Meanwhile Gardens (35 page)

Ted shook his head. “Corporate liability?” he asked somewhat incredulously. He looked at his wife and shrugged his shoulders. Mary shrugged her shoulders in return.

“Yes. If anyone injures themselves in the catacombs – ”

Inspector Devine cut her short. “Shall we?” he gestured to the door.

Ted exchanged another perplexed look with his wife before leaving the room.

“Don’t push it,” the policeman warned Nicky before following.

They walked through the chapel and down the stairs Nicky had come up the previous day with Ollie and Gorby. Within seconds they were in the damp gloom of the catacombs.

“We have had a problem with vandals in the past. They seem to get in through the surrounding grille.” Ted had recovered his composure. He turned to look at Nicky, “Is that how you got in?”

“That’s how Mr Michaelson’s dog
fell
in.”

“And which corridor was it?”

Nicky took her bearings, “Give me a minute.” She walked up the central passageway to the heavy door she remembered from the previous day. “I think it’s this one.”

“Ah,” Mary sniffed, “you think?” She exchanged a look with Inspector Devine.

Nicky pushed the door open. “Yes!” she said excitedly. “This is it.” She looked at the arched vaults stretching down the corridor.

“You’re sure?” Ted asked.

Nicky quickly found the age-darkened bronze door emblazoned with the Rosleagh coat of arms. She nodded excitedly to the policeman, “I’m sure.”

“Ah, the Rosleagh vault,” Ted looked through the many jangling keys until he found a suitably solid one. He checked the attached label, turned the key in the heavy lock and pushed the door that opened with an uncomfortable groan. “Some of these old vaults have lights but the Countess, so I’ve been told, preferred candles.” The tall man took a flashlight from his pocket and stepped into the vault. Nicky, Mary and the Inspector followed. “We did have some trouble here yesterday,” Ted shone the torch at the shelves of coffins
in front of him, focusing on a large one that rested by itself at eyelevel. “The Earl’s coffin was about to – this is not for the squeamish I’m afraid – ” he looked at Nicky and the Inspector, “ – but the coffin was about to explode.”

Inspector Devine wasn’t sure what Ted had said. “Excuse me? Explode as in – ” he gestured with his hands, “ – boom?”

Ted nodded. “The gases just build and build until – well you can imagine I’m sure.”

Mary shuddered before whispering, “Mess.”

The policeman looked at the coffin with newfound respect.

“It was only the quick thinking of Mr Dwight that saved the day.”

“Mr Dwight?” the Inspector remarked.

“My second-in-command.”

“Is he the one with a birthmark,” Nicky patted the side of her head, “here?”

“Yes. ”

“Can I speak to him?” the Inspector asked.

“Under normal circumstances yes, however Mr Dwight’s just begun his annual leave. Where’s he gone this time darling?”

“He’s abit of a rambler our Nigel: is it Hadrian’s Wall?”

“Or Offa’s Dyke?”

“Well, he took the train yesterday to Carlisle.”

“Or was it Carmarthen?”

The couple were unsure.

“But can I speak to him?” Inspector Devine continued.

“Mr Dwight is not a fan of the modern world – he hasn’t got a mobile phone – ”

“And is not on email, ” Mary laughed. “He won’t even use the one here!”

“How convenient,” Nicky said under her breath but loud enough so the policeman could hear.

“Gorby – er, Mr Dwight,” Mary quickly corrected herself, “might call in sometime from one of the b&b’s along the way. If he does we’ll ask him to contact you.”

“Mr Dwight did mention the couple in his report of the incident.” Ted turned to Inspector Devine, “You can see that if you’d like.” He shone the flashlight around the small space. “As you can see no-one has been here for years.”

“Does anyone else have access to this section?”

“Of the public?”

The Inspector nodded.

“The Worth-Bassingtons are the only ones now – Lady Chessy’s a regular, she was here yesterday in fact – they have the vault next door you see,” Ted explained. “All the others have died out.”

