Holy Blood

by Kim Fleet

  There was no sign of Rose so she went back to six o’clock and viewed the DVD footage again. At six-thirty, she saw herself entering the hotel and coming out again a few minutes later when it was apparent Lewis wasn’t in. A few minutes later, someone she recognised entered the hotel. She paused the DVD, rewound, and ran it again. At six fifty-two, a woman entered the hotel. Now Eden knew who it was she’d heard in Lewis’s hotel room the night he was murdered.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Wednesday, 28 October 2015

  16:15 hours

  ‘Aidan, Mark Savage is on Skype.’ Mandy’s head appeared around his office door. ‘They’ve got the isotope results.’

  ‘I’m coming,’ Aidan said. He took off his spectacles and folded them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Not that he’d got any work done that day. Since Eden had swept out of his office like a tornado with anger issues a few hours before, he’d sat and stared at his computer screen, praying it would miraculously flash an answer at him. Lewis Jordan was dead, and Eden suspected him of having a hand in his death.

  He unfolded the paper swan she’d found in Lewis’s hotel room, smoothed it out, and started to remake it, his hands trembling. He knew how that swan had got there, and it terrified him.

  ‘Aidan?’ Mandy again. With an effort, he pulled himself together and went into the office she shared with Trev.

  Mark Savage grinned out from Mandy’s computer screen. Aidan took the seat in front of the screen, Mandy beside him. Trev and Andy had already pulled up chairs and loomed behind him. What a bunch they were, he thought. Andy, Mandy and Trev, like characters in an Enid Blyton book. Three go mad in a trench. Four, he corrected himself, ruefully.

  ‘Lisa got fed up waiting around. She’s gone shopping,’ Mandy said. ‘Shall I phone her mobile and get her to come back?’

  ‘No, this has nothing to do with her,’ Aidan said. Let her keep away as long as possible. He couldn’t bear to be around her right now.

  ‘She did take the samples,’ Trev commented. ‘Shame for her to miss the results.’

  ‘You can fill her in when she gets back. We could’ve taken those samples, it’s just that she looked better on TV,’ Aidan said, hoping the bitterness in his voice wasn’t as stark to them as it sounded in his own ears. ‘We found the skeleton, remember? And we excavated it. As far as I’m concerned, this is Cultural Heritage business and Lisa is a paid outside contractor.’

  ‘You two had a tiff?’ Trev asked.

  ‘Let’s get on with it, shall we?’ Aidan clicked on the button to unmute the sound. ‘Afternoon, Mark, you guys don’t hang around, do you?’

  ‘Not when we’re paid to rush a job through,’ Mark said. ‘Samples couriered here by a biker in leathers, and orders to turn it round soon as. I worked all night on this and it’s going to cost you. You lot robbed a bank?’

  ‘TV company funding,’ Aidan said. ‘They want everything yesterday so they can film it and move onto something more interesting.’

  ‘They had a druid on standby,’ Mandy added, muscling in at the side of the screen.

  Mark pulled a face. ‘OK, well I can’t help you with anything like that, but I can give you some stark scientific findings if that’s not too boring.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Aidan opened his notebook and uncapped his fountain pen. He wrote ‘Isotope analysis’ across the top of the page in blue-black script.

  Mark consulted his notes. ‘The isotope samples show some interesting patterns. I’ve created a graph which I’ll email over to Mandy when we finish up here, but there’s evidence of malnourishment in his early years. A very poor diet, mostly grains and little protein. The isotopes indicate he was brought up in central England.’

  ‘Which is where we excavated the skeleton,’ Andy chipped in from the back row.

  ‘And then it gets interesting,’ Mark said, ‘because it seems his diet took a sudden turn for the better. More protein, for a start.’

  ‘What type?’

  ‘Animal. And grains, from the same area, central England.’

  ‘Approximate age?’

  Mark sucked his teeth. ‘Difficult to say with accuracy, but I’d guess very early childhood was impoverished, then around seven to twelve, give or take a few years, he got better fed.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘A very good diet: fish and meat protein, dairy products, and lots of grains.’

