by Rhys Jones
“But it proves that there’s something there, though, right?” Ruff said before Ellie could protest again. “She also said that his obsession started when he went on an expedition abroad with an old friend called…” He took out a folded-over Post-It note from his pocket. “Uh…Tanner, to find the fifth artefact, which he was really excited about.”
“Sugar. A fifth artefact? They must be breeding,” Ellie said, spooning up the froth from the bottom of her cup.
“No, wait,” Oz said, sitting up. “I read about this Tanner bloke, too.” Oz had forgotten until now about Tanner. He’d been mentioned in the Morsman article his dad had written. But he didn’t want to steal Ruff’s thunder, so he just sat back and listened.
“Everyone thought Morsman was completely barking, because the expedition was to France and they were at war with Germany at the time,” Ruff said.
“Was there anything about his death?” Ellie asked.
“That’s a bit weird, too. No one understood why Morsman died in London, ’cos he hated the place and hadn’t been there for, like, forever. And he was in the docks. I mean, how unlucky is that? To go to a place you’ve avoided all your life and then get bombed for your trouble.” Ruff emptied his cup in a couple of deep gulps.
Oz finally spoke. “We may never find out what happened to him, but I still think we’ve got a great chance of finding the artefacts, because someone or something is trying to help us. Maybe it’s the trinket box or the grey-eyed girl, or maybe it’s whoever the footsteps belong to. There is only one way to find out.”
They both stared at him.
“Look, my dad was trying to find the artefacts, too, so we’ve got to keep looking. It would sort of make what happened to him mean more, somehow. And if we found the artefacts, it would be one in the eye for Heeps. I’ve got a feeling that’s why he took everything from my dad’s study. And,” he added darkly, “I really would like to see him and Pheeps squirm.”
“What has she done now?” Ellie asked warily, sitting up again.
So, after one big, deep breath, Oz told them about what had happened when Dr. Mackie had come to call. And it all poured out, the argument with his mother, the chat with Caleb, everything. Oz couldn’t stop it, even though he could feel himself flushing with remembered anger.
“That’s awful,” Ellie whispered when he’d finished. Oz thought he saw a wetness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Oz took another deep breath and sent a couple of darting looks at the two of them before saying, “So neither of you knew, then?”
“Oz, I swear, if I’d have known…” Ellie said, shaking her head, white-faced.
“I’d have told you, mate,” Ruff said earnestly.
Oz nodded. That was good enough for him.
“And you think Pheeps has known this all along?” Ruff asked, sitting forward.
“Her father must have.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Maybe Arkwright knows something that you don’t? ‘Careful, you might do yourself an injury? Runs in the family?’” Oz repeated the poisonous phrases Pheeps had hurled at him in a very unflattering, if not altogether inaccurate, impersonation.
“That’s disgusting,” Ruff said.
“But how can we get back at her?” Ellie asked, fuming.
“Well, like I said, my dad sent me that trinket box for a reason. I think that reason has to do with Morsman and Bunthorpe. If it turns out that my dad had found something…” He let his voice trail off and smiled. “Imagine how that would make Heeps feel.”
Ellie and Ruff exchanged tight-lipped glances, then they both looked at Oz and nodded. It made sense.
“So, let’s go and find the black dor,” Ellie said, pushing back her chair.
“I though you were shopping for something for Macy,” Oz said.
“That can wait,” Ellie said as she stood up.
“Think we should maybe have lunch first?” Ruff blurted. “I’m starving.”
“It’s only half-eleven,” Oz said.
“Exactly,” Ruff replied. “I hate eating late.”
* * *
Garret and Eldred Antiques was not in the main part of town. They had to wind their way through a couple of shopping arcades, past the Seabourne International Arena, and walk the length of St Beade’s Street to a less familiar area. Here, what once had been a thriving shopping area now had an abandoned, slightly scruffy air. Ruff, who always seemed to know his way about, led them past a shut-up pub and down a dingy side street where every other property had “for sale” signs in the windows, until at last they stood outside a double-fronted shop, where an old-fashioned sign hanging from a brass pole above the door indicated their destination. The grimy shop window was overflowing with dark furniture, bric-a-brac, stuffed animals in glass cages, and books, all coated with thick layers of dust.
