by Leo McNeir
She tried to imagine the scene the night before. Somehow someone had known about the graves and had decided to move their occupants to prevent disturbance. Could Anne have been right? Marnie suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to share her idea with Rob.
“Do those spy cameras work after dark?”
“How extraordinary, Marnie. That’s exactly what Sergeant Binns asked when he arrived this morning.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t know. He went off to talk to the technicians in the OB van.”
“Was that before or after going to see Ralph?”
“First thing when he drove down here. Is there a problem?”
Marnie was about to answer when Anne came running round the corner of the barn. She spoke breathlessly to Rob.
“Those cameras, the surveillance ones, do they run at night?”
Rob pulled the mobile from his pocket, pressed buttons and spoke rapidly. He disconnected.
“They watch the site round the clock.”
*
Ralph had the slightly unfocused look that Marnie recognised as deep concentration when she and Anne burst in on him in his study on Thyrsis, followed by Danny. He turned briefly back to the computer and pressed the Save button.
Marnie wasted no time. “Binns isn’t interested in us for this one. He knows our movements and the timing of whatever went on down here last night. The surveillance cameras saw everything.”
“Are you sure? It was very dark.”
“I’m sure he knows the exact time we came home.”
“And the people digging?”
“My guess is, he could see their lights well enough to know they were at it long before we got back.”
“Good. So that’s that all cleared up.”
“Not quite, Ralph. Anne has a theory.”
Anne explained about the lights she had seen on the high ground in Knightly Woods.
“What I can’t explain is exactly what was going on up there.”
Danny’s expression combined distaste and confusion in equal measures. “You think someone dug up the dead bodies of witches, dragged them all the way up to the top of that hill and then had a rave to celebrate?”
Anne frowned. “I know I saw something and I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Ralph pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a possibility.”
“More than that, I think,” Marnie said quietly. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned before.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “About the lights?”
“About Knightly Woods.”
Marnie told them how Celia and her husband had walked in the woods and stumbled on a witches’ circle on the top of the hill.
“Do we tell Sergeant Binns about this?” Anne asked.
Marnie turned to Ralph. “What do you think?”
“On balance, we probably should.”
“And if it was just some sort of party up there?”
“We’ll look foolish and we’ll have wasted his time.”
“So shouldn’t we check our facts first?”
“That might be wise.”
“I’d like to go,” Anne said.
“If we all went it would look odd,” Marnie pointed out.
Danny looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps –”
“You should stay here, Danny.” Marnie grinned. “You and your bikini are our best decoy.”
Ralph smiled. “I suppose you want me to stay behind to add a tone of respectability to the camouflage?”
Marnie looked at Anne. “Seems like it’s you and me, babe.”
*
It was cooler in the woods, at least before Marnie and Anne began climbing to the top. From the car park they took the designated footpath and followed its gentle incline until they realised it had been designed to skirt round the hill rather than ascend it. They spotted a steeper route through the undergrowth and struck off towards higher ground.
Their heart rate and temperature rose in line with the steepness of the gradient as they clambered steadily upwards without talking. The light between the trees was deceptive, patterning the ground in mottled shade, making them take extra care not to trip over roots and stones on the way. The woods were dozing in the noonday heat. All around them was silence, with only an occasional note of birdsong reaching them from far off.
Just as they were beginning to think the hillside would go on forever, they arrived in a clearing and could see ahead of them a final wooded slope to the top. Exposed to the sun, neither wanted to pause for breath in the open space. Marnie led the way across to the trees and picked out a track. The summit was as devoid of growth as a monk’s tonsure and they walked its perimeter, searching for indications of disturbed ground.
They found nothing. Marnie and Anne sat down on mossy ground out of the sun, leaning back against trees, disappointed. Anne spoke first.
“Was it just a late night ramble?”
Marnie shook her head, taking deep breaths. “Who knows what it was?”
“Whatever it was, this has been a wild goose chase.”
“The lights you saw might’ve been on some other part of the hill.”
Anne’s turn to shake her head. “No. You can just about see the main road from over there. I looked.”
Marnie stood up. “Come on, then. Let’s check it out again.”
They walked side by side, systematically covering the whole of the open ground. After several minutes of searching, Marnie was starting to wonder if they were in the wrong place. If this was the clearing that Celia had described to her, where was the witches’ circle?
Anne was about to repeat her concern that they were wasting their time, when she trod on something. Looking down, she realised that the dust on the ground was in two colours: the brownish soil and a finer grey powder, both mixed together. She stepped aside from where she had trodden and squatted down, running her fingertips through the fine dirt. Her nail brushed against something small and firm. She picked it up and shook the dust from it while Marnie looked on. Anne stood up and blew away the last ash. She was holding the stub of a candle, a black candle.
“We’re there,” Marnie said.
