Читать книгу The Windmill Café: Autumn Leaves - Poppy Blake - Страница 10

Rosie’s heart raced in a futile attempt to escape its cage and its thunderous beat rang in her ears. A surge of nausea ambushed her as she turned away from the scene and arched her back to the sky, her palms on her thighs, inhaling ragged gasps of oxygen. She waited for the dizziness to pass. The urge to collapse to her knees was almost too overwhelming to resist but she knew she needed to stay strong for Mia’s sake. She swallowed down on the acidic tang radiating over her tongue and with great difficulty managed to drag her senses into some sort of order, hoping for comprehension to dawn.

‘Is he … is he dead?’ whimpered Mia.

Phil was next to join them, and the shock of seeing Rick collapsed on the ground in the cloister with Matt kneeling over him and clearly checking for a pulse, rendered him motionless. His jaw gaped, his face bleached chalk white, as he struggled to understand what his eyes were telling him.

‘He’s not dead, Mia, he’s just passed out,’ said Matt, grabbing his first aid kit from his rucksack and signalling for Freddie to help him to remove the arrow protruding from Rick’s ankle.

‘I feel awful saying this, but are you sure he’s unconscious?’ said Phil, a catch in his throat as he spoke for the first time. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like. This could be just another one of his pranks – a joke arrow, fake blood, you know. Sorry, no, forget I said that, sorry.’

Phil took a quick step back and bumped into Brad, who had just arrived on the scene with a breathless Emma in his wake.

‘What’s going on? Mia, why were you screaming? Oh, my God, what’s happened to Rick?’

Shock spread across Emma’s face. She folded her arms across her abdomen and huddled against Brad. Her eyes, the colour of Irish shamrock, were as wide as saucers, their whites almost popping from her skull.

Before anyone could answer Emma’s questions, Rick started to groan. Rosie had never heard such a welcome complaint. Like Mia, she too had been convinced Rick was dead. Relief flooded her veins and the high-pitched drumming in her ears began to subside. She took a few steadying breaths and as the initial shock eased, her heartbeat returned to something approaching normal. She moved forward to hook her arm around her friend’s waist, distressed to feel her uncontrollable trembling.

‘Ergh! Careful!’

Beads of perspiration appeared on Rick’s forehead and his face displayed a strange waxy pallor. Matt worked quickly to clean Rick’s wound and wrap his ankle tightly in a bandage, causing his patient to grimace as spasms of pain shot through his calf with each twist.

‘Can you remember anything about what happened?’ asked Matt, sitting back on his heels, satisfied he had done the best he could in the circumstances.

‘What does it look like? Someone shot me with an arrow! Their first attempt went flying past my ear and got stuck in that bench over there. I tried to run, but they got me with their second shot. I reckon if I hadn’t collapsed behind that gravestone, they would have finished the job, or maybe they just chickened out, I don’t know. Anyway, I must have passed out from the pain, because the next thing I know you’re yanking the bloody thing from my ankle. Is it broken?’

‘I think it’s just a flesh wound, in which case there’ll be no lasting damage, but it’s probably best to get your ankle checked out at hospital. I’ll call an ambulance…’

‘There’s no mobile signal,’ interrupted Freddie, his freckled face suffused in anxiety. ‘It’s half a mile to the nearest village. I’ll run over there and call the paramedics and then wait for them at the end of the track to guide them up here to the priory.’

‘Thanks, Freddie.’

‘I don’t need an ambulance, I want the police!’

‘So you don’t think it was an accident?’ gasped Mia, her tone raised an octave in alarm.

‘Of course not! Who accidentally fires off two arrows in the same direction? And do you see anyone hanging around to apologize for their seriously substandard archery skills? No, you don’t. Which can only mean one thing – I was targeted by a lunatic intent on dispatching me to my maker in broad daylight.’

‘But who would…? Oh my God! Do you think the person who did this is still … is still…?’

Rosie’s voice trailed off into the enveloping silence as everyone, apart from Rick, turned in unison to scan the crumbling eaves of the priory, then the copse of trees to their left, then finally to watch Freddie’s retreating figure as he made his way across the field towards civilization, all of them expecting him to collapse under a barrage of arrows at any moment.

‘Did anyone see anything on the hike over here? Anything at all?’ asked Matt.

‘Well, I didn’t see anything, or anyone escaping over the fields in green tights carrying a quiver full of arrows,’ said Brad, the only one seemingly unmoved by Rick’s suffering and subsequent hypothesis of being a victim in a pre-meditated shooting.

