Silent as the Grave (17 page)

As we slipped and slid on our way round the outbuildings and castle surrounds it was all we could do to avoid falling. After Eve; who was less experienced in such conditions had nearly fallen for the third time I took her hand to steady her. I thought it was the least I could do as she'd volunteered to help me. She didn't seem to mind too much, so I maintained my grip as we continued our search. We concentrated on the outbuildings first but meeting with no success widened our search pattern in a slowly widening arc. We checked the greenhouses as we passed them but from what we could see nothing had been disturbed. Then we began walking towards the chapel. We made slow progress partly because it was treacherous underfoot and partly because I was unable to move quickly owing to the residual effects of my fall. We were totally enclosed within the blanket of fog that seemed to be thickening rather than dispersing. Nevertheless, the exercise was keeping us warm and the clothing repelled the damp. It was a silent walk but a companionable one and I swung Eve's hand gently as we marched along. She didn't object to that either. Indeed, when I glanced at her at one point it seemed to me she was smiling but I may have been mistaken.

We reached the chapel, eventually, and I let go of her hand to unlock the door. If the air outside had seemed cold it was positively Arctic within the chapel. We conducted a rudimentary search at first; then a more detailed one. Our quicker look around had established that Rathbone wasn't inside but I wanted to attempt to see what had attracted Beaumont to this building on Christmas Eve.

The detailed search yielded nothing of interest until eventually we stood looking at William Rowe's tomb. ‘This is where we found the first trace of blood, remember?' I said to Eve. ‘I still can't see what it was attracted Beaumont to this spot.'

I paused and looked at the tomb. The knight looked peaceful. As with all such ancient tombs an effigy of the inhabitant of the tomb had been carved from stone and laid on top of the dead man's sarcophagus. As I looked at it I noticed a tiny fragment of the hilt of the knight's sword had been broken off. The break looked relatively new. ‘Hello, what's this?' I said and pointed to the break.

Eve peered over my shoulder. ‘How do you think that happened?' she asked.

‘I've no idea,' I replied. ‘It almost looks as if something's been dropped on it but the chances of that happening when the chapel is used so little seem remote to say the least.'

I felt at the rough edge of the break and when I pulled my hand away I could feel something adhering to my fingers. I looked at them closely. ‘What is it?' Eve asked.

‘Grit,' I told her, ‘remember when I washed my hands after I'd moved Beaumont's body and I found grit on the soap? I think I've just found out where that grit came from.'

‘Do you think somebody pushed him over or banged his head against the tomb?'

‘I don't think so. It wouldn't be sufficient to inflict the sort of injuries Beaumont had. His skull was smashed, remember. It would make more sense if someone had hit him with the tomb, or part of it, but it would be too heavy to lift.'

As I spoke, I put my hand on the slab of stone carved in the shape of a shield. To my astonishment the shield moved slightly at my touch. ‘That's odd,' I looked at Eve puzzled. ‘I didn't know they were meant to move like that.'

I looked at the shield again. It appeared to be firmly attached but when I grasped it with both hands it came away easily. I lifted the slab of stone. It took some doing; especially for someone in my weakened state. ‘It's bloody heavy. Now this could have done the damage to Beaumont's head without any problem.'

‘Try turning it over,' Eve suggested.

I did so and we stared at the back of the shield in astonishment. The first thing we noticed was the discolouration. Stains ran from the centre of the shield in all directions. Some of these looked darker than others. I touched one of the lighter ones and my fingers came away red. I stared at them for a long moment and my fears for the butler multiplied with every second. ‘Is that blood?' Eve asked.

‘I'm afraid it is,' I replied. I pointed to the centre of the reverse side of the shield. ‘Look there; those two claw shaped pieces of stone fit around that bar on the effigy. That's what holds the shield in place. Or rather it would do but for the fact that one of them has been broken. Presumably that was done when Beaumont was hit over the head, hence the amount of grit in his wound.'

‘But if the shield was used to batter Beaumont to death surely the blood would have dried by now …' Eve's voice tailed off and she looked at me in horror. ‘Rathbone,' she said. ‘You don't think he …?'

‘I can't think of any other explanation. I reckon we should have a look around outside.'

I hadn't noticed as we'd approached the chapel that ours weren't the only footprints in the snow. That might have been because I was preoccupied. I blamed holding Eve's hand for this. Now I saw there were at least three sets of tracks, although it was difficult to sort them out into individual ones. I pointed these out to Eve then glanced to my left. ‘See there, Evie, there's one set going off that way and another coming back. Now why would anyone head off in that direction?'

