Stick in the Mud: A riveting murder mystery

by Leo McNeir

  “But only yesterday she said –”

  “That was then.” Donovan cut Marnie off. “The situation could’ve changed completely overnight.”

  Anne, who had remained silent throughout their exchange, put her mobile on the table.

  “I’ve got Judith’s number on speed-dial.”

  “Go for it,” Donovan said.

  Anne pressed buttons and held the phone to her ear. The conversation was short. Anne thanked Judith and disconnected.

  “No contact. Not a word. She’s also spoken to Jonathan at the house, and he said Dick hadn’t been back there.”

  Marnie rose again. “Okay, so at least we know the situation as far as she’s concerned. Now we can tackle the others.” She turned to Donovan. “Do you have a plan for what we do if we have no luck with any of them?”

  Donovan ignored Marnie’s question and spoke instead to Anne. “Was that all Judith said, nothing else?”

  “That was it. Oh, she did mention she’d tried Dick’s mobile again, but no luck there. She left yet another message on his voicemail – a forlorn hope, she said.”

  “Something’s not right.” Donovan looked pensive. “What did you just say, Anne?”

  “Only that Judith didn’t expect to get a reply from Dick to her message.”

  Marnie and Anne sat watching Donovan who seemed lost in his thoughts.

  “We need to be clear about this,” he said. “It doesn’t add up.”

  “What doesn’t add up?” said Marnie. “It’s nothing new that Dick probably won’t reply. He’s been incommunicado for the past two weeks.”

  Donovan closed his eyes. “Let’s go back a step.” He opened his eyes and stared at Anne. “Judith said she’d left a message for Dick on his voicemail, right?”

  Anne nodded. Neither she nor Marnie had any idea what was troubling Donovan. They waited patiently.

  “When did she say she’d left the message?”

  “Late last night, I think.”

  “On his mobile.”

  “Yes. That’s all he has.”

  Donovan shook his head slowly. “I tried to phone him from Germany on Sunday. His voicemail wasn’t accepting any more messages. Its memory was full.”

  Marnie immediately grasped the implication. “So Dick must be alive!”

  “Yes!” Anne exclaimed. “He must’ve been checking his messages, then deleting them.”

  The three of them looked from one to the other, digesting this latest development. Donovan broke the silence.

  “Or someone else has his mobile,” he said quietly.

  *

  Marnie was pinned down on the phone for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, while Anne caught up with paperwork in the office. This left Donovan free to pursue the leads relating to Dick Blackwood.

  He rang London Barbican University. No contact from Dick. He tried the University of East Anglia. Still no news from Gerald Parfitt. It was the same picture at the marina. Arabella was back on her mooring, but no-one had seen Parfitt for some days, nor had anyone else been to the boat.

  Anne was preoccupied with business matters, and it bothered her to see Donovan struggling with the Horselydown situation while she could do nothing to help. Midway through the afternoon he offered to take Sally Ann for a tootle to give the machinery some exercise and clear his head.

  He returned an hour or so later, seeming more relaxed than before, announcing that he had filled the boat’s water tank, lubricated the tiller tube and packed grease in the stern gland.

  Marnie grinned at him. “I thought you wanted time to think. What next … servicing the engine?”

  “I did want time to think.”

  “And have you reached any conclusions?”

  “Yes. I know now what has to be done. Is it all right if I stay tonight?”

  Marnie glanced at Anne for a reply.

  “Sure. And you won’t need to put up your tent.”

  *

  It was warm enough to eat outside that evening. As Ralph had had lunch in college, Marnie proposed a buffet supper with a please-yourself medley of dishes clustered together on a lazy Susan. While helping themselves to asparagus, king prawns, Russian eggs, salads and dips with chunks of crusty baguette, she briefed Ralph on the latest position. The table was decked with nightlights sparkling in crystal glass holders, creating a festive mood. Anne poured glasses of a dry rosé wine from Provence. It reflected the candlelight, adding a cheerful glow to the setting, but no-one proposed a toast.

  When Marnie had finished her narrative, Ralph accepted some more wine from Anne.