‘Well, it’s obvious who the culprit is, isn’t it?’ seethed Rick.

‘Who?’ demanded Rosie.

‘Well, no one else knew we were going to be here, did they? It’s highly unlikely that a passer-by, who just happened to be carrying a bow and arrow in their back pocket, decided to take aim and shoot a random stranger who was innocently exploring an ancient priory at dawn.’

‘Does that mean…’

‘Rick, you can’t seriously be suggesting that one of us is responsible for shooting you.’

‘No other explanation.’

‘You are unbelievable!’ muttered Brad, his eyes reflecting his contempt for Rick’s theory. ‘Someone correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t we all been together from the moment we left camp until Mia discovered Rick slumped here in the cloisters? How could any one of us have shot you with a bow and arrow?’

‘Brad does have a point,’ said Phil, his hands shaking so violently on his camera that he was forced to shove them into the pockets of his combat trousers, but his elbows continued to flap nervously at his sides like a caged seagull.

‘Okay,’ interrupted Matt, keen to diffuse the mounting tension. ‘This is neither the time, nor the place, to be making unfounded accusations. Phil, would you mind taking Emma and Mia back to the reception lodge at Ultimate Adventures? Brad, I need you to stay to help carry Rick’s stretcher to the ambulance. Rosie, I take it you’ve got first aid training, so can you stay here too, until Freddie gets back with the paramedics?’

‘And the police! I think everyone should stay where they are, not go wandering off! We need to find out who tried to kill me, and why, as soon as possible so they can feel the full strength of the law!’

‘But why would any one of us want to kill you, Rick? And why here in Norfolk? We’ve all had ample opportunity to bump you off back home in Manchester,’ reasoned Brad, glancing around the gathering to make sure everyone was agreeing with him.

‘Hey, maybe it was one of the ghosts or spirits who inhabit the ruin?’ suggested Emma, speaking for the first time since they had found Rick collapsed in a pool of blood.

‘You know, I’ve changed my mind. Matt’s right, you should head back. I don’t want to sit here, forced to listen to such ridiculous hypotheses for the next hour. All I ask is that when you eventually manage get back to civilization, one of you informs Helen so she can drive over to the hospital to collect me – if she isn’t too busy spending my money in the shops of Norwich. Think you can manage that, Phil?’

‘Of course. Come on, ladies, let’s get going.’

‘And make sure you stick to the path,’ advised Matt, repacking the Ultimate Adventures first aid box and returning it to his rucksack.

‘Yeah, and try not to get an arrow between your eyes,’ warned Rick, with more than a soupçon of malice in his expression.

‘What if Rick’s right and there is someone lurking out there?’ said Emma, her anguish plain for all to see. ‘A poison-tipped arrow could be trained on any one of us at this very moment. I could be the next victim! Oh God!’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Phil, patting Emma’s arm awkwardly. ‘I think whoever did this will be long gone by now, and once we get under cover of those trees over there, I reckon we’ll be safe. Best we do as Matt says and stay close, though.’

Emma nodded mutely, reached up to deposit a quick kiss on Brad’s lips and then linked Mia’s arm with hers. Together, the threesome made their way back along the pathway across the field, at the end of which Phil took great care to refasten the wooden gate behind him. Brad stared after them, a touch of envy in his expression, his broad shoulders sunken under the weight of the ongoing trauma.

‘I’ll just go and see if there’s any sign of that ambulance,’ announced Matt, scrambling to his feet. ‘Could you sit with Rick until I get back, please, Brad?’

‘Oh, I … yes, okay.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ offered Rosie when she caught sight of the anguish and confusion on Matt’s face.

A spasm of sympathy rushed through her chest. She was sure that the very last thing he would have expected to deal with during an early morning hike to the Garside Priory was one of his charges being shot by a stray arrow. Only Rick appeared to be suggesting that it was no accident and that someone had targeted him. As she followed Matt through the mystical archway, her whole body froze when another, more sinister thought occurred to her. Did Rick’s shooting have anything to do with the fact that she and Matt suspected something had been added to their evening coffee? And if so, what did it mean? Who could…

She was prevented from chasing that terrifying scenario down blind alleyways by the sharp indignant barks of a young black-and-white Collie who had rushed up to greet them. The Collie’s owner, a man in his late fifties wearing a well-worn wax jacket straining over his well-padded stomach, issued a whistled warning and the dog returned to heel.