  ‘Central England again?’

  ‘No, he was eating a Mediterranean diet, and the isotopes point to a variety of areas in the Mediterranean and Middle East.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He got about, your chap. He was moving around the Med for about twenty years or more.’

  Aidan scribbled a note. ‘When did he leave England?’

  ‘The isotopes suggest he was in his late teens,’ Mark said.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, something rather horrible,’ Mark said. ‘Hope you’re not about to have your tea, but there’s some evidence of periods of starvation and they correspond with particular proteins. Rodent, to be precise.’ Mark paused. ‘Your monk – if he was a monk – had periods of intense starvation, which he eased by eating rats.’

  He paused while general exclamations of disgust echoed round the room.

  ‘Any idea of the age of the skeleton?’ Aidan asked, trying not to think of the roast beef and horseradish sandwich waiting for him in the staff fridge.

  ‘Based on the isotopes and matching them with confirmed patterns on our database, your chap died around the mid sixteenth century.’

  ‘That’s great, Mark,’ Aidan said. After some archaeological chit-chat he left Mandy to arrange to get the graphs and written report from Mark’s lab, and went into the staff kitchen. He chucked the roast beef sandwich in the bin, switched on the kettle and hunted around for a clean mug.

  Earl Grey tea, no milk, no sugar. Just as he was savouring the fragrant scent, Trev bustled in and shut the door behind him.

  ‘What’s with you and sticky-knickers?’ he said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lisa. What’s going on?’

  ‘I know her from university,’ Aidan said.

  ‘And you two got jiggy?’ Trev made a skiing-thrusting action.

  ‘Trev!’ He took a sip of his tea and hoped he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. ‘We dated at uni. And now she’s trying to make trouble between me and Eden.’

  ‘Eden could take her, no problem. Let me know when the fight starts, I’ll sell tickets.’

  ‘Lisa doesn’t do outright hostility; she prefers the insidious route to get what she wants.’

  ‘But if you’re not interested in her, then she’s got nothing on you,’ Trev said. ‘You’re not interested, are you?’

  Aidan ran his hand through his hair. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then tell her to piss off. You’ve got a great girl there in Eden. Keeps on tripping over dead ’uns for us to investigate. Don’t mess that up.’

  Despite everything, Aidan smiled at Trev’s priorities. ‘Thanks, Trev.’

  ‘One broken heart round here is more than enough.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Mandy. In love.’ Trev rolled his eyes.

  ‘With me?’ Aidan was horrified.

  ‘No, you sad bastard. Some bloke she was seeing. Dumped her, poor cow.’ Trev shook his head. ‘She’s pretty cut up about it.’

  ‘Hell, I never realised.’

  ‘Well, you’re not exactly good with women, are you?’ Trev said. ‘I’ve told her to get out there and find a new bloke.’ He paused and an evangelical light came into his eyes. ‘Hey! Why don’t we fix her up with Mark Savage?’

  ‘Or we could just mind our own business.’ That was the last thing he needed: Mandy mooning about in love with the guy who ran their lab tests, then snarky emails and huffing on both sides when it all went pear-shaped.

  The whole team was disintegrating before his eyes. Stolen artefacts, dead
TV producers, women with biological clocks going nuclear, and he was supposed to be in control of it all. He puffed out his breath and longed for a moment to be a newbie archaeologist again, in a trench, digging up history. Not juggling spreadsheets and performance appraisals and scrounging for funding every five minutes.

  He realised Trev was looking at him expectantly, so he said, ‘Right, shall we get the gang together and see where we’re up to with this skeleton?’ He had something else to tell them, too. It couldn’t wait any longer.

  ‘Cake run first?’ Trev said.

  Aidan dug his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a twenty pound note. ‘Go to Huffkins, and bring back the change.’

  The team settled round the meeting room table. Mandy had downloaded Mark’s isotope graphs and printed them out, and doled out a copy each. The cakes perched in the middle of the table.

  ‘Bagsy the custard doughnut,’ Mandy said, eyeing the box.

