Shadows of Death (28 page)

‘Yes, as a matter of fact. I called Baikie this morning
.
Apparently the terrorist threat turned out to be a tempest in a teapot, a hoax gone wrong. Of course the police are incensed about the waste of time, and are doing their best to find those responsible, but Baikie does have time now to deal with High Sanday matters, and he had quite a lot to tell me. The most important is that Norquist is back in his right mind, or what passes for a right mind in his case.’

‘That’s terrific! And what does he have to say?’

‘That’s not so terrific. Apparently he’s still so afraid of his mother that he’s not talking much. There’s something on his mind, but Baikie says he, Norquist, that is, seems to think his mother wouldn’t want him to talk about it. So far no one has been able to persuade him that Mum is safely out of reach of her son. He becomes so disturbed when pressed that they’ve had to stop questioning him. I understand they’re seeking medical advice, hoping there’s something they can give him to ease his anxiety.’

‘I know what I’d take, if I were suffering from anxiety,’ I said. I finished my coffee and held out my cup for more.

‘What’s that?’ said Alan with a slight frown. I’m not much for any drugs more exotic than ibuprofen, and he knows it.

‘A strong dose of Nora Tredgold,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure she ever tried it, but I’ll bet she could have subdued old Roadkill if she’d wanted. Surely she can calm down Charlie Norquist, for whom she obviously has a lot of sympathy. As soon as we’ve had breakfast, I’m going to call her.’

Nora was delighted to hear that Charlie was doing better, and agreed gladly to go and try to talk to him. ‘You’d like to come with me, wouldn’t you?’

‘You know I’m panting for the opportunity. What about Alan?’

‘Unless he particularly wants to come, I think it might be better not. Charlie might view him as an authority figure, and he rather fights shy of those.’

‘As well he might, considering his mother. All right, I’ll tell Alan he has to stay here. Given the weather, I don’t imagine he’ll mind.’

‘Good. Now don’t you even try to walk up here. I’ll pick you up there in ten minutes.’

It was raining harder than ever, with a brisk wind, when Nora’s car stopped outside the flat. My umbrella was nearly carried away, which wouldn’t have mattered much, since I was pretty well soaked in the few seconds between house and car. ‘Heavens, can you see to drive?’

‘Not terribly well, but the car knows the way. Close your eyes if you get frightened on the roundabout.’

‘How did you know I think they’re an invention of the devil?’

She shrugged.

‘You know, Nora,’ I persisted, ‘there’s a character in a series of old mysteries to whom, as someone in the books remarks, “the human race is glass-fronted”. I think you must be related. How
do
you do it?’

She smiled gently. ‘I suppose it comes from living with a priest for so many years. Theodore has to be good at hearing the things people aren’t telling him, and I seem to have picked up the trick. As for you and roundabouts, however, I suspect your white knuckles might have been my first clue.’

That made me laugh, and I deliberately relaxed when we got to the devil’s invention. I don’t think my unclenched hands fooled her a bit.

I was half afraid we’d find some new horror when we got to Sinclair House. Charlie would have been abducted, or Mrs Norquist would have escaped and got into his room, or something equally awful. But nothing of the kind had happened. The policeman on duty outside Charlie’s room was plainly bored.

Nora knew him. I wondered if she knew everybody in Orkney. ‘Hello, Ian,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Have you met my friend Mrs Martin? Her husband is Alan Nesbitt, the chief constable who’s been helping Mr Baikie with these puzzling events. How’s Charlie?’

‘Very quiet,’ said Ian. ‘He’s polite when they go in to give him his meals, but otherwise he’s said hardly a word.’

‘Ah, well, I’ll just see if I can cheer him up a bit.’ And with that she opened the door and sailed into the room.

I hoped Ian was more efficient with other people he might know who might want to visit Norquist. Nora was safe, but almost anyone else was suspect.

They had put Charlie in an old wing of the house that was empty of other patients, and at the end of that wing, so his large room had windows on all three sides. On a nice day the view must have been breathtaking, endless hills, a loch, birds, wide sky. Today all was greyness and gloom.

Mr Norquist was huddled in a chair in one corner, looking miserable. He cringed at our entrance and tried to make himself even smaller.

‘Hello, Charlie,’ said Nora with a smile. ‘I understand you’ve been having a bad time. I’m so sorry. I’ve brought you your favourite chocolates to cheer you up.’ She handed him a small bag. He accepted it, laid it on the table next to his chair, and murmured an almost inaudible ‘Thank you.’