  “I think what you’ve told me reinforces what I’ve been thinking all day,” he said. “It seems to me most likely that Dick and Parfitt are away somewhere together. I think they both want to make an impact with the King John treasure. For my money, it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

  “What about the boat?” Marnie said. “We know for a fact it’s at the marina.”

  Ralph nodded. “Didn’t we know already that the treasure may not be located out at sea at all? Didn’t Dick tell us the whole region had changed unrecognisably? I think that’s why Parfitt went to get the tracing paper showing the routes across the wetlands.”

  “And have you reached any conclusion on why Parfitt went to Dick’s house to collect the tracing paper rather than Dick himself?” Marnie said.

  “There could be any number of reasons. For example, perhaps Dick didn’t want to be seen in London at that time. The element of secrecy seems to be important to him.”

  Marnie nodded. “Well, it all seems to add up.”

  Anne glanced at Donovan, whose expression was impassive.

  “I suppose so,” Anne said. “It makes as much sense as anything else.”

  Marnie spoke tentatively. “Have you any thoughts, Donovan?”

  After a long moment he said, “There may be another possibility.” He drank from his glass and sat staring into the distance.

  “Are you able to elaborate on that?” Ralph asked.

  “Perhaps we’re looking in the wrong place.”

  31

  Another Blank

  Wednesday, 1 August, 1997

  When Donovan set off the next morning, Anne watched the Beetle rumble up the field track with a sense of unease. He had seemed more than usually preoccupied ever since he returned from Germany and had withdrawn inside himself. The previous night, he had showered while Anne busied herself with mundane chores in the laundry room. When she eventually climbed the wall-ladder she found him fast asleep in her bed. He had passed a restless night.

  At breakfast she realised that at other times she would have teased him again that he was being a man of mystery, but all her instincts told her he was really troubled.

  When lunchtime came and there had been no word from Donovan, Anne voiced her concerns to Marnie, who confirmed that she too was concerned about him. She suggested that Anne should take the initiative and phone him. Anne hit buttons straight away. The mobile rang several times before Donovan replied. He explained that he was driving and had had to pull over to take the call.

  “We were worried that we hadn’t heard from you, Donovan. How’s it going?”

  “Nothing to report so far.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Not far from Wisbech. I’ve been to that B and B where Dick and Parfitt used to stay.”

  “No luck?”

  “No. They haven’t been there this year.”

  “That was where you thought Dick might’ve been hiding out … the place we hadn’t been looking in?”

  “Just a long shot.”

  “So what now?”

  “I’m … following up another lead.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  The silence lasted some seconds.

  “Look, Anne … I’d rather not say anything till I’m sure of my ground. I’m not trying to be mysterious. It’s just … well, let’s see what happens.”

  “Okay. Will you
phone in later?”

  “Sure, as soon as I have some news. It may not be until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Right. Well, good luck. Drive safely.”

  “Yeah.”

  32

  Explanations

  Thursday, 2 August, 1997

  It had been Anne’s turn to have a restless night. Half hoping that Donovan might ring sooner than expected, she had stayed up till midnight waiting for his call. After turning out the light, she lay awake in the darkness trying to work out what Donovan had in mind that had not occurred to anyone else. Eventually her brain switched off and she faded into a disturbed slumber of weird dreams, with pirates being dragged to the gibbet at Horselydown to be hanged in chains and left dangling for the tides to wash over their rotting corpses.

  On Thursday morning at seven, bathed in sweat, Anne crawled down the wall-ladder and yawned her way zombie-like to the shower where she gradually regained full consciousness. To complete the process she turned the temperature control knob to full-cold for a five second blast. With a yelp and a squawk she leapt out and grabbed the towel.

  *

  The first call of the day came in just after nine. Marnie looked across at Anne to find she already had the receiver in her hand. The caller was not Donovan, though the voice sounded familiar.

  “Is that Anne?”

  “Yes. Who is this, please?”

  “It’s Judith … Dick’s –”

  “Hi, Judith. Is everything all right?”

  “More than all right, Anne. Dick’s come back!”

