Текст книги "Dying Fall"

Автор книги: Elly Griffiths

Соавторы: Elly Griffiths
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Ruth’s phone recalls her to life. She isn’t surprised when she sees that it’s from Cathbad but the words make her stand stock still as the cold North Sea breaks over the step and soaks her feet.

Have found Dan’s laptop. Tell Nelson.

*

As night falls Thing becomes more and more frantic. He keeps going to the front door and barking at the rain. Cathbad lights more oil lamps and tries to start a fire. It is something he’s good at (Nelson once called him a closet arsonist) but today his skills desert him. He kneels by the hearth, crumpled paper in hand, defeated. Thing whines softly in the background.

‘It’s OK, boy,’ says Cathbad. ‘Do you want food? There’s food in the kitchen.’

As he says this he hears Nelson’s voice, those familiar flat northern vowels.

He’s got enough food for a week.

There are several food bowls in the kitchen. Pendragon has left his dog enough food for a week. His friend – the druid who keeps a high-tech office hidden in his bedroom – obviously isn’t expecting to return for some time. But why leave the door unlocked, especially when he has all that expensive equipment upstairs? Cathbad stands still, listening to the house. The ancient beams creak, upstairs something – probably a mouse – is scurrying from room to room. Outside, the rain hammers on the windows as it did the day he came here with Ruth. Did Pendragon know then that Ruth was Dan Golding’s friend? Was that why he seemed so scared when they arrived? A sudden movement makes Cathbad jump but it’s only Thing scratching at the door. The crazy animal evidently wants to go outside. Well, Cathbad believes in following instincts, his own and those of other creatures. Holding the lamp high, he opens the heavy oak door.

Thing runs down the hill. Cathbad follows, more carefully. It’s dark now and the ground is steep. Also it’s raining heavily, turning the earth to mud. Cathbad stumbles. He doesn’t want to break his leg and lie undiscovered for weeks. Also, he doesn’t want to lose the dog.

‘Thing!’ he calls. ‘Thing! Come back!’

He sees a white shape at the bottom of the path and heads towards it. Thing is standing by a small group of trees. Hidden in the trees is a building, taller than it is wide, an outhouse of some kind. Cathbad approaches, driven on now by a sick certainty of disaster. By all the gods in the pantheon, he knows that nothing good lies within.

Cathbad pushes open the door. The lamp has gone out but the moon rides out from behind the clouds, illuminating brick walls, a pile of half-chopped logs and Pendragon’s body hanging from a beam.

Thing starts to howl.

CHAPTER 21

Cathbad backs away. For a second, he just wants to shut the door and pretend that he hasn’t seen the grotesque figure swinging to and fro. It is only the sound of Thing’s desolate howling that brings him to his senses.

‘It’s OK, boy,’ he says, ridiculously, to the dog. Because, if anything is clear, it’s that things are very much not OK.

He approaches the swinging body. Logs lie scattered on the floor. Presumably Pendragon stood on this pile before kicking it away. There seems to be nothing else to stand on. Cathbad takes out his phone and calls for an ambulance while, at the same time, searching for a ladder, a chair, anything. Eventually, he finds an old water butt and pulls it into the shed. The wood is rotten but he manages to balance on the reinforced rim. He takes a sharp knife from his pocket (the possession of which, as Nelson could inform him, renders him liable to a lengthy jail sentence) and cuts through the rope suspending Pendragon from the ceiling. He had intended to catch the body but Pendragon is a big man and his weight, combined with the perilous perch, is enough to send Cathbad crashing to the floor. Cathbad actually falls onto his friend’s body, but even as he scrambles to his feet and starts cutting the rope around Pendragon’s neck, he knows it’s too late. The wizard is dead: Cathbad knew that as soon as he opened the door.

