The odor of dust, damp rot, and whatever else may lie ahead became disgustingly intense sending her nose into a crumple.
Step number six and a possible landing could be seen ahead.
Grip, pull, step. Grip, pull, step.
Berdie reached the top of the stairway: hot, slightly fatigued, and yet gloriously thrilled.
One quick circling pass round of the light let her know she was on the edge of a small dark cubicle, about twelve feet square she guessed. And oddly, the area was absolutely bone dry. A tingle shot through her body as she surveyed the scene.
What seemed to be a large chest was near her reach, but one glance beyond it and realization struck her like a medieval sword. She was not alone.
Hesitation stymied her. The reek of stale air caught in her throat at the attempt to take a deep breath.
A full skeleton lay on the dust ridden floor. The bony fingers of the right hand clung to what appeared to be an ancient chalice. Trustyn here. Dennison’s last words to Tony went neon in Berdie’s brain. This is what Dennison meant, surely. He suspected the remains here must be the missing Brother Trustyn.
Suddenly this space held far more than answers to the possible motives in an investigation. Had this corpse, a man of faith on a dangerous errand, taken shelter from the troops of religious persecution in this tiny space, a priest hole? Berdie stared at the fingers wrapped round the chalice. He was true to the faith, even to the end. “To die such an ignoble death in utter isolation. Poor soul.” Berdie tried to swallow the emotion that welled up inside her. “Poor dear soul.”
Berdie shook her head in an attempt to let go of the poignancy of the moment, and objectively move on in her observations, directing her attention to the chest.
Though wracked with the centuries of soiled neglect, there appeared a hint of its former glory. The glow of Berdie’s headlamp just caught the glint of some sort of colorful sparkle on its surface. In a small area which appeared to have been rubbed free of grime, there was some kind of painted picture, and a spangle of precious stone. No, stones. They encrusted the outer surface of the strongbox.
Sailor’s words sang their way into Berdie’s mind. Beryl, Ruby. “Agate,” Berdie nearly yelled. “Not Aggie. Agate. All gem stones.” The lock of the ancient store-hold was broken. “There’s been a recent visitor.”
This area was not only historically significant; it would become key in the official murder investigation, which she firmly believed would now take place. Absolutely nothing should be touched.
Still, the chest was unlocked. With a little stretch, she could lift the top upward without actually stepping into a possible official police crime scene. What lay within the enigmatic container? Trustyn’s treasure? It pulled at Berdie’s moral compass, skewing it just slightly from true North. No touching. Still, truth was what she was pursuing. Truth.
Berdie wiggled her fingers.
“Just a peek,” she whispered whilst taking up the end of her shirt tail which she gripped between her fingers. She placed her cloth-covered hand on the lid’s edge, wedged herself up just a tick, and then grunted as she lifted it.
E-R-R-E-E-K penetrated Berdie’s ears.
Her headlamp, though quite good, made observing the contents a hard go. Berdie could make out what looked like dust-laden fabric, and atop it, an ancient vellum that was folded by the sight of it. Words that looked to possibly be Latin or old English filled it. And at the bottom, Berdie could see a kind of braided cord that was attached. But there was also something else.
Berdie wiped her eyeglasses with a finger again, and strained forward.
Just the edge of a waxy disc, the size of a saucer, could almost be made out.
Berdie stretched, standing up on her toes, when her left footing gave. She caught her breath and gripped the hand-hold fiercely until she managed to firmly replant the erring foot.
No, she daren’t reach any farther. But, this disc looked like a Royal seal she had seen in pictures. Could a regal document be residing here? Or was the dark, along with her excitement and fatigue, enlarging her hopes to unrealistic heights? She squeezed her eyes tightly, and then reopened them.
“Berdie, where are you?” Lillie’s panicked voice sounded miles away. “Berdie, answer me.”
Berdie returned the lid of this momentous treasure, with great respect, to its closed position. “I’m up here, Lillie,” she bellowed, clung to a grip, and took a step downward.
“Berdie, is that you? Berdie?”
