Shadows of Death (29 page)

‘I agree completely, old boy,’ I said, shivering in my bathrobe. ‘Here, let’s dry you off, and then we’ll get some breakfast into you, and some coffee into me, and we’ll both be happier.’

Alan came down shortly after that, and we lingered over our oatmeal. ‘For,’ I’d said, ‘it may be the beginning of July, but it feels like the middle of winter, and I want something hot and sustaining inside me.’ Alan, like a true Brit, called it porridge and took it with just salt and milk. I loaded mine with brown sugar and raisins, and would have indulged myself with cream if we’d had any.

We were just thinking about getting showered and dressed when my phone made those peculiar noises that meant a call was coming in. It irritates me. Old fogey that I am, I think a ringing phone ought to sound like a ringing phone. ‘Yes?’ I said into it, in a snappish tone.

‘I’m sorry if this is a bad time, Dorothy, but can you both come straightaway?’

‘Nora? Come where?’

‘The rectory.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Charlie is here, and I think you need to hear what he has to say.’

I looked out the window. I could barely see the huge ferry at the dock, so blinding was the rain.

‘Oh, dear. I mean, that’s wonderful news, but we slept late this morning, and we’re not even dressed yet.’

‘I think it’s important,’ she replied. She sounded as calm and serene as she always did, but there was a hint of steel in her voice. She Who Must Be Obeyed was speaking.

‘We’ll be there as soon as we can,’ I said, and clicked off.

‘You know,’ I said to Alan as I got to my feet and began to clear the table, ‘As much as I want to get to the bottom of this mess, I’m getting just a little tired of crises having to do with Charlie. That was Nora. She wants us to go to the rectory right away. I can’t say the prospect of more alarums and excursions thrills me.’

‘Have another cup of coffee, and then go get dressed,’ said Alan. ‘I’ll wash up.’

I grumped upstairs. Charlie Norquist was developing into a prime pain in the neck, and for once I didn’t want to see Nora, either. I wanted to stay home and nurse my bad mood.

I remembered what had happened the last time I’d felt sulky. Nora had sent us to the Italian Chapel, and I’d been shriven. As contrary as I was feeling just now, she was likely to have the cure. I sighed, finished my coffee, and headed for the shower.

Alan has put up with my moods for long enough that he knows better than to try to jolly me out of a really good snit. He spoke very little until I was finally ready to go, and then said only, ‘We’ll drive up.’

‘That’s ridiculous! Where on earth will you park?’

‘Don’t know.’ He opened the door to the attached garage. ‘In you go.’

It took longer to drive up to The Street than it would to walk. Traffic on the narrow street was awful, even though, or perhaps because, very few pedestrians had ventured out. Alan stopped in front of the steep, narrow passageway leading to the rectory. ‘You’ll have to walk from here, I’m afraid. Here’s my brolly; it’s bigger. I’ll be with you in a tick.’ He all but shoved me out of the car and drove on before I could argue.

Despite the big black umbrella, I was very wet indeed when I rang the bell and opened the door of the rectory. Nora came to meet me. ‘My dear, I know you’d like to strangle me, but this really is necessary. Did Alan not come with you?’

‘He drove me up. He’s trying to find a place to put the car.’

I was trying not to sound the way I felt. I dropped the umbrella in the stand with rather more force than was necessary and shook my raincoat with extra vigour, spraying rainwater around the entry almost as efficiently as Watson. My hostess only smiled and offered me a pair of slippers. ‘I’m sure your feet must be soaked.’

They were, in fact. I slipped out of my shoes and into the slippers, beginning to feel ashamed of my ill nature. What
was
it with me these days, anyway? Nora took my coat with no care against getting herself wet and hung it on the rack. ‘Charlie’s in the sitting room,’ she said softly. ‘I talked them into releasing him from the hospital into my care. They’ve given him something to calm him down, and he’s really quite himself, but they couldn’t say for certain how long the effect of the drug will last. I wanted you to hear what he has to say while he’s still … well, you’ll see.’ She turned toward the sitting room.

‘Nora, wait.’ I had, I thought, figured out what was really wrong with me. ‘I need to know what I’m getting into. Can Alan and I ask him questions without sending him into another heart attack? Because I don’t think I can take much more drama. I … you see, my first husband died of a sudden heart attack, and … actually, I didn’t realize until this minute why I was so loath to come and see Charlie.’

