by Freer, Echo;
‘So,’ she retorted, defensively, ‘some people’s dads are brain surgeons but it doesn’t mean they want to do frontal lobotomies in their spare time.’ She looked down at her feet, avoiding making eye contact with her friend. ‘I’m sorry, Moddy - I know you really want to follow in your dad’s footsteps but I’m just not really a death sort of person.’
Modesty nodded. ‘OK, you just stay and mind the phone then.’ She turned to Midge. ‘What about you?’ Midge grinned. ‘Listen, I’ve collected half the people in that mortuary and made their coffins. Nothing freaks me out.’
She felt a flush of relief. ‘Cheers, Midge.’ She went to the drawer and took out a large torch. ‘We’ll go right round the back of the buildings too, OK?’
She and Midge made their way around the ground floor of the building: Modesty searched the office, arrangement room and chapel of rest, while Midge checked out the memorial chapel, wash and dress room and embalming room. Neither of them found any sign of Grace.
When they came down the corridor towards the mortuary, Modesty paused. The back door to the building was ajar and there were marks on the mortuary door that looked as though someone had tried to prise it open. ‘This is weird. If Grace wanted to hide in here, why didn’t she just use the entry code?’ She shut the back door. ‘Although, why would she be coming in through the back? Surely Melissa’s dad dropped her off at the front.’ She ran her fingers along the scratches on the mortuary door, as though hoping for some sort of inspiration, and then pressed in the five-digit code on the keypad. ‘And I didn’t think even Grace could find hiding in a morgue funny.’
Flicking on the fluorescent light, it was immediately apparent that all was not well. Several of the sliding shelves holding bodies had been pulled out and the fabric that wrapped them was in disarray.
A chill ran down Modesty’s spine. ‘I don’t like this, Midge.’
‘Look.’ Midge pointed to the end of the mortuary where the coffins of Arnold King and Flash Finlayter were on trolleys, Flash ready for his funeral on Monday and Arnold for his daughter to view the following day. Arnold’s coffin had had the lid removed and it was lying on the floor with a small scrap of purple and black lace on the corner.
‘I’m going to call the police.’ Modesty took her mobile phone out of her pocket and then jumped with fright as it began ringing in her hand. ‘Oh my God! It scared me to death.’
‘Well, you’re in the right place,’ Midge remarked, more out of nerves than a desire to be funny.
Modesty looked at the display: Grace Calling. She pressed the button and spoke sharply to her sister, her words tumbling out in one long sentence. ‘For God’s sake Grace where the hell’ve you been I’ve been worried sick I was just about to call the police.’
The voice that replied, however, was not that of her sister. ‘No police or the kid gets it!’ It was a female voice but it was deep and gruff, as though the person speaking was pretending to be older than she really was.
‘Who is this?’ Modesty held her phone away from her ear slightly and beckoned Midge to listen too.
‘No questions!’ said the voice. ‘We got somefink you want an’ you got somefink we want.’
Modesty looked at Midge, perplexed. ‘I’m assuming that means you’ve got my sister,’ she said.
‘Yeah! Listen...’
There was a brief silence before Modesty heard Grace’s voice. ‘Durr! I know how to use a phone, you moron!’ Then, to Modesty, ‘Yeah, what d’you want?’
Modesty’s anxiety turned (for a fleeting moment) to relief and then to irritation. ‘What do you mean, what do I want? What do you think I want? You disappear off the face of the earth and then I get a phone call saying that if I call the police you’ll get it and you have to ask what I want! Honestly, Grace!’
Her sister’s voice went faint as she turned away to speak to someone else. ‘Listen, verruca-face, this is my phone and you can have it back when I’ve finished speaking to my sister.’
‘Find out where she is,’ Midge whispered.
‘Grace?’ Modesty adopted a cajoling tone.
‘What?’ Grace said impatiently, and then to the other person, ‘Leave off, will you? I haven’t finished yet.’
‘Grace just stay calm and tell us where you are, a clue even.’
‘OK,’ Grace said nonchalantly. ‘Because this is about as much fun as a velociraptor’s tea-party.’ Then, to the person she was with, ‘Pack it in!’
Modesty tried again. ‘Grace - hello? Any chance of a clue?’