When the paramedics arrive, they find Cathbad kneeling by his friend’s body, the dog at his side. They are very kind and professional, actually covering Cathbad with one of those foil blankets favoured by marathon runners. Pendragon is lifted onto a stretcher and carried into the ambulance which is parked by the gate, its headlights illuminating the rain. They ask if Cathbad wants to accompany them but he thinks that he ought to stay with Thing. ‘We’ll have to inform the police,’ they say, almost sympathetically. Cathbad nods and says that he understands. He has already called the only policeman who matters.

*

Nelson arrives to find Cathbad sitting by the fireplace with Thing on his lap. There is no fire in the grate and the room is freezing. Dream-catchers swing crazily in the draft from the open front door.

‘Is he dead?’ he asks.

‘Yes. The ambulance took him away.’

‘And you found him hanging in a shed at the end of the drive?’

‘Yes. He must have been there all day.’

Nelson rubs his eyes, digesting this. Then he asks, ‘Have you any idea why he did it?’

Cathbad smiles sadly. ‘I’ve got lots of ideas, none of them very edifying. I found a room upstairs with a computer in it.’

‘A computer? I thought this place was still in the Dark Ages.’

‘I think that’s what Pendragon wanted us to think. Anyway, there’s lots on the computer about the White Hand.’

‘Think they had something to do with this?’

‘I don’t know. I only know that he was scared of something and now he’s dead.’

‘It’s enough to be going on with,’ agrees Nelson. ‘I’d better tell Sandy and he can come and pick it up. He’d never forgive me if the local boys got their hands on it. Where is this hidden room?’

Cathbad shows him but he doesn’t show him the memory stick, which is in his pocket next to the illegal knife. He doesn’t know why he is keeping quiet about the find. After all, he told Ruth to tell Nelson about the computer. It’s just that he has a very strong feeling that Ruth ought to see the contents first. And, after all, his instincts have already been proved right once that day.

Nelson looks all round the secret room but is careful not to touch anything. Then he announces that he is going to drive Cathbad back to Lytham. Cathbad doesn’t demur and Nelson, in his turn, says nothing about Thing, who climbs happily into the back seat and breathes down Nelson’s neck all the way home.

*

Ruth is asleep on the sofa when Cathbad gets in. He meant to wake her gently but Thing bounds over and licks her face briskly.

‘What?’ Ruth sits up immediately, rubbing her cheek.

‘Sorry,’ says Cathbad. ‘I brought Thing back with me.’

‘So I see. Why?’

Cathbad explains about Pendragon and about the hidden room and the computer. By now, dawn is breaking and a pink light filters through the curtains. Cathbad makes tea and they sit on the sofa with the dog between them.

‘So you say Dan’s files are all on this memory stick,’ says Ruth.

‘I think so.’

‘Where is it? Did you give it to the police?’

In answer, Cathbad holds out his hand. On his palm is a little silver object shaped like a bullet.

‘Shall I have a look?’ says Ruth, almost in a whisper.

‘I think that’s what he would have wanted,’ says Cathbad seriously.

Ruth puts the memory stick into her laptop and immediately two files pop up. One is called archaeology and this Ruth resolves to explore in depth. The other is titled, simply, ‘Days’. Ruth clicks onto it:

9 May 2010

I’ve found him. I know it’s him. As soon as we moved that last stone and I saw his face, still with the gold circlet around his head, I knew. Guy said, ‘Is there anything inside?’ and I said, ‘It’s Him.’ Stupid, I know, and, afterwards Elaine teased me about it, saying that I was ‘more Martha than Arthur’. Her latest thing is implying that I’m gay, which doesn’t bother me at all. Let her think I am gay if that makes it easier for her.

It was getting dark by the time we had recorded the sarcophagus and skeleton and Clayton suggested that we secure the site and leave the actual excavation until tomorrow. He was right but I hated to leave Arthur there. It was a mild night and we put an awning over him but even so … It didn’t seem right to treat a king that way. God, Elaine is right. I am getting weird. None of us mentioned the White Hand but Clayton suggested, casually, that we took turns to guard the bones. He volunteered to watch until midnight, then I am going to relieve him. Sounds crazy, I know, but I am looking forward to going back and paying my homage to the Raven King.

