Читать книгу Deadly Treasures - Vivian Conroy - Страница 12

Chapter Four

The older constable came for them with a raised hand. ‘Out of here, Eddy. I won’t warn you again.’

The younger man inched back as if he was really afraid to be slapped by his superior. He muttered a greeting to Alkmene and took off.

His older colleague stared after him with narrowed eyes. ‘Young people. Know absolutely nothing about police work. Or local history. Just tidbits that stir their imagination. Gold!’

He shook his head as he returned to his desk. He leaned over his typewriter and attacked the keys with determination. It was plain Alkmene would get nothing more out of him. She had to hope Jake would hear something about the real purpose of the dig in his inquiries into Trevor Price’s work before he had been cut off by his lung problem.

As Alkmene walked back out, into the sunshine, her mind raced. The viscount had said Duncan was excavating a medieval village. Now there was suddenly talk of something like the Black Castle gold. It sounded potentially sensational.

Had Duncan lied about his true purpose here? Just to his father, or also to his employer Trevor Price?

Was that why Duncan had not been happy when someone from the archaeological circles in London had appeared to see him? Had he believed his whole scheme would fall through?

Had he wanted to return to London with a major find to prove that he was more than just a titled man with money who liked his little hobby? That he was a serious contender in the field?

But how secret a scheme had it been when the younger policeman, Eddy, knew all about it? Even claimed everybody around here knew about it? Especially some Mr Page.

Maybe she had to ask who he was and go see him right away?

But before she was two paces away from the police station, the dismissive constable appeared behind her. His hand on her shoulder made her start.

‘You better be careful what you get into.’ His expression was solemn. ‘That excavation has caused no end of trouble in the village, you know. We’d all be glad to see those people leave again.’

‘I saw locals there working,’ Alkmene countered. ‘I’d think the village would welcome the offer of extra work.’

‘Oh, but some have worked there and have been fired, for supposedly taking something.’ The policeman leaned over to her, a strange fire in his deep-set eyes. ‘The threat left on his tool shed wasn’t the only thing that happened, you know. After Woolsbury fired the innkeeper’s son, accusing him of theft, the villagers were not happy and they waited on Woolsbury one night as he walked from town to his cottage and beat him up.’

Alkmene gasped. ‘Beat up a big man like Duncan?’

‘If there are enough of you, you can overcome any man. Two black eyes he had the next morning and no end of bruises.’ The policeman sounded almost smug. ‘He wanted us to investigate who had done it and punish them, but how would we know? He himself had seen no faces, it being half dark and all. And as he had drunk quite a lot of liquor, his testimony about their number and appearance wasn’t worth a penny. How can we find those people not even knowing how many there were or what they looked like?’

‘Perhaps you are not trying very hard either, knowing they would be your own people?’ Alkmene suggested.

He pulled back his shoulders. The sun glinted off his polished uniform buttons. ‘We do a good job here, we do. And now you’d better be leaving. There’s nothing left to do here for you. The gentleman will make his statement about what happened that night, and then we’ll see what we are going to do about him.’

Alkmene realized that neither Duncan nor she had made friends on the local police force. She retreated to Peartree, who still sat on the bench, chewing on an apple.

She sat down beside him and nodded at the apple. ‘A gift?’ She wanted to steer the conversation in the direction of doe-eyed Sarah, but Peartree pointed at the village store opposite with the inviting assortment of fresh vegetables and fruit laid out in crates on a table. ‘I pinched one to sweeten the wait.’

Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘You didn’t pay for it? No wonder the locals don’t like the invasion from London.’

Peartree laughed softly. ‘They started the hostilities, not us. Damage done to the site, things gone missing. They even waited for Duncan one night and beat him up.’

‘Yes, the constable just told me. Was it really because Duncan had fired someone?’

‘Two,’ Peartree said unperturbed. ‘One was a farmer’s lad who broke a pot that Duncan had managed to get out of the earth whole. He was fussy with those things, always thinking he could do everything perfect and others could do nothing at all.’

‘And the other?’

Peartree pointed with his half-eaten apple at the inn. ‘The brother of that girl who was making the doe eyes at him. I think he’s called Mark or something. He was just a kid. But Duncan took him on because he saw some talent in him. But all the kid was good for was big talk. He claimed to know where the gold was hidden.’

