Deadly Treasures Read online

  So the killer could not have been local.

  Peartree continued, ‘Duncan was very vague about who Goodman was and what he wanted here on the site. But when he turned up dead, I heard that he was into archaeology as well. A colleague of Duncan’s, so to speak.’

  So their argument could have been about the excavation. With what news had Goodman come from London?

  Alkmene increased the length of her strides, as if physical energy could also increase her confidence in a good outcome in the case. ‘I have to talk to Duncan before he starts blabbering nonsense to the police. I wish I had understood the full implications when he was taken away. I would have gone with him to talk to him on the way into Blackcastle.’

  Peartree scoffed. ‘Duncan wouldn’t have told you anything. He is an arrogant man who thinks the world of himself. He wasn’t any good at archaeology, you know. He was only taken on because he brought money with him. I had to work my head off to get to where I am today. He walks in with a bag full of money and he can become the right-hand man of the excavation leader. When Price falls ill, Duncan can take over everything. Where is the justice in that?’

  ‘So you were after the position Duncan has now?’ That would put Peartree’s insistence to accuse Duncan in a wholly new light. He might have a personal interest in seeing Duncan leave the scene, for good!

  Peartree laughed. ‘Not at all. I’m not into archaeology.’

  ‘Oh. Why are you here then?’

  Peartree waved a hand. ‘Just a visit. Duncan asked me to come see him if I had the time for it, and it seemed like a nice sort of change.’

  Peartree’s tone was a little too casual. And he had said before he had been here for weeks, helping out on the dig. He had acted around the workers as if he was in charge of them. That was different than just a nice visit.

  There had to be more behind Peartree’s presence at the site. Some sort of rivalry or enmity of a different kind.

  Some reason why Peartree had jumped at the chance to share his incriminating evidence with the police as soon as the dead body had turned up.

  Alkmene intended to find out exactly what his involvement was.

  At the police station in Blackcastle, Alkmene asked Peartree to wait outside for her at the car in which he had driven her into the town. She didn’t want him to be present when she talked to Duncan. She also didn’t want him to know who she was calling and what about.

  Peartree seemed irked to be ordered about like that, but wordlessly removed himself to sit on a bench under an oak tree, opposite to the village store. The girl who had been brushing the horse earlier was just entering the store with a big twine basket on her arm.

  Alkmene stared after her a moment. If this girl Sarah had been close to Duncan, it might be worthwhile to ask her what she knew about the victim and his reasons for visiting Duncan here in Blackcastle.

  Then she shook her head. It would have to wait ’til later. Duncan came first now.

  She stalked into the police station. A constable was typing up notes from a stack by his side. As he rose to come over to her, his baton moved against the desk, producing a metallic thud that reverberated in the air.

  Alkmene cringed at the aggressive sound.

  ‘Yes?’ the constable asked with a suspicious frown. It was the man with the basset-hound face who had taken Duncan in.

  Alkmene mentioned her name, title included of course, demanding to speak with Duncan Woolsbury as soon as possible.

  The constable shook his head. ‘He is being questioned right now. You cannot see him.’

  ‘I will see him now.’ She put her hands on the desk to underline her point. ‘You have no right to question him without an attorney.’

  ‘He doesn’t want one. We did ask. He says it is all a silly misunderstanding that can be set straight in no time.’

  Alkmene sighed. It seemed Simon Peartree had been right about Duncan’s pig-headedness. He would keep thinking nothing was wrong until it was too late. She had to change tack, fast. ‘Can I use your phone, please?’

  The man nodded and put it on the desk for her. He retreated to his own desk and rearranged the notes he had been working on. Were they about the murder? She needed some details. Where the body had been found, how it had lain there, traces around it – footprints, a cigarette butt, anything that could shed light on the presence of people on the murder scene.

  But she was pretty certain this hostile constable wouldn’t tell her a thing.

  With a sigh she asked the operator to connect her with the number in Plymouth that Jake had given her. She hoped he was in.

  A hotel clerk answered and had to send a bellboy to look for Mr Dubois. ‘He has just been seen leaving with another gentleman.’

  Alkmene kept her fingers crossed the bellboy would catch the two of them outside before they vanished.

  The hubbub of a busy lobby buzzed over the line. The sound of voices, laughter, and the distant ding of an elevator bell.

  Then a rustle and a short, ‘Dubois.’

  Excitement flooded through her that they were connecting again about a murder. Not one Jake was writing about, and graciously sharing with her, like the poison case, but one she had hit upon herself. He would be surprised to hear it. ‘Alkmene here. I can barely hear you. Can you hear me?’

  ‘If I concentrate.’ There was a hint of laughter in his voice. ‘What is it?’

  Just hearing his voice made Alkmene feel better. Jake would have some idea of what they could do to prove Duncan’s innocence. She turned away from the desk with the inquisitive policeman and spoke into the receiver. ‘I’m in Cornwall looking in on an old friend of mine. As it so happens, he is being questioned in relation to a dead body found on his dig.’

  ‘On his what?’

  ‘His dig. He’s an archaeologist.’

  ‘Interesting friends you have.’

  ‘Not as interesting as yours,’ she retorted, meaning the cat burglar who had set off their earlier case of the diamonds of death. ‘I need some information about certain people. Can you dig it up for me? I’ll call you again tomorrow from a different phone.’ Maybe the inn had one, or the village store? She had not seen a telephone box anywhere. Yet. ‘Let’s say around noon?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. Where did you say you were? Cornwall? Maybe I can arrange something with Seaton.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Buck Seaton. He is here to discuss the idea for a race. A boating race that will end in Plymouth. The yachting club could host the reception when the boats come in. I’m supposed to write about it, but I could ask Seaton to give me all the details later when we're both back in London. I could get myself a car for a few days and come out to you. Where exactly are you? How far from Plymouth do you think it is?’

