The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (9 page)

“I first thought these words were lyrics, but they didn’t go
with the music.  I clipped a note to the music asking if he wanted the lyrics
included in the manuscript and put it in the box.  The next day his manuscript
was back in my box.  A note clipped to the top said simply. ‘You are the flute,
and I am the cello.’

“I looked down at the writing under the cello and sure
enough there was the first message followed by: ‘My heart sings loudly, do you
not hear?’  I followed the measures upward and wrote between the flute and oboe
lines: ‘How can I hear above the beating of mine?’

“We communicated like this for days before he asked for a
meeting.  I told him where and when and we met.  His brown eyes melted me.  I
could barely stammer a reply to his greeting.  So we just walked together. 
When we came to the Two-way river..."

"Two-way river?" I interrupted her.

"Amazing little river; it runs north sometimes and
south the other times.  It’s a short walk from here.  I’ll have to show you it.
It was there I broke my silence and told him my heart.  He returned the favor.

“I continued to copy his manuscript and to meet him when I
could.  By the end of the summer he had promised to talk to my father at the
university.  We had planned to meet during the term, but the war broke out.  I
never saw him again.”

“That’s a beautiful and sad story.  And now someone has
stolen his manuscript.”

“I still have his original manuscript.  If there was
anything of Michael’s in there it would have been the copy I made.”  Angie got
up and signaled me to follow her.  We climbed the stairs, and she invited me
into her bedroom.  “I keep it in my hope chest.”  She withdrew the key ring she
kept on her and fumbled till she found a small key that fit into the chest at
the foot of her bed.  The hinges groaned as she opened it.  She carefully
pulled the contents out placing them on the floor beside her.  She found
Michael’s manuscript between her mother’s wedding dress and her father’s World
War One uniform.

It was wrapped in waxed paper.  I carefully opened it up.  I
looked for the notes and sure enough they hadn’t faded in time.  I looked for
his name, M. Sherborn.  Then I looked at the music.  I looked back at the
name.  The music.  I sung out the tune.  I knew that tune.  Where?  It wasn’t
the one that lulled me to sleep.  This was powerful.  I just couldn’t place it.

“Did he publish this?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“Are you sure?” 

Angie was sure.

I was quiet because I wasn’t certain, but down in my core I
knew I had heard of M. Sherborn and this tune before.  I knew if anyone knew
this tune it would be Bobby.  I entered the information into my mental notebook
and closed the manuscript.

“Angie, I think we need to copy this.  I’m also going to
insist that you need to keep it somewhere, hidden, somewhere safe.”

“Why?”

“I can’t quite pull all of this together, but this
manuscript may be what the intruder has been looking for.”

“Oh my.”

“Yes, oh my.  But why?”

We looked at each other.  Our silence created a warm blanket
that tried to comfort us as we looked for the answers that had escaped our
memory.  Answers that were presently locked somewhere in time.

The manuscript was too large to run through the scanner, so
with Noelle and Paz’s help I used the digital camera and painstakingly took a
photo of each page.  Running it to a local copy store wasn’t an option out here
in Cornwall.  Plus, I wanted to email it to Alex so he could get it printed and
take a readable copy to Bobby Bathgate.  Noelle set up the computer on the
dining room table, and we worked right up to lunch loading the camera photos. 
Noelle downloaded the information to disk, and we made two copies.

The girls were going to Penzance and would stop in at the
Internet café and email Alex from there.  Hopefully he would get to Bobby
before I called him the day after tomorrow.  Paz was humming the tune off the
first page, and I stopped her. 

“I’m afraid if the wrong person hears that you may be in
danger.”

“Then half of London is at death’s door.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“The tune.  It plays on the BBC all the time.  Some news
show or something.  I know it, because they have used the same dry old thing
since I was in nappies.”

“Well, that makes sense because I know I have heard it
before.  I just can’t pinpoint it.”

“I could ask one of me blokes to look it up,” Paz offered.

“Please.  Let me know of any costs involved, and I will
reimburse you.”

“Put your wallet away, Cin.  Me blokes would do anything for
me without charging for it.”

“Fine.  Good, now please be careful.”

We talked about other subjects during lunch.  It seemed to
be a good time to ask Angie if she could tell me how to get to the address on
the envelope that Brian’s wife had given me.  She looked at the name and
smiled.

“Mary Brown lives at the airport just over the hill west of
here.  Why would your friend send you to see Mary?”

“Friend isn’t quite right, more of an acquaintance from the
community band I play in.”

“Mary is a nice enough sort, but there are rumors.”

“Rumors?” Noelle’s voice piped in.

“She may be a practicing pagan.  A witch or a priestess.”

“Mom, you are not going to see a witch,” Noelle said simply.

“I said I would run this errand.”

“Honestly, when will you learn to say no.”

