The Devil's Dice

by Roz Watkins

She was about ten feet from the cliff edge, on her front, with one arm reaching out to the side and the other tucked under her. She looked tiny and forlorn, like a baby bird fallen from its nest.

  The pathologist crouched over her, and looked up as I approached. I’d met her over a previous corpse – she was called Mary something. ‘Well, this is a strange one,’ she said, with an inappropriate amount of enthusiasm. ‘On the face of it, it looks like an accident or suicide. No injuries other than those caused by the fall.’

  An accident or suicide. The guilt-monkey in my head wasn’t having that. And anyway, I sensed a but. ‘How long’s she been dead?’

  ‘Not long.’

  I leant to look at the dead woman’s face. Her cheek was scuffed but otherwise she looked unharmed. Apart from being dead, of course.

  ‘It’s definitely Beth Hamilton,’ I said. ‘The sister of the man who died last week in the cave house. How awful. Two people in one family.’

  ‘Looks like some of the rocks have come off the cliff.’ Mary wasn’t about to get distracted with sympathy. ‘It could have crumbled under her.’

  ‘She liked to tend the garden on the edge,’ I said. Beth’s thin fingers were curled into loose fists, her nails caked with mud. ‘Her sister-in-law told her it was dangerous.’

  Could it really have been an accident? I peered up at the little rock garden, but the light shone in my eyes and nothing was clear.

  I walked carefully around the body. ‘Is that something in the dirt?’

  Mary unfolded herself into a standing position. ‘Yes, that’s what I was going to say. It’s quite intriguing. She must have been alive for a few moments after she hit the ground.’

  ‘Is that even possible?’

  ‘Yes, the impact doesn’t always kill them immediately. It’s dependent on the height of the fall and the consistency of the landing. Fascinating subject.’

  I looked at Mary’s bright face. She was treating this like a crossword puzzle, rather than a person’s life. I sometimes wished I could do that. ‘Poor woman,’ I said. ‘Her last few minutes must have been terrible.’

  ‘You see what she’s drawn?’ Mary pointed a booted toe, as if I wasn’t already looking at what was drawn in the dirt.

  I stepped closer, careful not to tread on anything important. The letters were large and loopy, almost child-like, some parts pressed deeper than others. I imagined poor Beth, gasping her final breaths through battered ribs, determined to tell us something.

  ‘I think she used that.’ Mary pointed at an egg-sized stone near Beth’s extended hand. ‘There’s mud on it and it has a sharp edge.’

  I stared at the roughly drawn letters. The breeze tickled the back of my neck, and I shivered and pulled up the collar of my coat. ‘GR,’ I said. ‘She wrote GR.’

  ‘Do you know what it means?’ Mary said. ‘Do you know a GR?’

  I pictured the carving in the cave. Thought of the man who’d died here ten years ago, leaving behind his sinister sketchbook. Remembered our trip into the basement of the house that now loomed above me, squatting on the cliff-edge, almost like a living thing.

  I said nothing.

  *

  Jai met me by the cordoned area outside the house. ‘Oh, it’s Death-Wish Woman,’ he said. ‘What’s it to be today? We’ve had falls and gassing with the threat of explosion. There’s still plenty more ways to injure yourself.’

  ‘Why are you so God-damned perky? Beth Hamilton’s dead. Besides, you took your time getting any help to us. What did you expect me to do? Leave Gran in there to die?’

  I walked towards the flapping blue-and-white tape and nodded at a uniformed officer. SOCO were scratching around like hungry hens, in the area of the rock garden.

  Jai followed me over. ‘I’m just kidding. You did well to get your gran out.’

  ‘Yeah. And my shoulder won’t let me forget it. So, what the hell’s gone on? Another death at this house?’

  ‘Kate’s in a bit of a state,’ he said. ‘Fiona’s with her. And Mark Hamilton. Do you want to see the rock garden?’

  ‘Have you been down to the bottom?’ I gestured in the general direction of Off-the-cliff. Someone was chain-sawing trees in the woods far below.

  Jai shook his head. ‘Is your mum alright? And your gran?’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah. A bit shocked.’

