Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) (5 page)

"Hey, you silly old thing, you don't want to go diving today." Picasso whined, his claws scrabbling on the stony path as he fought to get away.

Todd dug in his pocket for the leash and snapped the clip on Picasso's collar. Grabbing a stunted hawthorn to anchor himself, he allowed the dog a few feet closer to the cliff's edge, hoping that if he reached the scent he was after, he would calm down. The dog pressed his nose to a scuff mark in the wiry grass on the lip of rock. Todd's hunter's senses burst to life, warning of danger. A cold slither of premonition raised goose bumps on his arms.

After winding Picasso's leash around his hand to keep it short and tight, Todd lay on his belly and peered down the vertical rock face to the sea, about two hundred feet below.

Caught on jagged rocks, partly obscured by seaweed, lay a body. Todd's fingernails raked the dirt as he leaned out farther to get a better look. Picasso pulled on the lead. Todd shouted at the dog to be still, and he obeyed, instantly.

The air grew tight in his lungs. His ears buzzed, and the burning taste of bile stung the back of his throat. There was no doubt about the victim's identity. Even from this far away, Todd clearly made out the body was clothed in jeans and a black leather jacket. For long moments, Todd stared mesmerized with horror. Now he knew why Andrew hadn't been around this morning. He'd never made it home last night. He must tell someone—tell Grandpa—immediately.

Todd crept back from the edge, pulling Picasso with him. This time the dog didn't resist. As he sprinted down the cliff path, his lungs burning, he remembered the scenario he'd witnessed from his bedroom window: Kelvin Marks swearing and slamming his hand against the wall when Andrew ran away.

Todd had only seen Kelvin twice, and both times he'd been angry. He obviously had a temper he couldn't control. He must have caught up with Andrew on the coast path, and the rest was history. Todd would tell the police everything he'd seen and make sure Kelvin Marks paid for what he'd done.

***

Late that afternoon, Todd stood beside Grandpa outside the shop, hands pushed deep in his pockets, watching the ambulance take Andrew's body away.

He'd been buzzing after he sprinted back from the cliff and tugged Grandpa through to the living room to break the news about Andrew. Now he felt exhausted. They'd missed lunch and he should be hungry, but he couldn't imagine eating anything. The hollow place inside him couldn't be filled by food.

The police had arrived quickly after Grandpa raised the alarm. The Air-Sea rescue airlifted the body up from the beach by helicopter. Todd hadn't been allowed to go out again, so he watched the helicopter from the conservatory overlooking the harbor. But he missed most of the action while a policewoman interviewed him in Grandpa's living room.

He had related everything he'd seen, precisely, in chronological order. She had tried to keep her expression noncommittal, but Todd could tell she thought Kelvin was guilty by the way she pressed her lips together after she finished asking questions.

"You holding up all right?" Grandpa put a hand on Todd's shoulder, and he nodded. "Well done for keeping a calm head. It can't have been easy for you. Your dad would have been mighty proud of how you handled yourself today. We'll wait until the police leave, then I'll go and see how Pat is. Poor woman." Grandpa shook his head. "This whole episode has been a disaster."

Todd leaned against the wall with Grandpa, ignoring the curious stares directed his way. On his dash back down the cliff path, it hadn't occurred to him that discovering a body would make him a curiosity.

Two police cars were parked on the sidewalk outside the gift shop. An hour before, four police officers had gone inside. Finally the door opened and Mrs. Bishop came out, her face red and puffy. The policewoman helped her into the back of the first car. Then the moment Todd had been waiting for arrived—two policemen flanked Kelvin when he exited the shop, his face tight and pale. Todd had wondered if they'd handcuff him, but his arms were free, his fists balled at his sides as though he wanted to hit someone.

All activity in the narrow street paused while everyone watched Kelvin being led to the back of the second police car. Just before he ducked his head to get in, his furious gaze fixed on Todd. Todd froze, his insides trembled, but he didn't look away. Then Kelvin was seated, the door shut and, within moments, the car pulled away.

Todd drew a steadying breath. So what if Kelvin was angry with him. He'd only told the truth.

"Do you think they've charged Kelvin with murder?" Todd asked.

"Not yet, lad. You know what it's like these days—lots of red tape. They probably have acres of paperwork to do before it's official. Don't worry. If he's guilty, they'll charge him."

Grandpa straightened some newspapers in the rack outside his shop, then went inside.

"What do you mean, 'if he's guilty'?" Todd asked, following him. "I saw him chase after Andrew."

"I'm sure you're right. Now, how about some grub?"

Todd flopped into a chair while Grandpa zapped a Cornish pasty in the microwave. It hadn't occurred to him that Kelvin could get away with murder.

***

Todd woke exhausted the following day. During the night, he'd dreamed of walking endlessly around Lords Wood, trying to find his way out of the maze of paths, but he always ended up in the clearing with the standing stones.

As Todd poured himself some breakfast cereal, Grandpa came into the kitchen from the shop, his expression grim. He leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. "The police released Kelvin Marks this morning."

"What?" Puffs of rice missed the bowl, scattering across the table. "But I told them—"

"Sounds like you were wrong, lad. Pat Bishop told me Kelvin only followed Andrew for five minutes, then abandoned the search. Kelvin and Pat decided the best thing was to let Andrew sleep it off under a hedge."

"Sleep what off?"

"Half a bottle of vodka. Apparently, Kelvin caught Andrew downstairs on the computer doing something he shouldn't and finishing the contents of the liquor cabinet. That boy's been trouble from the day he arrived."

