by Paula Wynne
Roy’s fingers joined hers, caressing the soft leather. She clutched his hand, guiding it to the small nodule near the handle’s knot. ‘Feel that?’
He nodded, excitement lighting his face.
Kelby tugged the mottled skin closer, tucking it between them. In the dim light, she squinted at the leather, examining it carefully. Suddenly, she gasped and exclaimed, ‘There! Look, there’s some kind of seam sewn into the handle.’
Roy grabbed his phone and pressed a button. In an instant, light shone onto the leather. Kelby held the knot under the beam. Together, they stared at a tiny pouch sewn almost invisibly into the leather flap.
The author’s secret radiated under her fingertips.
77
‘Roy,’ Kelby whispered, ‘this means Annie … Annie …’ Kelby couldn’t find the words.
‘I know.’ His gaze locked with hers.
For a long moment, they stared at each other.
‘How can we unpick it? We can’t risk damaging what’s inside.’
‘Here.’ Roy held up the knife he had used to butter his toasted bun.
‘But that will rip it.’
He ran his thumb along the blade. ‘It’s not nearly sharp enough.’
Kelby delved into her briefcase and rummaged around. After a minute, she exclaimed, ‘Yes!’ Lifting a keyring, she smiled triumphantly at Roy.
His brows puckered as he asked, ‘Keys?’
‘No, silly.’ She held it in the air and pointed at a Swiss army knife dangling on the keyring. ‘This was my dad’s. When he passed away Gary treasured it. Strangely enough, just before he went cycling in Spain, he gave it to me, telling me one day it would come in handy.’
‘Too right he was.’
Kelby dumped the keys beside Roy and ran her fingers along the line of thread. She wriggled it until it loosened enough to see a tiny loop in the stitch. Then, she splayed out her palm to Roy and said, ‘Scalpel.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Scalpel. You know, the army knife.’
‘Ahh, sorry, doctor. I’m new to this.’ His smile lit his face as he fumbled with the army knife, and finally de-tangled it from the keyring. Then, he slapped it into her still outstretched palm. ‘Scalpel.’
Kelby grinned. Using the tip of the knife, she slid it under the loop of thread and severed it. Searching for the next stitch with her fingertips, she repeated the process until there were more loops visible.
‘Phew.’ Kelby exhaled the tension in her chest. ‘This is mind-numbing. I’m so scared I’ll damage what’s inside.’
‘You’re doing a great job. You should’ve been a surgeon.’
After each tiny stitch was loosened, she slit them with the army knife. Eventually, a thin line of broken thread revealed a hidden pocket. ‘Now what?’ She looked at him, his nose close to hers.
‘Go in, Doctor Wade.’ His warm breath brushed her cheeks.
Her fingers ghosted over the soft leather, tracing the line of broken thread. Sticking her index finger into the hole, she poked around inside, careful not to sever any other stitching.
The tip of her finger touched something soft inside, sending an electric shock through her. ‘Roy!’ she cried out. ‘Something’s inside.’
78
With Madre’s scream ringing in her ears, María bolted out of her hiding place, raced to the cottage door and peered inside. Three soldiers sat beside the kitchen table eating the stew she had made earlier.
They had tight hose tucked in calf-high Moorish boots of red Moroccan leather, but one had removed his boots to dry his toes. Despite the warmth from the fire, a cloaked soldier had a blue wrap draped over his shoulders. At his feet, her mother lay crumbled in a heap, naked.
For a split second María’s breathing suspended. Then, she burst inside, shrieking, ‘¡Dios santo! God, what have you done to Mama!’
The leather jerkin soldier roared, ‘Who the hell are you?’
María fell at her mother’s feet. A terrible acrid smell, similar to charcoal-burnt bread, caught in her nose.
Her mother’s eyes flashed with determination as she whispered, ‘Keep your promise to me, María. And don’t tell them who you are.’
Streaks of dirt smeared her mother’s face where a cross had been cut into her flesh in the middle of her forehead. Her wimple had gone and in its place her chemise had been wrapped around her head like a turban.