  ‘They can’t tell for sure if anyone else was here,’ Jai said. ‘No marks, but obviously they can’t get much off rock anyway and Kate and Mark rushed around destroying evidence before they realised what had happened. It looks like the edge is crumbly. So she may have just fallen. It’s pretty windy to be hovering around the edge of a cliff.’

  ‘You’ve not seen the letters she scratched down there?’

  ‘I haven’t been down, Meg. What letters?’

  I hesitated and glanced towards the nothingness beyond the cliff edge. The sky was a palette of greys, the nearer clouds racing in front of distant ones. I felt a moment of dizziness and took a step back. ‘GR. In the mud next to her.’

  ‘What? As in Grim Reaper?’

  I shrugged. ‘I suppose it could mean any number of things.’

  ‘Christ almighty.’ Jai leant forward towards the cliff as if he could peer over and see the body. He clearly couldn’t.

  I grabbed his arm. ‘Get back, Jai. We could do without losing you as well.’

  He shook me off, then gave me a quick, apologetic smile. ‘Same as the guy ten years ago?’

  ‘Well, he drew sketches.’

  ‘Why would she do it? Is it something to do with the curse?’

  ‘What curse though?’ I felt panic rising up in me. How could we find a killer if a curse was to blame? How many more people would die? ‘I mean, seriously Jai? What is the bloody curse?’

  *

  ‘I told you! It’s this house!’ Kate shook Mark’s hand from her arm. She was sitting on the sofa but her legs were solid as if she was about to leap up.

  I sat on the other sofa. I’d left Jai outside, poking around the rock garden.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Mark tilted his chin upwards in a brief nod. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Are you okay to tell me a bit about what happened?’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Kate sank back in the sofa and folded her arms across her stomach. ‘I know a house can’t be cursed, but why do people keep dying?’

  Mark turned to Kate. ‘Just tell her what happened.’

  ‘I was at work. We do some Sunday surgeries now. Beth wanted to come and mess around with that horrendous rock garden. So, I said come over and I’d see her when I got in.’

  ‘She had a key to the house?’

  Kate nodded. ‘And then, when I got back about four, there was no sign of her. And I just knew she’d fallen off that cliff. It can crumble away underneath you. I kept telling her. I put a fence up years ago, but that went over. Anyway, I went out and tried to look down, but I couldn’t see anything.’

  I nodded sympathetic encouragement.

  ‘So,’ Kate said. ‘I phoned Mark and he came round and we looked at the rock garden again and it was obvious she’d been weeding right near the edge. Her little fork was there. And then we drove to the bottom car park, because it’s actually quite far to walk down from here. And we went along the path…’

  Mark wiped his cheek. ‘We tried to resuscitate her. But it was too late.’

  ‘And we called an ambulance,’ Kate said. ‘But we knew. We’re doctors. We knew.’

  ‘I think she probably did just fall,’ Mark said. ‘She was always reckless on that cliff.’

  ‘Had she said anything to you about Peter’s death?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, I’m not saying it wasn’t an accident. We’ve no reason to believe it wasn’t, but—’

  ‘You think whoever killed Peter could have killed her too?’

  ‘I’m not saying that.’

  Mark sighed. ‘Well there was something, I suppose. I don’t know if it h
as any relevance.’

  ‘What? You need to tell me, even if you think it’s not relevant.’

  ‘Well, okay. She suspected Felix.’

  My pulse quickened. ‘What? Why didn’t she talk to us?’

  ‘I got the impression she wanted to talk to him first. She didn’t want to go around making accusations.’

  ‘When did she tell you this?’

  ‘Thursday, I think it was. She didn’t seem very sure. It was more of a passing comment. You don’t think he…’

  Kate had been very quiet through this. But I glanced round and noticed her face was white. ‘Felix can be nasty,’ she said. ‘Peter told me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He just isn’t a very nice person. I’m not saying he’s a murderer.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if any of this stuff relates to people too, but you hear it, don’t you, about serial killers?’

  ‘What have you heard, Kate?’