‘Grim business,’ the man grunted, a tight expression stretching his weathered face as he inclined his head towards the priory while holding out his hand for Matt to shake. Seeing their astonished expressions, he continued, ‘Freddie Armstrong just called to ask me to open the bottom gate so the ambulance can get through.’

‘Rosie, this is Giles Barringer, he owns the land around the priory.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Giles.’

‘So, who is the guy?’

‘Richard Forster – chairman of the Myth Seekers Society I told you about,’ explained Matt, bending down to fondle the dog’s silky ears. ‘Found him collapsed in the central cloister with an arrow through his leg. Better be careful, we’re not sure whether the perpetrator is still in the area.’

‘Right you are,’ said the farmer as though that sort of thing happened all the time. He eyed Matt for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘Well, no one came by the farm – that I can guarantee you. Our Bess here, and her sister Meggie, go mental whenever strangers breach their radar. Reckon whoever it was must have come up via your overnight camp.’

‘Thanks, Giles. I’ll keep you informed.’

They bade the farmer farewell and strolled back towards the cloister in silence, each subsumed by a swirl of unpleasant thoughts and theories as to what might have happened.

‘Are you going to confront Rick about putting a sedative in our coffee?’

‘Actually, after what’s just happened, I think I might have been a bit quick to jump to conclusions.’

‘So you think the two things are connected?’

‘Possibly. But you’re right, we do need to ask Rick about it.’

When they arrived, Brad was slumped against his rucksack, his knees drawn into his chest, keeping a close eye on Rick who had passed out again.

‘Why would anyone want to shoot Rick?’ mused Rosie, almost to herself, as she sat down next to Brad.

‘Well…’ began Brad, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Rick definitely hadn’t woken up. He fiddled nervously with the zipper of his Gore-Tex running jacket, a vein working overtime at his temple.

‘If you know something, Brad, you have to tell us,’ snapped Matt, sitting up straighter and fixing him with a stern stare. ‘This is a very serious situation; one which could have a devastating effect, not only on my business, but on Freddie and Mia’s futures, too, if we don’t get to the bottom of what happened quickly. We can’t just brush this under the carpet and file it away under a heading marked “accident”. The police are going to be involved, they will want to investigate what happened, and even if it turns out to be an organized field archery expedition that went seriously wrong, visitors to the area might think twice about booking an outward-bound activity – especially if there’s an outside chance of getting shot with a stray arrow, don’t you think? This is mine and Rosie’s livelihoods at stake!’

‘So, you really think the police will want to question us?’

Rosie heard the catch in Brad’s voice when he said the word ‘police’. However, she stored it away for future dissection when she saw the familiar gleam in Matt’s eyes as he gave her a surreptitious nod. She knew exactly what he was thinking. If they could persuade Brad to open up about the Myth Seekers Society, maybe they could work together to uncover the truth surrounding Rick’s injury – just as they had in August with Suki Richards’ poisoning – before the consequences destroyed their respective businesses.

What if Rick’s injury meant they had to cancel the Autumn Leaves party at the end of the week? Mia would be devastated, not to mention everyone in Willerby who had helped to organize the celebrations and whipped up homemade contributions. After the debacle with Harry in London, she had a lot to be thankful to the community for, and she was prepared to do whatever it took, not only to maintain her happy home in the little circular studio above the Windmill Café, but also to ensure that what had happened to Rick did not reflect badly on the reputation of Ultimate Adventures and that the Willerby residents had a fabulous Hallowe’en party.

‘Please, Brad, Matt and I just want to help.’

The thought of teaming up with Matt again to unravel a mystery sent a frisson of excitement cascading through her veins and sparkling out to her fingertips. However, she recognized that the cauldron of emotions whipping through her stomach were not solely connected with the chance to investigate another mystery, but also to do with the way Matt was holding her gaze and the fragrance of his citrusy cologne that tickled at her nostrils.

‘Brad?’

‘Okay, okay, sorry,’ said Brad, running his fingers nervously through his hair. ‘Well, I could be way out of line, but here goes. I’m sure you’ve both noticed that none of us like Rick very much – he’s an obnoxious bully and a complete pain in the backside. If someone had given me a quiver full of sharpened arrows, I might have taken a pop at him myself. But, if it wasn’t some random stranger, then out of all of us I reckon Phil has the strongest motive for wanting him to suffer.’

‘What do you mean?’ demanded Rosie, tipping her head back so she could look Brad in the eye, her natural inquisitiveness reasserting its dominance. She could almost feel her father, who had adored mysteries just as much as she did, sending down vibes of encouragement to seek out the truth and slot each new discovery into the overall jigsaw to form a picture of exactly what had happened.