Grace sighed. ‘Yeah - groom Marley for me till I get back, will you?’
‘What?’ Modesty looked at Midge with an expression that suggested her sister had finally lost the plot big time. ‘Grace, did you eat something weird at that party?’
She was interrupted by the gruff voice again. ‘Nuff talkin’. Now, your little blister ‘ere will be safe as ‘ouses, long as you do what we says.’
The pretence was beginning to drop from the girl’s voice and Modesty was sure she recognised it from somewhere. Then she felt the blood drain from her face as the recollection surfaced: it was the vile girl who’d accompanied Mickey Bigg and his dad to arrange the Finlayter funeral.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, struggling to suppress the anger and fear that were bubbling in her stomach.
‘That’s better. Now, somewhere on one of the bodies in your place, there is a pink diamond. All you ‘ave to do to get your sister back is to find it for us - savvy? And you got till ten o’clock tomorrow night - and no police or the punk gets it.’
Modesty could hear Grace faintly in the background. ‘Punk? Listen, you fashion-freak, don’t you even know the difference between Punk and Goth - durr?’
And then the phone went dead.
Eleven
A shroud of ice-cold terror descended on Modesty. She looked at Midge and her bottom lip began to tremble but no words would come.
Taking her hand, Midge pulled her back towards the hallway. ‘Come on. We need to talk this thing through and you need to sit down before you fall down.’
Overcome with panic, Modesty snatched her hand away. ‘There’s no time for that. Don’t you understand?’ Her voice rose to an anguished crescendo. ‘My sister’s been kidnapped!’
On hearing the last statement, Cerys appeared at the top of the stairs, her face contorted with alarm. ‘Are you winding me up?’
Beside herself with anger and fear, Modesty snapped back, ‘Do I look like I’m winding anyone up?’
She sank on to the bottom stair, dropped her head into her hands and allowed the emotions that had been building up inside her to flood out. Her shoulders heaved as her mind created all manner of horrible scenarios and she wept tears of despair.
‘Oh my God, Midge! Is this true?’ Cerys ran downstairs and sat on the bottom step next to Modesty, putting her arms around her friend. ‘Oh, Moddy. I’m sorry. It’ll be OK,’ she comforted her.
But Modesty was inconsolable. ‘How?’ she sobbed.
‘How is this going to be OK, Cerys?’ She took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose, loudly. ‘Tell her, Midge.’
As Midge relayed as much of the conversation as he had been able to hear, Cerys clapped her hand over her mouth with shock.
‘And you know who Mickey Bigg’s girlfriend is, don’t you?’ she asked, not waiting for a reply. ‘It’s that Harley Spinks girl - you know, the gangster’s daughter. And she’s not going to be doing this on her own, is she? I mean, they always do these things in gangs, don’t they?’
Modesty let out a whimper. ‘Great! So, the gang who’ve been holding my sister to ransom for...’ she looked at her watch, ‘...almost an hour and a half now is fronted by a gangster’s daughter.’ She shook her head. ‘And we already know they’re somehow involved in that diamond robbery.’ She ran her
hands through her hair. ‘Please tell me this isn’t happening. It’s like some sort of horror film.’
Midge whistled through his teeth. ‘Wow! Yeah - I suppose they have had her for nearly an hour and a half, haven’t they?’ He cocked his head on one side, thinking. ‘So realistically, if they’ve got a fast car, they could be halfway up the M1 with her by now.’
Modesty stifled another sob. ‘Oh, cheers, Midge! That really helps.’
He grimaced. ‘Sorry - I was just thinking of all the possibilities.’
She hung her head despondently again. ‘I know - I’m sorry.’
Then, once again, her phone rang, startling her. ‘Oh please let it be Grace saying they’ve let her go.’ But when she looked at the display she saw, not Grace’s name, but Oz’s. ‘Oh genius!’ she said, sarcastically. ‘He leaves me all blooming day without a call and then chooses to phone now.’ She pressed the OK button, angry and eager to unleash some of the pressure she was feeling about Grace’s abduction. ‘Now is really not a good time, Oz!’ she barked. ‘I don’t know why the hell you’re ringing as late as this but I really have other more important things on at the moment.’
There was a momentary silence before Oz responded. ‘I’m really sorry it’s so late but today’s been full on. I was just ringing to ask if we could meet up tomorrow?’
