The Secrets of Palmerston House

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  Christie sprinted down the stairs and past Belinda. “Not yet.”

  “Wait. Where are you going? You’re the bride, you can’t leave.”

  “Martha will explain.”

  “And she’s gone. Just like that.” Belinda joined Martha and threw herself onto the step at her side. “Should I be following her?”

  Martha shook her head. “George is with her. They’re going to look in his shop, but I don’t think they’ll find anyone.”

  “Fill me in on the clues and I’ll become a super detective with you.”

  ***

  Trev managed to keep a tight control on his emotions, right up to the time he stepped into Martin’s bedroom.

  The tuxedo was laid out, ready to be worn. A crisp white shirt hung off the corner of a cupboard. Beside the tux was Martin’s phone, which suddenly rang, showing Christie’s smiling face.

  He reached out to answer, then stopped himself. She’d believe, for an instant, it was Martin answering. He couldn’t do that to her. She looked so happy in the photo on the phone, a different Christie from the one he’d left at Palmerston House, lost and confused by all of this.

  And Charlie. Where are you? Was her disappearance connected to Martin’s, or coincidental? His hands curled into fists as he gulped down unwanted fear, planting his feet further apart to keep himself steady.

  “Sir?”

  With a deep breath, Trev forced himself into action. “Find anything, Gareth?” He’d searched the house whilst the constables checked the shed and studio.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. Can’t get into the studio but it is virtually all windows. Nowhere to hide in there and no sign of anything other than paintings on easels.”

  “Shed appears undisturbed,” Jacqui said. “Surfboards on stands, an old motorcycle, everything neat.”

  “So his bike’s there. Let’s fan out and check the property. I’ll take the cliff boundary.”

  Trev started at the gate. On the other side were two patrol cars, the constables’ and his. He’d gone to the station to collect it, along with his kit, although he still wore everything for the wedding except the jacket. With his belt on and a radio, he was in a better position to do his job. Whatever that meant today.

  From there he moved to the far corner of the property, where fence gave way to cliff. Recently, Martin mentioned to him over a beer he’d be building secure boundary fencing once they were ready to start a family.

  “Where are you?”

  He worked his way to where the path to the beach began. An early evening breeze rustled through the grass, lifting a clump of jasmine off the ground. Trev scooped it up. Fresh, long strands.

  “Martin! Can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  Trev cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. “Martin!”

  “Sir. Have you found him?” Jacqui and Gareth ran from different directions.

  “Look.”

  “Flowers?”

  “Yes, Constable, flowers. Jasmine, freshly picked. And left in a pile here. As if he had picked them and dropped them.” Trev started down the track, the constables on his heels. At the fork, he gestured for them to go to the left and he followed the right.

  It was a dead end of bushes and cliff. But under a bush was a bottle. He pulled it out. Crumpled, empty. The same brand Bernie drank.

  Trev pushed his way through the bushes, careful not to go straight over the edge. More bottles. And a rope tied to a large bush hung over the cliff face. He dropped to his stomach and looked down for a moment, then got up again and tapped his radio.

  ***

  The jewellery shop was a waste of time. Christie and George checked every corner and the rooms out the back with growing dismay. They met back at the grandfather clock.

  “I’m sorry, Christie. I’ve led you on a wild goose chase.”

  “I jumped to the wrong conclusion. You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”

  “About this I do.” He nodded at the clock. “If I’d spoken up about Bernie’s questions, we might have worked out earlier he is a troubled man.”

  Christie’s phone rang and she grabbed it out of her bag, then her shoulders slumped. “Thomas. Any news?”

  “Not about Martin, but I’m at the cottage. Thought I’d try here, in case.”

  “I’m at the jewellery shop for the same reason.”

  “Someone broke in.”

  “What?”

  “Through the laundry window. Nothing is missing, but it was Bernie. I know it. Randall went nuts as soon as we walked in.”

  “Are you okay? Have you called Trev?”

  “Next job. Do you think he’s looking for something? What about your salon?”

