The Cadaver Game (36 page)

Wesley tucked the book under his arm and said goodbye before making his way back to the incident room, glad of the temporary
distraction of the past. It was only a matter of time now before Dunstan Price regained consciousness and then all hell would
break loose.

Journal of the Rev. Octavius Quilly, Vicar of Queenswear

31 July 1815

An hour before dawn this morning, my servants were awoken by a frantic beating upon my door, as though Satan himself had come
to claim our immortal souls. Our insistent visitor was Christopher Wells, steward to Squire Catton; who urged me to attend
his master at once, as he had fallen from his horse after a night-time hunt and was not expected to live till morning.

When I reached Catton Hall, I was shown to the Squire’s chamber which was a dank, dull room with little modern comfort. Lying
there upon the bed was the Squire, and I could see at once his injuries were most grievous. The doctor had left the house
shortly before my arrival, saying there was little more he could do. Wells told me that the
Squire had requested my presence, which caused me much amazement, but miracles do happen even in this age of war and reason.

The Squire opened his eyes wide as I knelt beside the bed to pray and he clutched at my sleeve with a strength that I would
not have expected from a man so close to death.

‘I must confess all,’ he said. ‘I have sinned grievously and I have lived a life of wickedness, but the one time I willingly
took a human life, it was so that justice would be done.’

I told him to remain calm and confide all to me, for God is quick to forgive those who truly repent. He began to speak and
his words astounded me.

He confessed that his jester had overheard the Lady Pegassa talking with his steward and to his astonishment, they conversed
in English. Later that day the Squire had challenged her and she admitted all to him, throwing herself on his mercy. She claimed
she was an honest girl with a taste for adventure and a desire to separate herself from her older stepbrother who used her
like a chattel and insisted that she obeyed him in all things. He would not allow her to venture out alone and offered violence
to any young man who paid her any attention. When she left her home, she knew he would seek her out, so she hit upon a plan
to utilise her dark and exotic looks to alter her person and her nationality so that no trace of the simple Devon maid would
remain.

For a while her deception succeeded, and she came to relish the role of princess from the Orient, even though she feared her
stepbrother would hear of the attention she received from local society and track her down. And so it did prove. The man enquired
in the district and received word
of a young maiden of foreign appearance who, having convinced all that she was some eastern princess, resided at Catton Hall
as guest of the Squire. He knew his stepsister’s playful nature and that she would relish the pretence, so he travelled to
Catton Hall to confirm his suspicions.

Now this man had always had a strange affection for his stepsister that many would say was contrary to nature, and his anger
was more that of a betrayed lover than a fond brother, and when he came upon Peggy – for that was her real name – alone and
unprotected, they quarrelled and he put his hands around her throat and killed her. When she was found, it was assumed that
the jester, Silly John, who envied the esteem in which his master held her, was responsible for her demise, but the Squire
soon sought out the truth of the matter and offered the stepbrother a choice. Either he could be handed over to the magistrate,
or he could take the part of the hare in one of the Squire’s hunts. Thinking the second choice would allow him to gain his
freedom, he set off, naked and vulnerable, with the hounds baying for his blood, quite unaware that the Squire had arranged
for this particular hunt to result in the death of the quarry.

And on that moonlit night, the woods at Catton Hall became the scene of brutal, vengeful murder when the quarry was run to
ground and summary justice dispensed with John Tandy’s cudgel.

The naked, bleeding corpse was brought back to Catton Hall, slung across a horse and, at Tandy’s suggestion, a hasty burial
was arranged in the place where the Squire’s beloved dogs are interred. The grave was dug swiftly by moonlight and the cadaver
rolled in to lie there without the benefit of a Christian burial.

Once the Squire had made his confession to me, he
grasped my hand and asked me to pray for him. This I did as he passed from this life, and yet I could not ignore what I had
learned. It is necessary for me to notify the relevant authorities so that Tandy may be brought to justice for his crime,
and the dead man, guilty though he was of his stepsister’s murder, might be buried in accordance with the law of the land
and of God. When I left the Squire’s bedchamber I came upon Tandy loitering on the landing. I pray that he had not been eavesdropping.
I left the house with a heavy heart, careful to avoid Henry Catton, whom I knew to be in his cups downstairs, no doubt awaiting
his inheritance for he is the Squire’s only heir.

