Stick in the Mud: A riveting murder mystery

by Leo McNeir

  The reality was that he found himself in the middle of a feud between rival interests, ambitions and egos. Worse than that, when calamity struck, the site directors proved inadequate to the task. It had fallen to a girl still in her teens to take the initiative and assume responsibility. Yes, thank God for Anne, he thought.

  Another attempt to ring Marnie, another message, this time that her number was not available. Her battery was probably flat.

  The taxi was making good time and was now passing through streets where the buildings were taller and grander. The street names bore a white shield with a red cross. They were in the City, the square mile of London’s principal financial quarter. Soon, they were rounding the Tower of London, and the huge bulk of Tower Bridge came into view. At any other time he would have rejoiced to be associated with a development in such an iconic location. That morning he was dreading the thought of what might be awaiting him across the river.

  Whatever Philip expected, he was completely unprepared for the spectacle that faced him as he paid the cabbie and turned to enter the building site.

  *

  Anne’s arrangements worked well. As one group of six students returned to the compound, another set off to the café. Donovan waited with the main group by the perimeter and was delighted when one of them brought him a cappuccino with Anne’s compliments. It was the pretty Afro-Caribbean girl who had swiftly volunteered to take the coffee back to Donovan, and she gave him her broadest smile as she handed over the beaker.

  “It’s Donovan, right?” She had a wide mouth, revealing dazzling white teeth.

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Debbie.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve noticed me, then?”

  Donovan chuckled. “You’re not easy to miss.”

  Her smiled wavered slightly. There were no other black students in the assembly, and the only non-whites were two Asian girls, one of Indian origin, the other Chinese.

  Donovan added, “You’re the only one wearing green denim fatigues.‘ Debbie laughed charmingly. “It was nice of you to bring me the coffee,” he said.

  “If there’s anything else I can do for you, just let me know.”

  “There is, actually.”

  “Really?” The smile was even broader.

  “We need a list of all the students in the group. D’you think you could draw one up?”

  The smile became a little rueful. “Sure.”

  By the time Anne returned from the café with the last batch of students, Debbie’s list was complete and Donovan was studying it. She had done an excellent job. From a first rough draft she had produced a second list in alphabetical order, with each name numbered. Her handwriting was attractive and easy to read.

  “This is perfect,” Donovan said. “Just what we needed. Thanks, Debbie.”

  “Any time.”

  Anne sipped her coffee. “Any developments here?”

  Donovan shook his head. “Nothing so far. How about you, Anne? Coffee marathon completed?”

  “Yeah,” Anne sighed. “The good news is, the café owner let me have mine on the house.”

  “Great. Is there bad news?” Donovan asked.

  “I’m just hoping I can claim the bill on expenses. If not, you’re looking at Glebe Farm’s newest bankrupt.”

  “I can pay you back for mine, Anne.” Debbie was reaching into her pocket.

  Anne took hold of her arm. “No, that’s fine, Debbie. I’m sure I’ll be able to –”

  They were distracted by shouts from the dig site and turned to see men hurrying towards the ladder. Donovan set off at speed while the others looked on. Several builders were clustered at the edge of the excavation, some of them reaching down into the hole, others pointing. Anne followed in Donovan’s footsteps, and the archaeologists began moving slowly forward.

  As Donovan reached the builders, they parted and stepped back from the ladder. One man appeared from below, his hard hat tilted at an angle, climbing awkwardly under a difficult load. Over his shoulder, drooping like a broken doll, was the inert form of Zoë Tipton. The man was steadied and helped from the ladder by two of the builders. They lifted Zoë from his shoulder and laid her gently on the ground.

  Behind him, Donovan heard a collective gasp from the students. Everyone seemed to freeze as they looked down at Zoë’s body. Her hair was wet and matted, and she was streaked all over with mud. Her lips were parted, her eyes closed. Even in death she was beautiful.