‘I understand, and it’s all right. I mean, your reaction is reasonable, but it will be all right to say anything you like to Charlie, as long as you’re gentle about it. Just now he’s eager to tell his story. You’ll see why. Ah, here’s Alan.’

Alan was as wet as a man can well be, short of drowning. ‘You had to go back to the flat, didn’t you?’ I said accusingly. ‘And without your umbrella.’

‘I won’t melt,’ he said. ‘Dinna fash yoursel’, lass.’

His Scottish accent was a lot better than his American, but it still sounded strange coming from his very English lips. I smiled almost in spite of myself, and he stepped toward me and then backed off. ‘I’ll not give you a hug, my love. You’re reasonably dry. Let me just rid myself of this coat, which weighs approximately fifty pounds, and I’m at everyone’s service.’

Charlie was looking much, much better than the last time I’d seen him. His cheeks weren’t exactly rosy, but they were back to his normal colour, and his expression was the normal prissy one. ‘Good morning, Mrs Martin, Mr Nesbitt. I hope we can get this over quickly. I am exceedingly concerned about the museum. It’s most irregular for it to be closed at the height of the tourist season, and there is much I must see to.’

‘I believe some of the volunteers have been keeping it at least partially open, sir,’ said Alan. ‘In any case I doubt there’d have been many visitors today. The weather is not conducive to a pleasure outing.’

‘All the more reason why I should be there. I have no doubt there are things that have been left undone since I have been away. However, I wished to acquaint someone with several important details about the recent disgraceful events surrounding High Sanday. Mrs Tredgold tells me you have the ear of the police, and I would rather deal with you than with them.’

He’d have to deal with them eventually, but I saw no reason to tell him so right away. ‘We’re eager to hear your story, Mr Norquist. We’d both like to know why you went away.’

‘That’s soon told. I went away to avoid being murdered by Mr Fairweather.’

‘I expect you’d like some tea,’ said Nora into the sudden silence, and slipped away.

Alan was the first to recover his aplomb. ‘And why did you think that Mr Fairweather intended to murder you, sir?’

‘I assure you, it was not a matter of “thinking”. I knew quite well what he intended. I was a danger to him, you see. But perhaps I had best begin at the beginning, though I hate to take the time.’

‘Please do.’ Alan sat back with the air of one who had all the time in the world, and I tried to assume the same manner.

‘It’s somewhat difficult to know where the beginning really began, if you follow me,’ said Charlie in his dry, pedantic way. ‘I suppose it really goes back to when Mr Fairweather was hired to direct the dig. I was not in favour of his appointment, for he seemed to me to lack the requisite single-minded commitment. An endeavour such as this one can become a life’s work, and Mr Fairweather did not, I thought, quite understand that. However, I am not an influential voice in the Friends, though one would think I ought to be. I voiced my objections. I was overruled. Mr Fairweather was hired.’

Nora came in with a tea tray, poured out for us all, and sat down noiselessly.

‘The trouble actually began when Mr Carter interested himself in the dig.’ Charlie sipped his tea nervously, pausing after every sentence to refresh himself. ‘He was not a sympathetic character, and I could see at once that his motive was self-aggrandizement rather than the furthering of knowledge. Again my objections were ignored. Archaeology is expensive. He had money. He was embraced by Mr Fairweather and, to a lesser degree, by Mr Larsen. Might I have a bit more tea, Mrs Tredgold?’

None of this was new information, of course. I was impatient for Charlie to get the point of being an almost-victim of murder, but a look from Alan made me bide my time.

‘I could see,’ Charlie went on, ‘that Mr Fairweather was growing more and more disenchanted with Mr Carter, as was I, and really, everyone who knew him. He was a most unpleasant man. He thought he could buy everything and everyone, and he knew nothing, nothing at all, about archaeology. He became obsessed with digging deeper and deeper at High Sanday, without regard to what might be destroyed in the upper layers. He was foolish enough to think he would find gold, Viking gold, when the Vikings were of an entirely different period, much, much later than the dwellings we were finding. They were finding, I should say. I, of course, was simply an observer.’

There it was again, his not-so-veiled irritation at being shut out of the inner circle. How much of his statement now was motivated by that envious anger?

