The Devil's Dice

by Roz Watkins

  Kate’s voice shot through my thoughts. It was shaking with fear, coming from the net hanging below us. ‘Please, Grace. Please help me. We won’t do it any more. I promise. We’ll let God decide when people die. Please…’

  Grace leant forward over the hatch. ‘You’re right!’ Her voice echoed from the high roof. ‘That’s what I’m doing – letting God decide. I couldn’t make my mind up whether you should live. You’re evil but you have an innocent soul inside you. That’s why I need the dice. God will decide through them.’

  I took a sharp breath. She knew Kate was pregnant. That was the reason she hadn’t just killed her. Vivian from the health centre must have told her – they were in the Life Line group together.

  ‘Please, Grace,’ I said. ‘Think of the innocent baby. Give me the knife.’

  She looked straight at me. ‘Don’t come any closer! Any of you, or I swear, I’ll slash right through this net.’

  I stopped. The air seemed to crackle with Grace’s energy. I looked around the room again. Both Mark and I were about six feet away from Grace, and her knife was millimetres from the net. Any move towards her and she could slice through the net before we could get anywhere near her.

  I noticed a twenty-pound note on the oak floor behind Grace. She must have planted it so Kate would see it when she arrived at the windmill, and walk to pick it up – straight across the trap door, which must have been sabotaged and covered with the rug that was now in the net with Kate. And I remembered Olivia saying Grace was a whizz with burglar alarms. Had she set this one to send her a message over the internet when Kate arrived, so she could come up here and play her lethal games?

  I spoke quietly. ‘What are the trunks and the dice for, Grace?’

  She looked at me and smiled, reminding me of the woman I’d thought she was. ‘One of these three trunks has a picture of Our Lord Jesus inside it, to represent mercy and forgiveness,’ she said. ‘If God chooses that trunk, he wants this woman to live because she has an innocent soul inside her. In the other trunks… well, I think you’ll recognise the pictures in those.’ She smiled again, and this time there was just a hint of her madness in it. ‘Oh yes, you’ll definitely recognise those. If God chooses one of those trunks, then we’ll know he wants this woman to die for all the evil things she’s done. A one-in-three chance of living. I think that’s fair.’

  ‘Please,’ I said. ‘You can’t do that. Just help us get—’

  ‘I know which trunk contains the Lord Jesus, you see, so we’ll have to throw the dice to let God decide.’ Grace picked up one of the dice and examined it. ‘God does play dice – we know that now. Einstein was wrong.’

  ‘No!’ I couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. ‘Just help us get Kate out of the net. God wouldn’t want this, Grace.’

  She didn’t seem to hear me. ‘But once the die has chosen, I’ll give you the chance to change its choice. God can work through you.’ She pointed at me, and our eyes locked for a moment. ‘Yes, you can make the choice. It’s a little game. I like that idea.’

  ‘No. Grace. There’s no time for games. Please…’

  Grace tossed the die onto the floor by her knee. ‘It’s a five,’ she said. ‘God has spoken. Trunk number three. I wonder if the Lord Jesus is in trunk number three. On the other hand, maybe there’s something else in there. Something bad…’

  She moved her knife closer to the net. It looked sharp enough to cut throats, never mind netting. ‘You have to decide whether to stay with trunk number three or change.’

  I glanced at Mark. My heart was pounding. We didn’t have time for this craziness.

  ‘I’ll make it easier for you to decide,’ Grace said. ‘I’ll make it a choice of just two trunks. She flung open the lid of the second trunk and whipped out a piece of paper. She laughed. ‘Jesus isn’t in this one, see?’

  I glanced at the paper as she tossed it away. My stomach froze at the sight of the familiar image.

  ‘Now do you want to change trunks?’ Grace said. ‘Or stick with the choice of the die? If you don’t choose the trunk with the Lord Jesus inside, we’ll have to let Kate fall, I’m afraid. That would be God’s will.’

  Mark inched closer to Grace. She was so distracted by her insane games, she didn’t seem to notice him.

  Her eyes were fixed on me. ‘Choose now or I cut.’