Chapter 32
Winterburn
It was not like Marnie to fret when the police failed to turn up on her doorstep. On Thursday morning she dropped a notebook into her shoulder bag with the Polaroid camera and got up from the desk. It was ten to nine and she was setting off for Knightly Court. She had left a message for Sergeant Binns the previous day, but so far there had been no response. Marnie looked at the wall clock and then checked her wristwatch.
Anne grinned. “I don’t think there’s a difference in time zone from one side of the office to the other.”
“I don’t want to be out if Binns suddenly appears.”
“Then let me go to the Court. You only want to make sure everything’s going smoothly so that Her Ladyship …” Anne mimed a curtsy while remaining seated. “… isn’t getting her frillies in a twist.”
With most other projects Marnie could just let Anne pay a routine visit to the work. But on this job they both knew that Celia would think she was being fobbed off with the under scullery-maid. The problem was solved when DC Cathy Lamb breezed into the office with a perfunctory knock.
“What’s this, Marnie? Fleeing the country?”
“It’s tempting.”
“You wanted to speak to us.”
Marnie gestured to a chair. “No Sergeant Binns?”
Lamb remained standing. “We’ve split forces. Too much going on. You’ll have to make do with me this morning.”
“I take it that means you don’t think we’re involved in the latest grave-digging episode.”
“Course not. We know what time you came back from Brackley. The intruders were long gone by then. Right now, we’re more interested in where they went.”
Marnie flashed a look at Anne before replying. “You could try Knightly Woods.”
“Really?”<
br />
“Anne has something to tell you.”
Lamb pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. “Maybe we should sit down, after all.”
*
Anne craned her neck to stare back down the slope towards the new grave sites as Marnie drove the Discovery up the field track. As soon as they had described their visit to the woods the previous day, Lamb had left at high speed to report back to her sergeant. Marnie wasted no time in heading for Knightly Court.
“Can you see anything, Anne?”
“Not really, just a few of the uniforms by the taped-off area. Why the hurry to get away?”
“If Binns had caught up with us we’d have been there half the morning. He would’ve wanted our story at least three times and then told us to stick around in case we were needed again. The police forget we have a business to run.”
“Cathy seemed very interested in what we told her.”
Marnie smiled sideways at Anne. “Just doing our duty as good citizens.”
By the time Marnie swung the car in through the gates of Knightly Court, the decorators’ van was standing by the main entrance, its rear doors wide open. Nearby, Celia’s Audi was lined up as if ready to leave, hood folded down, boot lid standing erect. Celia herself came out trailing behind her a small Louis Vuitton suitcase on wheels followed by a man in overalls. As Marnie pushed her car door open, she saw Celia retract the handle, stand back and point into the boot. The decorator lifted the case in and closed the lid.
Anne joined Marnie beside the Discovery. “We all seem to be making quick getaways today,” she said softly.
“I wonder why,” said Marnie. “Let’s find out.”
Celia stood waiting beside her car, wearing a simple cream cotton dress and light tan slip-ons.
“Oh, Marnie, I’m so glad to have caught you.” A languid tone of voice.
“You’re going away?”
Celia sighed. “I have to. It’s just too … how can I put it?”
“Has something happened?”
Celia gestured towards the house. “I can’t … it’s … the paint. The smell is giving me a constant headache. I know if I stay a moment longer I’ll go down with the most frightful migraine.”
“I see. Normally, if you can leave the windows and doors open it clears quite quickly. In this weather –”
“It’s no good, Marnie. I’m going away for a few days to our cottage in Norfolk. The decorators have a key, and you’ll be here to keep an eye on everything.”
Marnie counted to three before replying. “What about your husband?”
“Didn’t I say? Hugh’s off on business. He’s staying at the cottage as well.” She beamed. “I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him when I turn up.”
Oh boy, Marnie thought.
*
On the drive back to Glebe Farm, Marnie stopped the car on an empty stretch of road outside the village and turned to Anne.
“What’s bothering you? D’you want to talk about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re so quiet.”
“Only in comparison with Danny.”
Marnie chuckled. “What is it about that girl?”
“You mean apart from the fact that she seems to be tanned all over and runs around half-naked most of the time?”
They grinned at each other.
“At least she doesn’t seem to be so spooked by everything these days.” Marnie became serious. “Are you seriously worried about Donovan? Is that what it is?”
Anne screwed her face up. “Not in the way you mean, Marnie. But there is something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Marnie switched off the engine. “Try.”
Anne drew in a long slow breath, staring ahead through the windscreen.
“Things don’t match up somehow. It’s odd, but I get the impression we’re not all looking in the right direction, or even in the same direction.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Anne sighed. “I’ve lost myself. I don’t know how to put it.”
“Why not make one of your famous lists, then?” Marnie smiled encouragement.
Anne paused. “First on the list I’d put the witch thing. We’ve got the weird goings-on up in the woods that scared Celia. Then Timeline and their excavations and now the witches’ graves – if that’s what they are – down by the canal. And the whatever-it-was in the woods on Tuesday night.”