  “Oh my God …”

  No-one had noticed Dick Blackwood until that moment. No-one saw where he came from. He stood horrified, holding his face in both hands, mouth gaping open, staring down.

  “Oh, Zoë, what have I done?” he muttered.

  Still, nobody stirred. It was as if they had become a painting or a photograph, a scene of shock and dread. And then Donovan stepped forward. He knelt beside Zoë, reached down and gently closed her mouth. Anne joined him, kneeling on the damp earth.

  Aware of her presence, Donovan said quietly, “She wouldn’t want people to see her crooked tooth. She was very particular about that.”

  Anne remembered Zoë’s instructions for filming her: no shots of me talking from below the face, with the camera pointing up towards my chin … Into her mind came other words that Zoë had spoken. She repeated them now.

  “I will lay my bones here forever. Do you remember her saying that?”

  Donovan nodded without speaking. He was remembering something else Zoë had said: Time is running out … I haven’t got long. Removing his hard hat, he set it on the ground. As he did so he became aware of movement beside him and glanced sideways to see Debbie. She knelt down on the opposite side from Anne. One by one the students advanced slowly and followed her example. Like Donovan, they too removed their hard hats until every one of them was kneeling, with heads bowed. The scene now looked like a form of homage to the young woman lying on the muddy ground, the aftermath of a tragedy.

  Only the builders remained standing, self-consciously gazing down at the bowed heads before them. Only one archaeologist refrained from joining in. With an intake of breath that could have been a sob, Dick hurried away, throwing off his hard hat and safety jacket as he stumbled across the compound to the entrance gate. He brushed past the security guard, who was engrossed in watching the events around the dig site. He paid no attention to the man climbing out of the taxi. Vaguely aware of a coughing sound behind him, he rushed across the road causing alarm to the drivers passing by, who braked hard and swerved to avoid running him down.

  Philip Everett emerged from the taxi, stunned at the sight that met his eyes. He had never seen anything remotely like it. The kneeling, bowed assembly could have been a vision from the ancient world, a ritual from Saxon or Roman times. He rushed into the compound, passing the security guard who seemed not to notice him.

  Reaching the edge of the kneeling assembly, he spotted Donovan, rising from his knees, leaning forward.

  *

  Marnie did not have long to wait to catch a London-bound train at Bletchley and found an aisle seat near the doors. She had been formulating a plan ever since leaving Thyrsis and now switched on the mobile to talk it over with Ralph.

  They agreed that she would probably stay in the flat for a day or two, but could only assess what was needed once she was on the spot.

  “You’re really worried about the situation at Horselydown, aren’t you, Marnie?”

  “It’s more than that. I’m concerned that I don’t know what’s to be worried about.”

  Ralph did not even try to work that one out. “Okay. If you think you could use some moral support, just say the word and I’ll come down at once.”

  “That’s sweet of you, darling. I’m hoping to find everything is normal and that Zoë and Dick are just playing their usual game of hunt-the-archaeologist.”

  For the next few minutes Marnie briefed Ralph on what needed doing in the office to keep Walker and Co on the road.

  “Lea
ve it to me, Marnie. I shall relish being in charge … all that power. I’ll take lots of important decisions.”

  Marnie knew he was trying to lighten the atmosphere, but she found it difficult to respond in kind.

  “Don’t let it go to your head.” Her attempt at levity sounded flat.

  Ralph picked up on her mood. “There’s probably nothing to worry about, Marnie. Next time we speak you’ll probably be complaining that your journey was unnecessary and everything was normal when you got to the site.”

  “I hope so, Ralph, but I trust Anne’s judgment, and she was definitely worried. So was Donovan. It’s all very odd, but I feel anything could happen. I don’t like to leave Anne to cope on her own.”

  As she spoke, Marnie heard the signal that her mobile’s battery was low, and they ended their conversation. While she raced south towards London, Ralph reached down to the map shelf from the stern deck and slotted the mobile into its holder. When Marnie had rung, he had brought Thyrsis to a halt by the bank, where the boat had waited patiently until it was time to move on.

