Erin Hart - Lake of Sorrows

She traced the edge of the pasture above the apiary, sticking close to the framing hedge and crouching as low as she could. There was the beekeeping shed that she could use for cover. She circled cautiously around the outside of the whitethorn ring that surrounded the hives, and came up behind the abandoned house. No one seemed to be about, but the breeze carried a lazy, intermittent buzzing, depending on which way the wind shifted. Brona could be hiding; she’d have to check inside.

As she turned, she felt a strong hand clamped over her mouth and another person’s wiry strength against her own. Her captor pushed her back against the wall, and it was a moment before she realized that the wide, frightened eyes only inches from her own belonged to Brona Scully. With her free hand, the girl lifted a finger to her lips; then she pulled Nora down into the weeds.

The reason for her urgency became immediately apparent; the grass began to rustle no more than a few yards away and two figures came into view through the overgrown grass and clover. Nora recognized one of them as Dominic Brazil; the other was Desmond Quill. Brona Scully’s whole body tensed, and she pulled at Nora’s arm as if to beg her to come away. They might be able to get away without being seen, but it was risky. If they stayed put, Nora reasoned, she might be able to find out what was going on. She shook her head. Brona stopped pulling, but remained where she was.

Dominic Brazil was speaking. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to find. I told you a long time ago, there never was any gold. It was something Danny made up to try and get some extra money off you. If there was any gold, why would I have just carried on all these years?”

Desmond Quill followed about five paces behind Brazil, carrying a spade in his left hand, and keeping the right jammed in his coat pocket. “It took me a long time to figure that out. You know, I almost believed you, back when that story was new—about how there was no gold, how Danny had made off with both shares of the reward money. But you ought to know it won’t wash anymore. Give it up. And keep walking.” He prodded Brazil’s back with the spade handle, making him stumble. “I admit that I underestimated your fortitude—sticking to that story all these years, never wavering.”

Brazil marched stoically through the deep grass, but his pace was slowing. “I’ve got to rest for a minute,” he said. “It’s me breathin’. I can’t cover ground like I used to.”

“We’re nearly there,” Quill said. “Keep going.”

“Nearly where? What are you on about? If you know where the fuckin’ thing is, why didn’t you just take it? Why did you have to drag me here?”

“Because I’m a curious man, Mr. Brazil, and you’re the only person who can satisfy my curiosity—let’s put it that way.” Quill’s mouth turned upward into a grim smile; he drew his right hand from his pocket and looked down at the dagger it held. “I understand that you’re a bit worried about this. But consider my position. How was I to know you wouldn’t try the same thing with me as you did with Danny? You seem to be on a downward spiral, my friend. I might have been next.”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler just to tell me you’d murdered your brother? Why the need for such elaborate dissembling? I’m disturbed at your total lack of trust in me. I suppose you thought I’d go to the authorities. But let me ask: In all these years, have I ever done so? Have I ever raised one single objection to your acts of thievery or fratricide? You could have eliminated your whole sorry family as far as I was concerned. Stop there.”

Dominic Brazil was wheezing now, and pale, but Quill seemed not to notice. They had passed the beekeeping shed and stood within the circle of the hives. Quill looked at the three hives that marked the top of the circle, then turned and faced the other two sets of three. He stuck the spade into the soil at the base of the ninth hive. “Here’s where we’re going to dig. Where you’re going to dig, to be more precise.” Brazil looked as if he wanted to cut and run, but didn’t dare. Instead he reached for the spade. Quill said, “Despite everything, I’m going to be reasonable. We’re both going to be reasonable men, aren’t we?” Brazil glumly set the spade at the spot Quill had pointed out. Placing one heavy foot on the spade’s neck, he dug in.

Quill stood close by and watched Dominic Brazil dig. “Clever, wasn’t he, your brother? Much cleverer than you. And always just that much ahead of you in everything, even though he was younger by—what, six years? At first I thought the reason you killed him was something to do with the farm. It must have been difficult, having to share with your brother—like you’d had to share everything with him your whole life. Nothing was your own. And even though you were the eldest, you were always the less favored son; everyone knew it, even you. Especially you. They didn’t even pretend. He got everything, eventually. Everything.”

Brazil’s face and shoulders twitched. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kept digging, but each spadeful was smaller than the last.

“Faster,” said Quill. “And then I thought, no, of course you wouldn’t kill your own brother, not just for the sake of a miserable few acres in the middle of a bog. Besides, you told me you had it worked out, all that. He was going away to Australia, and you were buying him out with the reward money. He could have the money and you could have the farm. But why should you be satisfied with that arrangement when you could have everything?”

Dominic Brazil scratched at the earth, and his breathing was becoming more labored. “I didn’t need everything. The way we were working it, the place would be mine. I’d not have to worry about him coming back and taking anything away. He signed the papers. He was going away for good, he said. What need had I to kill him? He said he was never coming back.”

Nora’s thoughts were racing, zigzagging through what she’d just heard. They had conspired together, all those years ago, to keep something back from the Loughnabrone hoard. Quill must have made a deal with Dominic and Danny Brazil to sell whatever it was and split the proceeds. But if Dominic was telling the truth, and there was no gold left, what was Quill making him dig for? Nora heard the spade’s rhythmic scraping against the soil. She couldn’t see the ground for all the weeds, but she had a clear view of each man’s face; the sweat gleaming on Dominic Brazil’s forehead; Quill’s cool, detached expression as he watched the digging. She thought about creating a distraction, something that would draw Quill away, but she had no idea what he might do. Maybe it was better to keep still and wait until they left.

The two men stopped speaking, but she could hear the spade. It struck something that reverberated with a hollow, metallic sound. The next sound she heard was a struggle, a cry, the sound of flesh slapping against the wooden spade handle. The two men were rolling on the ground, and Dominic Brazil was holding the spade handle to Quill’s throat.

With a fierce shove, Quill threw Brazil off balance and scrambled to his feet, wielding the spade like a weapon. “I thought we were going to be reasonable about this,” he said. “There’s no reason for either of us to get hurt. We’re partners, after all.”

She could hear Brazil’s labored breathing, each exhalation coming in a slow wheeze.

“Dig with your hands,” Quill commanded, and Brazil complied, reaching down into the shallow trench and scooping out earth until he had freed the object that was buried there, a large round black-and-gold biscuit tin. “Open it,” Quill said.