“You’re sure this is the place?” Oz asked doubtfully.
“Garret and Eldred,” Ellie said, pointing to the sign as she pushed open the door.
An old-fashioned brass bell above the door rang as soon as they entered, but once they were in, the large room fell into a dusty, murky silence. Inside, it was even more jumbled than the shop front had suggested. Over in one corner, behind a hurdy-gurdy machine, lurked a taxidermy array with foxes and weasels piled on top of birds and fish.
In another, Oz saw a tower of ornately decorated chamber pots, and in between was a minefield of occasional tables, old chairs, wall clocks and bed heads. But that was only as far as Oz could see, because the shop seemed to stretch back for a considerable way.
“Where do we start?” whispered Ellie.
“Perhaps if you indicated what it is, exactly, you are after, I might be of assistance,” suggested a voice from the shadows.
Ellie, Ruff and Oz all turned at once. Tucked behind a huge mounted moose head sat a wizened old gentleman, immaculately dressed, with a red spotted bow tie and a pair of half-glasses bridging his nose. He perched on a stool at a small workbench lit by a single desk lamp. Spread out on the bench, on a white cloth, was a bewildering array of tiny cogs and springs and shiny metal cases and glistening pearl dials. The man smiled and stood up stiffly. He wore a clean, navy-blue apron with “Garret and Eldred, Watchmakers and Purveyors of Fine Antiques” emblazoned on the breast. He moved towards them with some difficulty, eyebrows arched in enquiry.
“Uh, well, we’re actually looking for a dress clip brooch,” Ellie said.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, my dear. We have a large assortment. Now let me see, do you have a particular style in mind?” He moved past them and Oz smelled a pleasant waft of after-shave, reminding him of cut grass and heather. They followed him deeper into the shop to a bank of glass cases. The shopkeeper ran a bony finger along the brass mouldings on one of the cases and peered at the faded label stuck to the glass. “Dress clips, yes. Here we are.” He looked up. “A gift, is it?”
Ellie and Oz replied at the same time. Unfortunately, Oz said, “No,” while Ellie said, “Yes.”
Ruff made eyes to the ceiling and said, “Sort of.”
“I see,” said the shopkeeper, amused. He seemed well-used to muddled shoppers. “Well, there’s more than enough choice here. I’m sure you will find something suitable. We have six trays of dress clips in this case.” He beamed up at them. “My name is George Eldred, by the way, and I am familiar with where most things are in the shop. Just ask if you need any help.”
“We do,” Oz said, deciding to take the bull by the horns. “We saw something advertised online—”
“On the interweb?” asked Mr. Eldred. “My nephew has been helping me, you know. Amazing what you can do these days.”
“We saw a black scarab brooch.”
“We have quite a few of those,” said Mr. Eldred knowingly.
“But this one had a missing clip.”
“Ah.” The shopkeeper held up a finger. “That would be in the imperfect tray.” He leaned over very slowly and pulled out a tray fr
om the very bottom of the glass cabinet, while alarming popping sounds emanated from his knees and back. He straightened gingerly, his face a grinning mask of effort, and laid the tray on top of the cabinet. It was completely full of black, scarab-like shapes.
“Do you mind if we look?”
“Help yourselves,” said Mr. Eldred.
It took them ten minutes to find it, mainly because everything was covered in dust. But when Ellie held it up and gave it a quick polish, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was the exact same item pictured on Oz’s laptop. Oz peered at the tiny label attached to it.
“How much?” Ruff asked in a whisper.
“Five pounds,” said Oz, pleasantly surprised.
“You can have it for four,” said Mr. Eldred magnanimously from the workbench, where he’d gone back to sit.
Ruff, who had seemed a little on edge even before coming into Garret and Eldred’s, said, “Right, I saw a secondhand game shop on Gavel Lane. There were some real bargains in the window. I’ll meet you outside in about ten, okay?”
“Him and his bloomin’ Xbox,” Ellie said huffily as Ruff hurried away.