Nicky looked at the Earl’s coffin. She could see the blackened half-melted barrel of the pen sticking out of it like some crazed, stunted stalactite. “Bit of a coincidence Mr Dwight being around just at the right time.”

“There are warning signs,” Ted said in a tone that suggested everyone would know that. “In fact it was Lady Chessy who alerted us. You can call her if you like,” he said to Inspector Devine.

Nicky looked for any evidence of Rion, or any evidence of recent occupation, but saw none in the damp vault. Gently sniffing the air she thought she caught a faint whiff of paint but couldn’t be sure.

“Lady C’s a bit eccentric but reasonably coherent if you catch her on a good day,” Mary smiled. “If you’ll come upstairs I’ll give you her number.”

Inspector Devine left the vault. “That won’t be necessary.”

With Mr Dwight’s report under his arm the Inspector walked back towards the panda car where Nicky waited. “I
hope you’re satisfied Ms Dixon,” the policeman gave a last wave to the McGraths who watched from the top of the chapel steps before Mary ushered Ted inside.

Nicky was not entirely successful at keeping the sarcasm from her voice, “What do you think?”

“I think you have an overactive imagination. I also think you should stay away from these people.” Inspector Devine got in the car and wound the window down, “I’ll let you know if there are any developments. You can find your own way back?”

Without waiting for a reply he drove off.

Nicky watched as the car headed for the main gates. She looked around but the McGraths had gone back inside. As she was mulling things over a four-note whistle caused her to look up. There behind Princess Sophia’s sarcophagus she could see Jake.

“I didn’t want to come in with the copper about, it could get complicated.”

Nicky nodded. How would you explain to a member of the Constabulary that you lived in a treehouse in a cemetery? It would lead to just too many questions.

“Does this look familiar?” Jake took something from his inside pocket and gave it to Nicky.

It was a small, muddied newspaper cutting folded in two. Nicky opened it and recognised it immediately. “Of course!” she exclaimed, looking at Rion’s most treasured possession – the image of Blondin crossing the Niagara Falls. “Where on earth did you get it?”

Jake lent against the huge podium that supported the princess’ marble tomb. “That’s the funny thing,” he didn’t understand it himself. “I saw it this morning on the track going down to the canal.”

“The one that goes right past your – ”

“The very same, right past the – er – door.” Jake took out the everpresent tobacco tin, removed a half-smoked joint, lit it and inhaled deeply. He held back a cough as the fragrant smoke tickled his lungs. Jake handed the roach to Nicky who declined the offer.

“I really shouldn’t,” she said.

Jake insisted, “No, you really should. You might need it when you hear what I have to say.”

Intrigued Nicky took a hit. She returned the joint to Jake who finished it in one sizzling puff.

“I got back last night at about twelve thirty and soon crashed. Anyway I had the strangest dream,” Jake shook his head as if still not believing it. “It can’t have been long after I went to bed but I could have sworn I heard Rion calling my name.”

Nicky looked up but didn’t say anything.

“As in the manner of dreams I didn’t really pay too much attention to it at the time. I just thought I’d been thinking about her alot and that must have permeated my subconscious somehow. Also the tree makes odd sounds sometimes the branches moan and groan – this isn’t the first time I’ve thought someone’s calling me when it’s only been the wind.”

“That must be sort of spooky being in a cemetery and all.”

Jake shrugged. “Anyway this morning, as I said, I didn’t think too much about it until I was going to work and found this on the track. There are also other things.”

“Like?”

Jake began walking down the muddy path beneath the chestnut trees. “You’ll see. I thought you could maybe tell your friend in blue.”

“That wouldn’t do any good,” Nicky dodged a puddle. “He’s just a plod and is doing this for Auntie Em. I think he feels he’s done his part – he won’t be doing us any favours that’s for sure.”

“How many people did Ollie say were in the vault?”

“Three.”

Jake nodded as if it was all fitting into place. “Where is he by the way?”

Nicky sighed. “It’s weird. He should have been at the meeting this morning but never showed.”