Frustration spiraled up through Todd making him hot and angry. "But Kelvin could still have caused Andrew to fall off the cliff. Why've they let him go?"

"Kelvin didn't have enough time." While he talked, Grandpa moved away from the sink, checked the water level in the electric kettle, and switched it on. "He'd have needed a lot longer than five minutes to get up past the Turpins' house, even if he ran all the way."

Todd remembered he'd taken ten minutes to run back to the village after he found the body. And he'd been sprinting downhill. Despite that, he still wasn't convinced of Kelvin's innocence.

"But they've only got Mrs. Bishop's word for it."

"Hmm." Grandpa poured two cups of tea, added milk, and handed one to Todd. "That's what they call an alibi, lad. And Kelvin's is ironclad. You hardly think Andrew's mother would give her son's killer an alibi if she knew he was guilty, do you?"

Todd's insides knotted so tightly they hurt. He put down his tea untouched. "I know Kelvin did it."

Grandpa sipped his tea and studied Todd over the rim of his cup. "You don't know anything except what you saw with your own eyes. That's sent you careening off down the wrong path. Best let it go. Let the police do their job."

After his dad disappeared, Todd had heard that comment often. He'd wanted to search for him, but every time he made a suggestion where they could look, all Mum said was "let the police do their job."

"Who do the police think killed Andrew then?"

Grandpa looked down at his cup and sighed. "Apparently they've decided it was an accident."

"No!"

"He was drunk, Todd. That coast path is dangerous during daylight when you're sober. They reckon he was probably running and fell over the edge."

Todd was so angry everything inside him stilled and sharpened. The silence buzzed in his head, his muscles tensed. The police were wrong. Up on the cliff, he'd sensed violence and fear in the air. Someone had helped Andrew Bishop over that cliff, and Kelvin was still the prime suspect in Todd's opinion.

With a new sense of purpose, Todd turned and headed for the door.

"What about your breakfast? Grandpa asked, glancing at the spilt cereal.

"I'm not hungry."

Grandpa followed Todd as he strode through the shop and out into the street. When they reached the sidewalk, he caught hold of Todd's arm and pulled him around. "Don't interfere with the police investigation. You'll get into trouble."

Todd met his grandpa's critical gaze with unflinching calm. When Dad disappeared, he'd learned that adults thought they knew best and didn't take any notice of his opinions. He'd only been ten then, but now he was old enough to take matters into his own hands.

Surprise flashed across the older man's face and his hand dropped from Todd's arm. "You have the look of your father about you today."

"Dad would find the killer."

Something that could have been fear flashed in Grandpa's eyes, then his expression hardened. "If the police say Andrew fell, then he fell. Don't go poking around stirring up trouble in the village or there'll be consequences."

Todd stared at the rigid set of his grandpa's shoulders as the older man turned and strode back inside the shop. Grandpa was hiding something, and whatever it was frightened him. Could his own grandfather somehow be involved in covering up Andrew's murder? He seemed awfully friendly with Kelvin and Mrs. Bishop. Did he know what had happened?

Someone
had
killed Andrew. Todd had sensed it when he found the body. He had the rest of his vacation to discover who and why.

Chapter Five

Todd decided to start his investigation at the murder scene. Although the police had searched the spot, he hoped there might be something on the cliff top that would give him a clue, something he could sense but the police couldn't.

On the walk up from the village, Todd scanned the path for anything Andrew or Kelvin might have dropped. When he hadn't found any clues by the time he reached the place where Andrew had fallen, he ignored his little burst of disappointment. The chance of finding something on the path had been a long shot, anyway.

He put his hands on his hips and squinted at the scuffed earth and worn rocks above the sheer drop where Andrew had gone over. There was nothing to show that little more than twenty-four hours earlier, a dead boy had been lying at the bottom of the cliff.

Todd stretched out on his belly and stared down at the jagged rocks below. He imagined standing on the edge of the cliff, toes hanging over, arms flailing for balance, slipping, falling, weightless in the air, shattering pain, pointed rocks piercing his body, darkness.

Eyes closed, he listened to the race of his heart, sensed the faint trace of malevolence and fear that still tainted this place. He had no doubt. Andrew's death was definitely murder.

Todd folded his arms under his chin and stared at the sea rolling in and out, listened to the wet rattle of pebbles scraping across the rounded humps of rock lying in the shallows like beached whales.

Sunshine beat hotly on the back of his neck, making his head ache. He rubbed his fingers on the scuff marks in the wiry grass. Maybe they were the marks from Andrew's shoes as he slipped over the edge, or possibly just an innocent scuff from a passing walker's hiking boots.

Standing, Todd brushed the dirt off his clothes. He walked a few minutes farther along the path, scanning the ground for something—anything—that might help him. Then he pushed through the hazel scrub bordering the path. He picked up a fallen branch to beat back the brambles and searched the undergrowth at the edge of the woodland. But the bramble thicket and prickly gorse bushes made it impossible to get far.

During Andrew's dash up the coast path, he had probably passed the Turpins' cottage. Was there any chance Mrs. Turpin or Marigold had seen him or Kelvin? A thought struck him suddenly: if he were going to prove Kelvin had killed Andrew, he would have to ask people questions. He shrugged off his uneasiness at the idea of doing that. To start with, he'd just search for clues.

Crouching, Todd sneaked along the wall bordering the Turpins' garden towards their back gate. He followed the path into the woods where Marigold had been the previous morning before he found the body. After a few minutes, he reached an area of flattened bracken between the trees. He kicked over the leaves, finding a blackened patch of ground where a campfire had been lit.