  ‘I’m staying in Blackcastle. Must be less than forty miles. But I really don’t need you here. Just get me the information I want and I can manage finding the culprit on my own.’

  Jake sounded very far away as he said something in reply.

  She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. ‘What? I can’t hear you.’

  ‘Sorry. I was getting a notepad and pen. What people do you want information on? I can ring a contact or two before I find myself a car to come out to you.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Alkmene insisted. ‘Just get me the information, will you? The suspect is Duncan Woolsbury, my friend. I want to know how he got in with this expedition. Check out his tutor and patron Trevor Price.’

  ‘The Trevor Price?’ Jake whistled. ‘This could get interesting. He is a master in his field. What exactly is your friend Duncan digging up?’

  ‘Uh, a medieval village, I heard.’

  Jake huffed. ‘Seems like small stuff for Price to be involved in. Nothing big and exciting lost in that area?’

  ‘I have no idea. I did hear there used to be a castle here. There is just one tower left of it. The excavation site is quite close to it. It was calle
d the Black Castle. The village where I’m staying takes its name from it.’

  She was moving around a bit while talking and caught the constable’s glance. Like he had perked up. At her mention of the castle?

  She lowered her voice as she continued, ‘Also find out if Duncan is in any financial trouble. And female friends, if you can dig up some.’

  If Peartree had been right in his observations about ‘casual girlfriends’, there had to be plenty. She only had to glance out of the window to see Simon Peartree talking to the girl with the basket, who had apparently come back from her grocery shopping. Little Sarah, as Peartree had referred to her earlier. There were several wrapped parcels in the twine basket, as well as the green heads of leek.

  Upon closer examination Sarah didn’t seem quite as young as she had earlier. She could be twenty. Suitable for Duncan anyway?

  Just then the girl burst into tears and ran off into the building on the corner of the village square. Not into the right half of it in front of which she had been brushing the horse, but the left half, with a sign over the door depicting a net full of fish. ‘The Catch’ was written underneath in chipped golden letters.

  That was the inn Alkmene was staying at. Wonderful. It would give her a chance to connect with this Sarah and find out more about her relationship with Duncan.

  She refocused on the phone call and said to Jake, ‘Besides all you can find about Duncan, I also want everything on the victim. His name was Reiner Goodman.’

  ‘German?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Could be.’

  For a moment it struck Alkmene as possibly significant that the Woolsbury driver was also German. The enigmatic Kramer, who had been so tight-lipped all during their journey, but who had readily confided in her that Duncan had a love interest here that he was keeping hidden from his family. She didn’t suppose the driver had told her because he felt sorry for her, turning up where she was not wanted. What could have been his purpose with that revelation?

  Shaking her head to concentrate, she pushed on. ‘You should find out if Goodman was German. And if he was a connection of Duncan Woolsbury’s patron, the famous Trevor Price. Also find out what Price was working on before his health trouble sent him on a long holiday. After all, his ill health got Duncan the job here. I also want to know why this dig is so important. I mean, I do understand digs in Egypt, but here… Like you said, there must be more than a medieval village to unearth.’

  ‘All the more reason for me to come out as soon as I can. See you later.’ And Jake disconnected.

  With a huff Alkmene put down the receiver. Jake believed he could gather some information, drive down here and solve the crime. But in Plymouth he was cut off from his main source of information: his London street informers. He could not call them and he could not meet with them in person. He had to rely on other contacts who were reachable by phone. Maybe a newspaper colleague or someone at a club? It could get him background information, but not the details of the murder and the possible suspects. That information was right here in Blackcastle. At her fingertips.

  Alkmene smiled. In their first investigation Jake had dismissed her offer to trade information because he had been sure he held much more than she did. This time their trade would be even. When he came in, she would have something substantial to share.

  She smiled at the policeman who surveyed her with narrowed eyes. A second one had come in, younger, with unruly blond curls. He said, ‘Everybody knows why the dig was so important.’

  ‘Oh?’ Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘When I was there just now, I did not see anything particularly exciting.’

  ‘Well, there has to be something, or else they wouldn’t have written threats on the wall for him to get out, would they?’

  The constable at the desk shook his head at his colleague. ‘Don’t tell the lady nonsense, Eddy.’

  Eddy looked innocent. ‘It isn’t nonsense. There were words carved there in the planking of the tool shed. Mr Woolsbury had me come in and look at it to deduce who had put it there.’

  The older constable scoffed. ‘And could you deduce it, Eddy?’

  Eddy hung his head. ‘Not really. But I’m working on it.’

  ‘Sure you are.’ The constable got up and waved his hand at the younger man. ‘You better get back out there to see about that stolen bicycle Ms Rivers complained about.’

  ‘It isn’t stolen. She just misplaced it. She always does.’

  The other growled, ‘If I say so, you go.’

  The young man grimaced. ‘All right.’ He turned to Alkmene and said, ‘You will hear about it soon enough. Everybody knows about it. Especially Mr Page. He has been looking for the Black Castle gold for ages.’

  Alkmene’s eyes went wide. ‘The Black Castle what?’

  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 p
eople?’ 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.’