Berdie began a descent, cautiously, but with a certain amount of urgency. “I’m up in the hole,” she shouted.
Berdie heard a more distinct and decidedly nervous, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, woman.”
“Well, actually, yes. You could say for heaven’s sake,” Berdie called. “I’ve made a most fascinating discovery. I’m on my way down.”
When she arrived back in the hearth and backed toward the ladder on her knees, Lillie sucked the air out of the room.
Berdie couldn’t see Lillie’s face, but she imagined it was startled, angry, and relieved all at the same time.
“Please hold the ladder, Lillie.”
Berdie heard a rushed step-bump through the debris field below.
“OK,” Lillie quivered. “I’ve got a good grip, but I’m not sure I can watch.”
“I’m practiced, Lillie, never fear. But I have to concentrate if you don’t mind.”
Berdie returned to the ladder in the same fashion she had left it: one appendage at a time. Lillie’s gasps and squeaks punctuated every stretch, swing, and step Berdie made. But, to her credit, Lillie held the ladder fast and didn’t scold whilst Berdie made her way down the rungs until her feet landed on terra firma.
With distinction, Berdie finally faced her friend, offered a broad smile, and dusted her soiled hands, slapping them together.
“Bernadine Abigail Elliot,” Lillie boomed, hands on hips, and a scowl that could kill. Then, with a quick glance at Berdie, head to toes, Lillie’s hard glare became a slight grin.
“What?”
Lillie tried to cover her chuckle.
“What? I’ve made a huge breakthrough.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t in grooming.” Lillie waved her hand up and down. “Look at the state you’re in.”
For the second time in this great adventure, Berdie considered what she must look like. “That’s the problem.” She ran a finger over one of her glasses’ lenses. “I can’t see any state, let alone the one I’m in.”
Lillie fell into easy laughter that was contagious. Berdie couldn’t help but join her. And, it felt good to laugh.
Lillie removed Berdie’s glasses, used her skirt hem to wipe them clean, and giggled. “You look a raccoon, a ghostly raccoon.”
“And not one invitation to a fancy dress ball to be had.” Berdie ran her hands over her face and clothing. A few coughs relieved her tickled throat.
Lillie gently replaced the glasses on Berdie’s nose. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Her tone became more sober. “I certainly hope whatever you uncovered up there was worth it.”
“Well worth it, Lillie. What I found is absolutely priceless. There’s….” Berdie stopped when she became aware of clip-clop steps in the nave. “Shh.” She put her index finger to her lips.
“Why shush?” Lillie didn’t make her voice particularly quiet.
Berdie raised her brows and pointed toward the nave. “Someone’s about the place,” she whispered. “We can’t let on that we’re in here.”
Lillie pointed to the mess that covered the tower floor. “You’re not looking to get found out?” she said at the bottom of her voice.
“Oh, so much more, Watson.” Berdie padded to the tower door, and discreetly closed it without latching it fully. She waved Lillie to a corner and followed after, turning off the helmet light as well as the torch.
The steps outside became louder. They were advancing toward the tower.
Lord have mercy.
There was a hesi
tation.
Berdie held her breath. She realized instantly that whoever was on the other side of the door, was perhaps one who knew all the secrets of this place which could mean she and Lillie were in very real danger.
The sound that next met her ear was exactly opposite of what she expected. Whoever was out there pulled the door closed and latched it.
“Berdie?” Lillie whispered.
“It’s just latched,” Berdie whispered back.
But, the unmistakable noise of an old key entering an aged lock seemed to bounce from wall to wall.
CLICK announced that they were locked inside the dark, disordered tower.
Was it Keith? Jack Slade? Some other person who had access to a key?
“No. Oh, please, no.” Lillie’s panicked words were just audible. “We’re locked in this dreadful place?”
12
Berdie could just about make out Lillie’s silhouette and took her by the arm. The footsteps were in retreat. “Don’t worry,” she reassured in low voice. “We’ll be OK. Don’t attract attention.”
Lillie pulled herself away. “No, this is not happening. Turn on that torch,” Lillie demanded.
“Lillie, you don’t understand. We could be in danger.”
