Digging Deeper (37 page)

But the sensible part of Beck’s brain became aware that he was probably hurting her and this was hardly the right time and place. He raised himself on his arms.

“You rotten bastard,” she whispered.

“Don’t let my mother hear you say that.” Beck wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

“Could it be a Roman dog?” Flick asked.

“Doubtful.” Beck rolled onto his back.

“So I dug up the family pet.” Flick sat up. “Now what do I do? Bury it again?”

“What we normally do is carry on with the excavation, put all the remains together and ask whoever owns the land what they’d like us to do with them.”

Flick sighed. “Would you like to find me a box? Make it a big one and you can fit in it, too.”

When Beck came back, Flick had most of her body down the hole exposing more of her black pants. He looked the other way and then thought—what the hell.

“Find anything else?” He wondered how deep she’d managed to bury the heart he’d bought.

“Such as?” Flick tossed out another bone and it hit his foot.

Beck laughed. He thought the heart was probably buried under the heap of dirt she’d thrown out. He should have bought something bigger she couldn’t miss, something the size of a plate.

“Oh.” Flick stopped moving.

“Don’t put your finger on anything that resembles a bomb,” Beck said.

“Very funny.”

“What’s the matter?”

Flick pulled herself out of the ground. Her face was smudged with dirt but Beck thought she’d never looked lovelier. Her eyes shone with excitement. She held out her hand. He’d hoped to see the heart, but that wasn’t what lay on her palm. Beck picked up a grubby necklace with a large stone fastened in a clasp.

“It is Roman?” Flick asked.

“What is it with you and the Romans? No it’s not Roman. It’s modern, well, no more than fifty years old. This looks like a diamond.”

“I thought it was glass.”

“My kind of girl.” Beck grinned.

Flick glared.

“Maybe whoever buried the dog, dropped the necklace by accident,” she said. “If I keep digging I might find the owner.”

“You can learn such a lot from
Murder She Wrote
.”

Flick stuck out her tongue. “Maybe it was buried with the dog to ease his path into the afterlife.”

Beck chuckled. “Now you’re beginning to sound like Janet and John meet the Egyptians.”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“No.”

“So should I keep digging or stop?”

“Why did you start?”

“Just a feeling there was something important here. I don’t like giving up on things.”

Beck’s heart pounded. “Are you always so persistent?”

“When I think it’s worth it.”

She put her hand in her pocket and showed him the silver heart.

“Ah, so you did find it,” he said.

Flick peered at it. “Made in Taiwan.”

“It does not say that,” Beck protested.

Flick laughed. “Thank you. It’s lovely.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Beck pulled her closer. “Not as lovely as you.”

“Even when I’m covered in dirt?”

“Even when you’re covered in dirt.”

———

Celia’s mouth dropped open when Beck handed her the necklace. The first time he’d seen her speechless. It didn’t last long.

“My God. This belonged to Henry’s grandmother. Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. Flick did. Henry told her she could dig down by the marquee and she dug it up. Along with a dog. The tag said Maisie.”

“Maisie was her Golden Retriever. The necklace must have fallen in when they buried the dog. Er, tell Felicity thank you. I should give her a reward.” Celia fished in her handbag and handed Beck a ten-pound note.

“Actually, as Flick found a lost item and was working with permission, she’s entitled—”

“She was not working with permission.” Celia’s face hardened. “I told her she was sacked and to leave.”

Beck didn’t bother arguing. Celia could never be reasonable.

“What do you want us to do with the dog?”

“Just bury the thing again.”

Beck walked back to the marquee wishing that he’d spoken to Henry. The law was reasonably clear. Where an item is lost, or stolen and thrown away, and then found by someone who’s been given permission to detect and search in that place, then the finder can keep it. If by any chance, Henry had searched regularly for the necklace, then he retained ownership but Beck suspected that legally it was Flick’s, if morally Henry’s. Since there was no written agreement between Henry and Flick, unlike the one between Henry and the university over the dig, the whole thing could get messy. Beck didn’t think Flick would fight for ownership.

He found her still working.

“What are you up to, Ms. Mole?”

