths to prevent? From what we have uncovered it seems obvious that this house was connected in some way with a double murder, that to an unknown extent my uncle was involved in this crime, and that the person or persons responsible may still be active and interested. Let us not overlook the fact that some unknown person has tried very hard to buy this place, and the only reason I can think of for doing that is because there is something here that needs to remain concealed. If we stumble on something provably incriminating that represents a danger to whoever was responsible for that crime, and if that person or person is still around, having already committed two murders or perhaps even three, two more will make little difference.”

“You really think that is likely after all this time?”

“I’m afraid I do, and I just wish I could be certain that I’m completely wrong, but so many things point in that direction I doubt it. I’m not just concerned for my own skin, there is you to consider, and there are the girls as well.”

She looked at him thoughtfully as she weighed up what he was saying. “Look, Martin, even if I accept what you are saying, how would anyone know what we are up to? I mean, there are only the pair of us here?”

“So far as we know.” He answered enigmatically.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“This theoretical unknown person who is so keen to buy this place could be anyone. It might be our mad butterfly hunter, it could be Peter Buxted, it might even be George Dawkins for all we know!”

“George Dawkins?” she echoed in surprise. “He’s been here since I don’t know when!”

“I’m only saying that we don’t know
who
it might be, and as for assuming that nobody has any idea of what we know or suspect you need to bear in mind that it isn’t impossible this house has been ‘bugged’”

“You’re not serious?” she asked in astonishment. “You mean, with secret microphones? Surely not?”

“I’ll admit that it is unlikely, but it has been known.”

“Secret microphones in a place like this? Honestly Martin, I think that is stretching things a bit too far!”

“Well, maybe I am at that, only we cannot afford to take too many chances. I grant you it is an extremely unlikely possibility; I’ve certainly not seen anything that has aroused my suspicions. However, if it turns out that Peter Buxted is the man we need to fear, then we need to bear in mind that he is a security expert. By his own admission he has been to the house many times, so how can we know for sure that he hasn’t done such a thing?”

“Well, I suppose I have to concede it’s a possibility” she admitted reluctantly “But I also think that there is something else that you are overlooking, and it is something I personally feel is important.”

“Oh?”

“Go to JSCD, say ‘Abbadon’ and your reverse date of birth” she said pointedly. “The message left especially for you by your uncle. He left it for you, not some anonymous police officer, and he did it because he believed that you would free him of whatever burden he was carrying, the burden that may have brought him to his death, maybe even your aunt as well for all we know. If you go to the police without following it through,
you will have failed him
. Can you live with that?”

She was right, and he knew it. Maybe going to the police was the correct thing to do; but was it justified in view of what they knew as a fact as opposed to what they suspected? Much more importantly, as she had pointed out, could he live with the fact that in spite of all his uncle’s efforts he had not at least tried? He knew that he couldn’t.

“Alright,” he conceded at last, “a day or so more after a quarter of a century isn’t going to make a lot of difference. If we cannot resolve this situation over the weekend, then we will go to the police as I have suggested. There has to be an obvious solution, and JSCD whoever or whatever that may signify, must hold the answer. Dr Marston obviously believed it was something that only I would understand; I guess we have something like sixty hours left in which to figure out what must be staring us in the face. Not only that, if it turns out that the house is bugged, then whoever is responsible knows as much as we do anyway, so I guess we don’t have much to lose.”

“I don’t think you will regret keeping faith with your uncle,” she said, “and I’m sure that between us we will solve the mystery and get the answer before Monday morning comes.”

“I certainly hope so, but I’m still worried about you and the girls.”

“If we all stay together I cannot see anyone trying anything,” she reassured him, “and that’s all we need to do, and the girls will be back in school by Monday.”

There was then a few minutes silence as each of them wrestled with the problems that faced them in their own way, and then Martin looked up at her, and held his finger to his lips. Once he had her attention he beckoned her to follow him. Looking slightly surprised, she did as he suggested, and the pair of them went out through the kitchen and into the garden. When they were a fair distance from the house, Martin bent his head down and spoke very softly into her ear.