Modesty was taken aback and it was her turn to hesitate before replying, ‘Oh, that’s a good idea! I’ll just hop on a train up to Scarborough, shall I?’
‘I haven’t gone back,’ he said simply. It took several seconds for his words to register, so when Modesty made no response, Oz rephrased his news. ‘I’m staying, Moddy; I’m not going back to Scarborough - ever.’
Modesty began crying again, this time with relief. ‘Oh, Oz, I’m so sorry I was horrible but you wouldn’t believe what’s happened.’ Without waiting to hear his reasons for remaining in London, she filled him in on the events of the past two hours with a great sense of unburdening.
‘Don’t do anything yet,’ he said. ‘If I use Gran’s bike, I can be there in a couple of minutes.’
And true to his word, Oz arrived at Modesty’s house astride Beattie’s old-fashioned ladies’ bicycle complete with a shopping basket on the front.
‘Not exactly the Batbike, is it?’ Midge made a half- hearted joke in an attempt to relieve the tension.
‘Don’t leave it out at the front; take it round the back and put it in the yard with my car - it’ll be safer there.’
Cerys gasped and bit her bottom lip. ‘Omigod!’ She gave an apologetic grimace in Modesty’s direction. ‘I think I know how they got in.’ The others looked at her, waiting. ‘When Midge came round, he parked in the yard, so I went out of the back door and I was so excited I forgot to lock it again.’ Her eyes darted from Modesty to Midge, pleading for understanding. ‘I’m sorry.’
Modesty put out a hand and patted her on the arm. ‘Don’t worry about it. They’d have got in somehow. If this lot are up to managing a diamond robbery, breaking into here would be a piece of cake - even without your help. Now...’ She looked at Oz and felt another surge of relief that he was there with her through this. ‘We need to work out a plan.’
‘The way I see it,’ Oz offered, as they all accompanied him through the house to the yard, ‘we’ve got three choices.’
Modesty nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘We can phone the police...’
‘No!’ she interjected, the panic rising in her voice again.
‘I think Oz is right,’ Midge suggested.
‘Me too,’ Cerys agreed.
But Modesty was adamant. ‘Not yet. I’m not risking anything happening to her. I know Grace is a bit weird sometimes but I don’t want that Spinks girl doing anything to hurt her.’
‘OK, so we have two choices,’ Oz continued. ‘We can try to find Grace, or we can try to find the diamond and then do a deal.’
Modesty chewed her bottom lip as she thought. The idea of giving in to blackmail was against everything she believed in and yet what was the alternative? As Midge had pointed out, the kidnappers could have taken her anywhere from the Midlands to the south coast by now. Looking for her would be like trying to find a grain of salt in a sandpit and she didn’t have the faintest idea where to start.
‘I think our best bet is to find the diamond and secure Grace’s release as soon as possible.’ More composed now, Modesty continued, ‘Once Grace is free, then we can take all the evidence we have to the police - but not till they’ve let her go. Agreed?’ The others agreed. ‘OK, so let’s go find this diamond.’ She looked at the others with a pleading expression. ‘I know Grace can be a real pain sometimes but that’s all bravado, you know. The poor thing’s probably scared witless right now.’
‘Durr! Person trying to get some sleep here!’ Grace huffed, as a metal door creaked open and then clanged shut, sending a heavy reverberation echoing through the pitch darkness.
‘Shut it!’ Harley Spinks’s voice was equal to any unoiled rasp that the door could issue. She flashed her torch beam into Mickey Bigg’s eyes as he entered the vaulted interior where she and Cynthia were holding Grace. ‘Where the ‘ell you been?’
‘Sorry ‘Arl da-’ Mickey stopped, remembering that Harley was no longer his darling. His voice became sad. ‘It weren’t easy gettin’ out of ‘ere wivout a torch, ‘Arley. I didn’t want to step on no graves.’
‘You’ll be steppin’ on your own bleedin’ grave, if you ain’t careful,’ Harley retorted. ‘Give ‘er the blanket,’ she ordered, tossing her head in the direction of the flagstoned floor where Grace was crouched. ‘She could’ve died of ‘ypothermia the length of time you took. And what flamin’ use would that be? A stiff ‘ostage ain’t no bleedin’ good to no one.’