“Noelle, you’d realize how difficult that would’ve been if
you knew the circumstances.”

“So spill it.”

“Dorothy Harrison is a woman in her fifties, and she’s
married to Brian, a trumpet player in my band.  Anyway, Brian, and perhaps
Dorothy too, are members of a coven called Celtic Iron.  She is very well off,
and Brian, an obvious choice for gigolo of the century…Anyway, she asked me to
buy a necklace from Mary.  An old necklace that’s supposed to protect the
wearer from harm.  In her case, she’s hoping it will stop her from aging.”

The girls burst out in laughter.  Angie couldn’t help but
join in.  I smiled weakly.

“Come on, it isn’t that I believe in the thing but Dorothy
does.  Oh hell, besides I never met a real witch before.”

“Well, if you want to go see this witch then go.”

“I don’t have to ask your permission.”

“I’ll tell Alex.”

“Noelle, honestly, who is the mom here?”

Angie and Paz watched the ping pong game that was our
conversation with amusement.

“I’ll take you over after we speak to the Chief
Superintendent.  I’ve never met a witch before either.” Angie sniffed.

Our joint efforts once again made quick work out of washing
the dishes.  The girls headed out to Penzance, and Angie and I took a cup of
tea out on the porch while we waited for the Chief Superintendent.

“This really is a beautiful place, Angie.”

“I know, but it’s too lonely for me.  I had two friends from
Sancreed I used to pass time with, but they are gone now.”

“Dead?”

“Heavens no, Florida.  Not too far from Bobby.  I would like
to hang on to my flat in London and buy a place in Florida for the winter.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Here comes Robert now.”  Angie got to her feet and waved at
the Chief Superintendent as he got out of his car.  Cayne wasn’t with him.

“Angie and Ms. Fin-Lathen.  You both look better than the
last time I saw you.  Must be the air out here.”  He took in a deep breath, his
massive chest expanded, and as he exhaled his eyes danced.  “So you had a
break-in.  Let’s go and see.”

Angie led him directly to the back building.  We huffed a
bit walking straight up that hill, but us over forty-somethings managed to keep
up with her.

Robert, as I was directed to call the CSP, looked the file
room over.  He took a lot of time comparing the drawers and the wall where the
picture was missing.

“Angie, I think you had two break-ins here.  The missing
files have been missing so long that dust has crept in and draped the back of
this file drawer.  I see where your daughter has moved things around, but I’m
sure this last group of manuscripts has been missing for a long time.”

Before I could take in this information, he shifted his
attention to the wall.  “Now this happened the same time the other cabinets
were pried open.  Yesterday, or even last night. See the plaster chip is not
weathered where the nail has been pried.  Was it the same person that shot
you?  And was this the same person that clobbered you after the fire?  I think
so, but that’s just a guess on my part.”

I looked at the CSP and added, “I’m worried that since the
attacks are just directed at Bobby and Angie that this person is trying to
eliminate them.  He or she thinks that they have locked in their memories some
information that may be a problem for him if it comes to light.  Somehow it may
hurt or expose him?  The question that we keep coming back to is why this is
happening now.”

“Why indeed?” Robert stroked his chin.

Angie just shook her head.  “I just can’t think of anything
besides the estate person calling me.”

“Estate person?” Robert asked.

Angie recounted her story to Robert, and he asked for the
estate person’s card.  Angie left to find it, and Robert and I walked back.  We
took the less taxing yet longer route.

“Could this estate person be connected with the intruder?”

“Don’t know, but I will find out.  I don’t want Angie
alone.  If you can’t be here call Cayne or one of the Comstock men to come
over.  I just don’t like the feel of this.  Nasty, very nasty.  Now let’s talk
happily, here comes Angie.”

I couldn’t help smiling at the CSP.  He was from another
time.  He cared.

After he left, Angie told me to get my envelope and lock the
door after me.  We would be back to the farm before the girls, and if not they
were young and could cool their heels on the porch.  I grabbed my things while
she drove the lorry up from the barn. 

She gave me a quick tour of the area.  It was a beautiful
afternoon.  I figured it was maybe sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit and the cloud-dotted
sky was breathtaking.  The clouds looked like puffy white ships sailing along
the countryside.  We took the A30 to Mary’s house, but Angie slowed down and
showed me the gravel road that would be a quicker route if I wanted to return
there by foot. 

I hoped we would have some free days to wander around the
countryside.  I wanted to see Sancreed Holy Well where people had visions -
maybe due to the high level of radiation, but still, visions they were. 

Mary lived in a stone house at the edge of a grass strip
runway in a cluster of three other homes.  A clothesline full of children’s
clothes made a colorful barrier between Mary’s house and the neighbors behind
her.  I wondered where the children were.  Were they in school or playing hooky
down by the beach that was just a whisper away?

