Shadows 02 Celtic Shadows

by K C West

  “Let go.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Damn it, PJ, let go!”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Everything happened in slow motion. Her hands slid off the ledge, and after what seemed to be an eternity, there was a soft thud on the stone floor. I could see the yellowish beam of her flashlight flick over a pile of boxes and crates along one wall. I aimed my much brighter beam into the room while she stacked some of the boxes under the window so my entry would be easier.

  “Pssst!”

  I stuck my flashlight back in my pocket. Time to join Kim. The windowsill was filthy. Powdery mortar dust made my nose itch, and bits of granulated stone flaked off under my gloves as I slipped butt-first through the open window. For a few seconds my legs flailed about, searching for something solid to stand on. Kim guided one foot to the edge of a box, and I put all my weight on it. It gave a little, but held until strong hands gripped my hips and the rest of me slid into Kim’s waiting arms.

  “There.” She kissed my forehead. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Piece of cake,” I answered, gulping for air.

  We waited, hugging each other, listening. I couldn’t tell whether it was Kim’s heartbeat I felt thudding against my chest, or my own.

  Kim let go and picked her flashlight up from the box it rested on. “How about getting that spotlight of yours out?” she said.

  I held it up high like the cops on TV do, as if it were a knife in striking position. We found a few more boxes filled to capacity with Styrofoam-like packing beads. Ghost turds, I called them. We added some of the boxes to those Kim had stacked under our window, forming a crude, but unobtrusive, staircase.

  “Our stairway to freedom,” I whispered.

  We had determined before entry that there were no other lights on in the basement area, and that the section above our window was dark. Once inside, though, I could hear faint voices and soft music.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I was hoping we’d have the place to ourselves.”

  “So, what’s our plan?”

  “Same as before. Find the coffin, check it further for clues, and get the hell out of here with our skins intact.”

  “Okay. That works for me, but what are you expecting to find?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest, she said. “Clues. Anything that looks out of place.”

  “Ha!”

  “What?”

  “You haven’t a clue, but you’re looking for clues. That’s sort of amusing, don’t you think?”

  “Let’s just get on with it.”

  “Yes ma’am, boss.”

  I started down the hallway to my right, but Kim grabbed the back of my commando shirt. “Whoa. The coffin room is this way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s to your left. I’m positive.” She gave my shirt another tug. “You and your sense of direction.”

  “Hey, I found you, didn’t I?”

  I was rewarded with a tiny chuckle. “Can we please get moving?”

  “Of course.” I turned left. “Right this way.”

  We followed the corridor past several closed doors and a stairway. The cold air made us shiver, and hanging cobwebs added an eerie touch of mystery to our mission.

  Just a fact-finding expedition, Kim had said. I’d bet the only fact we would find was that we didn’t belong in this basement.

  The second door beyond the stairway creaked open to reveal the coffin’s marble pedestal, shrouded in shadows. We angled our small beacons downward to view what was immediately in front of us. What we needed, but didn’t dare use, was a lantern to illuminate the room. We inched our way toward the empty coffin, listening for any sounds from above.

  Our beams lit the coffin simultaneously. “Jesus!” I gasped.

  Kim made an unidentifiable sound and recoiled.

  Occupying the casket was a tall, thin man, dressed in a modern suit and tie.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. “What the hell?”

  “Who the hell, I think you mean.”

  “One thing’s certain, it’s not Owain Glyndwr.”

  Kim pocketed her flashlight, which was all but useless. “Shine yours over here.”

  I did as she asked, but all I wanted to do was get the hell out of there. She examined the body, taking care not to touch anything.

  I didn’t want to admit it to Kim, but I was creeped out. What if the mud on my Wellies glued me to the floor, and I couldn’t move? I’d be trapped in here forever with Kim and the corpse. Being with her was one thing, but the dead man wouldn’t do much for our love life.

  Trying to get a grip on myself, I studied him, too, forming a physical description. Height? About six-one or -two. Weight? Maybe one-sixty or -seventy. Short, gray hair and a thin mustache.

  Kim looked over at me. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah. Keep on with what you’re doing. I’m just verifying in my mind what I’m seeing.”

  “You’re seeing it all right. We’re both seeing it.”

  “No distinguishing facial features, unless - Oh, geez, Kimmy, there’s a bullet hole in his left temple.”

  “I know. That was hard to miss.”

  In the pale light, I detected scrapes and bruises on his hands.

  “I can’t see,” Kim said.

  I had allowed the light to wander over the body instead of illuminating her work area. “Sorry.”

  Kim moved to my side and refocused the light. “I know it’s hard, but try to concentrate, okay?”

  “Are those defensive wounds?” I pointed to the scratches and bruises on his hands.

  “Probably.” She stared at me. “I’m almost finished. Can you make it?”

  I took a deep breath and tightened my grip on the flashlight. “This man was murdered, Kimmy. Somebody’s got to pay for that.”

  “Somebody will, if we have anything to say about it. Now, I think it’s time we left.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” I leaned my head against her shoulder for a few seconds. “It’s Lord Morrison, isn’t it? The real one, I mean.”