  I realised with a sick jolt that this was the same game Alex had played with me in Grace’s kitchen, what seemed like years ago, when I’d thought she was the too-perfect wife and mother. The probabilities were the same. The roll of the die had only had a one in three chance of selecting the trunk with Jesus in it, so I should change its choice. All this darted through my mind in a microsecond.

  I was hot and cold and sick and panicky. Even if I changed my choice, there’d still be a one-in-three chance that Kate would die.

  ‘Choose now!’ Grace flicked her knife towards the net.

  The words stuck in my dry mouth ‘Yes! Change the choice. Go for the first trunk. And please hurry.’

  Grace laughed again. ‘Clever! Yes, you should always change your original choice.’ She whipped open the lid of the first trunk and grabbed a piece of paper from it. She held it up to me and smiled.

  It was the same as the picture in the second trunk. The image so horribly familiar. Sketched in pencil but almost identical to the one on the cave wall and in the basement of Kate’s house.

  ‘I thought you’d like it. I think I got the expression right. I’ve been following the case – of course I have.’ Grace glanced down at the image. ‘It’s a shame for you, because you did the logical thing, but the die chose Our Lord Jesus the first time. And you changed its choice to this. But I’m glad you got to see my drawing.’ She flipped the paper away and leant over the hatch in the floor. ‘Bye bye, Katie.’

  Something dashed across my peripheral vision. Grace plunged the knife down. Mark crashed into her and shoved her away from the hatch. He grabbed her arm and tried to wrestle the knife from her. I jumped to help him.

  A ripping noise. Kate screamed. Grace must have cut enough of the net for it to start tearing.

  I flung myself onto my hands and knees and leant into the hatch, trying to reach for Kate’s hand. The net was still mostly intact, and Kate was supported by it, clawing desperately upwards. I stretched down as far as I could reach, but could only touch her outstretched finger-tips.

  I glanced behind me. I couldn’t see Mark or Grace. I felt sick. I couldn’t reach Kate. She was going to fall. That image of Carrie flashed again into my mind.

  Carrie. Carrie’s scarf.

  I wrenched if from my neck, folded it over so it was double thickness, and fumbled a knot into it. My fingers were thick with cold and panic, but I managed to tie a second knot. I pulled at it to check it would hold. It was my only chance to reach Kate, but I didn’t know if it would be strong enough.

  ‘Kate, grab this!’ I leaned into the hatch and dangled the scarf down. ‘It’s knotted. Wrap it around your wrist.’

  Kate reached up with one hand, hanging onto the net with the other. She put her hand through the loop and twisted her arm to wrap the scarf tightly around her wrist.

  With all my strength I hauled on my end of the scarf, but I couldn’t get any purchase. The oak boards were too slippery. There was nothing to grab hold of and pull against. I could see Kate’s terrified face. She was hanging onto the scarf but the net was tearing.

  The net ripped and Kate’s weight slammed onto the scarf. I felt a sickening jolt in my shoulder and crashed onto my stomach.

  I was being pulled slowly forwards by Kate’s weight. I tried to cling onto the floorboards with my other hand but they were polished smooth and there was nothing to grip. I clawed my toes down but there was no purchase. I was inching closer to the hatch. My head was at the edge of the opening. I looked down and saw Kate hanging from the scarf below me.

  If I held on to her, I’d be dragged through the hatch and we’d both fall onto the icy slabs
below.

  I caught Kate’s eye. She knew I was going to have to let her go.

  I’d be responsible. Again.

  Something thumped onto my legs. A moment of panic, then I realised that whatever it was, it was holding me firm and stopping me being dragged any further into the hatch.

  ‘Hold on, Meg, I’ve got you.’ Jai had never sounded so much like an angel. He must have hauled himself up the tower with his broken ribs.

  Jai’s weight pinned me. I was held with my arm dangling into the hole, Kate’s weight dragging on my hand, my shoulder screaming at me to let her go.

  I wouldn’t let her go.

  But I couldn’t lift her to safety alone – Jai would have to help me pull her up. And to do that, he’d be forced to take his weight off me, and I’d start slipping again. In his few seconds of hesitation, I realised he wasn’t going to do it. He was going to let Kate fall.

  Kate’s terrified voice cut through my swirling thoughts. ‘I can’t hold on to the scarf much longer!’