‘It’s a diary,’ Ruth says.

CHAPTER 22

Both are expecting a summons from Sandy and it comes at nine o’clock in the form of a marked police car at their front door.

‘The neighbours will love this,’ says Ruth, but for once the street is deserted. It’s Friday morning, maybe everyone has gone away for a long weekend. A polite policeman passes on a message from DCI Macleod requesting their presence at the police station.

‘What about my daughter?’ says Ruth. Kate is hiding behind her, staring open-mouthed at the uniformed figures.

‘Bring her too. DCI Macleod said he’d lay on breakfast.’

‘And the dog?’ asks Cathbad.

The policeman looks dubiously at Thing, who puts his head on one side and tries to look sweet.

‘Can’t you leave him here?’

‘It’s a rented house. I don’t like to.’

‘Oh, all right. Bring him too.’

Kate enjoys the drive into Blackpool, making siren noises and waving excitedly at other motorists. Ruth and Cathbad sit in silence. Ruth suddenly feels very tired, not able to cope with Nelson and the famous Sandy Macleod, who is probably Nelson cubed. She wants to sit quietly and read Dan’s diaries. The description of finding King Arthur’s body had moved her. She remembers that thrill of discovery so well. Dan had sounded so happy but there had been ominous overtones too, the mention of the White Hand, of Elaine’s hostility. Less than a month after writing that diary entry, Dan was dead.

At first sight, Sandy Macleod lives up to Ruth’s mental image of ‘Nelson cubed’. He is a large man, not as tall as Nelson but much heavier. His shirt strains across his stomach and the chair creaks when he sits down. His face is pouchy and almost comically mournful, with turned-down eyes and mouth, like one of those cartoons of a smiley face turned upside down. There is something cartoonish about him altogether, from the broad Lancashire accent to the bustling walk with splayed-out feet. But something in his eyes warns Ruth not to underestimate him. He gives her a sharp look too.

‘Ah, the famous Doctor Galloway.’

Ruth wonders why she is famous to him, and while she normally likes people to use her title, on Sandy’s lips it has the effect of making her sound like a made-up character. Doctor Foster, Doctor Jekyll, Doctor Dolittle.

But Sandy is nice to Kate, bending down to her level and offering to buy her chocolate from the vending machine. Ruth almost protests but doesn’t want to sound like a neurotic middle-class mother. She can always eat it herself to save Kate’s teeth.

Sandy is accompanied by another man who introduces himself as Detective Sergeant Tim Heathfield. Ruth takes to him immediately. He is respectful without being creepy, formal without being officious. He ushers them into a meeting room which contains a large breakfast – and Nelson.

‘What are you doing here?’ says Ruth, without thinking.

‘Cathbad called me from Pendragon’s house last night,’ says Nelson.

‘DCI Nelson informed me that there was important evidence at the scene,’ says Sandy, sounding as if he is making a statement in court. ‘I proceeded to the house and took possession of a laptop.’ He points at the computer on the table.

Ruth looks at Cathbad and then at Sandy, who is now tucking into a bacon roll.

‘There’s something you should know …’ She gets out the memory stick.

‘What’s that?’ asks Sandy.

‘It’s a memory stick,’ says Ruth. ‘For a computer.’

‘I know that, love,’ says Sandy with menacing sweetness. ‘But what’s it doing here?’

‘I found it in Pendragon’s house,’ says Cathbad. ‘I thought Ruth ought to see it.’

‘It’s got Dan’s files on it,’ says Ruth.

‘You shouldn’t have touched it,’ says Nelson angrily. ‘It’s police property now.’

‘I know,’ says Cathbad, ‘but I thought Ruth should see it first.’

Tim leans forward. ‘Have you opened any files, Doctor Galloway?’

‘I glanced at one or two,’ says Ruth defensively.