  ‘Well, there was that cat he ran over. Peter loved cats and he couldn’t believe how callous Felix was. And then…’

  ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Well, again, it may not be relevant but it shows you what kind of person he is. Anyway, years ago, they had problems with mice in their student house. And Peter didn’t want to kill them. So he got some humane traps and tried to catch the mice, but the mice seemed to work out how to get the cheese and get out again.’

  ‘They’re not as dumb as people think.’

  ‘No. Anyway, in the end he bought this fancy, big trap that was supposed to catch several mice at a time. And it did.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He got home and found Felix had taken five mice out of the humane trap and dumped them in a bucket of water to drown. Peter was horrified, but Felix thought it was funny.’ She paused. ‘Stuff like that. Not exactly evidence of psychopathic tendencies – just, well, not quite normal.’

  Chapter 24

  ‘Beth Hamilton.’ Richard stood in front of a board of photographs, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. ‘The sister of Peter Hamilton. Worked as a solicitor in Nottingham.’

  I’d slept in and missed breakfast, and I felt grotty even for a Monday morning. My head throbbed with a dull urgency.

  ‘Found at the bottom of the cliff outside her brother’s house,’ Richard continued. ‘So far, we have no reason to believe this is anything other than a tragic accident.’

  I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I’d get my chance to speak.

  ‘What is it with that house?’ Fiona said.

  ‘You’d better ask your granny.’ Craig’s voice oozed unpleasantness. I couldn’t work out if it was reassuring or depressing that he acted like an arse around Fiona too.

  ‘We’ve kicked off house-to-house,’ I said. ‘And we’re checking what CCTV we have, and looking at motives. So far, we’ve found no evidence that anyone else was on the cliff with her, but of course we found no forensic evidence around the cave where her brother was found. If it’s the same person, they’re careful. And the rock doesn’t show up prints or footwear marks. Plus, her brother and sister-in-law trampled all over the area anyway.’

  ‘What about the Grim Reaper thing?’ Jai said.

  ‘Seriously?’ Craig’s forehead creased above his monobrow.

  I ignored Craig. ‘The victim appears to have scratched some letters in the mud with a stone before she died. The letters GR.’

  Fiona gazed at me with her wide, guileless eyes. ‘Was it definitely her who scratched them?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘Didn’t that man ten years ago leave sketches of the Grim Reaper?’ she said. ‘And isn’t there a picture of it in the basement of the house?’

  ‘Yes, and of course on the wall of the cave where Peter was found.’

  ‘Come on guys.’ Richard folded his arms. ‘These people weren’t killed by a curse.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I suspect the curse is a distraction.’

  ‘This Grim Reaper thing has to be about something,’ Jai said. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘I agree,’ Fiona said.

  Craig narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh, well, that clinches it. If you’ve decided—’

  ‘Drop it, Craig,’ I snapped.

  Jai turned to Craig. ‘Did you not get your shag this month?’

  They were spiralling out of control. ‘Right,’ I said in my most assertive voice, which was probably not very assertive at all. ‘We also know the victim mentioned Felix Carstairs. She had some suspicions about him in relation to Peter’s death. In her wisdom, she decided to talk to him first instead of coming to us. Fiona, could you find out if she did talk to him, and check his alibi again? And Craig, you can look into all the rational reasons several people might have died in and around this house, possibly people from the same family. And work out why Beth Hamilton might have scraped GR in the mud.’

  *

  Jai was at his desk on a chair, which was unusual. Two steaming mugs of coffee sat in front of him.

  I reached for one of the coffees. ‘Is this for me?’

  ‘No, I’ve taken to making two. Since we’re only allowed breaks “at the exigencies of duty” whatever the hell that means. Need to get my caffeine in.’

  It was cause for much griping that we had no formal breaks and no canteen, and weren’t even allowed a radio due to some bizarre copyright issue.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake. Give me one of them.’ I dragged a chair across our new eco-carpet, and sat next to him. ‘You said you’d got something new on Peter Hamilton? If someone did kill Beth, it’s most likely the same person who killed Peter.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jai passed me a mug. ‘Do you want to hear the clue that was in the casket.’

  I felt my headache fading. ‘Of course I do.’