‘Well, you saw how Rick went on with Phil last night. He’s exactly the same at our meetings. Rick only joined the Myth Seekers Society ten months ago but he made sure he stamped his personality on our little club straight away. We’d plodded along in our own sweet way for years. Phil was our chairman, our treasurer and our secretary. No one else wanted the responsibility, or the hassle and paperwork that went with it, but Phil likes that sort of thing. We managed one expedition a year and a couple of local jaunts. It was fun, everyone was a real enthusiast. It was a break from the daily grind to five o’clock, if you know what I mean.’

Brad paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gathered his courage to continue. It was obvious to Rosie that Brad was missing Emma’s more forceful presence; his girlfriend might be petite in stature but she made up for it in strength of personality. Nevertheless, he inhaled a deep breath and continued with his story.

‘Then Rick arrived on the scene. He organized a formidable schedule of guest speakers – himself included – and sourced videos made by myth seekers from all over the world. He even set up a blog for us all to post our research on. In the beginning, we loved it. We got to learn loads more about myth-seeking, and the trips he arranged were excellent. We went to the Isle of Man in the summer to visit the famous Fairy Bridge and it was Rick’s idea to come here to Norfolk so he could continue his research into the local legends, including the one about the Black Shuck. His theory is…’

‘Brad, is this relevant?’ interrupted Matt, trying hard not to roll his eyes at Rosie.

‘Sorry, sorry. What I mean is, the club changed. All of a sudden Phil found himself side-lined. Rick took over as chairman, appointed one of the newer members as secretary and Phil was left in the thankless role of treasurer. Every meeting was an opportunity for Rick to lord it over everyone else – he even gave himself the title of King Myth Seeker. He had polo shirts embroidered with the society’s emblem and demanded we all wear them to the meetings. He was a true enthusiast, though. He researched every detail and shared all his findings with us. I loved it, but I’ve never seen anyone so obsessed with the research and after a while it all started to get too technical.

‘In the end I just stuck it out for the subsidized trips. As well as the trip over to the Isle of Man, the group have been to Rome, Marrakesh and Athens in the last twelve months. I’d never be able to afford any of that on my salary. Emma and I are extreme sports enthusiasts too – wild climbing, fell-running, orienteering and we try to run as many marathons as we can – so it all adds up.’

‘So, you’re saying Phil had his nose pushed out by Rick?’ asked Rosie, totally engrossed in the story of the Myth Seekers Society.

‘More than that. Rick seemed to have Phil marked as his personal punch bag – verbal, not physical. For some reason, Rick takes great pleasure in tormenting him every chance he gets. It’s embarrassing for all of us when he starts on one of his campaigns of ridicule and derision. I’m ashamed to confess that we don’t challenge him as much as we should. We’re all just grateful it isn’t us, and anyway Rick was paying for the hire of the hall from his own funds as well as other extras. I have tried to call him out a few times, but he’d switch his focus if you weren’t careful.’

‘A bit cowardly, don’t you think?’ said Matt, glancing over his shoulder at Rick, an expression of dislike written across his handsome features.

‘Yes, I realize that now,’ agreed Brad. ‘We should have made a stand and voted him off the committee months ago. Rick’s scary though, like a big fish in a little pond, or more like a vicious shark who uses his financial muscle to take over and advance his own agenda. Phil might have a really good reason to shoot Rick with an arrow, but he’s actually an honest, trustworthy, and thoroughly decent guy who’s been treated disgracefully by all of us for not standing up to Rick’s intimidation.’

Before either Rosie or Matt could respond to Brad’s theory on the identity of Rick’s attacker, the man himself had started to groan again and a series of flashing blue lights signalled the arrival of the paramedics. Rosie did what she could to assist in the transportation of Rick’s prostate, complaining body on a stretcher across the uneven field before they were all told in no uncertain terms that he did not require a chaperone for the journey to hospital.

With an elongated sigh, she jumped into the back of a Jeep belonging to one of Freddie’s bandmates and spent the journey back to Ultimate Adventures with random thoughts ricocheting around her brain as she tried to make sense of what had happened. She was relieved when the jutting roof of the outward-bound centre’s reception lodge came into view, but the respite from anxiety lasted only a few seconds.

‘Thank God you’re back!’ said Emma, throwing herself into Brad’s arms as they all gathered on the veranda. ‘Now, who’s going to ring Helen?’