  “He matches the pictures your dad sent.” She gave me a comforting hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Dad’s going to be - ”

  I was interrupted by the sounds of a door opening on the floor above us and heavy footfalls on the stairs. I covered most of the flashlight’s beam, and we moved quickly into the hallway.

  The voices were closer and louder. Two men, making a lot of noise, were now between us and freedom.

  “How many bottles does he want this time?”

  “Two at least.”

  Oh, shit. We weren’t going to make it. I turned toward Kim, my heart thudding in my ears. She pushed me ahead of her into a small, closet-like room, and I buried my face in her shirtfront. The men’s voices faded, and they moved on into the wine cellar next to the coffin room.

  “Whew!” My breath came out in a rush. “That was too close.”

  Kim opened the door just enough to peek down the hall. We were poised to make our escape, when we heard one of the guys shout, “Hey, what the hell?”

  The second man responded. “Now what?”

  “The door to the room where we stashed old Morrison was shut, and now it’s open.”

  “You’re imagining things. I told you not to read them horror stories.”

  “No, I’m sure. I closed it myself, I did.”

  “No way anyone can get in. Just forget it, okay?”

  “Bloody hell. I was so sure. Let’s get upstairs. I feel I’m being watched.”

  “That’s the stiff giving you the evil eye.”

  “Don’t kid around. You know I’m not comfortable with this whole business.”

  “Being paid enough, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, the money’s good.”

  “So clam up, and let’s get what we come down here for.”

  We heard some bottles clink together, and Kim pulled the door closed ju
st as the guys entered the hallway.

  I kept my cheek against her chest. “I’m scared.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “As soon as they go back upstairs, we’ll get the hell out of here and call the cops.” She kissed the top of my head.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I smiled, feeling safer. “You know, sleuthing with you can be quite a turn-on.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? Sexy as all get out, but crazy all the same.”

  The tiny closet grew stuffy. I stepped back, giving us breathing room, and stumbled over some clothing that was piled on the floor. When I shined my light over the pile, I had to stifle a scream. A woman stared up at us from one dusty corner.

  Kim crouched down and felt her neck for a pulse, but shook her head.

  “Jesus, there’s a corpse in every room.”

  “Easy, PJ. Don’t freak out on me now.”

  “But this is bad.”

  “I know.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ve seen remains before.”

  “Yeah, but they were long dead.”

  “Just a couple of minutes and we’ll be out of here. Okay?”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  By flashlight, she continued to examine the body. “Gray hair, blue eyes, and a small caliber bullet wound to the head.”

  “It has to be Jenny Morrison.”

  Kim stood up and opened the door far enough to stick out her head. We held our breaths, but we heard nothing.

  “Come on. It’s time to let the police take over. We’re in way over our heads with this escapade.”

  I patted her hip. “Right behind you, love. Let’s get out of here, before we become part of the body count.”

  She eased herself out of the closet and into the hall.

  “All clear,” she whispered, taking my hand. We threw caution to the wind and ran for our crude staircase of boxes. It seemed like hours since we had forced open that little window.

  “Stop right there!”

  We froze at the bottom of the stairs and turned in slow motion toward the voice. A man stepped out of the shadows above us. Something glinted in his right hand, probably a gun.

  “Hey, Davy, I was right, someone’s down here.”

  I heard a muffled “God damn it to hell!”

  “Run,” Kim whispered. “Run like you’ve never run before.” With that, she bolted, dragging me by the hand.

  Just as we reached the escape room, there was an explosion. I was blinded by the flash and deafened by the noise. Kim hauled me to the boxes. We could hear the men running down the hall after us. They were shouting, two voices close by, and a third barking orders in the distance.

  Kim pushed against my butt. “Climb up and out. Hurry!”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m coming. Just go.”

  I don’t remember the mad scramble upward or the tight squeeze through the window, but I was outside and Kim was climbing close behind. She paused, and I heard her kick the top box back into the room. From the noise and the cursing, I figured some of the other boxes had fallen, too, spilling their contents. The guys must have been falling all over the ghost turds.

  Racing in Wellies wasn’t easy, but I managed. Kim, running just ahead of me, seemed to have no trouble. Hers must have fit better than mine.

  “Shit!” I yelled. “I’m getting a blister. A couple, I think.”

  “Better blisters than bullet holes,” she called back.

  Her comment fueled my tiring legs. With a burst of speed I wouldn’t have believed possible, I pulled ahead of her and we cut cross the vegetable garden and through a flowerbed or two.

  As we ran, panting, through the green gate and along the row of oak trees, we could hear shouting and barking coming from the gardens. Barbed wire ripped at our clothing when we scaled the fence, but all we could think about was getting to the Rover. We scrambled in and Kim, key at the ready, shoved it into the ignition. She jammed the Rover into gear, spun the tires in the mud, slowed to get traction, and then hightailed it for the road. Our tires squealed onto the pavement. The vehicle rocked, and for a second or two I thought we’d tip over. When I was able to look back, I saw flashlights bobbing up and down in the road.

