Deadly Treasures

Gritting her teeth, she had closed the front door behind the broad back of the viscount who had so easily lured her into his trap. She should have realized her father would never ever let her go anywhere exciting. He had only written to an old friend and confidant to make a stupid plan to get his daughter to marry the other’s son, thereby solving their mutual problems in a single stroke.

The only good thing about the debacle was that Duncan would never ever want to marry her and whether they met in Cornwall or the Himalayas, she’d not come back engaged.

Still, she would have rather visited the Himalayas.

Alkmene pursed her lips in self-depreciation. It was just like her to want to sail the Nile and end up in a meadow staring into a hole full of pottery shards. The only good thing about it was that Jake Dubois didn’t know. By the time he’d come back from Plymouth she’d be in Blackcastle, and he’d have no idea.

She had put his notes on the serial poisoner in a sealed envelope, for Brookes to hand back to Jake if he came to see her. She had instructed the butler to tell Mr Dubois that she had left town on an urgent errand for a friend of her father’s and would not be back for some time.

She had not told Brookes in so many words that Mr Dubois was not to know where she had gone to, but the staff’s loyalty was beyond question, and Jake had already alienated Brookes by his impolite behaviour on an earlier occasion. The butler would never tell him a thing, so she was perfectly safe from Jake’s scorn over her journey.

Still, it was too bad Jake was not here beside her, so they could discuss the poison case. It had left so many questions in her mind. Investigating murder with him was almost more exciting than seeing the pyramids.

It would certainly have been more exciting than seeing Duncan, who would just insult her again.

Alkmene raised a hand to check on her hair. Duncan had often teased her when she was a girl about her unruly hair and ungainly walk. His sister Delphine had been considered a little beauty even at eight, destined to court the interest of princes and dukes, and compared to her, Alkmene had always felt second-rate.

On her way now to face a man she had no intention of pleasing, she caught herself wanting him to admire her anyway, if only to make up for all the scorn he had unleashed on her in the past. Even so it would be easier if he still loathed her, for if he suddenly saw something in her and started courting her in earnest, their families would push them to no end to go on with it.

Why had she gotten herself entangled in this mess?

To distract herself Alkmene leaned forward and asked the driver, ‘Is it very far still?’

‘I do not know.’ He pursed his lips as if every word cost money.

‘But you must have made this journey before. Has the family never gone to see Duncan on site?’

‘I drove him out here in the spring when he began his work.’ The driver kept his eyes on the road ahead, speaking in the monotone words of someone reciting a lesson. ‘I asked him if he didn’t need a car while he was here, but he said he wanted to walk more, to improve his stamina.’

‘But the land is so wide,’ Alkmene observed, looking out of the side window at the patchwork blanket of meadows and cornfields, separated by lines of trees. ‘Walking is fine, but I don’t see that every distance can be crossed by walking.’

‘I said so too. But he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t take one servant from his father’s household with him.’

Alkmene heard the undertone in the words and understood the implication at once.

Determined not to look as if she was pouncing on this interesting tidbit, she kept her eyes on the land that was soaking up the sunshine. She said casually, ‘He took the job here to get away from his family?’

The driver was silent.

Alkmene was certain she had been too blunt and should have drawn him out by more subtle means. She just didn’t seem to have that gift.

Then the driver said, ‘Not to get away from anybody, but to be with someone, rather.’

Alkmene froze. Suddenly an alarm bell was ringing in the back of her mind. ‘And his family knew this?’

The driver nodded. ‘They suspect.’

Aw, no.

Alkmene sank back in the padding. She had easily believed her father had written to his old friend from India to discuss his only daughter who really did need a man, if only because the acquaintances were talking and it was never nice to be the object of gossip in town.

But now she saw a bigger truth. Her father’s letter had been a reply to an urgent cry for help sent by that old friend. The viscount had confided in Father that his son, his hope for the future, had fallen in love with an unsuitable woman, someone he was courting by using his excavation work as an excuse. Perhaps the lady lived in these remote parts, but it was more likely she had taken up residence here for the summer to be able to meet with Duncan away from prying eyes in London.