And now I write this account in the privacy of my study, preparing for what I must do.

The Steward’s Journal

1 August 1815

The Squire has embarked on his long journey to meet his Maker – or, as some say hereabouts, to sup with Satan. The parson
was with him at the end, so I pray that his soul was saved, albeit at the final moment.

I thought it strange when I heard the news that the parson himself was found dead this morning. Word has it that he fell in
his study and that he hit his head on the fireplace causing most terrible injuries.

I heard somebody leave the hall last night in the early hours and, unable to sleep at the thought of the Squire lying dead
and cold in his chamber awaiting his coffin, I looked out of the window and saw John Tandy hurrying away down the drive towards
the village.

2 August 1815

Today Tandy was in the Squire’s chamber, weeping over his corpse, while I endeavour to keep the household running smoothly.
Henry is gone to the attorney in Tradmouth to discuss the business of his inheritance and I took advantage of his absence
to examine Tandy’s chamber. There I found a book, bound in the finest leather, hidden beneath the Fool’s mattress and, upon
examination, I discovered it to be the parson’s journal.

When I read it, I became privy to the dreadful secret that the Squire confided to the parson before his death and I understood
the significance of my discovery. For this journal was filched from the parson somehow on the night of his death. And I am
determined that the man who took the unhappy clergyman’s life shall face the gallows.

Gerry’s phone rang and, after a brief conversation, he looked up at Wesley. ‘Dunstan Price has come round. They say he’s up
to questioning.’

Without a word they both stood up and made for the door, but before they could leave the office Paul Johnson bore down on
them, holding a sheet of paper. There was a grim expression on his face. Since his cousin’s death, the old, easy-going Paul
had vanished somewhere, lost in the land of unpleasant experience. The man who’d replaced him was serious and determined;
bent on justice – or maybe on retribution. Wesley had noticed that he and Trish hardly communicated these days, although she
looked happy enough, as though she’d found something to distract her.

‘I’ve found that information you were after, sir.’ He handed the paper to Wesley who studied it for a few seconds and passed
it to Gerry who nodded solemnly and made no comment.

An hour later they were at Morbay Hospital. On their way to the Intensive Care Unit they called in on Keith Marsh, who was
due to be discharged in the next few days. His wife was nowhere to be seen and Wesley guessed that this was a bad sign.

Marsh asked them how the investigation was progressing, but Wesley’s reply was noncommittal. At that point he wasn’t exactly
sure of the whole truth himself but he hoped that once they’d spoken to Dunstan, things would become clearer.

When they reached Intensive Care, they met Pat Price in the visitors’ waiting room. They’d wanted to see her before they tried
to talk to Dunstan because they needed some explanations, and now she sat down opposite them, twisting a tissue in her hands.

She looked up, her expression a blend of anxiety and defiance. Are you going to release my husband? Surely you can’t keep
him in custody while his son’s—’

‘We’ve got hold of a copy of Dunstan’s birth certificate,’ Wesley interrupted.

He let the statement hang in the air for a while until Pat looked up at him with terrified eyes.

‘Why has everyone been lying to us? Why have we been led to believe that you’re Dunstan’s mother?’

‘When I moved in with Len after Karen left, Dunstan was just two, so I was the only mother he ever knew. Karen walked out
on him to live with some artist. She abandoned him.’

‘That wasn’t quite true, was it? You and Len had been in a relationship before she left. Your affair might even have been
driven her into the arms of the first man who showed a bit of interest – only that man wouldn’t have looked at her twice with
a toddler in tow.’

Pat looked away.

‘I think Karen began to see quite a bit of her son once he was old enough to lead his own life. And she paid his school fees.
That’s another thing we’ve checked. They’ve always been paid by cheque. Her cheque. The wealthy grandparents don’t exist,
do they?’