‘Is this your son?’ The leather jerkin soldier jabbed the toe of his boot between Madre’s legs. He swung around and kicked María in the stomach with his heavy boot.
María clutched her sides, her breath knocked out of her. Muscle spasms rocked through her, making her swoon. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the ache in her stomach and struggled to catch her breath. After a few minutes she gasped, ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘She is a witch and must be punished.’
‘No! Mama delivers babies. She does nothing else. My father was a respected stonemason in Granada. His skills were requested at Cerro de las Torres, and the Alora Castle on the hill.’
‘Silencio!’
‘But you must listen, his skilful trade was also procured for building the Alcazaba in Antequera. And the Alhambra Palace. He was a person of authority. Such a man would not have a witch for a wife.’
‘There are signs of witchcraft here.’ He pointed to her mother’s basket. ‘I see potions and medicina. And there are chickens and pigs outside and even a goat to sacrifice.’
As María wiped the back of her hand across her sweating forehead, Padre’s cap fell off and revealed her long bronzed locks.
‘Ah, hah! A young woman dressed as a man.’ The unbooted soldier sucked the stew’s juices off his fingers and said, ‘So you must be the heretic Ana-María de Carbonela.’
María stared at him. How did they know her name?
Leather jerkin kicked her shins when she didn’t answer. ‘You’re not fit to dress as a man. Only men have the balls to fill breeches. Dressing as a man will see you burned!’
79
With a precise, yet slow tug, Kelby drew out another piece of calf skin leather, tucked inside like a crumpled, dog-eared business card. She stared at it and then at Roy.
‘Open it!’
Kelby obeyed, lifting the top corners first. The skin had been folded over a few times. Picking at each layer, she opened the leather wad into a square, half the size of a paperback book.
Kelby and Roy stared at it for a moment, then Kelby said, ‘It’s true.’ She shone his torch onto the ancient leather strip covered with inked markings.
Roy threw his arms around her, squeezing her close. Then he took her head in his hands and placed his lips on her forehead, giving her a warm, squashy kiss. ‘You did it, Kelby, you found Ana-María’s map. Now we can find rizado!’
Kelby didn’t move. She wanted to stay awash with the glow of this special moment. Time stood still. The gossamer link wove a web around them, once again uniting them in the book’s enigma.
Suddenly a thrumming vibrated through Kelby’s veins. Feeling overwhelmed by the lure of Roy’s magnetic energy, and the tug of the map’s mystery, Kelby shook herself and pulled back.
She couldn’t explain the curious hold the book had on her. Ana-María’s shadow lingered over the map, pulling Kelby’s attention back to the inked markings.
The tip of her index finger traced across the top of the map and stopped on an arrow beside the word: Antequera. ‘Those look like mountains. And these are probably trees.’ She pointed to little upside down V marks. Shapes of trees were dotted around a central point where a river gushed out and down through the bottom of the map. Above the river, a large dark hole took prime position in the middle of the map.
Suddenly, Roy gripped Kelby’s arm. His steady gaze pierced into he
r. ‘Kelby, let’s go and find the grotto.’
She stared back, aghast. ‘You have patients to see.’
‘I can work miracles.’
‘Maybe you can, but I have a business to run.’
He smiled mischievously. ‘Okay, okay, I fess up. I’m off for the next two weeks. Marina wanted to see what’s happening with the dig. And I wanted to study the herbal journal. Now’s the perfect chance. We’re flying back in the early hours.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Kelby frowned.
‘I can’t believe the time.’ He tapped his wrist watch. ‘Costa will be closing soon.’
She peered around. The dimly lit coffee shop had emptied and the staff were cleaning up.
‘We’ve been here for hours. Let me buy you a quick bite at the pub over the road, they’ll be open for another hour.’
The more time she spent with him, the less clumsy he became. And the less his eyebrows wiggled.
‘You coming?’
Kelby’s heart fluttered. The thought of being far away from London with this man gave her the jitters.