Duncan believed his family knew nothing of this, but they had been on to him from the start and had devised their own plan. Alkmene had to be sent over to win him from the other woman. Alkmene was strong-willed; she would know how to handle him.

Oh, she could just see her father’s hand, writing down the words. She was ashamed of it right as she sat here, fiery blood rising into her cheeks. Not just that Father had written it and his friend had believed it, but that she herself had risen so readily to the bait. She had just wanted to travel; she had not cared for Duncan at all, whether he was intellectual or not, a master of those fields she took an avid interest in. She had believed she could outsmart them all by going first, then moulding Duncan to be at least a little open to finding a suitable wife, and she could return home with fabulous experiences and nothing to feel bad about towards the viscount and his wife.

But at her ready agreement the viscount had thought she really wanted to snare Duncan and that finding opposition on the way would only make her desire stronger. Her desire to secure her childhood friend and to outwit another woman who had no right to him.

It was a clever plan on the viscount’s part, but it hinged completely on the assumption that she did want Duncan and she did not. Her appearance on the scene would be extremely painful, not only for Duncan and his secret love, but for her as well, because she would appear to be hunting a man who did not care for her, who indeed was pursuing another.

It might look quite desperate of her to follow Duncan to Cornwall where he had retreated to ‘work’.

Alkmene resisted the urge to clap her hands to her face and groan out loud. Her first, hot-headed inclination was to order the driver to turn around and take her back to London where she could tell the viscount to his face what she thought of him and his clever little plans.

But he was a dear friend of her father’s and she had no intention of humiliating him. She had to grit her teeth and make the best of this embarrassing situation. It was after all – in part – of her own making. If she had not been so eager to make a trip, she would have declined. Her own motives had pushed her to accept, and now she had to face the consequences.

A sign flashed past, reading ‘Blackcastle’. ‘Is that the village where I will be staying?’ she asked the driver, hoping she’d sound normal and not like she was crushed by his revelation. It had been a shock, but for a very different reason than the driver might assume.

‘Yes. It was named after an old castle nearby. There is just one tower left of it. The excavation site is a few miles to the south. You can see the tower from the site.’

‘How interesting.’ Taking a few breaths, Alkmene felt calmer. Her heart rate returned to normal, and she relaxed her clenched hands.

She just had to press on now, meet Duncan and find out all about his secret love. Perhaps if he was sincere and the young woman was suitable enough, she might even put in a good word for him, convincing his family that his choice was not so bad?

Her heart skipped a beat again. Who was she fooling here? Now that the viscount and his wife believed they could have her for a daughter-in-law, no other woman would do, let alone someone who had for some reason not been eligible to begin with. Her present involvement made it that much harder for the young lovers to ever wed, not easier.

How Duncan would hate her as soon as he realized what she was here for…

Meanwhile the driver steered the car ably through a small village. Stone houses on either side of the road with gardens in front of them, fruit-bearing trees beside them, climbing roses on trellises…

In front of a low-roofed building marked ‘livery stable’ a girl was brushing a fine dark horse, not even bothering to look at the Buick.

Alkmene was surprised that an unknown car, especially such a fine imported model, didn’t draw a response from the locals. One could argue that perhaps girls were not interested in cars, but a few more yards down the road two old men sat on a bench discussing something and they didn’t turn their weathered faces to the sound of the car engine either, but kept talking, one gesturing wildly with one hand holding a pipe. Their conversation seemed to engage them so that they were completely oblivious to their surroundings.

Alkmene turned her head to look at them through the rear window. Perhaps some local event had shaken the natives. She wondered what that all-important occurrence could be.

As they left the houses behind, the road rose to the top of a hill. Directly behind it lay flat grassy land, with bushes here and there. Birds rose from them, flashing around too quickly to make out what they were. In the distance a tall round tower stood outlined against the blue skies. It was much larger and plumper than a church tower. It had to be the remainder of the old Black Castle, after which the village took its name.

The sun beating down from the cloudless sky above outlined everything in stark bright lines as if drawn by an exquisite artist.