‘A-hem!’ Grace cleared her throat pointedly. ‘Hello! I am here you know.’
‘I told you to shut it!’ Harley snapped. ‘No one’s talkin’ to you.’
‘No but you were talking about me,’ Grace pointed out. ‘And that’s actually very rude.’
Harley turned the torch so that the beam shone in Grace’s eyes. ‘If I ‘ave done anyfink in the last couple of hours what’s led you to believe that I am remotely interested in what’s rude and what ain’t, then I can only apologise. So just button it, Goth-girl!’
‘Oh, well done!’ Grace said, staring straight into the light and refusing to be intimidated. ‘You’re learning!’ She stretched out her hand and took the blanket that Mickey Bigg was holding. ‘So, now that you seem to have got the hang of fashion trends, perhaps for our next lesson we could do colour co-ordination because...’ she held a corner of the blanket against the skirt of her dress ‘...you see this blanket is pink and my outfit is purple and black. Doesn’t really go, does it? Apart from which, pink is so - how can I put it? Girly!’
Cynthia, who had been snivelling with cold and fright all night, stifled a sob. ‘I like pink,’ she whimpered from somewhere beneath the fur-lined hood of her pink coat.
‘My duvet cover’s black,’ Mickey piped up. ‘D’you want me to go back an’ get that instead?’
Harley swung the torch beam round to dazzle him. ‘Get a bleedin’ grip, Mickey! She is our ‘ostage - OK? As in, our prisoner. We are not runnin’ a flamin’ ‘otel ‘ere.’ She shone the torch on Grace again. ‘And you, Miss Rainbow bleedin’ Warrior...’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Grace interrupted, ‘if it was the Friend of the Earth, Rainbow Warrior, environmentally friendly sister you wanted, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong one. But I’m sure she’d be willing to swap places.’
Harley Spinks thrust the blanket against Grace’s chest and pushed her against the wall. ‘Listen, you mouthy cow - just wrap up and shut up!’
‘Ooooo!’ Grace mocked. ‘Quaking in my DMs, I’m sure.’ She pulled the blanket round her body and lay down on the
stone floor. ‘Course, I hope you realise that Sunday’s the busiest day of the week at the cemetery, so I don’t know how you think you’re going to keep me here and avoid being found.’ She gave an ingenuous smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get some beauty sleep and, if you don’t mind me saying, I think you’re long overdue for some yourself.’
‘It’s absolutely critical that everything’s put back exactly as it was,’ Modesty instructed as they stood in the mortuary. Cerys had opted to keep watch outside the door while Modesty and the boys searched the bodies for the diamond. ‘Every fold of fabric; every strand of hair. We can’t allow anything to give away that we’ve been in here.’
‘What about the door?’ Midge asked. ‘It’s scratched.’
Modesty thought for a while. ‘Arnold King’s daughter’s coming for a viewing in the morning - I’ll say I hit it as I was wheeling his coffin through to the chapel of rest.’
Midge contemplated the scenario and then nodded. ‘OK, that would work.’
‘What, she’s coming on a Sunday?’ Oz queried. Modesty nodded. ‘It’s Dad’s policy to be available twenty-four seven: Sundays, Christmas Day, Boxing Day - whenever. He says, death doesn’t take bank holidays and grief can’t be put on hold till it suits our opening times. So we try to accommodate the families as much as possible.’
‘Fair enough,’ Oz conceded. He took a deep breath. ‘So, let’s get on with this search, shall we?’
Modesty cast a concerned glance in his direction. ‘You sure you’re OK with this?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want.’
Oz smiled, a gentle appreciative smile, and Modesty thought her heart was going to rise up her chest into her mouth and burst through the top of her head.
‘I have to admit, this wasn’t top of my list of things to do tonight but if it helps to get your sister back, I’m up for anything,’ he reassured her.
She lowered her eyes, embarrassed yet grateful, then adopted a businesslike tone. ‘Right then, she didn’t say which body the diamond was on, so Midge you take Mr Finlayter. Oz, you and I will do Mr King. They’ve got to be the most obvious candidates as they were the two who died in the robbery but, if we don’t find anything on either of them, we’ll check the others too.’