“Mr. Eldred,” Oz said as he watched the shopkeeper carefully wrap the dor in some tissue paper, “have you any idea where this came from?”
“I know exactly where it came from. I know where everything in this shop came from. But I need to know who I’m talking to before I divulge that sort of information. Can’t be too careful, you know,” he said sternly, but his eyes twinkled as he spoke.
“Oz Chambers,” Oz said, holding out his hand, “and this is Ellie Messenger.”
“Delighted to meet you, Oz and Ellie,” said Mr. Eldred. “The curse of working here for sixty years is that I remember every purchase and sale.” He held up the scarab brooch. “This came to us from a spinster who had recently inherited a property in Seabourne. The previous owner had been a collector and had not catalogued things very well. I remember going up to the house to evaluate.” He looked off into the distance. “Such a lovely property. Her name was Miss Millichamp, and the address was…now, what was it? I can see it now, used to be an orphanage at one time…”
“Penwurt, Number 2 Magnus Street,” Oz said in a flat voice. “And the lady was Bessie Millichamp.”
“Exactly right,” said Mr. Eldred, smiling with delight. “Do you know it, by any chance? Not long ago, I sold a clock to a very nice man who lived there; it was also part of Miss Millichamp’s clear-out. I always felt the clock belonged there, myself. Now, what was the man’s name?”
“Chambers,” said Oz, feeling a knot of excitement tighten in his stomach.
“Chambers, that’s it. Nice chap. Very knowledgeable. Is he an acquaintance of yours?”
“Sort of,” Oz said truthfully.
“May I ask why it is that you want this particular brooch? Professional interest, you understand. I mean, it is of an unusual design, I’ll admit. But we have far nicer ones for the money. And they might even have a clip attached.”
“It’s exactly the right—”
“Colour,” said Ellie quickly. “It’ll match her shoes exactly.”
“Ah, an accessory. I see,” Mr. Eldred’s smile was indulgent.
“Did Great Aunt Bessy sell you anything else?” Asked Oz, trying to sound as casual as he could.
“Oh, let me see,” Mr. Eldred massaged his chin in concentration. “Of course, we were not the only valuers she contacted, but I think there were a couple of bracelets and four pairs of earrings, some of them really quite nice. One of them pink pearl if I recollect. Then there were a handful of brooches, not valuable, but of some interest to collectors of the unusual, like you two clearly are.” His eyes twinkled.
“But you don’t remember her selling you a pendant?” Oz persisted.
“A pendant? No, I don’t recall anything of that nature, why do you ask?”
The little bell above the door tinkled. Oz looked around to see a man in an overcoat enter the shop. He turned towards the collection of stuffed animals immediately so that Oz didn’t see his face.
“My, my, turning into quite the busy afternoon,” Mr. Eldred chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “If it’s pendants you’re after, of course, we have a splendid collection.”
“No, it’s okay,” Oz said quickly. “I was just curious.” He was suddenly very conscious of the fact that the person who had come into the shop, who still had his back to them, would be able to hear, quite clearly, everything that was being said.
“Ah, yes, understandably so. Well, there you are.” Mr. Eldred handed over the tiny parcel and gave Oz his change.
Outside, Ellie and Oz headed back the way they’d come.
“So this definitely comes from Penwurt. Do you think Morsman found it somewhere?” Ellie asked.
“He must have. Maybe Great Aunt Bessie didn’t know what it was. If Morsman died suddenly, perhaps he hadn’t had time to sort things out, or leave a will or something. Shame someone came into the shop. I could have asked more questions.”
“Let’s have a look at it in daylight,” Ellie said, pointing at the parcel.
Oz stopped and was about to undo Mr. Eldred’s wrapping, when they looked up and were surprised to see Ruff coming back to meet them, walking quickly.
“Shut, was it?” Ellie asked.
Ruff shook his head, making large eyes at them. “You should see that place,” he said, with loud and exaggerated delight. “It’s brilliant.” And then, without moving his mouth, he added in a low voice. “Do not open that parcel. Just shut up and follow me, no questions asked.”
