The Celtic Dagger (12 page)

CHAPTER 19

James saw the police sergeant’s car outside the pub as he entered Blackheath and pulled over.  Once inside, he looked around the crowded room and made his way to the bar, where Gordon Jenkins, the publican, stood chatting with locals.  Gordon looked over as James approached.

‘James.  Come up for the weekend, have you?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t expect this weather.’  James tried to keep the sound of panic out of his voice.

‘I’m told it’s bad out there, but it brings in the crowd.  What can I get for you?’

‘Nothing right at the moment, thanks, Gordon.  I came in to see Sergeant Roberts.  I saw his car outside.’

‘Roberts isn’t with us any longer.  We have a new chap by the name of Turner.  He’s over there.  Came in a few minutes ago to settle a disturbance.'  Gordon nodded toward a tall, lean young man standing at the end of the bar.  ‘Been here a week.’  He winked as he wiped the counter.  ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘There’s been an accident at Cragleigh.  I’m sure he’ll be able to help.’  James paused.  ‘You haven’t seen any strangers come in today have you?’

‘Strangers?’  Gordon pulled a pint for the man next to James.  ‘A woman came in late this afternoon.  She sat over there.’  He pointed to the wall behind James.  ‘We were busy at the time so I didn’t notice her leave.’

‘Did she have dark, shoulder length hair?’

Gordon stood drying a glass and smiled.  ‘No.  That’s one thing I did notice.  She was an attractive blonde.  There was someone else too, a man.  He came in about six-thirty this evening.  He ordered a cup of coffee.  Said he’d had a long drive.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Tall, over six feet I’d say, with dark wavy hair.  Wore a blue jacket.’

As they spoke, Sergeant Turner appeared beside James.  'I don't think you'll have any more trouble, Mr Jenkins.  If you do, just give me a ring.'  Gordon nodded.

Sergeant Turner started toward the door.  'Before you go, Sergeant.  I'm James Wearing.  I wonder if I can have a word with you.'  The Sergeant stopped.  'There's been an accident at my house just outside the village.  A man's dead and there's a woman missing.'

Ron Turner frowned.  ‘Perhaps we’d better step over there, Mr Wearing.’  Turner led the way to the far corner of the room.  ‘Now, you say a man is dead?  Were you there when it happened?’

‘No.’  James recounted his reason for going to Cragleigh.

‘Do you know this man?’

‘Yes.  His name’s Tristan Harrow.  He’s one of my colleagues at the University in Sydney.’

‘Was he staying at the house too?’

‘No, in fact, I can’t imagine why he was there.’

‘What about the woman who’s missing, a friend of yours?’

‘Not exactly.  She’s one of my students.’

Turner shrugged.  ‘Then there’s your answer. Your houseguest invited her boyfriend up for the weekend, they argued and...'

James shook his head.  ‘No, Sergeant.  You don’t understand.’

‘Then perhaps you’d better show me.’

James followed Ron Turner outside where the roar of the wind all but drowned out the Sergeant’s voice.  ‘I’ll follow you.’  James nodded and climbed into the Range Rover.

Twenty minutes later, when they pulled up in front of Cragleigh, James jumped out, slammed the car door and signalled to Turner.  Guided by the side of the house, he made his way to the yard at the rear where, buffeted by the wind, he stopped short.

Turner came up next to him, sheltering inside his coat collar.  ‘Where is he?’ he shouted.

James shook his head as he shone the torch across the snow that whipped around them.  ‘I don’t understand.  He was right here at the corner of the house.  That’s his car over there.’

‘Well, he’s not here now.’  Turner glared at James.  ‘This isn’t a night to play games, Mr Wearing.’

‘I assure you I’m not, Sergeant.  I swear to you I left Tristan Harrow lying here just over an hour ago.’  James flashed his torch again across the courtyard where drifts concealed any sign of activity.  In desperation, he lunged toward the back door of the house.  Ron Turner followed and stood beside James in the kitchen doorway, the torch illuminating the floor.

‘What about this?' said James, 'There’s blood all over.’

Sergeant Turner knelt down.  ‘Very well.  I can see that something happened here this evening but for now, I want you to get back in your car and return to Blackheath.’  He got to his feet.  ‘If a man did die here, I don’t want you disturbing the scene.’

‘But what about Ashley Manning?  She must be out there somewhere.  She’ll die in this weather.’

‘We can’t do a thing until morning.  At first light, I’ll arrange a search party.’  Turner paused.  ‘For both of them.’

James glared at the Sergeant, who shook his head and retraced his steps back across the courtyard.  James returned to his car and sat with the motor running as Turner’s car disappeared around the bend in the drive.  The Sergeant was right, there was little hope of finding anyone in this weather, but he could not return to the inn and wait until morning with Ashley somewhere out there.  He recalled their last conversation the night before when he had told her a little about Cragleigh and the surrounding area.  She had seemed particularly keen to walk through the property on its tracks so that she could take in the scenery.  A niggling feeling took hold of James.  He put the car in gear and headed in the direction of the walking tracks, driving more from memory than being able to see his way.