  For a few seconds Anne was speechless. She only realised she was sitting with her mouth open when Marnie held up a hand and made a shadow-puppet mime of a crocodile snapping its jaws shut.

  “Er … sorry, Judith. I’m just finding it hard to take in. It’s wonderful news.” For Marnie’s benefit, she added. “I’m so glad Dick’s back. Is he okay?”

  “Sort of … I mean, yes, really. He’s had a bit of an ordeal, but he’s fine.”

  “Is he with you there?”

  “He’s on the boat, sleeping. I’m calling in at uni then going on to the restaurant later this morning.”

  “Lunchtime shift?” Anne said.

  “Yes, all this week. The tips aren’t as good as in the evening, but –”

  “Judith, when can we see him?”

  “Oh … well, some time this afternoon, I expect. D’you want to fix a time and place?”

  “It’s not just down to me. I need to check with Marnie. I’ll get back to you in a little while.”

  “I’m on the bike, so give me half an hour. Call before ten, though. I’ll be in the library after that. The librarians are dragons who devour anyone using a mobile in their domain.”

  “Can you hold on half a mo?”

  Anne held the phone to her chest and gave a quick summary to Marnie, who reflected briefly, looked up at the clock and came to an instant decision. Judith and Dick should come to Marnie’s Docklands flat for three-thirty. Anne relayed this to Judith who accepted at once.

  Anne had scarcely disconnected when the phone rang again. This time, Marnie took the call. It was Donovan, and he sounded tense. She gave him the news about Dick and was surprised at his reaction.

  “Okay.”

  Marnie waited for more but nothing came. She could hear road noise in the background.

  “Are you driving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the A1 going south.”

  “We’ve arranged to meet Dick and Judith at my flat this afternoon.”

  “What time?”

  “Half past three.”

  A pause. “I’ll be there. Gotta go.”

  Marnie was listening to air.

  “What’s up?” said Anne.

  “Donovan seemed somehow … distant.”

  “He doesn’t like to use the phone when he’s driving.”

  “But he rang us,” Marnie pointed out.

  “Mm … probably just hit traffic,” Anne said.

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re right.”

  *

  Marnie and Anne had a quick sandwich lunch at noon before Ralph drove them to Milton Keynes station. Dropping them off by the entrance, he joked that he expected to be put on the Walker and Co payroll for his services as receptionist. Marnie forced a smile as she kissed him goodbye. She knew they were going to London for a happy occasion, now that Dick was back safe and sound. He would explain everything. It was a good outcome all round. But at the back of her mind she had an uneasy feeling. Donovan’s reaction had unsettled her, and Anne’s guess that he needed to end the call abruptly to concentrate on driving was only partly convincing.

  They reached the flat with an hour to spare. Both had taken overnight bags to keep all options open, and they dropped them in their bedrooms on arrival. The contract cleaners had paid their weekly visit since the last time they were there, and everything was neat and tidy, with fresh towels hanging in the bathrooms where all the fittings were polished and gleaming. The perfect order was only disturbed by a carton of milk standing on the kitchen worktop. Marnie had bought it in passing at the mini-market round the corner. Anne picked it up and put it in the fridge, then surprised Marnie by checking the cupboards in the kitchen.

  “Everything all right?” Marnie asked. “I’m sure we have coffee and tea already.”

  “Marnie, could I make something for tea-time to offer Dick and Judith when they come?”

  “Make something? Like what?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, please. I mean, the flat is absolutely lovely … really elegant and stylish and all that, but …” Anne’s voice faded.

  “You think it looks too spruce, like something in a magazine or a catalogue?”

  “In a way, yes. I don’t mean to be rude or –”

  “No, Anne. You’re right. It is a bit impersonal.”

  “I thought it might be more welcoming, more relaxing, if it smelled of baking. This is meant to be a celebration, after all.”

  “Good idea. So what do you have in mind?”

  “You’ve just got basic ingredients, so I was thinking about something really simple like Welsh cakes. They only take a few minutes. They’re delicious and they smell great.”