  Jai shuffled forward, put his mug on a stained coaster, and peered at a ragged piece of paper held down by a grey stapler. ‘It’s word-based again. Here goes. My first constant is an old friend who gives us circles, you’ll find; my second is a constant which brings oil to mind; my last two abbreviate the scale when tectonic plates aren’t aligned.’

  I squinted at him. ‘Oil, as in, what you put in your car?’

  ‘What, you mean you actually put oil in that rust-bucket?’

  ‘No, I get my sergeants to do it when they get on my nerves.’

  I leant over Jai’s desk and peered at his notes.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I wasn’t looking anyway.’ He shifted backwards in his wheeled chair. ‘We’ve had some other stuff back from the computer geeks. Peter Hamilton logged onto the website PeakDistrict-Geocache.co.uk, at 12.30pm. Just before he went on his walk. And guess what his username was.’

  I felt a flush of excitement. We were right about the geocaching. ‘Hamster22? He left a note of his name and the time because there wasn’t a notebook in the casket?’

  ‘Nobody likes a smart-arse.’ Jai rocked back in his chair.

  I took a slurp of my coffee. ‘I’ve seen those chair-legs snap, you know. Just don’t knock my mug when you go down.’

  Jai pivoted back further. ‘They only snap when Craig’s in the chair.’

  I glanced over at Craig’s desk. No sign of him.

  Jai’s chair teetered, and panic flitted across his face before he allowed himself to crash back down, causing papers to flutter on his desk. ‘Anyway, we contacted the owner of the geocaching site and asked him if he could check the history. See if there was ever a cache located in the old quarry. And he found one. A mystery cache. You were given the correct co-ordinates but had to solve a riddle to get into the cache.’

  I felt excitement rising in me, like when you’re playing poker and the good cards keep coming. ‘So, the riddle could get you into the casket?’

  Jai folded his arms. ‘Maybe. Guess where the co-ordinates led to.’

  ‘The fallen tree where the metal casket was found?’

  ‘Yep. And when
do you think the cache was posted?’

  ‘Jesus, Jai, am I suddenly on University Challenge? The day he died?’

  ‘That’s right, Meg-from-Cambridge. It was posted on the day Peter Hamilton was poisoned.’

  ‘Oh my God. What was the riddle on the geocaching site?’

  Jai shuffled his notes. ‘In Piers’s bane, the drops are steep, the pools are deep. Go there in vain, unless you know his middle name.’

  ‘P middle name,’ I said quietly. ‘He got the clue off the website, noted it down on that Post-it, and went to the location in the woods to find it. Steep drops and deep pools – that sounds very much like the old quarry. He could have just thought he was doing a normal geocache. And those lads in the woods must have seen it too.’

  ‘Peter Hamilton must have known Piers’s middle name,’ Jai said.

  ‘Do we know a Piers? With the middle name “Henry”, presumably. Hang on, I think Piers is the answer to the riddle to get into the inner box,’ I said. ‘I’ve just worked it out.’

  ‘Oh Christ, have you? Enlighten me.’

  ‘Its “pi” – that’s the bit about circles. Then “e”, you know, Euler’s number, pronounced like “oil”. Then RS for Richter scale.’

  Jai looked at his notes, then peered at me as if he was worried about me. ‘Okay, not sure I’m familiar with Oiler’s number but yes, one of our maths weirdos has written “PIERS” and a question mark.’

  ‘Peter Hamilton must have put “HENRY” into the outer lock, opened the casket, seen the clue, put “PIERS” into the second lock, and that got him into the inner box.’

  ‘So, it’s like an extra layer of security just in case some random person found the casket and somehow got through the first lock.’

  ‘I guess so. And the geocache thingy was definitely made public the day Hamilton died?’

  ‘Yes, it was posted at 10am on October 12th. Then it was withdrawn later that same day.’

  ‘Who posted it?’

  ‘Thought you might ask that. According to the log-in information, Hamilton posted it himself.’

  The door creaked open. Craig walked in, pulled out a chair and sat backwards on it in some kind of incomprehensible macho display. Those thighs were way too close for comfort. ‘Heard your mother nearly blew herself up,’ he said. ‘You should look after her better.’