“Turn it on right now, or you’ll be in danger,” fired from Lillie’s lips like a royal command.
Berdie could hear Lillie trying to edge her way along the wall to the door with a step/drag.
“Hello, we’re in here,” she called.
“Lillie, be quiet. I’ll turn the light on if you stay quiet.”
“Unlock the door, please,” Lillie shouted without any response returned.
“Lillie, calm down. We’ve got the mobile. We can call Hugh.” She still worked to keep her voice low, though she was almost sure whomever had arrived was already gone. Berdie flicked on the light.
Lillie was at the door and pulled at it. “I don’t believe this.”
“Lillie, take the iPhone from your skirt pocket and we’ll call Hugh.”
Lillie turned toward Berdie with a snap. “The iPhone. Of course.”
It seemed having the room lit again brought Lillie back to a state of sanity.
Lillie took the instrument from her pocket and stared at it.
Berdie impatiently stepped next to Lillie and took it from her hands.
“When was the last time you charged it?” Lillie asked with irritation.
“Charged it?” Berdie repeated knowing full well she hadn’t done so in the last twenty-four hours. The entire device went black.
Lillie hit the door with her palm. “Oh, that’s just lovely. I’m supposed to have dinner at Nethpool House in just a few hours.”
“Right.” Berdie felt her shoulders tighten.
Lillie stood straight and crossed her arms. “Now what do we do, Sherlock?”
****
Seated on a floor that seemed to get colder and harder with each passing hour, Berdie squirmed to relieve the cramp along her back where she leaned against the stone wall.
She kept the torch on for Lillie’s sake. And, just like the light of it was fading, so was Berdie’s endurance. Her stomach gave a wee growl. “Are there anymore crisps in your goody bag, Lillie?”
“We’ve eaten everything but half a chocolate bar.” Lillie worked to stand up, tossed the pub carrier bag to Berdie, and went to the door. “Hello,” she yelled for what seemed the seventieth time.
Berdie shook her head. Of all nights, this was the one time Hugh was attending an evening class and wouldn’t be home until late. And where was Loren?
Lillie released a heavy sigh and began pacing: step drag, once again. “I should be eating Tweed salmon right now.”
“I know, Lillie.” It wasn’t Berdie’s fault they got shut in the tower. She tried to jimmy the lock with a wire, even pounded the lock a bit with the hammer, all to no avail. Lillie certainly wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for Berdie’s investigating. Truly. Now, guilt manufactured heavy steps, much like Lillie’s, through Berdie’s head.
“I would be feeling the rich touch of my new silk dress against my bathed and scented body.” Lillie ran a finger down her arm, sniffed the air and coughed. “I should be at ease in a luxurious dining room with a picturesque view.” She ran a toe through the plaster rubbish that littered the floor. “And the man I love would be sitting on the other side of the table framed in candlelight.” Lillie crossed her arms. “But instead.” She paused.
“OK, Lillie, we’ve been over this all before. Several times, actually.”
“I’m glad you found your,” Lillie twirled her hand in the air, “great historical treasure, Berdie, really. Although, describing the whole thing to me, and knowing a skeleton is only yards away gives me shivers. Still, several hours ago this was an adventure. But now, I wish I’d never seen the place.” Lillie rubbed her stomach. “Plus, I’m in desperate need of spending a penny.”
“More like ten dollars.” Berdie was sure her bladder, too, was soon to overflow. “A loo will be a welcome sight.”
An ache shot through Berdie’s shoulders. She labored, without success, to come to her feet. The physical work she had done earlier on the wall was betraying her. “I know Loren must be working hard to find us. Hugh probably tried to ring me. I should expect someone soon.”
“You said that hours ago.”
“Well, grumbling doesn’t actually help things, does it?”
“Shall we have a merry sing-song?”
“The sun has got his hat on.” Berdie tried to sing out whilst bracing her hands against a wall, working to rise.
Lillie let a giggle slip out and came to Berdie’s aid, offering an elbow. “Sorry, Berdie. You’re right. I’m such a grouse.”