Tim looks at Sandy.

‘What?’ asks Ruth.

‘It’s possible,’ says Tim, ‘that there was a virus inserted into the files. As soon as you opened the files, the virus could have sent an email to … to whoever took the computer in the first place.’

‘So they’d know I’d found it?’ says Ruth, suddenly afraid. She thinks of the text messages, the sense that someone is watching her. Now they’re watching her even when she’s on-line. She’s got a cyber stalker as well as the old-fashioned kind.

Tim seems to know what she’s thinking. ‘Doctor Galloway, I know you’ve had some threatening texts. Have you received anything else unusual, either as a text message or via email?’

‘What do you mean, “unusual”?’ asks Ruth.

‘Somebody wanting your bank account details, personal information, anything like that.’

‘Nigerian businessman needs a loan,’ says Nelson. ‘You know the kind of thing.’

‘I’m hardly going to fall for …’ begins Ruth. Then she stops.

‘What is it?’ asks Nelson.

Ruth is thinking of her cottage on the Saltmarsh. Of opening her computer and reading that first cheery message from University Pals. Hi Ruth! Want to catch up with your old mates from uni?

She describes the email to Tim. He exchanges a glance with Sandy.

‘Sounds like a classic phishing exercise,’ he says.

‘Fishing?’

He spells out the word. ‘It’s an internet scam designed to elicit personal information.’

‘But they didn’t ask for bank details,’ says Ruth, feeling defensive.

‘No. It sounds to me more like someone wanted to assume your identity.’

‘Why?’ says Sandy, as if this was the last identity he’d choose.

‘They must have known that Doctor Galloway was going to investigate Dan Golding’s discovery. They may have wanted to make enquiries in her name.’

‘What sort of enquiries?’ says Sandy.

‘Test results,’ says Ruth. ‘Dan sent samples to forensic labs for testing. I’m trying to track them down.’

‘Is there anything about the tests on the computer?’ asks Tim.

Ruth has had a quick look through the archaeology file. She noticed immediately that Dan had used a laboratory in the US for the DNA and isotopic tests. Why had he done that? There are plenty of excellent labs in the UK. Why bother to send samples all the way to the States?

‘I’ve found the lab he used,’ she says. ‘They’re in New York so I can call them this afternoon.’

‘Anything about the White Hand in the diary?’ asks Sandy.

‘Bits and pieces,’ says Ruth. ‘I haven’t read it all yet.’ She feels disinclined to share Dan’s secret thoughts with these people who didn’t know him and didn’t care about his work.

‘There’s quite a lot on Pendragon’s computer,’ says Tim. ‘A kind of manifesto. Lots of stuff about the Arthurian legends, Arthur being the great White King who’ll come again to purge England of all undesirable aliens.’ He speaks lightly but Ruth wonders how it feels for him to read such nakedly racist sentiments. She herself has enormous trouble relating them to Pendragon, that kindly Father Christmas figure.

‘Any names and addresses?’ asks Sandy. ‘Anything helpful?’

‘We can take it to the forensic recovery people,’ says Tim. ‘If there’s anything there, they’ll find it. I’ll give them the memory stick too.’

Sandy grunts, probably at the use of the ‘f’ word. Ruth says, ‘Can I take a copy of the diaries? I’d like to read them all. See if I can find … if I can find any clues.’

‘You might as well,’ says Sandy. ‘Harm’s done now. Tim can make copies of everything for you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Mind you tell us if you find anything that strikes you as worth investigating,’ says Sandy.

Ruth says she will. Sandy takes another roll and turns to Cathbad. ‘Think that’s why your mate topped himself, because he was mixed up with this Nazi group?’

Even Nelson winces but Cathbad just says quietly, ‘I don’t know why he did it.’

‘Didn’t even have the decency to leave a note,’ says Sandy. ‘Get us some more coffee, Tim, there’s a good lad.’