“He seemed keen last night though didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did. I mean, he is.” Nicky couldn’t figure it out. “Anyway I got woken earlier by Hum barking to be let out – but no sign of Ollie.”

By now they were almost opposite the hidden treehouse. “This is where I found the cutting. Look,” Jake pointed to the muddy track, “there and – ” he squatted on his haunches, “ – there.”

Nicky couldn’t see anything unusual in the soil, the leaves and gravel that made up Terrace Avenue. She looked again but still there was nothing that would strike her as even remotely suspicious.

“Do you see those footprints?” Jake gestured along the side of the tracks back the way they came.

Nicky could see them now. Heavy sets of indentations on either side of smaller ones.

“How many do you see?”

Nicky looked again. “Three?”

Jake pointed them out. “Judging from the size of their feet I’d say two men walking beside – ” he pointed to the smaller set, “a child or woman.”

“Rion!”

“Perhaps,” Jake stood up. “They came down from the chapel – ”

Looking back Nicky could see the three sets of prints more clearly now.

“ – to here,” Jake pointed to where the prints became a jumbled mess, “where they had a struggle and – ”

“Rion called out and dropped the cutting which she knew you would find.”

“ – then subdued her and took her along here.”

They followed the set of prints down the hill towards the canal. Turning off at the neglected graves they saw the tall grass lining the narrow track had been trampled to one side. The trail continued through the hole in the fence and down to the water where the prints abruptly stopped.

“To a boat?”

Jake nodded. “It would appear so wouldn’t it?”

Rion had drifted in and out of sleep all day. The gentle throbbing of the barge lulling her to rest, every change in the rhythm waking her. The young girl felt for the everpresent portrait of Blondin then remembered how she’d dropped it in the cemetery days before.

Had Jake found the cutting?

Rion doubted it. She feared the wellworn scrap of paper would have been melted by the rain, trampled into the mud, lost forever. Her friends would never find it and, she thought sadly, would never find her. Was she to be lost forever, was that to be her fate? Rion shivered, suppressing the cough that rose in her chest. She clutched the cheap pillow to her, thought of her favourite blue-eyed singer and told herself she wasn’t lost, just undiscovered….

Hearing voices on deck Rion noticed the engine slow down. Through the porthole she could see Beck and Senior’s
legs in their combats. The thud of ropes on deck, the grind as the boat eased against its resting-place and then silence.

Footsteps clattered downwards. The door creaked open and Gorby stood there. “Here we are,” his grin made her shiver. “Your final destination.”

Rion knew what would happen next. She didn’t even bother to struggle. She just lay there as the handkerchief came closer to her face and the sickly smell of chloroform overwhelmed her.

T
he rumour had swept through the plant late in the day. It was whispered that Sir Edwin had been seen smiling – nay beaming – a fact Mr Paul confirmed to Gem.

“I don’t know how he does it. I just don’t know,” the young assistant manager put his arm around her, “but if it’s true then I think I just don’t care.”

“If what’s true?”

“An announcement is imminent,” Mr Paul said knowingly.

Auntie Gem was none the wiser. Upon seeing the tealady’s blank face Mr Paul elaborated, “Sir Edwin’s got a big press conference planned for tomorrow. He’s going to reveal the role – or more precisely the lack of it – that Peters & Peters played in polluting the canal. This is good, good news.”

Auntie Gem wasn’t so sure. “You mean maybe the dead fish weren’t Edwin’s fault?”

“That’s what the report says.”

“Nor the heron?”

“Could’ve been natural causes Gem.”

Gemma didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Whose report this time?” she asked suspiciously.

“The Environment Research Agency’s. You can’t get
much more independent that that eh?” Mr Paul helped himself to a chocolate digestive and carried on his way.

Later that evening Auntie Gem knelt on the cushion before her shrine. She needed advice and she needed it fast. The following day would be the last one on which she could act. Gem normally went to Emma for advice but this situation was different, this situation required help from above – besides she didn’t want Emma to be implicated if things went wrong.