‘You remember Mrs Martin, I’m sure,’ Nora went on, sitting in the chair nearest to Norquist. He nodded, but looked away from me.

‘We’ve all been very worried about you, you know, my dear. Where have you been all this time?’

I feared a direct question might distress him, but he simply sat still, saying nothing. Nora waited, and at last he pointed. ‘Out there,’ he said. ‘A sort of shed. Mother said …’

‘She said you’d be safe there, didn’t she? And indeed you were. Not very comfortable, though, I shouldn’t imagine. Hardly the sort of place for a man in your position.’

‘No.’ For a moment the man I had seen before looked out of Charlie’s eyes. ‘It didn’t suit me at all, but Mother said …’

‘Charlie Norquist, tell me something. How old are you?’

He looked surprised. ‘Sixty-two.’

‘And where did you go to university?’

‘University of Exeter. I wanted to go to Cambridge, but Mother needed me at home.’

‘What did you study, Charlie?’

‘Archaeology, of course. I never wanted to do anything except study ancient peoples and their civilisations.’

‘I think I remember your telling me that you received a first-class honours degree.’

‘Yes.’ He straightened a little in his chair. ‘Yes, I was at the top of my year. I was offered a teaching position then, but Mother needed me at home.’

Nora wisely didn’t pursue that recurrent theme. Instead she looked out of the window. ‘Not a good day for an archaeologist, is it?’

Charlie straightened still more. ‘No. I hope they’ve covered the High Sanday excavation properly. Stone that’s been buried for millennia is very vulnerable to wind and water damage. They are not careful enough. But they won’t let me help.’

‘That’s a great pity, Mr Norquist,’ I put in. ‘You are certainly knowledgeable about such things.’

He gave me a look that was almost his old pedantic one. ‘I am, indeed. I know a great deal more than those students. Arrogant young pups! They know nothing about the ways of the people, their beliefs, their practices …’ He trailed off, suddenly uneasy.

‘Ah, yes, their practices,’ said Nora. ‘I know there’s a good deal of controversy about whether or not their practices included sacrifice. Of course most of the ancient religions did regard sacrifice as extremely important. Even the Hebrews, forerunners of my own religion, thought God required sacrifices. In the very early days, of course. Abraham and Isaac …’ She trailed off artistically.

I thought she was treading on dangerous ground, but Norquist steadied. ‘Barbarism! Human sacrifice! The Aztecs and Incas, yes, perhaps. But never the Neolithic peoples of Europe.’

‘What would their sacrifices have been, Mr Norquist?’ I asked ingenuously.

‘Purely symbolic,’ he said. ‘Usually grain, perhaps a small mammal or a … a bird.’ He swallowed hard, but went on bravely. ‘Here in these islands, although their food supply was adequate, it was not so plentiful that they could afford to give valuable food to the gods. And never, never, never a human, no matter what my mother …’ He stopped, a look of panic in his eyes.

‘What a pity we can’t talk to your mother about it,’ said Nora smoothly. ‘But you know she’s become quite ill and has been taken to hospital. I’m sorry, Charlie, but I’m told they won’t let anyone visit, even you. She’s going to be fine, but she may be there for some time, so you need to work on recovering fully yourself, so you can get back out to the dig. You haven’t been for several days, have you?’

We could see Charlie processing the information about his mother. Concern and relief chased across his face. ‘You’ll tell me when I can visit?’ he said.

‘The very moment, I assure you. Meanwhile she’s getting the best of care and doesn’t need a thing, so you’re not to worry.’

‘Well, then.’ He took a deep breath. ‘What day is it?’

‘Thursday,’ I replied. ‘The first of July.’

He got agitated again. ‘But that’s dreadful! I’ve been away for days. And the museum! Who’s been looking after the museum?’

‘It’s all right, Mr Norquist,’ I said soothingly. ‘They’ve closed it since you went away. They know no one else could run it properly, you see.’ I thought we’d better not tell him about the missing artefacts until we had to.

‘Who closed it?’ he asked sharply. ‘No one had the right to do that.’

I was somewhat taken aback. ‘I suppose it must have been Mr Larsen, as president of the Friends. They’re the trustees, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, but I must tell him … I must …’ He tried to get out of his chair, but fell back, clutching his chest.

I didn’t have to be told to ring for a nurse.