Flick’s head popped up. “I was wondering what else I was going to find down this hole.”

“Australia?” Beck suggested.

“That can only be a few more feet. Go and get a spade. It will save a fortune in airfares.”

Beck laughed. “I’m going to have to go. I’ve had a summons from Giles.”

“Make sure he brushes his teeth and washes behind his ears.” Flick smiled. “Then tuck him up in bed with a hot drink.”

Beck stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I was thinking about tucking you up in bed.”

“You need a cold shower.”

“Come and have one with me,” Beck said.

Flick shook her head. “Giles needs you tonight. You’ll forget him if I come back with you.”

Beck ran a hand over his face and sighed. “You’re right. Here.” He handed her the ten-pound note.

“Paying me in advance?” Flick asked. “I‘m flattered. Only ten quid? I’m insulted.”

“Celia sent it. A reward for finding the necklace.”

Flick laughed. “I know just what to do with this. I’ll spend it on Henry.”

“What are you going to buy?”

“It’s a surprise.”

———

“What are we looking for?” Willow asked as they entered the party store.

“We’ll consider anything if they can supply a hundred and sixty-eight,” Flick said.

They wandered together down the first aisle.

“Plastic frogs,” Flick suggested. “Grow your own Prince Charming.”

“Miniature water pistols,” countered Willow.

“Wet your own Prince Charming. Keep looking.”

It was Flick who found the little drawstring bags made of silver organza.

“They’re nice but what can we put in them?” Willow asked.

“Let’s go up to the sweet shop on The Grove. They might have chocolate frogs.”

“Give up with the frogs,” Willow said.

While Willow went to pay for the bags, Flick picked out her present for Henry. Fifteen pounds but she couldn’t resist it.

Willow dithered again in the sweet shop.

“Go for the Jellybeans,” Flick said. “They won’t melt. Everyone likes them and they’re all different.”

“I’m not sure.” Willow wavered like her name.

“You could have peanut butter flavor.”

“I’m going for sugared almonds.”

“You do realize that if anyone tries to eat them they’ll break their teeth,” Flick said.

“I have to go for looks.”

“You shallow bride-to-be. I’ll tell Giles.”

Willow beamed with happiness and Flick wanted to hug her. She hesitated and then threw her arms around her. Willow hugged her back.

“Thanks, Flick. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Yes, I will help you put them in the bags.” Flick sighed. It would stop her thinking about how long it would be before she and Beck could get naked again.

“Hi, sis, great news. Drew and I are coming for lunch tomorrow. His parents are flying us down so I said they’d come too. See you around noon. Bye.”

Flick stared at the phone as if she could make the message disappear. She listened again to check she hadn’t made a mistake. What was the great news? That they were coming for lunch? Flick had intended to stay in bed all day with the best man, now she had to cook.

“Shit.”

She’d have to go shopping and had precisely eight pounds and fifty pence in her purse. It would have to be another stealth attack on the credit card.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Josh asked.

Flick looked down at the respectable shirt-style, knee-length, blue linen dress.

He raised an eyebrow. “Underneath?”

“Damn. Can you tell?”

“No, I just know you.”

Flick unfastened the buttons. Josh gulped when he saw the short cape, light blue dress with a plastic belt and a white apron. A cardboard watch hung from Flick’s left breast.

“I’m a nurse. I’ve got the hat in my pocket.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“I’m going to keep the other dress on. This is a private joke for Henry.”

———

Josh dropped Flick at the Hall on his way to the church. As she walked up the drive she could see the caterers racing around like kids in a playground with occasional collisions and lots of shouting. The scent of flowers and the mouth-watering aroma of well-cooked, expensive food drifted through the air. Dozens of bottles of champagne sat in buckets of ice and water. Young men wearing starched white shirts and black bow ties were setting out glasses on a long table. Violins tuned up in the marquee. The sun shone brightly. Even the sky had been decorated, full of those huge, fluffy white clouds Flick liked to watch while lying on her back in the paddling pool. The forecast said more of the same. What could go wrong?

Even as that thought slipped into her mind she spotted Beck sprinting up the drive.