‘They don't look the same either,' Eve said after inspecting them closely. ‘Look Adam, the ones going out are deeper; as if they were made by a much heavier person than the ones coming back.'

‘You're dead right,' I agreed after a close look at the prints. ‘You'd make a brilliant detective. They could have been made by the same person though. Especially if that person had been carrying something heavy on the way out and returned without it.'

Eve stared at me. ‘You mean if they were carrying something like a body.'

I nodded. ‘Come on, let's look further.'

We'd only gone a few paces before we knew our assumptions were correct. Telltale red spots in the snow were sufficient to convince us. We reached the corner of the building and stared in horror at the sight before us. We didn't need to turn the body over to identify the victim. The formal clothing was sufficient clue. Ollerenshaw Rathbone had decanted his last bottle of port.

Chapter Fourteen

As entrances go ours was suitably dramatic. We looked to all intents and purposes like a pair of traditional country dwellers. Both us of wore Barbour jackets with scarves knotted in the approved fashion at the throat and both of us had wellington boots on; the latter items being green of course. Adding to the effect, Eve had a very stylish deerstalker on top of her red-gold locks whilst I wore a much less dashing but hopefully fashionable flat cap set at a modestly rakish angle. Our
Country Life
image was somewhat marred by the liberal quantities of blood staining our jeans, our waxed jackets, and our hands.

We walked through the kitchen to open-mouthed silence from Cathy and Frank Marsh and Polly Jardine. I hadn't realized we had been away as long as we had. Lunchtime was upon Mulgrave Castle and the family, no doubt with their appetites whetted by the search they had been conducting all morning, was gathered round the dining table. I'm not sure if it's a universal truth that the gravest events bring out the most macabre examples of humour but I seemed to be guilty of it in my opening remark.

‘I'm sorry, Tony but I'm afraid your butler Rathbone got stoned last night for the last time,' I told him. I felt a giggle welling up inside me and knew hysteria was not far away.

‘Adam; pull yourself together and tell them what we've found.' Eve's tone was sharp.

‘Somebody hit Rathbone over the head with a stone shield and crushed his skull like an eggshell,' I told the family.

It was factual. Lacking in humour, macabre or otherwise but still Eve wasn't satisfied. ‘We found Rathbone's body by the chapel,' she told them. ‘He's been murdered, I'm afraid; and by the same person who killed Beaumont.'

That's what I'd been trying to tell them. Eve seemed to be doing it far better, so I let her get on with it. We got the stretcher out again and Colin Drake, Tony, Frank Marsh, and I formed ourselves into a pallbearer party. Marsh appeared to have recovered well enough from his blow to the head; better, on current evidence, than I had. We removed the aged butler's corpse to the stables and laid him alongside Beaumont. It appeared as if the morning's events had affected me more than I realized. This was apparent from my comments once we had walked out of the makeshift mortuary. ‘If things don't improve soon, Tony,' I suggested helpfully as he locked the door, ‘you might have to apply for planning permission to put up an extension.'

I caught him eyeing me as if I'd suddenly fallen victim to the Rowe family madness and realized the outlandish nature of my remark. I strove to regain some sort of mental composure, without a noticeable amount of success. ‘When we get back inside we ought to ring that prat policeman,' I told him. ‘No, I mean that policeman, Pratt.'

We were met by Eve, who summed up my condition with one glance. She made me wash my hands at the sink then sat me down at the kitchen table and plonked a plate of sandwiches and a balloon glass in front of me. She filled the glass with a liberal quantity of
Bisquit
, my favourite Cognac, and commanded me to eat up before I took a drink. The combination of the home-cured ham sandwiches followed by the mellow spirit had a splendidly recuperative effect. Shock receded and a measure of calm returned. ‘Come on, Tony; let's ring Pratt,' I suggested.

We walked through to Tony's study accompanied by Eve and Harriet. Although the phone line was operational, speaking to Pratt proved more difficult than we'd anticipated. The telephonist informed me that he was unavailable and asked if my call was urgent.

‘Yes; at least I think it is. My name's Adam Bailey and I'm calling from Mulgrave Castle. We've just had another murder. That's two in five days, plus three attempted murders and a robbery. I don't know if you consider that urgent, but we do. We want to stop it because we're worried it's becoming habit-forming.'