‘Besides, you’re supposed to be in bed tomorrow. You can pull a sickie, I’m sure the boss won’t mind.’
Her eyes twinkled. ‘I don’t have a flight.’
‘Let me see what I can do. Maybe Marina will sacrifice her seat. She wants you to help her with this.’
‘What about my hubby?’
‘Your hubby?’ His faced dropped.
‘Hawk.’ She tried to hold a straight face, but couldn’t hold back a smile.
‘I’ll tell him I did judo at school. That’ll impress him.’
She chuckled, still not sure if Hawk would buy that, after someone had broken into her house right under his nose.
Roy still stared at her, his eyes questioning.
For a dizzy moment, she had the urge to let off a scream. Instead, with a racing pulse and a half-smile, Kelby said, ‘Okay, Rob Roy. Let’s go and find the grotto.’
80
With map in hand, Kelby and Roy headed out of Malaga airport. He had managed to wangle changing Marina’s ticket to accommodate Kelby. They only had time to rush home for her to collect her passport.
It had taken a lot of persuading to get Hawk to accept her plan. Roy by her side, and her being anonymous in Spain helped, but Hawk argued the stalker would know her movements no matter where she was. Eventually, Roy had convinced him, for the time being, she was safe with him. Now, with the sun slanting in at her, she peeled off her tracksuit top and flapped her t-shirt. ‘I love this weather. The worst thing about back home is never seeing blue skies.’
She cracked open the can of Fanta Limón and passed it to Roy. For herself, she twisted open a bottle of cappuccino and took a long swig.
Heading up the Cordoba motorway, Roy pointed out landmarks along the way. ‘I must take you to Antequera sometime.’
Surrounded by mountains on both sides of the road, Kelby slouched in the hired car, listening to his soothing voice.
‘It’s known as the heart of Andalusia, because it’s so central to Málaga, Granada, Córdoba, and Seville.’
Kelby couldn’t stop caressing the calf skin map. It made the trouble worthwhile.
‘The town’s partly Roman and partly Moorish.’ He glanced at her and back to the road. ‘If you love this medieval stuff, you’ll love Antequera’s two Bronze Age burial mounds.’
She opened the map and studied it. ‘Do you know where we’re going?’
‘No, but we have clues.’ He indicated to turn off the motorway at Casabermeja and drove under it, heading into the countryside. Roy pointed at the unusual graveyard. ‘They’re famous for burying their dead standing up.’
White headstones stood upright, facing in one direction, as if the occupants were gazing down the valley towards Colmenar, keeping their eyes off the northern mountain peaks. Behind the cemetery, a large sixteenth century church tower dominated the town. The mountains that had cocooned her only minutes ago suddenly disappeared, and Kelby studied the contrast where hills, trees and fields merged. ‘It’s so green here. I imagined it to be dusty and dry.’
‘This part of Andalucia is exceptionally beautiful. Look.’ He pointed at the huge rocky outcrop in the distance. ‘There’s Sierra del Torcal.’
‘No wonder Ana-María drew it like that on the map. It looks like a solid chunk of rock.’ The mountain made Kelby think of a long table and she muttered, ‘It’s like a king’s banquet table.’
Roy chuckled. ‘More like a rock climber’s dream. Marina’s uncle runs a fancy spa retreat up there. I’ll get you the most fantastic hot stones treatment you’ve ever had!’
They wound between meandering hills. Farmhouses, sprinkled here and there, had white plastered walls with red tiled roofs. Many surrounded a central courtyard and shaded patios. Several grander rustic homes featured turrets and towers with romantic balconies and wrought iron detailing.
A bronzed man in overalls chaperoned a herd of goats. Roy slowed to let them pass. As Kelby leaned out, an earthy stink hit the back of her throat, rendering a sensation of eating goat’s cheese.
A few kids bucked and horned each other. Some of the milking females struggled by with swollen teats dangling between their legs. Before she could stop herself, Kelby muttered, ‘God, I thought mine were bad!’