Alkmene breathed and tasted the freedom she had often wished for in the past. With a smile she sat up straighter and looked to her left where she could just discern an area that had been fenced off. Rough wooden fences were used, also wicker ones, and even string, running from one wooden pole inserted into the earth to another. She assumed that was the excavation site. There also was a simple wooden construction that was probably a tool shed or something.

The driver slowed down and turned the car left into a dirt track that led straight to the excavation site. It was full of potholes that shook the car and reverberated in Alkmene’s back and neck.

But she barely noticed, staring intently ahead. The wall of the tool shed that was directly opposite her now had been painted white, but the coat of paint wasn’t even. Some parts lay deeper.

Like there had been carving in the wall that the paint had been intended to cover up.

Letters. G-e-t…

O-u…

Get out?

It sounded much like a threat.

‘There they are,’ the driver said, and Alkmene followed his nod. A group of people had gathered to their right. Workers in overalls with leather kneecaps, a man in a sharp suit… Had they gathered because some exciting find had been made? She would be lucky to arrive at some high point in the excavation’s proceedings. Duncan would be pleased and not suspicious to see her, and she could immediately join in the group sensation, without being stared at for being both a woman and a non-specialist in this field.

The driver braked. Alkmene did not wait for him to get out and open her door for her, but opened it herself and climbed out. In preparation of the conditions on site she had put on a tweed skirt under a sturdy jacket and some decent shoes that would do for walking, climbing and the like.

The wind coming across the hilly land grabbed at her hair as she marched up to the excited group. The well-dressed man in the suit turned to her with a frown as if he was not sure what she was doing there.

Past him she spotted two uniformed policemen, each holding an arm of…

‘Duncan!’ Alkmene cried.

Duncan Woolsbury had not changed much since she had last seen him. He had always been tall for his age and sturdily built, with broad shoulders. He had a real barrel chest now and his bare arms were covered with muscle cords. His reddish hair shone in the sunshine like fire. He pulled himself free from the policemen’s hold, exclaiming, ‘I will not flee.’

Apparently his short words made an impression for they did not take hold of him again.

Duncan stepped forward to Alkmene and said, ‘This is not a very good time for a visit, I’m afraid.’ He scanned her from top to bottom. ‘You’ve come on behalf of my father? To talk some sense into me?’

Alkmene felt a fiery flush come up. She hadn’t expected Duncan to be quite so forthright. In the presence of others at that! ‘Your father did mention to me you were here now and doing interesting work.’

‘My father doesn’t find my work interesting, or worthwhile. He wants me to give it up and come back home. Has he sent you to tell me that?’

Alkmene pulled back her shoulders. ‘You should know better than to believe I would be sent on such a mission.’

A smile jerked up the corners of his mouth. ‘Or any mission at all. Alkmene only does what Alkmene wants, right?’ That irked her a little, but it was true.

Duncan’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he said, ‘I’m not sure what you want here, Alkmene, but I’m afraid I can’t be your host and show you around. I have to go with these gentlemen to the police station.’

‘How come? Has something happened?’

Duncan sighed. ‘I have to give a statement in an accidental death that happened on my site.’

One of the policemen, older than the other, with the deep-set eyes of a melancholy basset hound, said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but the death was hardly accidental. The victim’s skull was fractured with a hammer. Your hammer.’

Alkmene winced.

Duncan said quickly, ‘In any case I have to explain what happened. I don’t have time to show you around now. Perhaps you had better go back to the village.’ He gestured to Kramer, who was waiting nearby.

‘She can stay.’ The good-looking man in the suit nodded at her. ‘I can show you around. Simon Peartree, at your service.’

Duncan said, ‘That won’t be necessary. I can do it myself.’ His tone was curt, and the look he threw Peartree almost vicious. He added, ‘I hope to be back in time for dinner. We have some catching up to do.’