As I put the phone down, Eve thrust a steaming mug of coffee into my hand. ‘Drink that,' she told me in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘Then leave Tony to deal with the police when they ring back.'

As I was finishing the coffee, Eve spoke to her brother-in-law, ‘I'm sure you can cope with the police. There's not much we can tell them about this murder that's any different from Beaumont's except we do know Rathbone was dumped outside the chapel. Adam's about at the end of his tether. After all he's had to put up with over the past week this has just about been the last straw. I'm going to take him upstairs and get him into bed.'

I leered at her. ‘Oh good,' I said, ‘but don't tell everybody.' They seemed to ignore me, with the exception of Eve, who went pink.

‘Yes, I see what you mean,' Tony said. He turned to me. ‘I'm really and truly sorry, Adam, everything seems to have fallen on you, I'm afraid.'

‘Oh no,' I said. ‘It fell on Beaumont and Rathbone.'

I'm not sure if it was the remark or the accompanying giggle that decided Eve. She dragged me out of Tony's study and pulled me to the staircase. She urged me upstairs holding me tightly all the way as if afraid I would collapse any moment. There wasn't any danger of that happening but I wasn't about to tell her so. Once we reached my room she helped me inside and sat me down on the edge of the bed. She removed my outer garments, my shoes and socks, then my shirt. ‘Come on now, into bed with you,' she ordered, as briskly efficient as any hospital matron, ‘I'll be back in five minutes, I promise you.'

When she returned she told me what she'd been up to. ‘I've positioned two chairs outside your bedroom door. Your girlfriends are sitting there turning all visitors away until you recover.'

I stared at her in amazement, wondering for a moment which one of us had concussion. ‘What girlfriends?' I asked, eventually.

She laughed. ‘Sammy and Becky, of course. Didn't you realize they've both got a crush on you?'

‘Good God, no,' I replied. ‘I hadn't the vaguest notion.'

‘Adam, they're teenagers. You come along with a glamorous past. You discover a murder victim, rescue their brother from an almost certain death, survive a murder attempt, and become an interesting invalid. How could they avoid it? At least it shows what good taste they've got.'

I stared at her in surprise and pleasure. ‘Evie, that's the nicest thing you've said to me.'

‘Ah well, you have to make allowances for an invalid,' she replied. ‘Now; do you want to go to sleep or just rest?'

I opted for rest. It turned into sleep. The recurring concussion allied to the fresh and terrible shock I'd received combined to disturb my sleep. I was cold, I was shivering with the cold and with a dread I could not name and my brain was struggling to process a rapid succession of images; all of them unpleasant. Then I was in Eve's arms and she was holding me tight, holding me safe against the terrors in my dreams. Slowly the images faded, the shivering lessened then ceased, and the cold receded.

It all happened slowly. I hoped Eve hadn't realized it happened much less slowly than I made out. After a while she cottoned on and nudged me. ‘Adam, you're OK now, you can let me go.'

I looked at her. ‘What about relapses?' I asked hopefully.

She laughed. ‘Now I know you're feeling better.'

She peeled back the duvet and stood alongside the bed. I had one last view of her superb figure in bra and pants before she began to dress. I tried my very hardest but somehow I couldn't achieve a relapse when I needed one most. I gave up the effort and suggested I should return downstairs. Eve agreed reluctantly but with stringent stipulations. I wasn't to go wandering off alone. If Eve wasn't available I would have to take Sammy and Becky with me. I was only allowed in the sitting room, Tony's study, and the dining hall and as soon as I felt the slightest bit tired I was to return to my room and rest accompanied by at least one of my minders.

I returned downstairs like a sultan with his harem; either that or a Chicago gangster with his bodyguard. As soon as I set foot outside my door Sammy and Becky jumped to their feet and ranged themselves protectively in front of me. With Eve one pace behind me as a rearguard I was protected from all but a missile attack.

We made our way in a phalanx down to the ground floor and continued in strict formation to Tony's study. Eve and I entered and as she swung the door to I saw the twins already in position outside facing away from the room. I smiled gently.

Tony and Harriet looked troubled. ‘Are there problems?' I asked, ‘apart from the obvious ones that is.'

‘Pratt seems to be concerned that you're the one to find the body every time there's a murder,' Tony told me.

‘What does he think we're doing here; playing some form of snuff Cluedo?' I asked.

‘He wants to talk to you, anyway,' Tony said.