Peartree fell silent as if he had said too much, but Alkmene leaned back against the bench’s mossy railing and said in an indifferent tone, ‘I know about the gold.’

Peartree took a bite of apple and chewed. There was juice on his chin. He rubbed it away with his wrist. ‘So the kid talked about the gold like he knew where it was. It also seemed Duncan turned up something made of gold; the next day it was gone. Duncan claimed Mark had stolen it and Duncan wanted to press charges.’

Peartree laughed softly. ‘The dumb fool actually wanted a search made of the inn and livery stables and barns for the missing item, certain the lad had hidden it there. Do you think the local police are going to search the house of one of their own for something gone missing from some fancy city crew?’

Alkmene shook her head. ‘Not likely. So the missing find was never recovered.’

‘No. It wasn’t.’ Peartree finished his apple and carelessly tossed the remains down on the cobbles. He crossed his ankles like he was sitting in his easy chair at home. ‘I think the kid never had anything. Duncan only accused him to get rumours started that there really was a golden item dug up. People had started to say there was none, as he made no progress at all. He felt pressured to turn up results and he believed such a tale would aid him.’

He shook his head. ‘That was stupid. It only brought out vultures. People with spades digging in the fields, trying to find something themselves. He had to guard the site at night to make sure nobody got on there.’

‘And on that guarded site the man was murdered? This Reiner Goodman?’

Peartree nodded. ‘But don’t expect the night guard to tell you anything useful. The old sod saw nothing. I bet he was drunk and sleeping it off in a dry ditch. These local people aren’t good for anything.’

He rose and stretched himself. ‘I suppose the police didn’t want to let you see Duncan, huh?’ He didn’t add ‘told you so’ but his tone clearly implied it. ‘Shall we go back to the cottage?’

His smug attitude irritated Alkmene, and she wanted to go to the inn, not the cottage. On the other hand, she would be spending enough time at the inn later, getting her chance to speak with Sarah and maybe also her brother, who had allegedly stolen this gold item from the dig.

Right now she needed all the information she could get about the victim and his movements before his death. As she had no access to Duncan, he could not tell her what the argument with the victim had been about. But Peartree had allegedly overheard it, so he had to know. Perhaps if she acted like she was accepting his better judgement, he would start to thaw and give her what she needed?

With Jake already on his way to Blackcastle, determined he could solve the crime before she could, she didn’t have a lot of time to gather something big and revealing.

She nodded. ‘All right, let’s return to the cottage. My throat is parched; I need some tea.’

In the car on their way down the country road she began, ‘So Reiner Goodman came to see Duncan, the night before he died. I assume this happened at the cottage? That that is where you overheard them arguing?’

Peartree nodded. ‘It was right underneath my bedroom window.’

How convenient, Alkmene thought. ‘What did they say exactly?’

Peartree kept his eyes on the road. ‘Duncan said he’d break his head for what he had done.’

‘Yes, I know that. But what had Goodman done exactly? What did they say before that threatening remark?’

‘I have no idea. I was about to turn in. I walked over to the window to close my curtains. The weather was so warm and dry that I had left the window open. They were standing below in the yard. I heard Duncan’s voice clearly. Goodman was speaking much more softly. I have no idea what he said.’

How convenient again. Alkmene shifted her weight in the seat. She didn’t trust Peartree’s testimony at all, but the local police would have no reason to doubt him.

Unless she could prove Peartree had a grudge against Duncan and therefore a reason to incriminate him. What was the true reason for his visit to the dig?

Peartree said, ‘Look, nobody out here knew the murdered man. Usually killers don’t strike at victims they do not know, unless they’re insane. Are you suggesting we have a madman out here?’

On the contrary. She considered Peartree very sane, rational and organized. He had overheard a conversation where Duncan threatened the man who had come to see him. It might have given him an idea or two. If Peartree had never wanted Duncan to be in charge of the expedition, as his own bitter words earlier had clearly suggested, this might have seemed the ideal opportunity to remove Duncan from the scene.

But would you really kill a man to frame another? It seemed like such a risky thing to do. Despite her dislike of Peartree’s attitude now, and also in town earlier, she had to keep an open mind and look for other suspects besides him.