  “I’ll go check. Then I’ll come up to you.”

  Once she disconnected the call, she filled George in and asked him to go back to Palmerston House. As she sprinted across the road in the near dark, it crossed her mind she was going against everything Martin always told her about personal safety. But, without him, nothing would ever matter again.

  She unlocked the door. Empty. To be certain, she ran to the to the back, but it was secure. On her way out, she saw the counter. With a trembling hand, she touched the smooth timber top. Martin’s artistry was unmistakable. And now she knew where he’d been all those hours yesterday.

  “Where are you, my love?” Even as she whispered the words, tears flooded her eyes and she could no longer deny the fear in her heart. She sank to the floor and wept.

  The phone might have rung for a while before she heard it through the sobs and when she answered, it was to Martha.

  “Christie? Are you there, child?”

  “... yes.”

  “Have you heard something?” There was sudden alarm in Martha’s voice.

  “No. No, Auntie. Just... sad.”

  “Alright then. Belinda and I found something in this diary. About the key.”

  “Which is lost.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “Auntie?”

  “I’m a very clever detective.” Belinda’s voice chimed in from a distance.

  “Yes, she is,” Martha continued. “Henry Temple wrote about the night he was evicted. He desperately wanted to go to his daughter’s bedroom.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Dear, her bedroom, from the description, is the one Dorothy had as a child. She loved her old dolls, handed down over the years and kept in—”

  “The trunk.” Christie jumped to her feet. “Oh, how did I miss it? The key is the one to the trunk. I have to go. Phone Trev.”

  Fingers trembling, Christie somehow dialled Thomas.

  “No news, but can you look at the keys next to the back door please?”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “The trunk key.”

  “Other end of the cottage. Come on, Randall, this way. Why am I looking for it?”

  “Theory. And then you need to go to Palmerston House with it.”

  “I was about to go anyway. Problem. Key isn’t here.”

  “You’re sure?” There was hope in Christie’s voice. She let herself out of the salon.

  “Eyes aren’t that bad yet. Is that what he broke in for?”

  “Yup. And I think I know where Martin and Charlotte are. Hurry. But drive carefully.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  “Where’s Trev?” Christie burst through the doorway into the foyer, startling Martha, Angus, and Elizabeth, who huddled around the diary.

  “We don’t know, exactly.” Angus said. “Don’t look at me like that, he’s not missing but the calls are going to his message bank.”

  “Well, would someone try again please? Tell him he needs to get over here.” Christie hurried through the foyer.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs, Auntie. Come on, we’ve got to see if the door is open.”

  “No! Christie, you can’t. Angus, don’t.” With a tremor in her voice, Elizabeth continued. “I’ll go. This is my house and it is u
p to me to face whatever danger there is—”

  “Elizabeth, dear lady, stop.” Angus took her hands in his. “Look at me.”

  She pulled her hands away, and refused to meet his eyes. “Nobody else is going to be hurt because of me.”

  “It is not your fault Bernie pushed me over. This is why you’ve gone all quiet and distant, isn’t it? Elizabeth?” Angus gathered Elizabeth into his arms.

  She shook her head, her body language defensive.

  Christie turned around. “Oh, Elizabeth, you are not responsible in any way, shape or form for the terrible behaviour of Bernie Cooper! Did you blame me for what Derek did to this town?”

  There was no response, but Angus smiled at Christie as Elizabeth relaxed against him, and he mouthed ‘thank you’.

  “People, I have a wedding to attend. I’d really like to find my husband-to-be, so...?”

  “Sorry, Christie.” Elizabeth’s words were muffled against Angus’ chest. Her arms wrapped around him for a moment.

  Martha got off the phone as Christie passed her. “I’ve left a long message. He must be out of range. Do you know where Thomas is?”

  Christie glanced over her shoulder. “He’ll be here soon. Why don’t you stay here and bring him down.”

  “Forget that. I’m coming to find Martin and Charlotte!”