  Aidan looked around the table. He’d have to tell them about Lewis. While Trev was on the cake run, he’d tried calling the TV company to find out what was happening, but they were as shocked and disorientated as he was and could only advise him to stand by for further instructions.

  He cleared his throat to call for quiet. ‘OK, I’ve got some bad news, everyone.’ He took a deep breath and plunged in. ‘Lewis Jordan was found dead this morning.’

  ‘Dead?’ Trev echoed. ‘How?’

  That was the question. ‘They don’t know right now, but suspect it might be foul play.’

  A shocked silence filled the room, then everyone spoke at once, voicing disbelief and horror. Finally, Mandy raised the fear that had dogged him all afternoon. ‘Is it connected to the Holy Blood being stolen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, frankly.

  ‘But it can’t be a coincidence, can it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think right now.’ That at least was true; his mind was a whirlwind of dread and suspicion. ‘I was hoping the artefact would turn up again, but as it hasn’t …’ he paused to look at them each in turn.

  ‘You thought it was one of us?’ Her eyes were hurt and accusing.

  ‘No, maybe, look I didn’t know what to think,’ he said, ‘but I’m going to have to call the police.’ A deep misery filled his soul. ‘Even if it’s not connected to Lewis’s death, it’ll cause a lot of adverse publicity for us. And for me personally.’ He’d probably lose his job. Allowing a priceless artefact to be stolen from right under his nose. They’d never get funding in the future.

  The others groaned. ‘That’s not fair,’ Mandy said. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I bet it was one of those weird TV girls, wanted it for perfume or something.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Trev said, leaning his meaty forearms on the table. ‘Can we be clever about this?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Until the test results come back on what we’re calling the Holy Blood, we don’t actually know what it was that was stolen. It might be an old perfume bottle.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So what if we wait for the results to confirm what it was, then we can report it stolen. No point getting the press all excited if it’s just any old bottle that’s gone missing.’

  ‘And it’s not the Holy Blood, anyway,’ Mandy added, ‘because it was destroyed in 1538.’

  ‘So no need for a fuss,’ Trev concluded.

  ‘And what if it is connected to Lewis Jordan’s death?’

  ‘Why not see what Eden says?’ Mandy said. ‘She’ll know what to do.’

  ‘I bet she’s already fossicking around in the background, anyway,’ Trev added, with a chuckle. ‘That girl loves a bit of trouble.’

  You don’t know the half of it, Aidan thought, wincing at the memory of her furious eyes when she confronted him over the origami swan.

  ‘OK, I’ll speak to Eden and see what she has to say about the missing Blood,’ he said, not relishing the conversation.

  ‘Artefact,’ Mandy corrected.

  ‘And for now, I suggest we carry on with our investigations into the skeleton.’ He cracked open his notebook and dragged his mind back to the task in hand. ‘So, what have we got?’

  Trev counted off the points on his fingers. ‘Male skeleton, aged around forty, dating from the mid sixteenth century.’

  ‘Born and died in central England,’ Mandy continued, ‘but seems to have travelled in the Mediterranean and Middle East.’

  ‘Used to hard labour, pronounced muscles, possibly a soldier,’ Trev added.

  ‘So how did he end up in a drainage gulley at Hailes Abbey?’ Aidan asked. ‘With a hole in his head?’

  Lisa Greene trotted into the meeting room just as they were finishing up, a carrier bag from a boutique dress shop swinging from her arm.

  ‘Here you all are,’ she trilled. ‘What are you all up to, conspiring like thieves?’

  They all winced at the word ‘thieves’.

  ‘We’re working,’ Aidan said, staring pointedly at the shopping bags.

  ‘Just getting a few new things for the TV cameras. It’s tax deductible.’

  ‘Good for you.’ Aidan snapped his notebook shut. ‘OK, team, thanks for your work. We all know what we’re doing, so let’s get on with it.’

  He was irritated when Lisa followed him to his office.

  ‘What’s eating you?’ she said, leaning against the door.

  ‘You should go back to Oxford, Lisa,’ he said. ‘You won’t be needed on camera.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about? Lewis wants to reshoot some of the footage from yesterday.’