‘The night of the meeting was when it all came to a head. Mr Fairweather seemed to handle himself well, but I knew he was beside himself. He was so upset he did something he had never done before. He invited me out for a drink. He said he needed to calm down, and said he thought I could use what he called “a little tranquilizer” myself.

‘Now, I am not a drinking man, but I did not feel I could turn down an invitation from my superior in the Friends. He was, in a way, my boss, though of course Mr Larsen as President of the Friends is really the head of the museum. At any rate, Mr Fairweather took me to a pub. I was at the time grateful that it was in a rather remote village, where I might not be recognized. My mother … that is, I should not have wanted anyone I know to see me drinking.’

‘Mr Fairweather mentioned that you and he had a drink or two,’ I said. ‘He told us in confidence, you understand, to help us in making sense of Mr Carter’s death.’

‘And did he tell you the extraordinary proposition he made to me?’

Alan and I looked at each other, then shook our heads. I realized I was sitting on the edge of my chair, and scooted back. Charlie didn’t notice, but went ahead with his narrative.

‘He told me he was going to the dig that night at midnight. It was the solstice, you remember. He said he had heard that there might be some activity at the site. “Goings-on” was the term he used. I wasn’t altogether sure I knew what he meant by the term, but I didn’t care for any of the possible meanings. He suggested that I might care to go with him, in order to prevent what he called “blasphemies”. I told him I would think about it and let him know. I would have had to go with him, as I do not own a boat. He quite urged me, and bought me several drinks. I do not have a strong head, as I am unaccustomed to spirits. At last I managed to break away. Fortunately, we had driven separately, so I was able to make my way home, and I have to say that I am grateful I met with none of the constabulary on the way home, for I was certainly in no condition to drive. And that is virtually all I remember until I was awakened the next morning with the news of Mr Carter’s death.’

‘You did not go to the dig that night?’ Alan asked, wanting to be certain.

‘I did not. I was not feeling at all well, and I did not care for the idea of a boat trip with a man I disliked in the middle of the night. I went to bed and woke with a dreadful headache the next morning. You may remember I was feeling ill when we went to the dig.’

‘Mr Fairweather said he took you home and put you to bed, at around midnight. I believe you agreed with that statement earlier. Is that not what happened?’

‘No. I agreed because I couldn’t quite remember, and I … didn’t want to upset Mr Fairweather. But I drove myself home, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. I’m quite sure, now that I’ve had a chance to think. It was still light outside when I went to bed, and my car was there in the morning, as it would not have been had someone else taken me home.’ He sounded quite certain.

‘Who woke you in the morning, Mr Norquist?’ I put in. ‘I suppose someone phoned you with the dreadful news.’

‘Mr Larsen. I fear I wasn’t very courteous when I answered. I was feeling like nothing on earth. I must say, I fail to understand why some people drink themselves to a stupor, when the after-effects are so dire,’ he added, with the first sign of an ordinary human reaction I had seen from him yet. ‘I beg your pardon. That is not germane. You know what happened next. I could not imagine what had brought Carter to the dig in the middle of the night, unless he had been part of the “goings-on” Mr Fairweather mentioned. But Mr Fairweather seemed to have no idea what Carter was doing there, either, and I thought it best not to discuss his own proposed midnight trip to the dig, since he did not bring it up. It was, I thought, possible that he had abandoned the idea of going, since I had not seemed enthusiastic about going with him.’

He picked up his teacup, took a sip of the rapidly cooling liquid, grimaced, and went on.

‘That was on the Tuesday, the twenty-second. The rain prevented any work at the dig, or any effective police work, either. The next day, the Wednesday, they arrested Andersen, and I assumed that was that, and went about my business.

‘But then I went to see my mother, and of course I told her everything that had happened. She was … quite upset. She said I should have gone with Mr Fairweather on the solstice. She said I should have made a sacrifice, as she did, herself, near the home. She said … I don’t remember everything she said.’

He was clenching his hands spasmodically. His lips seemed dry; he kept licking them. Mrs Tredgold took away his tea cup and poured some for him from a fresh pot. He seemed not to notice.

‘Mother told me I needed to atone, needed to placate
Them
. That’s why I went to the sites on Saturday. Were you there, too?’