  Why now? Ralph wondered. What was it about that day’s events that had caused Marnie so much concern? He realised that he had not heard Anne’s tone of voice. I trust Anne’s judgment, Marnie had said. And of course she had Donovan with her. Ralph could not imagine too more mature and level-headed young people. But, he reminded himself, Anne was still in her teens and Donovan was not much older.

  Ralph hopped onto the bank and pushed Thyrsis off at the bows. As the nose swung out into the channel, he stepped back onto the stern deck and pressed the accelerator.

  Let’s hope it’s all a fuss about nothing, he thought.

  *

  The lifeless body of Zoë Tipton brought a lump to the throat of many of the students looking on. Some of the girls were weeping openly, others were hugging each other for comfort.

  Once again it was Donovan who acted first. He felt in the pocket of his high visibility jacket, took out his mobile phone and slipped it into his jeans. He eased his arms out of the jacket and gently draped it over Zoë. Anne swallowed hard and suppressed a sob as she saw him covering her body but leaving her face clear. It was as if she was not really dead, and he was simply covering her to keep her warm like a sleeping child.

  When Zoë coughed and retched violently, even Donovan started in surprise. Anne’s mouth flew open, and Debbie almost screamed. Some of the students at the back of the group began wailing in distress, unaware of the reason for the strange sound uttered by Debbie. But in seconds the word spread through their ranks.

  Zoë was alive!

  Everyone present was trying to take stock of this new development, while Donovan was in action again. He grabbed his mobile and half-threw it sideways to Anne like a Rugby player in full flight.

  “Three nines!” he called out. “Ambulance!”

  Anne was already pressing buttons while Donovan whipped off the jacket and rolled Zoë onto her side towards him.. She coughed again, spluttering muddy water from her mouth.

  “Christ Almighty!” one of the builders exclaimed. “He’s brought her back to life!”

  Debbie crossed herself. As the hubbub rose behind them, Donovan struck Zoë firmly in the back. This brought on another bout of violent coughing to the extent that Zoë heaved and gasped even more. Donovan pushed a finger into her mouth and spooned out a glob of mud.

  Anne winced at the sight, speaking into the phone. “Ambulance please. There’s been an accident …”

  As Anne gave details to the emergency operator, Donovan repeated the mouth-clearing exercise with his finger. Suddenly he jumped and exclaimed, turning to Anne with a smile on his face.

  “She bit me!”

  Debbie threw her arms round Donovan and kissed him hard on the cheek. “You’re wonderful!”

  Donovan could feel Debbie’s tears against his face as he eased her back. Very carefully he looped an arm round Zoë’s back and supported her as she leant forward. By now her eyes were fluttering and she was breathing heavily but steadily like a runner, exhausted at the end of a marathon. She began trying to hoist herself up on one elbow, but Donovan held her firmly.

  “Zoë, can you hear me?” He spoke quietly into her ear. “It’s Donovan. Don’t try to move.”

  “What?” She coughed several times and struggled against Donovan, but he held on.

  “Listen to me, Zoë. You’ve had an accident. You’ve got to lie still for a while. Help is coming.”

  “What?” she whispered again breathlessly, her tone querulous and confused. She blinked several times and forced her eyes to stay open, trying to focus. “What … what’s … going … on?”

  “Take it easy,” Donovan said gently. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “An ambulance is on its way,” Anne said.

  Donovan turned towards Anne and saw she was looking away from him. She was talking to Philip Everett who had evidently joined them at a run. He quickly assessed the situation, nodded at Donovan and rushed over to where the contractors were standing. They began gesticulating as they explained what had happened.

  By now, Zoë was breathing calmly, no longer resisting Donovan’s embrace.

  He turned to Debbie. “Can you take off your jacket.”

  “Any time,” she said, grinning.