  As she rushed through the house, Christie found herself trailed by Belinda, John, Daphne and Sylvia, as well as Martha, Angus, and Elizabeth. Sylvia said something about Barry going to the beach but it didn’t make sense to Christie and she kept going.

  After grabbing a torch from the kitchen, Christie tore down the steps into the cellar, then into the storage room. At first sight, all hope drained away, for the stone door was still firmly shut. Tears rushed into her eyes and she impatiently brushed them away.

  “Oh... it’s still closed.” Belinda put her arm around Christie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we’ll find another way.”

  “I believe I’m the oldest person here and apparently the only one with good vision! For goodness sake, Christie, turn the key!” Martha reached the door as Christie did.

  In the lock was the key from the trunk. First, the keeper of Ryan family secrets, and now, of Palmerston House.

  ***

  “One of you, give Palmerston House a ring. Tell them to stay put but we might have some news soon. There’s a heap of messages on my phone so let’s update them a bit.” Trev fitted himself into a climbing harness.

  Barry was out in his dinghy with one of his men. They’d take a look around the cliff face from a distance and report back to Trev. From here, their search light was visible as they rounded the farthest point of the cliff, so they’d only be a few minutes with the outboard motor driving them through the swell.

  “All set, sir?” Jacqui checked the buckles on the harness. “The line’s secured and good to go.”

  “Great.” Trev shoved a helmet on. “Is Gareth ringing Elizabeth?”

  “Yes. He’ll be back down in a sec... couldn’t get a signal here.”

  Trev checked his firearm. It was all business now. “As soon as he’s back, you go to the top and field calls and direct any backup. Whatever happens, don’t allow any of the wedding party down here.”

  “I won’t. Sir, I can’t imagine how distressing this is for the bride.”

  “We’ll get her groom back. And Charlie.”

  Gareth burst through the bushes, panting. “Done. But Elizabeth said Christie found a key. Something about the stone door.”

  “Jacqui, liaise with the patrol car on its way from Green Bay. Tell them to get a move on and to investigate this key Christie has. Right, off you go, and Gareth, throw the gloves on and grab the rope.”

  As the constables followed his orders, Trev backed to the edge of the cliff, feeling the rope tighten to support his weight. His radio crackled and he hit the button. “Barry?”

  “Yeah, Trev we can see the mouth of the cave and there’s some movement there. Don’t want to spook anyone so will go past at a distance.”

  “So there’s people there?”

  “Two. Or, three maybe. Too far really. There’s a lamp or something in there but nothing is clear.”

  “Thanks. I’m going down now. Nice and slowly.”

  CRACK!

  The sound cut through the air, echoing across the water.

  “Sir... that was—”

  The worst sound. Dreaded by police everywhere. “Hold tight, constable. It was a gunshot.” Trev pushed off from the edge.

  ***

  The stone door opened. Christie held up her torch. Behind her, Belinda, Martha, and now Thomas, peered into the gloom.

  “It’s a tunnel!” Christie stepped through the doorway and Thomas joined her. “Look at the those paintings, and boxes. And bottles.”

  “Christie?” Elizabeth looked through the doorway. “Oh my. A tunnel.”

  “It is. But you need to go back. We’ll follow it as far as we can. Okay, Thomas?”

  “Wait, dear. The nice constable called to say Trev is making his way to the cave down the cliff.”

  Christie spun around. “Near Martin’s house? But it’s so dangerous.”

  “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. But anyway, he wanted you to know there might be some news soon. And to stay upstairs.”

  “I can’t. All of these things,” she flashed the light on the boxes, “they are so old. Look at that painting. Isn’t it Henry Temple? They didn’t just get here on their own.”

  “You’re right. There’s drag marks as far as I can see. Someone’s been moving them recently.” Thomas had his own torch. “Can you smell the sea?”

  Now he mentioned it, Christie recognised saltiness layered beneath the dank smell of stale air and dirt. “Do you think this goes to the cave?”