“I’ve had an idea,” he said. “Maybe the house isn’t bugged, but I’m not taking any chances; I need to assume that whoever is lying at the back of all this will realise that time is running out. I’ve promised the girls this trip to the theme park. Now what I suggest is this; I will take you and the girls to the railway station at Urhampton, and you can get a direct line from there. I will tell them at the very last moment that I have an urgent business appointment and that only you will be with them. That will leave me clear to follow this thing through. Maybe it is an unnecessary precaution, but I’d sooner be safe than sorry. No don’t argue June, I can look after myself, and there are things I need to do in order to get all of this mess wrapped up. If anyone has been listening in, they will assume that I am with you as we have already planned, and that suits me fine. If they hope to try anything, whoever is responsible may feel that this is the best chance they have of getting in with a clear run. You have my mobile number so you can call me if you need to, and I can do the same.”

He could see the play of emotions on her face, but after a few moments she subsided.

“I shall be treading on eggshells every minute,” she said at last. “Promise me you won’t try anything rash? I couldn’t bear it if-”

“You mustn’t worry, I really
can
look after myself; I’m just going nose around, ask a lot of questions, and try to exercise my brain to come up with the answer. If I strike lucky, I’ll be in touch with you and the police at once. I shall also be keeping a very close eye on anyone showing an undue interest in Springwater House, believe me!”

“Then I suppose I will just have to bear with you,” she sighed, “but I won’t be able to settle until I’m back, and I know that nothing has happened.”

“There’s nothing to be concerned about,” he said lightly. “I’m just taking precautions, that’s all.”

“Just be careful, please?”

“I will; now let’s go back inside and have a good hunt round to see if we can detect anything that may conceivably be a bugging device anywhere.”

One back inside the house they spent a good hour searching through the lounge and the study, and even the kitchen, but there was nothing whatever to suggest that any form of surveillance equipment had been installed. When they had finally given up, they returned to the lounge where they sat with drinks until quite late, each of them in turn coming up with fanciful deductions as to what the cryptic message meant, but each one in turn was dismissed. It was more a precaution in case there was an undetected bugging device in the room, and they wanted to give the impression that Martin’s earlier suspicions had not been seriously entertained.

At one point June went off to the kitchen and prepared a light snack, which they ate sitting side by side on the settee in the lounge. It was gone midnight when they decided that they had pretty well exhausted all possibilities of a solution and decided that it was time that they retired. They ascended the stairs together, and outside of Martin’s room, June reached up quickly to kiss him on the cheek, and then she quickly went off down the hallway to her own room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Martin was just on the point of drifting off to sleep when the answer he had been seeking all evening suddenly hit him; Jenson Smith and Carter, Mr Dobson, JSCD! It was so blindingly obvious that he almost sprang out of the bed with excitement. It was so damned simple when one thought about it, and even if somebody else had found the paper, without knowing the year of his birth they still wouldn’t get anywhere. Acting on sudden impulse as he sprang from his bed, he threw on his dressing gown and slippers, and tiptoed down the hallway to tap very quietly on June’s door.

There was no response, and after a few moments he tapped again, and then he reluctantly accepted the fact that, unlike himself she had managed to get to sleep. He turned and moved back down the hallway, and had almost reached his own room when he heard her door open. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her face peering out of the door with a worried expression on her face. He quickly retraced his steps.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Hope I didn’t awaken you?”

“I wasn’t asleep,” she whispered back “What’s happened?”

“I think I’ve solved the riddle; I just
had
to tell you!”

She stepped back, holding the door open. “You’d better come in,” she said. “If we keep on whispering out here in the hallway the girls might hear us.”

She closed the door behind her, and he glanced round the room dimly visible in the soft light of the bedside lamp. He was suddenly very conscious of where he was, and what it had probably meant to her when she had heard him knocking on her door. It hadn’t crossed his mind in the excitement of the moment, but now that he was there he felt distinctly guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think. Look, I shouldn’t be here, heaven knows what you must be thinking, I ought to go. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“You will do no such thing,” she said firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the place beside her with her hand. “How could I possibly sleep now until you tell me what you have figured out?”

He still hesitated, taking in the sheer femininity of that room that she had now made her own. There were cosmetics of one sort and another on the dressing table, and through the partly open door of the wardrobe he could see dresses and other clothes hung up, and draped across a chair close to the bed he saw clean underwear laid out ready for the morning. It made him feel as bad as a peeping tom!

“Stop worrying!” she said teasingly. “After what you said earlier I have been over this room with the proverbial tooth-comb; there’s certainly no bugs in here!”