“Actually, I can’t entirely blame you.”
Berdie’s ears perked just as she stood upright with Lillie’s help. Could she hear voices in the nave?
Lillie sprang to the door. “Hello.”
“Lillie, whoever it is, don’t let them come inside the room. They can’t see this mess or me in this state.”
“How am I supposed to stop them?”
“Redirect them. Anything. But please be careful.”
“Careful?”
The steps came closer. Male voices were in conversation. What if the person, or persons, behind all the misdeeds was coming to check the safety of their hidden treasure? Berdie raised a silent prayer for safekeeping and took up the hammer.
The voices became more distinct. To her relief, one was Hugh’s. Berdie’s gratitude swelled as she put the hammer down. Then she had a new consideration. How would Hugh react when he viewed her recent handiwork? “Lord have mercy.”
“We’re in the tower,” Lillie shouted.
“Lillie?” It was Hugh’s call. “Is Berdie with you?”
“Yes.”
There was more male discourse as the key was jostled in the lock. The latch released.
Berdie turned the torch off.
Lillie stood right at the door. It cracked open, and she caught it.
“You aren’t supposed to be in the tower,” Jack Slade snapped.
“How did this happen?” Hugh’s voice was agitated. “Thank you, Mr. Slade. So sorry for the inconvenience.” Hugh gave the door a push, but Lillie caught it with her booted foot and both hands.
Dim torchlight filtered through the crack of the doorway into the tower. “Sorry, Hugh, but we have, um, a problem.”
“I dare say you’re most likely to have more than one.”
“Are you both OK?” Mr. Slade asked.
“That’s just it, Mr. Slade,” Lillie said slowly, “we’ve been here a long time. And, well,” Lillie glanced at Berdie, “plainly speaking, Mrs. Elliott is quite soiled.”
Berdie knit her brow. Soiled? That made it sound like she had no intestinal control. What must Mr. Slade think?
“Mrs. Elliott’s quite embarrassed,” Lillie went on.
Berdie had to credit Lillie. It was a clever truth, sh
e was soiled all right. It certainly would keep Mr. Slade at bay. “Ask him to go check if the loo has suitable supplies,” Berdie whisper-yelled.
“Mr. Slade,” Lillie’s words were sugar, “would you kindly turn the church lights on and check to see if the lavatory facilities are fit for use?”
“I say.” Mr. Slade cleared his throat. “I’ll be quick about it.”
Berdie heard boots scurry away.
“Come in, Hugh,” Berdie called out. Then she turned the torchlight on.
Lillie fully opened the door and Hugh stepped inside.
His eyes became large as plates whilst surveying the damaged wall with resulting debris field. His jaw went slack when spying the open fireplace. Then he straightened.
“I can explain,” Berdie offered rapid-speed.
Hugh ran his eyes up and down Berdie’s white-dusted clothing. “St. Baldred’s has a ghost after all.” He crossed his arms. “Soiled, indeed.” He glanced about. “Berdie, this takes the biscuit! I understand why you had Lillie send Mr. Slade on a paper chase.” He closed the tower door and waved a hand toward the gaping cavity. “How can you possibly account for all this?”
“Now, Hugh, I have Edward’s backing. But, I can’t let anything be found out just yet.”
Hugh glared. “Why?”
“Edward wants secrecy.” She moved closer to Hugh. “I’ve made the most astonishing find.” Her voice was animated. “Up in that hole lies a historical treasure, which is incredible in itself. But it also may be the key to all the rum goings-on in this place.”
“Oh,” Hugh interrupted, “you have the local planning authority’s permission to renovate?”
Berdie could understand, but did not appreciate, Hugh’s cynicism.
Hugh’s left brow arched. “I’m sure that whatever that fireplace may hold will be of little comfort to Loren.”
“No, perhaps not.” Berdie’s exhilaration bubble burst. Poor Loren.
“Where is he?” Lillie put hands on hips.
“He’s at the inn ringing up all the area hospitals.”
“Is he ill?” Lillie huffed.
All Hallows Dead (Berdie Elliott Mysteries) Page 17