  “One way to find out.” Thomas ducked back through the doorway and spoke to Martha. She kissed him and then he returned. “Shall we retrieve the errant groom?”

  “Shall I come with you?” Belinda popped her head through the doorway. “I can be the trailblazer.”

  “Thanks, but I need you here. Please look after everyone and tell Daphne to stay close by because she’ll be busy soon.”

  “Be careful. You’re going to be my cousin-in-law, so I need you back safely. And the others.”

  Christie blew a kiss to Belinda, then took Thomas’ hand. “Ready?”

  He grasped her hand and nodded. She glanced at his set face, worried about the strain around his eyes. “We’ll find them.”

  For a while, they walked beside each other. Their footsteps were the only sound, until they turned a sharp corner. Then there was the ocean. Waves pounding in the distance. They stopped and exchanged a glance.

  “How could nobody know this existed?” Christie asked.

  “There were rumours. When I was a kid, George and I and some of the others would climb a bit. Which is why I sent Martin off as a kid to learn to do it properly because he is as bad as I was. Curious. Always pushing boundaries. Anyway, George and I almost got to the cave once but the cliff was crumbly and the waves scared us. Rocks below, sticking up out of the water. We scrambled up and never tried again.”

  “You said Martin knows how to climb.”

  “Like a mountain goat. He’s strong and quick and can see the safe spots. Why?”

  “Charlotte was in the kitchen when I last saw her. What if Bernie thought the kitchen was empty?”

  “And found her there? Took her down this tunnel to the cave?”

  They reached another bend and stopped. Thomas was breathing heavily. The tunnel was steep here and staying upright a constant struggle.

  “Rest. I’ll go ahead.”

  “Give me a second.” He forced his air intake to slow.

  “Maybe Charlotte called out and Martin heard her.”

  “From the house?”

  “I’m being silly. I just want...”

  Thomas patted her arm. “Me too. Let’s go.”

  Christie led
the way as the tunnel not only narrowed, but lowered. The waves were louder and there was a little more light. Yet the sun must have set, so where was the light coming from? Her feet slipped and Thomas steadied her.

  “Don’t do it!”

  Martin’s voice stopped them in their tracks, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

  BOOM!

  A scream. Charlotte.

  Then silence.

  ***

  He’d once been afraid of heights and when he’d lain on the ledge earlier to look down, Trev’s stomach had fluttered for a moment. Then his training and resolve kicked in and he was fine.

  The moment the shot was fired, something took over his body. Before he knew it, he was halfway down the cliff face, feet kicking himself away from the steep rocks time and again.

  Barely aware of Gareth calling to him, he’d let the rope run through his fingers faster than it should. Nothing was going to stop him getting to Charlie. And Martin.

  There was a sudden, abrupt stop and he dangled. He tapped the radio. “Gareth, loosen the winch.”

  “Sir, you’re going too fast. I’m going to lose hold.”

  “Keep your head, constable. There’s fail safes. I’m not going to fall. Loosen it.”

  Trev had lost momentum and, when the rope was free again, he struggled to get back to the rock face. Back and forth he used his body to swing tantalisingly closer. Who fired the shot? Was anyone hurt? God, Charlie. He was going to get down there and find her and never let her go again. Show her nothing in her past or her belief about herself was an obstacle. He hadn’t protected her when she needed him. But he would now.

  His feet finally touched the rocks and he kicked off, letting the rope slide as quickly as he dared

  ***

  Christie ran blindly, falling and scrambling to her feet more than once. She’d dropped her torch the moment the shot rang out. Thomas was somewhere behind. Light from his torch flashed on the sides, the roof, the ground. He might have called her name, but she couldn’t stop.

  Martin.

  Silence ahead. Perhaps the waves had stopped to mourn.

  “Martin!” It was a sob, a desperate, heartbreaking cry she could no longer contain.

  She slid into the side of the tunnel, her feet losing traction and pain screaming through her as her thigh scraped along the rock. On her hands and knees, she lost her sense of direction.