  “God, that was close.”

  “Tell me about it.” Kim reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now.” I started to peel off my Wellies. “Damn. My right heel isn’t so good, though. The blister broke and bled into my sock.”

  “I’ll help you clean it and cover it with gauze when we get back to the inn. Right now, we’ve got to go to the police station and report a couple of murders.”

  “We don’t have our first aid kit with us this trip, so where are you going to find gauze at this time of night, huh? Tell me that.”

  She reached over and chucked me under the chin. “I’ll tear a strip off my petticoat.”

  “F-u-n-n-y.”

  “I’ll bet Arwel has something we can use.”

  “Arwel, if she’s like any normal, sane person, will be in bed asleep.”

  “I’ll find something.”

  I snuggled up to her as best I could over the gearshift. “You can jolly well kiss it better.”

  “You sound just like a Welshwoman.” Kim planted a kiss on my forehead. “But sure, I’ll do that, too.”

  Chapter 10

  “Time to face the music,” I said, giving PJ’s cold hand a reassuring squeeze.

  She grimaced. “Yeah. How bad can it be?”

  “I don’t think I’ll answer that.”

  “Probably best that you don’t. My imagination is working overtime as it is.” She shuddered and took a deep breath. “That looks like the place, up ahead on the right.”

  I slowed and put on the turn signal. In the pre-dawn, there was little traffic to battle, but it still felt weird turning right from the left lane. I guided the Rover into a visitor’s parking slot and engaged the brake. My body ached from tension and lack of sleep. Our sleuthing and near capture had taken its toll on me.

  By the looks of it, PJ was no better. A dirty smudge graced her chin; the sleek-fitting commando outfit, so sexy and butch on her just hours ago, now showed evidence of our panicked escape from the Morrison estate.

  We entered the police station with trepidation, pausing just inside the door. I turned to PJ. “You know, we committed a crime by breaking and entering, so I don’t know what kind of a reception we’ll get. They could just lock us up.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “We have to be prepared.”

  She sighed. A sign of resignation on her part, I thought.

  The lobby was stark but clean. There were no pictures or anything colorful to brighten the white walls. Wanted posters and other notices were pinned to a few oversized corkboards. A wooden bench and a couple of straight chairs told me that this was the waiting area.

  “Do you want me to do most of the talking?” I asked her.

  “Whatever you think best. This is a new experience for me. I haven’t been in trouble with the law since my college days, when I racked up a few thousand dollars’ worth of unpaid parking tickets.”

  “Ooh! What a big, bad criminal. You’d better keep quiet about that or they’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  She tugged me into a corner near a set of stairs. “Look, I know you’re trying to make light of this for my benefit, but it’s just not working.”

  I pressed my palm against her lower back, needing to keep us physically connected for as long as possible. “I’m sorry. I blame myself for all of this.”

  “No. We decided to go there together. It was the right thing to do under the circumstances. We thought we were checking into the missing Celt story and why someone was posing as Morrison. That impostor guy told us to come back. It wasn’t our fault that they didn’t answer the phone. Besides, we didn’t know there were murderers in that house!”

  PJ’s frayed nerves had given added volum
e to the last sentence. Several heads turned in our direction. Before we could create further mayhem, I walked up to the front desk, which was at chest level, and cleared my throat. PJ followed me.

  The desk sergeant, a thin, balding man with a beak-like nose, eyed us with mild interest. “Yes, miss?”

  “I’m Dr. Kimberly Blair. I - that is, we - want to report a murder.”

  “Two, actually,” PJ added.

  “Yes, two.” I swallowed hard. “At the Morrison estate on the White Way over by - ”

  The sergeant held up his hand. “I’m familiar with the place. You say two people were murdered at the estate?”

  “Sergeant…” I looked at the nameplate pinned to his uniform pocket. “Sergeant Jenkins, I can’t say for sure they were murdered there, but the bodies are there.”

  He took out a form, scribbled a few words, and then glared at each of us. “And just how would you ladies be knowing about that?”

  PJ leaned against the scarred wooden desk. Its height kept all but her shoulders and head hidden from the sergeant’s view. “We know because we saw the bodies with our own eyes.”

  He tapped his pen against the form and gave her a bemused look. “Did you now? And who might you be?”

  “I’m PJ Curtis. My father is Frederick Curtis of the Curtis Foundation.” There was a hint of confrontation in her tone.

  Sergeant Jenkins was not impressed. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  He pushed a buzzer just below his left hand, and part of the wooden barricade swung open. “Why don’t you two step through and have a seat over there on the bench? I believe some members of the investigative squad would like to chat with you about all of this.”

  “Certainly, sir.” PJ turned to me with a tired grin. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “Somewhere,” I said, as we stepped behind the wall, moving deeper into police custody. “But just where is that?”

  The bench was as uncomfortable as the one outside the counter had looked to be.

  After a wait of ten minutes, two men in dark suits introduced themselves as Constables Renfrew and Gardiner. They took our names, examined our passports, made copies of our photo IDs, and searched our daypacks, after politely patting us down in case we had weapons.