The older policeman gestured to the car that was waiting at the back of the shed, mostly out of sight, so Alkmene had not noticed it until now. She watched with a frown as Duncan followed both men and was put in the back. Although they had not cuffed him, this still felt like…an arrest. If Duncan was merely wanted for a statement, why had they not asked him to stop by? Why had they been holding him by the arms?

Taking him in, publicly, amid all of his workers, was almost like a deliberate humiliation. Had Duncan acted rudely before, refusing to come to the station of his own accord because he was busy with some excavation details?

Duncan could be obsessed with his own little things, paying no heed to another’s wishes. And if those wishes happened to be those of the local authorities, he might have ticked off a few people who had decided to show him who was in charge in this area.

Beside her Simon Peartree said, ‘Forgive me for not knowing your name.’

Alkmene smiled at him. ‘Alkmene Callender. I practically grew up with Duncan. My father was away a lot, and I was shipped off for the summer to the Woolsbury country estate. Alberley. Perhaps you know it?’

He shook his head. ‘I've never been invited there.’ There was a slight stress on ‘invited’ and a tightness around his mouth.

Alkmene hurried to say, ‘Well, anyway, I had a fabulous time there. Ever since Duncan became engrossed in the whole archaeology thing, I’ve seen so little of him; so when his father told me he was in Cornwall now, it seemed like the best of chances to catch up. Closer than Egypt, you know.’

Simon Peartree laughed, erasing the tension in his handsome features. ‘Indeed it is. Well, I could show you around. I know all the ins and outs, have been here for weeks now, helping out. But apparently Duncan wants to do it himself as soon as he is back. So I suggest I put the workers to work first and then offer you some tea.’ He pointed to a picnic basket that was leaning against a half dug out wall. ‘It’s still warm, I hope.’

He gestured to the men. ‘Spread out and resume working. There is nothing to see here any more.’

He sounded almost like a constable clearing the scene after a crime.

A victim with a skull bashed in by a hammer… That was not accidental. It might have been an act on impulse, during an argument, or even in self-defence. But it had not been an accident, and the police would not treat it as such. That could get tricky for Duncan.

Alkmene turned to the driver who was still hovering a few feet away. His expression was blank, but Alkmene was certain he had followed everything with great interest. If he returned to London right away, he might start gossiping about it to the other servants. Lady Eleanor would have more than a headache if she found out.

Alkmene said, ‘I think it is better if you stick around here for the night, Kramer. You can take a room at the same inn where the viscount booked my room. The Catch in Blackcastle. You have to drop my luggage there anyway. I’ll let you know in the morning what the situation is and whether you are still needed here or may return to London.’

The driver seemed hesitant. ‘But my employer…’

‘I need you now. That the viscount must understand. I’ll clear it all up with him, should it be necessary. For the moment the family need not be troubled with the news of this unfortunate brush with the police. Now go.’ She waved him off with a careless gesture of her hand.

Kramer snorted, but did as she had told him.

She turned to Simon Peartree again. ‘So somebody died here?’

‘Why yes, two days ago.’ He shifted his weight uncomfortably, avoiding looking her straight in the eye.

‘A local man?’ Alkmene pressed.

Peartree shook his head. ‘A friend of Duncan’s, from London, I gathered.’

Alkmene’s jaw sagged. ‘Really? In that case I might know him. What was the victim’s name?’

Peartree held her gaze as if he was eager to see her response when he spoke the words out loud. ‘Reiner Goodman.’

Alkmene frowned. The name meant nothing to her. ‘And you are sure he was a friend of Duncan’s from London? From the peerage?’

Peartree’s mouth twitched as if he was about to laugh. ‘Not all Duncan’s friends are from the peerage.’

Alkmene bit back a remark about Duncan’s family being rather particular about whom they associated with. She had better be careful, as she had no idea who Peartree was himself and any careless remark about social standing might be hurtful to him.

She said slowly, ‘But you are sure that Duncan did know the victim well? I mean, he wasn’t someone just dropping by to see the excavation, perhaps on invitation from Duncan’s tutor, Trevor Price?’

Peartree shrugged. ‘That I don’t know for sure. All I do know is that Duncan was not happy to see Goodman when he appeared. They had a fierce argument the first night Goodman was here. I overheard them. I…am afraid I had to tell the police about that after the body was found.’