  ‘Lewis Jordan is dead.’

  Her mouth moved silently for a moment. ‘What?’

  ‘Very convincing, Lisa, but I know what you did last night.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  He shoved her aside and yanked open the office door. ‘You disgust me, Lisa. Get out.’

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’

  He pushed his face very close to hers. He could smell cigarettes on her breath and the sweet cherry scent of her lip gloss. ‘You’re so desperate to have a baby, anyone will do. Even that pillock Lewis. What happened, Lisa? Get a bit rough, did it? Suddenly got the wrong sort of stiff on your hands?’

  She paled, the freckles on her face glowing in stark relief. ‘What do you know about it?’

  He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out the origami swan. He threw it at her. ‘Everything. I know everything.’

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Wednesday, 28 October 2015

  18:02 hours

  Jocasta was in the coffee lounge at the Imperial Hotel, using both thumbs to jab at a BlackBerry. Her brown ponytail was sleek, the rubber band hidden with a lock of hair wound round the shank, but when Eden called her name, she turned a face that was ravaged by tears.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Eden said gently, dropping into the seat opposite.

  ‘Pretty devastated,’ Jocasta said. ‘No one knows what to do. We’re just hanging around, waiting.’

  ‘How long have you worked for Lewis?’

  ‘About a year. It was my first proper job out of uni.’

  ‘What was he like to work for?’

  Jocasta smothered a snort. ‘Infuriating, but I liked him.’ A tear swelled at the corner of her eye. ‘Really liked him. Pathetic, isn’t it?’

  ‘You liked him as more than your boss?’

  ‘It was no secret how I felt about Lewis.’

  ‘He knew how you felt?’

  Jocasta gave a bitter laugh. ‘He knew all right. It amused him.’

  ‘What happened between you?’ Eden asked.

  Jocasta abandoned the BlackBerry. ‘It was in June. We’d been working late one night at the studio, and he suggested we go for dinner, just us two. I’d been mad about him for ages, and I thought …’

  She blinked a couple of times, lost in the memory. Shaking herself back into the present, she continued, ‘It wa
s a tiny Lebanese place, not the flashy restaurants where Lewis normally went. And he made me feel like I was the only person in the world.’

  The Lewis charm, Eden thought. That way he had of holding your gaze when you were talking, letting you know he had your full attention. She could easily see how captivating that would be to a young woman like Jocasta, naive to the wiles of older men.

  ‘After dinner he took me to his apartment, and in the morning he made me breakfast,’ Jocasta was saying. ‘I thought that meant he really liked me, but he made it clear it was a one-off.’

  ‘But not for you?’

  ‘I was in love. Still do love him, despite everything.’

  ‘Everything?’ Eden prompted.

  Jocasta flushed to the roots of her hair and mumbled when she spoke. ‘Calling me Jo-Jo.’

  ‘A nickname?’

  ‘Sort of.’ The hurt was raw as she said, ‘I kept thinking that what we had was different. I wasn’t his type; he’d taken me to his apartment, not a hotel – that meant something. And I just couldn’t let it go. A few months ago I got really drunk and blurted out to him how I felt, how I thought we were destined for each other, and I told him something I shouldn’t.’

  Eden waited for her to smother her shame enough to confess it.

  In a tiny voice, Jocasta said, ‘I told him the newspapers would put our names together, like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Jocasta – Jordan: Jo-Jo.’

  ‘And he teased you about it?’

  Jocasta nodded. ‘He thought it was funny, but sometimes I wondered if he was just being mean, calling me Jo-Jo in front of everyone, waiting for someone to ask why.’ She glanced up, her eyes bright with pain and fury. ‘I thought if he calls me that again I’m going to kill him.’

  She realised what she’d said with horror. ‘I didn’t mean … I didn’t …’

  Eden chose her words carefully. ‘I went to speak to Lewis last night, and heard someone with him in his room. Was that you?’

  ‘You think I killed him?’

  ‘I need to establish where everyone was, at what time. Was it you?’

  ‘No, I was out with the crew until nearly midnight.’