By the time Pratt rang back I was ready for him. The head of my protection detail was even better prepared. As soon as the phone rang, Eve intercepted the call. ‘Detective Constable Pratt, this is Eve Samuels speaking, Lady Harriet's sister. Adam Bailey is my patient. When you speak to him I'd be obliged if you would bear in mind that he's been seriously ill with delayed concussion. Despite that he's been doing his very best to help you, by doing the work you wanted him to. That work and this latest terrible shock, combined with his severe injuries have almost done what the killer failed to achieve. I'll put you on to Adam now, but please take everything I've said into account when you speak to him.'

She handed me the phone and I talked with Pratt, who seemed not unnaturally subdued given the talking to he'd just been on the receiving end of. I confirmed everything that had happened which seemed to be as much as he wanted to know. ‘All being well, I should be there some time tomorrow,' he told me, ‘providing the flood water recedes and they manage to get a temporary bridge in place at Kirk Bolton. Don't try and do anything until we get there, just try and keep yourselves safe. Stay in the main body of the house and stick together. It seems to me this killer strikes when people are alone. You already seem to be a target, so you should be accompanied everywhere you go and at all times of day or night if that's possible.'

‘I think that can be arranged,' I told him. ‘I think it's very sensible advice and I'll ensure it's carried out to the letter.'

If the detective's words comforted me, his reassuring tone comforted me even more. Not that I needed extra comfort. Eve had remained alongside me and was holding my hand. That in itself was comfort enough.

When I left Tony's study the twins preceded me, Eve walked alongside me and Tony and Harriet followed me. I felt a bit like a wanted man being taken in by a posse. Dinner that evening was a surreal experience. The meal itself was a sketchy affair. Everything connected with it served as a reminder of Rathbone. Anything further removed from the festive season I have yet to experience. Immediately it was over, the party dispersed. I had eaten only sparsely and refused everything but water to drink. As soon as I had finished eating I declared my intention to go to bed. The moment I stood up my trio of bodyguards surrounded me. Escorted by Eve, Becky, and Sammy I went upstairs. When I reached the door of my room I was made to wait there until the twins had ensured it was safe for me to enter. They announced that it was all clear and I thanked them both for taking such trouble to look after me. You'd have thought I'd bestowed the VC on them from their reaction.

Eve shook her head. ‘That's done it,' she told me. ‘They'll be your slaves from now on unless you do something to upset them.'

I looked at her. ‘I'll be OK alone if you want to leave me now,' I told her.

She eyed me and frowned. ‘And what about Pratt's advice? You remember; the wisdom you agreed with and promised to stick to? The advice that recommended you shouldn't be alone at any time of day or night?'

‘Oh that,' I said weakly. ‘How did you hear that?'

‘I was standing next to you, remember? Those phones are easy to eavesdrop on. I heard everything Pratt said to you. I suggest you get inside and then I can lock this door.'

I managed to conceal a smile of satisfaction. There was nothing I wanted less than to spend the night alone. I realized with a sense of mild shock that what I meant by that was I didn't want to spend it apart from Eve.

It was a long time before sleep came to me. For one thing the events of the day weighed heavily on my mind. For another the presence of Eve alongside me in the bed was having an increasingly disturbing effect. When at last I did sleep, it was a disturbed, dream tormented sleep. At first it was haunted by images of the two dead men. Later it switched and I was back in that recurring nightmare from the first time I read of the Rowe family curse. The five ancient corpses were there as previously but new ones had been added. I knew they were dead; although I could only see one of their faces. It was a face I recognized immediately. I should have done, I looked at it every morning when I shaved.

It was at this point; when the nightmare became so frighteningly real that my terror must have communicated itself to Eve. She held me in her arms whispering words of comfort until I settled and realized I was safe and holding Eve as she was holding me.

‘Adam,' she whispered, ‘are you OK now?'

‘Yes thanks, Evie.' I was lying; she knew I was lying, and I knew she knew I was lying.

As I settled down I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Eve was still watching me. Her expression was another of those I hadn't learned to read.

Not unnaturally, I couldn't go back to sleep. My mind was in turmoil. To be fair I think it was in several. As if the events of the past few days culminating in Rathbone's murder were not enough to keep me from sleep; now there was the ever-present threat of the repeated nightmares and their significance. On top of all that I had at some stage to address the problem of my feelings for Eve. It was small wonder that the blackness that surrounded the curtains was already beginning to turn to grey when I fell at last into an uneasy sleep.