  ‘Jai,’ I gasped. ‘You can get off me for a moment. Reach into the hatch, grab the scarf, and help me pull Kate up.’

  I felt him hesitating. Cops didn’t risk each other’s lives. I couldn’t breathe properly with his weight on me. I thought of his poor ribs. My voice rasped. ‘Go on! Quick.’

  Jai hesitated a moment more, then I felt his weight lift off me. I started slipping forwards. Jai leaned into the hatch and I finally felt a lightening of the pull on my shoulder. I took a huge breath, lifted myself onto my hands and knees, and reached for the scarf with my good arm. Together, Jai and I scrabbled and yanked and dragged Kate up to safety.

  I lay on my side, panting. My ears were full of Kate’s rasping breath next to me. The sweat was cold on my face, and I realised an icy draught was wicking it away. I looked to the far side of the room and saw a gaping hole shattered out of one of the windows. Mark and Grace were gone.

  Chapter 43

  I wrenched myself into a sitting position. Jai was next to me, crumpled over and clutching his chest. His face was a peculiar shade of green.

  ‘Jai… oh my God.’ My breath was coming in desperate gasps. ‘Your ribs… all that way…’ The words stuttered out incoherently. ‘You okay?’

  Jai clenched his teeth and nodded. ‘Hmm. Kind of. How about you?’

  I glanced at my shoulder and a wave of sickness almost overwhelmed me. I nodded.

  I turned to Kate. She was still panting, and was sitting way too close to the hatch in the floor. Her gaze flitted around the room. ‘Mark,’ she whispered. ‘Where’s Mark?’

  I looked at the shattered window. ‘He was trying to get the knife from Grace…’

  ‘He’s fallen? Oh God. Oh no…’ Kate stood and swayed backwards towards the hatch. I didn’t even have the energy to warn her. That would be true irony, if she fell through it now, although maybe not suitable for Alanis’s song. What was my mind rambling on about? I needed to think sensible, detective thoughts.

  Kate hobbled towards the steps at the edge of the room. She looked back at Jai and me. ‘Are you alright?’

  I nodded and forced myself onto my feet to follow her. ‘You stay there,’ I said to Jai, with no confidence that he would.

  He nodded and reached stiffly to get his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ve got one bar up here. I’ll call for help.’

  I limped down the steps as fast as I could, round and round, such a long way. I pushed through the huge oak door, which Kate had left swinging open, and stepped outside onto the freezing gravel. It had stopped raining and the air smelt of wet trees. The sky had cleared, and stars pin-pricked the deep blackness above.

  I saw Mark first, lying still on the ground. Kate was hunched over him.

  Grace was behind. She looked wrong. Was I seeing her body or Mark’s body in front? My brain wouldn’t accept the angle of her head in relation to her torso.

  The soft noise of a distant siren pierced the night air.

  *

  The hospital smell propelled me back in time with such nauseating force it made my head spin. I shut my eyes and indulged in a moment of regret for my lost years, my non-childhood. But for once, I didn’t feel guilty that Carrie had lost so much more.

  ‘Well, she was a bloody lunatic.’ Jai leant forward, cradling his ribs.

  We had a small waiting area to ourselves, and there were no doctors in evidence. ‘Do we need to make a fuss?’ I said. ‘Get you seen more urgently?’

  ‘No, I’ll live. But I need to take my mind off it, so you can tell me what the hell Grace was doing with those boxes.’

  ‘It’s a probability thing called the Monty Hall problem,’ I said. ‘Maths professors fall out over it, and write stern letters to The Times.’

  ‘Jesus, Meg. Craig’s right – you are an ubergeek. You were working out probabilities whilst dealing with a raging psycho. I was surprised how strong you were though. For a geek.’

  ‘I’m not feeling so strong now.’ I looked down at my arm, lying like a dead animal in my lap. As well as the shoulder being dislocated, the elbow was battered and bruised. ‘But I do upper-body exercises with Hannah.’

  ‘Of course you do. And thank God for your sister’s scarf.’

  ‘I know. If only she could realise. I never thought she was great at knitting, but it was pretty strong.’

  Jai shifted in his seat.