Suddenly Peartree braked hard, and she was thrown forwards. She just got her hands against the dashboard, but she felt a painful twinge in her neck. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Ruddy dog,’ Peartree cried, gesturing at the road in front of them.

A big shaggy dog had jumped away from the car. It stood looking at them disdainfully, then jumped into the meadow to their left and ran off. Alkmene looked to the right to see where it had come from. She spied a crooked man carrying a big sack over his shoulder.

Peartree honked at the man, swinging his fist at him, before he drove on.

‘That crackpot also worked on the site,’ Peartree said to Alkmene. ‘Old Paul, they call him. Nobody knows if he even has a last name. Seems he had family living near the Black Castle for centuries. He can trace his genealogy back to Noah if you ask me. I thought it was only the Irish who were obsessed with their family line and heritage, but the Cornish are just as bad.’

‘I’ve never had a problem with a man who was proud of his legacy,’ Alkmene said, looking back at the sturdy little man. ‘What on earth is in that sack he’s carrying?’

‘His finds for the day. Old Paul is a beachcomber.’ Peartree grimaced. ‘Seems he has laid claim to the land Duncan is digging on. He has an old deed that says the land belongs to his family and Duncan is not allowed to work there. But Price got permission for Duncan via a relation in London. I think the former mayor of this place or something? Anyway, if Duncan recognized the little man’s claims, he would have to share the finds with him. Duncan is not the sharing type, you know.’

Alkmene nodded. ‘It sounds like Duncan was at odds with a lot of people out here. How long had he been working here?’

Peartree shrugged. ‘For months I think. I came in a little later. I had been to Monaco on business first.’

‘Yes, what do you do exactly?’ Alkmene studied him.

‘I’m into wine. Import, export. I met Duncan when I delivered some fine Chardonnay to his father. Duncan told me all about his work here and invited me to come take a look.’

The meeting surprised Alkmene. She had guessed that Duncan and Peartree had met via Duncan’s patron Price. Or maybe even were old acquaintances, for instance from Duncan’s time at Eton. After all, you didn’t invite someone over for a stay, for weeks on end, without knowing him fairly well.

With Peartree turning out to be a wine merchant who had just delivered some goods to his father’s house, it seemed a bit odd that Duncan had immediately sought his friendship.

Jake would probably have considered that a typical class-conscious conviction, but Alkmene knew better than most how Duncan had been raised. He had to have changed a lot to act so at odds with his upbringing.

As if Peartree sensed her disbelief, he smiled and spoke slowly. ‘No, actually it wasn’t like that. I spread that tale to be kind to Duncan. I don’t want to embarrass him with the truth.’

Alkmene waited.

Peartree said, ‘Duncan and I met at a club, playing cards. Duncan was a bit drunk at the time and boasting about a treasure he was going to unearth in Cornwall.’

Alkmene’s heart beat fast. The Black Castle gold, again.

Peartree said, ‘I bet Duncan he couldn’t find this alleged treasure and he bet me that he could. I’m afraid that he was so drunk at the time he wagered quite a lot of money on it.’

Alkmene blinked. It wasn’t Duncan’s excess drinking that baffled her, although it was disconcerting that he had also been drunk when he had been attacked by the locals recently. How much was he drinking and why?

But far above this unfortunate revelation, Peartree had handed her a far more vital clue. In a few callous words he had explained that Duncan had wagered part of his family fortune on the chances of finding an elusive treasure here on site.

It was so like Duncan.

It was so…

Dumb.

Alkmene suppressed a deep sigh. ‘So if Duncan doesn’t turn up this alleged treasure, you’ll be rich?’

Peartree shrugged. ‘Rich is a big word, but I’ll be able to travel to France on holiday instead of business for a change.’

Alkmene nodded. It still didn’t explain how Peartree had known Duncan. She refused to accept that they had been in the same club by coincidence. They had to have known each other before the unfortunate wager. But the wager did explain why Peartree had come out here. He wanted to see for himself how Duncan was getting along.

Or rather not getting along. After all, it would be in Peartree’s interest that Duncan did not find anything. That his excavation here would end in abject failure.