He turned and began describing just how brilliant the game shop was again as he hurried up the street. “It’s got a copy of Wolf Ripper 1. I loved that game.”
Three minutes later, they stood in the sparsely stocked shop. It looked run-down and almost about to close.
“Are you completely mad?” said Ellie, looking about her with obvious distaste. “This place is rubbish.”
“Just hang on,” Ruff said as he positioned himself so that he was half-hidden behind a rack of tacky birthday cards near the window. He picked one up and moved his head so that he could look out into the street through the gap the card left in the stack. When he was happy, he pulled Oz and Ellie around behind him. “Look,” he said, pointing out to the almost empty street.
“Lovely,” Oz said. “Does that fish and chip shop do curry sauce?”
“Next door to it, you buzzard,” hissed Ruff. “The charity shop. Red and black coat.”
Oz and Ellie peered through the space in the card rack and as they did, the door to the charity shop opened and a familiar figure emerged and looked up and down before staring directly across to where Oz, Ellie and Ruff were hidden.
Oz gasped. “Lucy Bishop?”
“Almost bumped into her when I left Garret and thingy’s,” Ruff explained quickly. “She pretended not to see me and veered off. But I’ve been watching her. She’s just hanging about, waiting.”
“For us?” Ellie said.
“I’d put a cheese and ham nine-inch baguette on it,” Ruff said, ducking back down as Lucy Bishop sent a glance across towards the shop.
“You think she knows we went to Garret and Eldred’s?” Oz asked, perturbed.
“Must have seen us go in.” Ruff nodded.
“Bet she goes in and asks him what we bought,” Ellie said.
“I told you she’d been acting funny around me,” Oz said, his mind now racing. “But why is she following us?”
“Obvious, I’d have thought,” Ellie said. “She’s probably after the artefacts, too.”
Oz wanted to scoff at this suggestion, but there didn’t seem to be any other fit explanation. “I’ll have to hide the trinket box and the dor,” he said suddenly. “Soon as we get back to Penwurt.”
“Why don’t we split up and meet later? Try and throw her off the scent,” Ellie suggested.
They stood in the run-down shop discussing their options. It was Oz who finally c
ame up with the plan. He realised that it was likely to be him, more than anyone else, Lucy Bishop would follow. He quickly gave the dor to Ellie and, in hushed tones, explained what he had in mind.
Chapter 10
The Clock
Oz left first. He headed back towards High Street, meandering deliberately around the smaller lanes as he did so. He was sure he saw someone who looked like Lucy Bishop loitering in a chemist shop doorway as he stopped and knelt to tie a shoelace, To make sure he wasn’t followed, he decided to kill some time wandering around Waterstone’s. There, he went straight to the reference section and looked up Penwurt in Hidden Haunted Houses of Great Britain.
At 4.30 he headed for the men’s toilet. There’d been no sign of Lucy Bishop in the book shop itself, but it was very big with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in. So Oz waited in the loo for a long ten minutes and then left by the back entrance. He emerged directly into the shopping centre, scooted through two department stores and doubled back along Scott Street to the bus station which, as usual, was heaving with Saturday afternoon shoppers. He made it to the number 6 with five minutes to spare. Panting from the effort, he clambered on and grinned at the sight of Ellie and Ruff sitting right at the back.
“Well, did she follow you?” Ellie wanted to know.
“Definitely,” Oz said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “But I think I lost her in Waterstone’s.”
“What do you think she wanted?” Ruff asked.
“Spying, I expect. At least this way we’ll get back to Penwurt first and I’ll find somewhere safe to hide the dor and the trinket box,” Oz declared. “I can think of one or two—”
He got no further as Ellie’s elbow met painfully with his ribs and he felt himself being pulled down in his seat.
“Oy,” he protested. Ruff, sitting next to him and nearest the window, was also struggling as Ellie yanked at his collar.
“Shut up,” Ellie hissed from above them.
Oz felt the pressure ease on his head and looked up at Ellie. She had swivelled in her seat and had her coat hood up to hide her face.
“Ellie, what are you doing?” Oz demanded.