‘T
hey say it was a minor heart attack,’ I told Alan hours later. Nora and I had accompanied Mr Norquist to the hospital and endured the harsh words of the doctors. I, for one, felt we’d earned them. I had forgotten about Norquist’s heart condition. Now I was back at the flat, sitting by the fire with Alan, trying to sort out what I’d learned. ‘It was too much for him, all that stress on top of those awful days in the shed. We should have known better. It’s really a wonder it wasn’t worse. He must have a stronger constitution than meets the eye.’

‘Don’t blame yourself too much, love. How were you to know what would upset him? You say it was about the museum?’

‘Apparently. There was something he felt he had to tell Larsen, something about the museum or the trustees, or maybe the collection. I have no idea, really. I just know he tried to get out of his chair, and then he turned sort of blue and collapsed, and I was scared to death. I thought we’d killed him, and we sure got a tongue-lashing from his doctors.’

‘You can just be glad his mother wasn’t there. She might have given you a cane-lashing.’

‘Oh, that reminds me. Aside from whatever bothered him about the museum, there was one very interesting thing that turned up. We got him talking about the ancient rites, and sacrifice, and all that, and he went into some detail about what the sacrifices might have been. Well, he didn’t say might, but …’

‘He was probably as authoritative as he could be, which is considerable. Go on. What was so interesting about it?’

‘He got into a bit of a lather about the idea of human sacrifice, and said that Abraham was a barbarian, or something like that, and then he said that the Aztecs and the Incas might have practised human sacrifice, but never the Neolithic Orcadians, never, never – and this is the interesting part – “no matter what my mother” and then he broke off and got all panicky, and Nora had to assure him that the witch couldn’t come and get him. She didn’t say that in so many words, of course.’

‘“No matter what my mother says.” You think that’s how he would have ended it?’

‘I’m nearly certain. Because he was obviously terrified at the idea of contradicting her, even when she wasn’t nearby, lest somehow she find out. I think he thinks she’s a seer, or a witch – a real one, I mean.’

‘And I’m not so sure he’s wrong,’ said Alan. He adjusted his position in the chair, trying to ease pressure on the various welts Mrs Norquist had inflicted back at the shed. ‘I trust they’re going to see that she’s kept from doing any more harm to anyone.’

‘Especially her son. Alan, that poor man hasn’t been able to call his soul his own for … well, probably ever.’

‘I hope,’ said Alan soberly, ‘that he still has a soul of his own. A mother like that can destroy a person so utterly that he can never be healed.’

‘That’s what Nora said. Remember? She said she’s the sort that eats her young. But he still has that spark of rebellion. That gives me hope that he still may have a persona of his own. He wouldn’t agree with her about sacrifice, even though the dissent terrified him.’

‘Well, we just have to hope that the doctors can get him to the point that he can make a cogent statement. We still don’t know why he was in hiding, and that’s what matters most just now.’

‘And,’ I said, ‘if we’re to be in on it, it needs to happen soon. We have this flat for only a few more days.’

‘Our holiday hasn’t worked out quite the way we’d planned, has it, love?’

‘But then,’ I said, smiling at Alan, ‘they seldom do, do they? We do seem to attract trouble wherever we go. At least it isn’t dull. And Alan, I want to come back here one day. There’s something about this place … I don’t know, it’s got a grip on me.’

‘Probably some of your ancient forebears lived at Skara Brae. Didn’t you say you have some Scandinavian in you?’

‘My mother was an Anderson,’ I admitted. ‘Spelled with an O, though, so Swedish, not Norwegian.’

‘Or changed by time and/or your Ellis Island authorities.’ He yawned.

I yawned in response. ‘Do you want to take Watson out, or shall I?’

‘I think I’ll let him out, rather than taking him, given the weather. If I can persuade him to go, that is. You go on up to bed.’

‘I’ll do that, after I pray for a miracle of healing for poor Charlie.’

I was asleep before he came upstairs.

The miracle came just as we were finishing breakfast the next day, and it was typical of the perversity of my nature that I didn’t welcome it.

The weather was no better than the day before. Watson was getting short shrift in the matter of exercise. I’d been first out of bed, so I’d let him out onto the patio for his hygienic necessities. He would much rather have stayed in, had it not been for the urgency of nature’s call, and he answered it as rapidly as possible and whined to be let back in. If he could have spoken in English, I’m quite sure he would have had some opinions about indoor plumbing for dogs.