Roy flushed a deep tomato shade. Letting him blush in peace, Kelby sipped on the dregs of her coffee and placed the empty container in her bag. She loved Roy’s sweet nature and old-fashioned manners. The thought of going back home and not being with him all the time saddened her. More than that, the gravity of finding the truth about Gary’s death weighed heavily on Kelby. She tried not to think about the rizado murders Roy and Marina had shown her. She couldn’t let them get in the way of their mission.
After finding the grotto, she had to go back, with or without Roy. She had to find out who’d killed Gary.
And why.
81
After fifteen minutes, Roy and Kelby passed a couple of white-washed Spanish villages and were right in the heart of the valley. Another turn into the country took them along a bumpy track for half an hour. The wild countryside and undeveloped views down the meandering valleys to the sea beyond the mountains gave Kelby a strange sensation of knowing this place.
Apart from a steep hillside village in the far distance, the valley was lush with green wheat fields and rolling hills, shadowed by layer after layer of rocky mountains to the west. Kelby had never been here before, but she felt an incredible peace descend on her.
Only the occasional farmhouse dotted the landscape. Aside from that, everything was field after field of green wheat.
When Roy headed over a hill and snaked through an olive plantation, Kelby pulled a sceptical face. ‘With the tourist industry as it is today, how come no-one has found the grotto?’
Roy pointed at what seemed to be a never ending boundary. ‘It must be on Marina’s family land. See that fence? They have hundreds of acres.’
Her gaze followed his finger.
‘They’ve farmed this land for centuries. It’s enclosed with large gates at the farm exits. That’s to keep out travellers who camp wherever they like. Did you see the house back there?’
She twisted her neck to look back. ‘Yes.’
A long tree-lined drive led to a sprawling homestead with umpteen outbuildings, barns, and a stable block. The outbuildings and stables had red tiled roofs showing an affluent land owner.
‘Marina’s father and my mother live there. His brother lives over the ridge. He runs the hot stones retreat. The whole area is mostly their family, with a few holiday homes in between.’
‘Wow, lots of land.’
‘Yes, it dates back a few centuries. There’s a ton of money left in a trust to ensure the land sta
ys in the family. It’s been handed down from generation to generation to keep it as private land.’
‘Will we see your mum?’
A smile crept across his face. ‘Of course, luego, later.’
Roy steered the car up a dirt track and stopped in front of high gates. ‘Open Sesame!’ he bellowed out of the window. As if by magic, they started opening. She looked at him, frowning, only to see him waving a remote control. ‘Modern technology can be so handy.’ After driving through the gates, he pointed the remote backwards. In the side mirror Kelby watched the gates close behind them.
‘Have you seen a skeleton before?’ Roy asked.
82
Kelby gaped at Roy as he drove along the rutted track. ‘Do you mean the one Marina found?’
He nodded and pulled up on a verge. Leaning over Kelby, he pointed out of her open window. ‘See down there, that’s Marina’s ruins.’
A few cars were parked to one side with a handful of people on their knees. A man in a straw hat scurried between them.
‘That guy’s the archaeologist. He has volunteers and other specialists on the dig. They want to find the foundations of the original houses and outbuildings. I’ll show you later. I’m sure you want to see the cellar where the skeleton was found.’
Kelby grimaced. ‘I hope it’s been removed.’
‘Oh yeah, it’s gone for bone analysis so they can determine exactly how old it was.’
‘You mean how old the person was. Remember Marina told you if it’s Ana-Mariá, she has to be honoured.’
‘I know, but we also can’t draw much attention to this place in case it brings anyone else trying to find rizado. There’s so much undercurrent noise about it on the web, I wouldn’t be surprised if a weirdo came asking. Quite frankly, after the body count Marina uncovered, I’d prefer to keep my family out of it.’
‘Yes, of course!’
‘But when Marina gets a bee in her bonnet, there’s no stopping her. When we see the folks, don’t mention any of the rizado stuff. Marina is keeping that part between us because her dad hasn’t been well.’