“I need a ladder,” he shouted.

“There’s one in the dogs’ yard. What’s happened?”

“Giles has fallen in the bathroom and banged his head. He’s against the door and I can’t open it. I need to get in through the window.”

“Oh God, have you phoned for the ambulance?”

“Yes. There’s one on the way and the fire brigade. Would you go and wait for them?”

Flick ran down the drive. She didn’t want to waste time waiting. She assumed Giles was in the bathroom she’d climbed into and dashed to the back of the house. The window was ajar, as it had been before.

“Giles,” Flick shouted. “Are you okay?”

No reply. Anxiety surged through her. He could have swallowed his tongue or be drowning in his own blood. Or maybe a poisonous spider had bitten him, having escaped from Roundhay Park’s Tropical World. Giles could need heart massage.

“Giles,” she shouted again.

Nothing. Admittedly it would have been a long walk from Roundhay to Ilkley for the spider but seconds could count. Flick looked at the wheelie bin, sighed and ripped off her blue shift dress. She’d never climb in that, it was far too tight. All she had to do was repeat what she’d done the other day. After a short amount of scrambling, a large amount of swearing and one loud yelp, she had her shoulders inside the room. There was no sign of Giles.

“Flick, what the hell are you doing?” Beck yelled below her.

She squeezed a couple of inches more of the top half of her body through the window as she tried to run up the wall in her strappy open-toed sandals.

“Stop looking at my underwear and do something.”

“Black lace? Ohh, God.”

The ladder banged against the wall at her side.

“What idiot thinks about sex at a time like this?” Flick muttered and wriggled forward half an inch.

The sound of sirens filled the air.

“Flick, there’s a ladder on your left,” Beck said. “Come back down and be careful. I’m going to the front of the house.”

She could feel the ladder by her right leg but couldn’t swing herself onto it. Her belt buckle had wedged itself into the window catch. At least she wasn’t going to fall, although the plastic had begun to stretch.

Flick could hear all the commotion inside the house, but the door of the bathroom remained closed. She wondered whether to shout for Beck. Maybe if she could unfasten the belt she could pull herself in, but she held onto the window sill with both hands and was afraid to let go. Her arms ached and the belt grew longer. She’d have to do something soon.

Beck raced up the stairs followed by two firemen and two paramedics. Moments later the door to Giles and Willow’s bathroom had been broken off its hinges. Giles had his eyes open but a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. Beck stood back and let the paramedics work.

One of the firemen tapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t need us anymore. We’ll be off now, but could I use your bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.” Beck winced as the paramedics attached a heart monitor to Giles. Willow was going to kill them both.

Flick froze as the door opened and the fireman came in. Without a glance at her, he headed straight for the toilet, unzipping his fly as he went. Flick coughed. His head shot round and he gaped at her.

“Super Heroes Incorporated. Flying Nurse Rescue Service,” she said in a crisp tone. “Only I’m stuck.”

Moments later she stood in the bathroom, her legs shaking. She adjusted her cape, pulled her dress over her hips and tightened her belt. The fireman bent over, creased up laughing. Flick opened the door to find herself face to face with Beck.

“I got my belt caught,” Flick said. “Henry’s present.”

Beck gaped.

“Maybe yours too, if you play your cards right. How’s Giles?”

“He’ll be okay. They’re checking him over.”

“The wedding car’s arrived,” the other fireman shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll go and distract them,” Flick said.

“You’ll do no such thing. Wait here, I’ll get your dress.”

“I’m not sure there’s any point. I sort of ripped it off, like Wonder Nurse.”

Beck laughed and then the smile died on his face. “You’re bleeding.”

Flick looked down. She’d scraped her knees and toes.

“I’m all right.”

“You could have killed yourself climbing in like that.”

“You’re too big to get through the window. I thought I’d save time.”

“But I wasn’t going in through that window. The one in their bathroom is huge.”

“Oh.” Flick sighed.

By the time Beck came back with the dress, the paramedics were walking down the stairs supporting Giles, who only wore underpants, black ones with little red hearts all over them.