Pat bowed her head. ‘Dunstan got in with a bad crowd at the local school. He was going off the rails and when Karen found
out she said she’d pay for him to go to private school.’

‘How did she find out?’

‘She contacted Len for updates from time to time, to see how Dunstan was, so he must have told her. I wasn’t happy about it,
but Len said if that’s how she wanted to spend her money …’

‘Was one of his undesirable friends called Jimmy Yates?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, he was one of them. The lads Dun hung round with were always in trouble and Len was scared that he was going
to go the same way.’

‘Do you know how Karen got the money?’ Wesley asked.

‘No, and I didn’t ask.’

‘Do you think Len killed her to stop her seeing Dunstan?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Is Dunstan up to talking to us?’

The answer was a reluctant nod and they left her there, sitting alone staring at a pile of six-month-old gossip magazines.

When they reached the ward, Dunstan was wide awake and, when he saw them approaching, he struggled to raise himself upright,
but because of the tubes and monitors attached to his body, he had to abandon his efforts and he flopped back, exhausted,
on the pillows.

Gerry sat down on a pink plastic chair by the bed, but Wesley preferred to stand.

‘Are you up to talking to us, son?’ Gerry asked.

‘Don’t call me son,’ the boy hissed with venom. Then Wesley realised that the very word probably had painful associations.

‘You said you killed Barney and Sophie. Is that true?’

‘I was stoned. I didn’t know what I was saying.’

Wesley caught Gerry’s eye and the DCI gave him an almost imperceptible nod. It was his turn to try. And Wesley knew what questions
to ask.

‘Evie was your real mum, wasn’t she?’

‘My mum’s name was Karen.’

‘Of course it was. Did your dad know you’d been seeing her?’

‘He knew she paid my school fees. But that’s about all he knew.’

‘Did you meet her at her house?

‘We always met in cafes and places like that. She never wanted me to go to her house.’

‘Why did she pay your school fees?’

’Cause Dad couldn’t afford it.’

‘I don’t mean that. Why did she want you to leave your old school?’

’Cause of Jimmy. We were best mates and he was always getting me into trouble. I started smoking dope and we robbed an off
licence.’

‘You were never charged.’

‘Jimmy got the blame. I was there but he didn’t grass.’

‘And your real mother, Karen, heard about all this and paid for you to go to Corley Grange? Corley Grange doesn’t come cheap.
Where did she get the money from?’

‘I never asked.’

‘When you eventually found out, it came as a shock,
didn’t it? Did Barney pinch Evie’s card from his father?’

Tears began to form in the boy’s bloodshot eyes and he made a noise which sounded like a sob.

Wesley edged closer to the bed. ‘Let me tell you what I think happened, Dunstan. Tell me if I’m wrong, won’t you?’

The boy gave a small, painful nod.

‘I don’t think you had any idea about your mother’s double life or where that money came from,’ he began. ‘You saw her occasionally
and you got on quite well, but it must have been hard for you. I expect you felt you were betraying Pat, because she’d brought
you up. And your father must have told you how your mother ran off and left you when you were a baby. I expect you had mixed
feelings … confusing feelings.’

‘Yeah. But she said she was sorry. She wanted us to be closer.’

‘I’m sure she did. Then one day Barney suggested visiting the prostitute his father had been seeing regularly. Is that right?’

Dunstan nodded again and Wesley could tell the movement caused him pain. ‘We’d had a bit to drink and he dared me. He’d rung
her and she said she could see him at one on Saturday afternoon. He’d pinched his dad’s credit card and got some money from
a cash machine. He said it’d be a laugh. Barney went in first and I hung back while he was talking, so I couldn’t see her,
and by the time I went inside she’d already gone upstairs to … to get ready. Then Barney said he’d changed his mind; he didn’t
fancy it ’cause he had Sophie, so he told me to go on upstairs and enjoy myself while he went across the road to get come
cider. He said he’d pay. His treat, he said.’

‘You must have had a hell of a shock when you saw her. Your own mother.’