  “Excellent idea. Do you have the recipe?”

  Anne tapped her head. “In here. My Grandma Price taught me to make them when I was eight. It’s dead easy.”

  By the time Dick and Judith entered the flat, to be followed a few minutes later by Donovan, the atmosphere had been transformed. With sunlight pouring through the windows, the flat was filled with the homely smell of hot cakes. They took their places on the wide deeply-upholstered sofas facing each other. As they made themselves comfortable, Donovan placed a chunky cream candle on its holder in the middle of the low coffee table and lit the wick. Anne handed out plates and Welsh cakes. Judith sat close beside Dick and held his hand briefly before they broke off to sip their tea. As celebrations went, it was low-key, but there was no disguising the relief they all felt at his safe return.

  The scene was set for Dick to tell his story and bring the episode to a happy conclusion.

  “Where shall I begin?” he said in a hesitant voice.

  “Why not start with what happened after you left the site the day of Zoë’s accident?” Marnie suggested.

  Dick shuddered. “I thought she was dead and it was my fault.” He looked desperate.

  Judith squeezed his hand. “Well she wasn’t, and it was nobody’s fault.”

  “Tell us about your disappearance,” Marnie said.

  “Okay. I took off to Norwich to see Gerald. I thought the best thing I could do would be to relocate the treasure. I know it’s silly to call it treasure – Indiana Jones and all that – but you know what I mean. I wanted to restore my reputation. It’s very selfish, but it was all I could think of as a way out of a horrifying situation … something positive.”

  “Dr Parfitt could help you with th
at?” Marnie said.

  “Yes. The plan was to go out on Arabella and bring up more artefacts. That’s when we hit a snag.”

  “You realised you didn’t have all your maps and notes.”

  “Exactly. I was in such a state when I came away that I left some important material behind. We agreed that Gerald would go to my digs and retrieve the tracing of the routes plus the maps and working papers.”

  “Why didn’t you just go yourself?” Marnie said.

  “I didn’t want to risk being seen in London, not at that time. I wanted to wait till things settled down after Zoë’s … accident.”

  “You thought she was dead.”

  “Yes, and I wanted to come back with something tangible … more finds.”

  “A return in triumph,” Marnie said quietly, “to outweigh the tragedy.”

  “It sounds bad, I know, but it’s all I could think of. So Gerald went to the house where he was surprised by Jonathan. I hadn’t expected anyone else to be there at that time. He managed to get the tracing paper with the routes marked, but that was all. He thought it was enough and we could overlay the tracing on any map of the area. The trouble was, there were a dozen or more maps. He didn’t realise we had to have the actual master map to make sense of everything.”

  “Didn’t you know enough to be able to make an informed guess about the location?” Marnie asked.

  Dick shook his head. “That was my big mistake. I thought I could. We studied the tracings of the routes, and I was convinced I could find the right spot, so we set off on Arabella with a feeling of cautious optimism.”

  “If anyone could find it, you could,” Judith said. “You’re brilliant.”

  Dick gave a self-deprecating smile. “That’s what I thought, too. Huh! When we got out and were faced with that flat featureless coastline and that grey empty sea I realised it was hopeless. It was all so vast. I got annoyed, mainly with myself. But Gerald took it personally, said I was blaming him. The weather started to deteriorate, and we ended up shouting at each other. It was stupid. Gerald said he’d taken the tracing paper because that’s what I said we needed. I yelled at him that he should’ve known we’d need the maps as well.”

  “So you fought?”

  “Yes.” Dick fell silent, as if reliving the event over again. “That’s when it happened. The boat was heaving about in the wind, and the waves were getting bigger. Suddenly there was a lurch and I got knocked over the side. I was lucky. I’d put on my lifejacket shortly before we started arguing. I lost sight of Arabella … don’t know how long I was in the water, but eventually I was picked up by another boat. They landed me in Skegness – that’s on the Lincolnshire side of the Wash. They wanted to take me to a hospital, but I said I wasn’t injured. Luckily my wallet was in a zipped pocket. I walked to a shop in the town and bought some new things to wear.”