  I smiled. ‘This is killing you, isn’t it? Not being able to fidget properly? Anyway, do you think between us we could manage to obtain some of the toxic coffee from that machine in the corridor? And chocolate?’ Surely tackling a homicidal maniac whilst simultaneously solving probability questions must have used some calories.

  We rose, wrestled coffees and chocolate from the machines and returned to our brutal chairs.

  ‘So,’ Jai said. ‘Grace was targeting members of the assisted dying group?’

  ‘Looks like it.’ I took a bite of my Yorkie bar. Annoyingly advertised junk had never tasted so good. ‘She must have pushed Beth off the cliff. And I didn’t tell you, but when I fell down those steps, someone had run up behind me. I was wearing Mum’s coat. I’m pretty sure now that Grace was after Mum.’

  Jai sighed. ‘Nothing surprises me any more. I won’t ask why you didn’t tell me this at the time.’

  ‘Thanks. Appreciate that.’ I decided not to mention the rest of it. But I suspected Grace had been in Mum’s house and had tampered with the gas and the light switch. ‘I knew Mum was anxious about something, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I should have made her tell me.’

  ‘Well, you thought she was a normal mum. You didn’t know she was mixed up with a criminal gang. But the time you got beaten up? When you were with the sausage-eating tramp.’

  ‘I don’t think that was anything to do with Grace. Just Felix’s heavies going above and beyond.’

  ‘Strong work ethics,’ Jai said. ‘Do we know for sure Felix sent them?’

  ‘Not a hundred percent. I’m pretty sure though. Kate even said he keeps in touch with dubious characters so he can get occasional recreational drugs. They’ll blab if we can find them.’

  ‘We’ll find them.’ Jai scrunched his chocolate wrapper and hurled it inaccurately at a bin. ‘But Grace planted the geocache and wrote the suicide email?’

  ‘She must have done. She could have seen Peter put his password in when they all went geocaching, and he had the same one for that Gmail account. She knew he couldn’t resist cake. But she probably didn’t expect his body to be found so quickly. Didn’t count on a greedy Labrador snuffling around the woods. She’d have thought she could get rid of the casket before anyone saw it.’

  ‘And she was wearing Felix’s boots?

  ‘Looks like it. She must have stolen them from the shed. And she took his gardening gloves at the same time, and planted one in the woods near where Beth was found.’ I took a swig of the truly awful coffee.

  ‘GR,’ Jai said.

  I nodded. ‘She started writing Grace’s name. It
wasn’t the Grim Reaper at all.’

  Chapter 44

  A week later, I sat opposite Edward Swift in one of our bleak interview rooms. He was slumped forward on his blue chair, arms resting on the bolted-down table, chin in hand. The place smelt of cherry disinfectant, as if someone had puked on the indestructible grey carpet.

  Richard had been obliged to un-suspend me when I’d become a minor public hero. News of my exploits had spread, alongside pictures of the mill, and trunks and dice people had set up to illustrate my dilemma. Online debates and a few pub fights had taken place over the Monty Hall problem.

  I wasn’t enjoying being Mighty Meg – it was too much like a nickname I’d had when I went through a chubby phase as a child. And Craig had already come up with some unflattering variations. But I was glad to be back at work.

  Edward seemed to have aged several years since I’d last seen him in his sparkly kitchen. ‘I just need to ask you a couple of questions,’ I said.

  He sat up and folded his arms. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Did you know about Peter’s assisted dying group?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘No idea at all?’

  ‘I knew he was in favour of it, but no more than that.’

  ‘But Grace obviously knew?’

  Edward pursed his lips. ‘Obviously.’

  I folded my arms too, and waited.

  Edward shifted back an inch, and something seemed to flip inside him. Like someone had turned on his Bluetooth to allow communication. ‘I think Grace must have got the information from the receptionist at the health centre,’ he said. ‘They were in some religious thing together. And from following your poor mother about the place, of course.’

  ‘Did you realise she felt strongly about assisted dying?’

  ‘Not really, no. She got a little excitable about abortion a few years ago, got me going on demos outside clinics. But I thought she’d calmed down.’ Edward examined his neat nails, and then ran his fingers over a scratch in the cheap beech veneer of the table. ‘I’m trying to make sense of how she could have done those things. It must be her upbringing. She had a terrible time.’