“That’s all clear enough.”
Anne nodded. “As far as it goes, yes. But there’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”
“So what comes next on your list? And is there a connection?”
“A connection? Yes. It’s … it’s Celia, I suppose.”
“Go on.”
“There’s the body in Sarah’s grave. We all know that’s got nothing to do with the witches. The question is, why were those remains taken away from Rob’s wife? Who removed them from her laboratory? And what has all that got to do with the poem about the man on the stairs, who wasn’t there?”
“There’s something else about that, Anne. You know Ralph’s been talking to Guy Fellheimer?”
“Sure. He was going to follow it up with a friend at another college.”
“It seems Guy’s friend tried to find out what was going on and was warned off.”
“Warned off? That sounds ominous.”
“Worse than that, really. The friend used to be in the secret service – probably MI something or other – and he has connections. On this occasion they were of no use.”
“Or he knows what’s going on and can’t – or won’t – say,” Anne surmised.
Marnie nodded. “So there’s your list. Two headings: witches and the mysterious remains. And you think Celia’s the link between the two columns?”
“Could be, but it’s not Celia that bothers me. There may be another link.”
“Donovan?”
“Yes.”
“But, Anne, surely no-one’s looking for Donovan on account of witches. How can he be a link?”
“He got caught on camera at the dig site, so if anyone is looking for him, they’ll associate him with the archaeologists. And he was certainly recognised from the TV news by those people who came to look at the dig the next day.”
Marnie sat thinking. “I’m not sure you’re right about Donovan being connected with both strands or even with either of them. He just turned up and got filmed by accident.”
“And was seen by millions of people.”
“True.”
“And he is connected with the remains in Sarah’s grave, Marnie.”
“In what way?”
“He has Rosemary’s roll of film.”
Marnie leaned back against the headrest. “I’d forgotten about the film. But only a few of us know about that.”
“I know it may be only a remote connection, Marnie, but it is a link.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think you need have any worries there.”
“It worried Donovan enough.”
“He always worries. I’m sure if anyone did see him on the TV news, they don’t know who he is.”
“It’s funny. That’s what Donovan said.”
“There you are, then. Nothing to worry about.”
Marnie started the engine and drove off.
“Your lists have their uses, Anne. It was helpful talking about the two headings like that.”
Anne looked out of the window thinking they were none the wiser, and that Donovan didn’t scare easily for no reason. She kept her thoughts to herself.
*
Back at Glebe Farm, Marnie and Anne were intercepted by Bob the foreman on their way to the office barn. He looked sheepish.
“What’s up, Bob? Something bothering you?”
“Well, someone was here, looking for you, Marnie.”
“What sort of someone?”
“Scary.”
Anne looked over her shoulder and quickly dug out the office keys.
&nb
sp; Marnie frowned. “Can you be more explicit?”
“You’ll think I’m daft but it was a little old lady.”
Marnie had a flashback. It was three years earlier while travelling solo on her sabbatical first journey on Sally Ann. On a windswept afternoon in the middle of a heavy downpour she had come across an old lady with an injured ankle, miles from anywhere. Her name was Iris Winterburn. She had been one of the so-called ‘idle women’ who had served on narrowboats during the second world war.
With the help of a skinhead sheltering from the storm in a shed, she had managed to get the old lady onto the boat and had taken her to the skinhead’s home village nearby, where he had a car. Ms Winterburn – her austere manner did not encourage the use of forenames, even in memory – had nicknamed him Attila. Marnie’s last sight of the injured party had been her departure in Attila’s battered orange Triumph Spitfire, resplendent in Iron Cross, Confederate flag and raccoon’s tail swinging from the radio aerial, blasting off into the rainy gloom to a fanfare of Colonel Bogey on the horn. The memory made Marnie shudder. She was brought back to the present by a nudge from Anne.
“What?”
“I said presumably this person is not Mrs Jolly. Do you know who it might be, Marnie?”
“I have a rough idea.”
“Shall we go and find her? Poor old thing might be gasping for a cuppa.”
“Anne, if this is Iris Winterburn, she won’t need looking after. She’s as tough as old boots, spent two years in the war taking cargoes in and out of some of the most wanted waterway targets on the Luftwaffe hit list. If Hitler had known she was on the other side, he’d have thrown in the towel before the Normandy landings.”
Bob’s expression suddenly contorted. Before Marnie could ask if he was all right, she heard a voice behind her.
“I think that’s an exaggeration. He’d probably have waited till the allies crossed the Rhine.”
Marnie and Anne turned slowly. At the corner by the office barn stood a diminutive, neat figure in a light jacket of royal blue cotton over a fawn dress. On one shoulder she was carrying a small rucksack. Sharp features, silver hair and piercing blue eyes gave her a striking appearance, and her voice had a strength that belied her years.
“Iris Winterburn,” Marnie said quietly.