*

The police car deposits Ruth and Cathbad back in Lytham, to the delighted interest of their neighbours. Neither of them feels like lunch after the huge police breakfast but Ruth makes sandwiches for Kate and Cathbad eats the crusts abstractedly.

‘I’ll take Kate to the park this afternoon,’ says Ruth. ‘Give you some time to rest. You must be exhausted.’ Cathbad doesn’t look tired; in fact he seems almost unnaturally calm and self-controlled. Ruth feels quite in awe of him.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he says. ‘Thing could do with a walk.’

Under the table, Thing wags his tail noisily. Ruth doesn’t know if animals are allowed in the cottage but what else could they do with him? Cathbad says he’ll take him to a dog rescue place but Ruth thinks otherwise. She suspects that Cathbad and Thing are stuck with each other for life.

At two o’clock, Ruth rings New York to be told that the person she needs is in a meeting. He’ll call her back, says the lilting American voice. Have a nice day now.

It’s a new experience, going for a walk with a bull terrier. People cross to the other side of the street to avoid Thing, and in the park mothers clutch their children nervously, even though Cathbad doesn’t let the dog off the lead.

‘Now I know why Pen lived in the country,’ says Cathbad, smiling encouragingly at a terrified toddler. It is almost the first time that he has said his friend’s name since he told Ruth how he died.

Now he says, almost chattily, ‘You know, Ruth. That’s something I just don’t understand. How Pen could leave Thing like that?’

‘Maybe he knew you’d come for him,’ says Ruth. She is in the play area pushing Kate on a swing and has to talk to Cathbad across the fence. Thing wags his tail at all the children and crinkles his nose engagingly. ‘Look at that dog snarling,’ says one grandmother. ‘Shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘I can’t stop thinking,’ says Cathbad. ‘When did he do it? The paramedics thought he hadn’t been dead long. Maybe he’d just done it when Nelson and I arrived. Maybe if I’d found him sooner, I could have saved him.’

Maybe he didn’t want to be saved, thinks Ruth. Aloud, she asks, ‘Did Pendragon have any family?’

‘A sister,’ says Cathbad. ‘They weren’t close. I gave her name to the police. I ought to speak to her as well, I suppose.’

A sister, but no children, thinks Ruth. Just like Dan. Are their deaths linked as well? In the sunshine of the park it’s hard to believe in shadowy fascist conspiracies. But there is someone out there, someone who wants to scare her too. Ladybird, ladybird. Ruth shivers, looking round at the children on the slide, at the parents sitting on benches, at the elderly bowlers on the green. Is he here, the texter? Is he watching her now?

‘Don’t stop,’ orders Kate.

Ruth pushes the swing, enjoying the sight of her daughter, her dark hair and red T-shirt silhouetted against the sky.

‘Higher, higher,’ shouts Kate.

Cathbad too is watching Kate, leaning on the fence with the devil dog at his side. ‘What a wonderful thing it is to be a child,’ he says. Ruth thinks he sounds very sad.

*

When they get home, Ruth has a message to ring Todd Holland at the American lab. She does so and they spend a few minutes establishing her identity, the identity that is, apparently, coveted by someone else.

‘I’ve got the DNA and isotope results here,’ says Todd. ‘They’re very interesting, especially when you think where the bones were found. Of course, the Roman Empire stretched into all sorts of places, but even so.’

‘Yes?’ says Ruth, encouragingly. Her mouth is suddenly dry.

‘Well, oxygen isotope analysis points to the subject originating from the north of England.’

Big news, thinks Ruth. She has known all along that they are dealing with a northerner, a sort of Ancient Roman version of Nelson – or Sandy. But Todd isn’t finished. ‘The interesting thing is the DNA result …’

‘Don’t tell me it’s a woman.’

‘No,’ says Todd, sounding surprised. ‘Subject is male and at least one of his parents was from North Africa.’

When Ruth puts the phone down, Cathbad is looking enquiringly at her.

‘King Arthur was black,’ she says.