Angie pulled her truck up alongside the road, and we walked
across the yard together.  As we approached I saw an open-air hanger that
shaded a small plane just a few yards away from the house.  I did a double take
when I read the name painted on the outside of the plane:
Broom
.  I
pointed this out to Angie who just shook her head and continued walking towards
the house. 

“Blessed be, two travelers,” a woman’s voice greeted us from
the open doorway.  “Come on in. I have my hands full of bread dough at the
moment.”

We walked into a narrow hallway that led into a brightly lit
kitchen.  A tall flame-red-haired woman stood kneading bread on a marble slab. 
“Pot’s on the burner if you want some tea.”  She gestured with her head.

Angie walked over and pulled three cups from the drain
board, added tea bags and poured the water.  The woman finished the braid she
was making with the dough.  Washed her hands and accepted the cup Angie handed
her.

“I’m Mary, and you are?”

“Angie Bathgate.”

She nodded her head.  “Over by the Two-way River.”

“Cin Fin-Lathen.”

“From Florida.”  She smiled at my shock.  “Dorothy said
you’d be along.” 

I returned her smile.  “Then you know why I’m here.”

“Sure.  Dorothy’s kind of a nervous ninny, but maybe this
will calm her fears.”  Mary got up and walked over to a chest in the corner. 
She lifted the lid and the odor of dried herbs filled the kitchen.  Mary pulled
out a black velvet bag, peaked inside and nodded.  “Here it is.  The Kernow Daa
, which means the Cornish morning.”  She pulled out a heavy silver chain that
held a large rough-cut blue-white crystal.  The middle of the crystal was
polished and caught the light, sending it shooting around the room in rainbow
beams.   

“That is amazing.  It looks heavy.”

“It is.” Mary started to put it down on the table, stopped
and picked it back up.  “Dear me, where is my mind this morning. I can’t put it
down.  I already blessed it.  You will have to wear it.”

“Pardon?  It isn’t mine to wear.”

Mary took a deep breath and studied me for a moment.  She
angled her head and explained, “It needs to be in contact with a courageous
heart to hold the blessing.”

“And how does this pertain to me?” I asked weakly.

“You have a courageous heart.  You must wear it till you
give it to Dorothy.”

“I won’t get through the metal detector at the airport.”

“Just show them the necklace.  You’ll get through.”

“What if they make me take it off?”

“They won’t.”

“You’re so sure of that?”

“Oh yes, it has traveled before.”

“Speaking of traveling, I saw your broom outside.”

Mary laughed and clapped her hands together.  “One must be
modern when one can.

Angie sniffed. I looked over and she tapped her watch.

“Fine, I’ll wear it.  Even in the shower.”  I handed her the
envelope and she counted out the money.  She returned some money to the
envelope. 

“More than we agreed upon.”

“I am sure she wants you to have it.”

“Wouldn’t be ethical.  Here, lift your hair.”

I lifted my curls and she snapped the catch together.  The
chain’s weigh was considerable but bearable.  I stood up.  Mary looked at me
sideways.

“Blessed be.  You will be fine.  The Kernow Daa will keep
you from harm.  Oh, and tell your daughter.  No wait let me write it down.” 
She wrote something down on a piece of brown paper bag and tied it with a waxy
string.  “Here this is for Noelle.”

“Did Dorothy tell you about my daughter?”

“Not that I remember.  Now back to my bread.  Safe journey, Cin
Fin-Lathen.”

We walked out of the house and got in the car.  Once we were
back on the A30 Angie and I started laughing.  It was a nervous laugh but a
good one.

“I thought I was going to wet myself when she put that
necklace around your throat.  You should have seen your face.”

“Very funny, now I have to wear this till I get home.”

“So, you’re going to follow the instructions.  Well, I am
impressed.”

“I’m going to wear this as a heavy reminder.  Maybe next
time I get asked to do something, I will say no.”

“Lesson learned.”  Angie pulled the lorry over to the side
of the road and into the White Sands Hostel parking lot.  “Come on you have to
taste this soup.” 

I was going to mention that we just ate, but there was a
curious growl in my stomach.  I followed Angie into a small bar that fronted
the youth hostel.  We sat ourselves down and Angie called out her order to a
young woman with purple hair.

“Marie, two tomato soups and how about a slab of your best
wheat bread.”

Marie nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I always stop here when I’m in the area.  Marie makes the
best tomato soup, and her bread makes mine look like store bought.”

I looked around at the pleasant room.  It was painted in
purple and green.  Plants grew from terracotta pots and ivies crawled along the
purple paneling.  There was a large glass display cabinet full of bric-a-brac,
camping equipment and some unusual topped canes sprouted out of a tin bucket at
its side.  I walked over and pressed my face against the glass to get a better look.