Vivian Conroy - Deadly Treasures

The driver braked. Alkmene did not wait for him to get out and open her door for her, but opened it herself and climbed out. In preparation of the conditions on site she had put on a tweed skirt under a sturdy jacket and some decent shoes that would do for walking, climbing and the like.

The wind coming across the hilly land grabbed at her hair as she marched up to the excited group. The well-dressed man in the suit turned to her with a frown as if he was not sure what she was doing there.

Past him she spotted two uniformed policemen, each holding an arm of…

‘Duncan!’ Alkmene cried.

Duncan Woolsbury had not changed much since she had last seen him. He had always been tall for his age and sturdily built, with broad shoulders. He had a real barrel chest now and his bare arms were covered with muscle cords. His reddish hair shone in the sunshine like fire. He pulled himself free from the policemen’s hold, exclaiming, ‘I will not flee.’

Apparently his short words made an impression for they did not take hold of him again.

Duncan stepped forward to Alkmene and said, ‘This is not a very good time for a visit, I’m afraid.’ He scanned her from top to bottom. ‘You’ve come on behalf of my father? To talk some sense into me?’

Alkmene felt a fiery flush come up. She hadn’t expected Duncan to be quite so forthright. In the presence of others at that! ‘Your father did mention to me you were here now and doing interesting work.’

‘My father doesn’t find my work interesting, or worthwhile. He wants me to give it up and come back home. Has he sent you to tell me that?’

Alkmene pulled back her shoulders. ‘You should know better than to believe I would be sent on such a mission.’

A smile jerked up the corners of his mouth. ‘Or any mission at all. Alkmene only does what Alkmene wants, right?’ That irked her a little, but it was true.

Duncan’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, and he said, ‘I’m not sure what you want here, Alkmene, but I’m afraid I can’t be your host and show you around. I have to go with these gentlemen to the police station.’

‘How come? Has something happened?’

Duncan sighed. ‘I have to give a statement in an accidental death that happened on my site.’

One of the policemen, older than the other, with the deep-set eyes of a melancholy basset hound, said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but the death was hardly accidental. The victim’s skull was fractured with a hammer. Your hammer.’

Alkmene winced.

Duncan said quickly, ‘In any case I have to explain what happened. I don’t have time to show you around now. Perhaps you had better go back to the village.’ He gestured to Kramer, who was waiting nearby.

‘She can stay.’ The good-looking man in the suit nodded at her. ‘I can show you around. Simon Peartree, at your service.’

Duncan said, ‘That won’t be necessary. I can do it myself.’ His tone was curt, and the look he threw Peartree almost vicious. He added, ‘I hope to be back in time for dinner. We have some catching up to do.’

The older policeman gestured to the car that was waiting at the back of the shed, mostly out of sight, so Alkmene had not noticed it until now. She watched with a frown as Duncan followed both men and was put in the back. Although they had not cuffed him, this still felt like…an arrest. If Duncan was merely wanted for a statement, why had they not asked him to stop by? Why had they been holding him by the arms?

Taking him in, publicly, amid all of his workers, was almost like a deliberate humiliation. Had Duncan acted rudely before, refusing to come to the station of his own accord because he was busy with some excavation details?

Duncan could be obsessed with his own little things, paying no heed to another’s wishes. And if those wishes happened to be those of the local authorities, he might have ticked off a few people who had decided to show him who was in charge in this area.

Beside her Simon Peartree said, ‘Forgive me for not knowing your name.’

Alkmene smiled at him. ‘Alkmene Callender. I practically grew up with Duncan. My father was away a lot, and I was shipped off for the summer to the Woolsbury country estate. Alberley. Perhaps you know it?’

He shook his head. ‘I've never been invited there.’ There was a slight stress on ‘invited’ and a tightness around his mouth.

Alkmene hurried to say, ‘Well, anyway, I had a fabulous time there. Ever since Duncan became engrossed in the whole archaeology thing, I’ve seen so little of him; so when his father told me he was in Cornwall now, it seemed like the best of chances to catch up. Closer than Egypt, you know.’

Simon Peartree laughed, erasing the tension in his handsome features. ‘Indeed it is. Well, I could show you around. I know all the ins and outs, have been here for weeks now, helping out. But apparently Duncan wants to do it himself as soon as he is back. So I suggest I put the workers to work first and then offer you some tea.’ He pointed to a picnic basket that was leaning against a half dug out wall. ‘It’s still warm, I hope.’

He gestured to the men. ‘Spread out and resume working. There is nothing to see here any more.’

He sounded almost like a constable clearing the scene after a crime.

A victim with a skull bashed in by a hammer… That was not accidental. It might have been an act on impulse, during an argument, or even in self-defence. But it had not been an accident, and the police would not treat it as such. That could get tricky for Duncan.

Alkmene turned to the driver who was still hovering a few feet away. His expression was blank, but Alkmene was certain he had followed everything with great interest. If he returned to London right away, he might start gossiping about it to the other servants. Lady Eleanor would have more than a headache if she found out.

Alkmene said, ‘I think it is better if you stick around here for the night, Kramer. You can take a room at the same inn where the viscount booked my room. The Catch in Blackcastle. You have to drop my luggage there anyway. I’ll let you know in the morning what the situation is and whether you are still needed here or may return to London.’

The driver seemed hesitant. ‘But my employer…’

‘I need you now. That the viscount must understand. I’ll clear it all up with him, should it be necessary. For the moment the family need not be troubled with the news of this unfortunate brush with the police. Now go.’ She waved him off with a careless gesture of her hand.

Kramer snorted, but did as she had told him.

She turned to Simon Peartree again. ‘So somebody died here?’

‘Why yes, two days ago.’ He shifted his weight uncomfortably, avoiding looking her straight in the eye.

‘A local man?’ Alkmene pressed.

Peartree shook his head. ‘A friend of Duncan’s, from London, I gathered.’

Alkmene’s jaw sagged. ‘Really? In that case I might know him. What was the victim’s name?’

Peartree held her gaze as if he was eager to see her response when he spoke the words out loud. ‘Reiner Goodman.’

Alkmene frowned. The name meant nothing to her. ‘And you are sure he was a friend of Duncan’s from London? From the peerage?’

Peartree’s mouth twitched as if he was about to laugh. ‘Not all Duncan’s friends are from the peerage.’

Alkmene bit back a remark about Duncan’s family being rather particular about whom they associated with. She had better be careful, as she had no idea who Peartree was himself and any careless remark about social standing might be hurtful to him.

She said slowly, ‘But you are sure that Duncan did know the victim well? I mean, he wasn’t someone just dropping by to see the excavation, perhaps on invitation from Duncan’s tutor, Trevor Price?’