He swallowed a moment. ‘It was rather awkward, you know. Duncan having said to the victim: “I will break your head for that,” and the next day him being dead and all, skull bashed in with a hammer… One of the tools Duncan uses frequently on site.’

Alkmene stared at him in disbelief. ‘Duncan threatened the victim the day before he died? And then he was murdered in the same manner as referred to in this threat?’

This was even worse than she had first assumed. The local police would consider this pretty conclusive evidence and might actually charge Duncan.

Simon Peartree leaned over to her. He lowered his voice as if to make absolutely sure nobody could overhear this. ‘Duncan is calling this little trip down to the police station “coming along to make a statement”. But that is not what those officers said when they drove in here to ask for him. They said plainly that they had orders to arrest him for the murder of Reiner Goodman. Either Duncan finds himself a very good lawyer to get him off for the time being, or he won’t be back here tonight.’

Peartree held her gaze as if he wanted to gauge her reaction when he continued. ‘In fact, he might not be back here at all.’

Chapter Three

If only she had known about the threat to the victim before she had let Duncan be taken away by the police.

As usual he was making light of his situation and needed a friend to drag him out of the mire he had ambled into. Duncan probably had nothing to do with the man’s death, but as the victim had been an acquaintance from London and Duncan had threatened him, everything pointed at Duncan as the perpetrator.

He did need a good lawyer, like Peartree had just suggested. And if he was too pig-headed to ask for one, or afraid the family solicitors would get involved and his father would be livid, she had to arrange something for him. Jake would know what to do.

She had to get to a phone right away to call him. If she was lucky, Jake would be at his hotel in Plymouth or at the yachting club. If not, she’d leave him a message to contact her as soon as possible.

Alkmene glanced over her shoulder to see if her car was still there, but the indignant German driver had already turned the Buick around and was disappearing over the hill. She sighed in frustration. Turning to Peartree, she shot, ‘Do you have a car here?’

He seemed surprised at the sudden question. ‘Yes, but it is at our lodgings. Duncan and I are staying at a cottage a mile down that way. You can’t see it from here because there are trees and shrubs around it. I have a car there. We walk out to the dig every morning though. Duncan used to say it’s good for the lungs.’

He was using past tense to refer to Duncan as if he was already dead. Executed for murder.

Alkmene shook her head inwardly. It would never come to that if it were up to her. There had to be some misunderstanding. Somebody else had killed the victim, and Duncan was only a suspect because of the unfortunate argument with the victim the night before his death. As Peartree had apparently been a witness to it, he could give her more information about it.

She said briskly, ‘Then let’s walk to that cottage of yours and get your car. I want to get into the village as soon as possible to make a call.’ Her mind was racing. Not only could Jake tell her how to find a discreet lawyer to handle this unfortunate arrest, but he might also have some information for her about the victim. If Duncan had known him in London, he had to be somebody. And Jake had contacts to ferret out things about everybody who was somebody.

Perhaps the victim had left London because he had been under pressure from someone – over work, debts, a family affair – and the perpetrator had followed him to kill him here and shift the blame to somebody else.

Energized to dig into it right away, she gestured at Peartree, who had not moved. ‘What are we waiting for?’

Peartree made an appeasing gesture in return and led the way down a small path only suitable to traverse on foot. They could barely walk side by side so Alkmene had to stay a step behind him. In the distance she heard gulls cry.

Peartree called back at her, ‘I had no idea you were so close with Duncan you’d jump to his defence right away. When you arrived, you looked like one of his many casual girlfriends.’

‘He has casual girlfriends?’ Alkmene enquired.

Peartree laughed. ‘Well, at least two ladies from London have popped up here during my stay to talk to Duncan. One he seemed mortified to see. He dragged her away from the cottage so I couldn't see her very well. I have no idea who she was or what she wanted of him. He was so tight-lipped about everything. And then there are the girls from the village. The innkeeper’s daughter in particular. Little Sarah.’