  “Please, Debbie.”

  “Sure.” Serious now. “I can take off my jacket.” She passed it to Donovan.

  “Can you roll it up. I need a pillow for Zoë.”

  She did as he had asked. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, go to the entrance and get the guard to open both gates wide so the ambulance can drive straight in.”

  Debbie got to her feet and set off. Without a word, Anne stood up and began shepherding the students aside to clear a direct route to where Zoë lay. Their actions were timely. The sound of a siren was heard in the distance, approaching at speed. Help was on its way. Zoë had survived.

  *

  When Marnie’s train arrived at Euston, she headed straight for the stairs down to the underground taxi rank. Although there was a queue, the cabs drew up every few seconds, and she was quickly on her way.

  The train journey had at first exasperated her, as the service from Bletchley stopped at every station, but it gave her time to think, and the nearer she drew to her destination the more convinced she became that her return was over-hasty. She was in no doubt that it would be a normal working day at Horselydown.

  Sure enough, when the taxi pulled up by the site entrance, she saw only building work in progress. The overhead crane was turning on its axis, men were going about their tasks in an orderly manner, and on one side of the compound a group of students was being briefed by one of the leading postgrads. Standing by the excavation area, she saw Anne and Donovan in conversation. Marnie walked briskly into the compound and headed in their direction.

  It was only when she saw the expression on Anne’s face that she realised everything was not as normal as it appeared.

  *

  The rest of the morning was frantic. Philip and Nigel, the architects, spent most of the time in talks with the builders. The latter were adamant that the excavation site had been safe that morning and could not understand how the accident had happened. A foreman had descended to the lowest level before anyone was allowed to visit the remains. Philip insisted that they think again. The scaffolding had not been blown down by a puff of wind. He pointed out that there had been heavy and persistent rain that weekend, but this only caused the builders to become even more vehement, protesting that they knew how to erect structures that would withstand the elements however severe the weather might be.

  Ominously, when the health and safety inspectors completed their initial examination, they asked if anyone could have interfered with the scaffolding. This simple question produced a numb silence. Philip asked if there was any evidence of tampering with the structure. The inspectors, two men and a woman, exchanged glances.

  “Early days,” said one of the men
, who appeared to be the senior member of the team. “What’s clear is that the dig area has to be closed down until further notice. Also, we’re informing the police.”

  “You have serious grounds for suspicion?” Philip asked. He knew the answer before it came.

  “Let’s just say we have some doubts about the cause of the incident. That’s all we need.”

  Yes, that’s all we need, Philip thought.

  *

  Marnie, Anne and Donovan went to the flat after the ambulance took Zoë away. As they walked, Anne briefed Marnie on the situation. She ended by describing Donovan’s handling of Zoë’s recovery.

  “Looks like you’re the hero of the hour.” Marnie smiled.

  “She would’ve recovered anyway,” Donovan said.

  “She could’ve choked on the mud,” Anne protested.

  Donovan made no reply.

  “So what now?” Anne said.

  They arrived at the entrance to the block, and Marnie operated the security key system.

  “I want to take a shower and change my clothes,” she said. “But first, I’m going to ring Professor de Groot. It may not have occurred to anyone to keep him in the picture.”

  Marnie was pleasantly surprised when de Groot’s secretary told her that he had indeed been informed by Mr Everett, the architect in charge, of the morning’s events. The professor was already on his way to the site. Marnie had not been surprised at the reaction when she asked if the department had had any word from Dick Blackwood.

  After a long moment of silence, the secretary said, “It would be best if you raised that with the professor direct, Mrs Walker.”

  Twenty minutes later, Marnie emerged from the shower enveloped in a bath towel, with a second towel wrapped turban-style round her head, and laid out fresh clothes in the master bedroom. Within a few minutes the sound of the hairdryer ceased, and Marnie reappeared fragrant and groomed as the aroma of coffee wafted through the flat.