Fifteen minutes later, he came to the stone lookout, built by his father two decades earlier, overlooking the valley below.  James stopped the car metres from the edge of the cliff.  He climbed out, pulled the collar of his jacket up and, with his head down against the wind, walked the remaining distance.  The howl of the wind grew as he clambered onto the lookout, training his torch along the edge of the cliff.  As its light grew weaker, he started to turn back but as he did so, he saw movement over the cliff edge.  As he moved closer, the torch light revealed what looked like a hand grasping at rocks protruding from the ground.  He pulled off his gloves and edged forward before lying down on his stomach to grab the hand.  It was then he saw a face staring up at him.

‘Ashley!’  Her hand started to slip from his grasp.  Desperate, James moved forward, letting his body lean further over the side of the cliff, the wind drowning out his voice.  ‘Take my other hand.’  James felt Ashley’s fingernails scrape his skin as her feet slipped from the rock face and she swung free.  Throwing the torch aside, he grabbed her wrist and inched backward with his hips.  As her waist reached the cliff top, James felt something hit the back of his head.  Still hanging onto Ashley’s arm as she clambered the rest of the way up herself, he turned over on his back to see a shadow standing over him.  Scrambling to his feet, he pushed Ashley away from the edge.  At the same time, the shadow in front of him lunged forward.  James moved sideways and watched as the figure disappeared over the cliff into the darkness below.

Crouched down on his knees, he stared into the murky blackness for a second before picking up the torch that lay at his feet and turning back.  Ashley lay face down on the grass, blood oozing from a gash on her forehead.  He sat down and cradled her head in his hands while he felt for a pulse.  It was faint but there.  He took his jacket off, put it around her and, with his remaining strength, picked her up and stumbled back to the car, the wetness of the snow penetrating his shoes.

A mixture of emotions swirled through his mind as he turned the car around and headed back toward Blackheath.  Relief that he had found Ashley but horror and confusion about Tristan and the scene at the cliff.  When he reached the inn, he lifted Ashley into his arms and made his way to the front door, kicking it with his foot by way of knocking.  Amazement showed on Nick's face as the door opened.

‘James!’

At the same time, Eileen Thompson came down the stairs in her dressing gown.  ‘Oh, my Lord!  Bring her in where it’s warm.’  She opened the living room door and turned on one of the lamps.  The embers in the fireplace glowed in the soft light.  James put Ashley on the sofa and Eileen Thompson covered her with a quilt.  ‘Build up the fire, James,' she said.

‘I’ll telephone the doctor,’ said Nicholas.

Moments later, Nicholas came back into the room.  ‘The doctor's on his way.’  He looked down at Ashley, unconscious on the sofa.  A knock sounded on the door some time later and the doctor appeared.  He moved across the room towards Ashley.

‘She’s been outside for most of the night, Doctor,' James said. 'She hit her head.'

He looked toward James and Nicholas.  ‘Perhaps you can both wait in the other room.  Mrs Thompson, can you stay, please?’

James ran his hand through his wet hair as he followed Nicholas to the kitchen.  Nicholas grabbed a jumper that hung over a kitchen chair.  ‘Here, you’d better put this on,' he said. ‘What happened out there?’

‘I’m not sure.  When I arrived at Cragleigh, I found Tristan Harrow dead in the courtyard.’  Nicholas did not reply but glowered at James.  ‘Later, I found Ashley at the lookout.’  James paused.  ‘I need to speak to the police sergeant, Nick.’

‘I’ll go get him.  Sit down for a few minutes and have a cup of coffee.  It’s there on the stove and it’s hot.’  Nicholas took his coat from the peg behind the kitchen door, pulled it on and left.

Minutes later, the door opened again and Turner walked in with Nicholas.  ‘Mr Wearing, we meet again.  Nick tells me you’ve brought an injured woman in.  Is it the woman you were looking for earlier this evening?’

‘Yes.  Ashley Manning.  She’s unconscious.  The doctor’s with her now.  I found her at Cragleigh lookout.’

The Sergeant pulled out a chair and sat down.  ‘What was she doing out there on a night like this?’

‘Taken there, I suspect.  She’d fallen or been pushed over the side of the cliff.  After I pulled her back up, someone came at me from behind.’  James paused.  ‘He went over the edge.’  Nicholas stood behind the Sergeant in silence.

‘So, you’re suggesting a second death?

James glared at Turner, his patience all but gone.  ‘I’m suggesting nothing of the sort.  All I’m saying is, he fell.’  James paused again.  ‘I can assure you, however, that I did see Tristan Harrow’s body in the courtyard.  I know it sounds bizarre, but perhaps it would help if I explained a few things.’

‘Explain away.’  Ron Turner sat back.

‘My brother, Alex Wearing, was murdered two weeks ago in Sydney.  A Detective Chief Inspector Fitzjohn is heading the investigation.’

‘I don’t understand.  What’s that got to do with what’s going on here?’

‘Ashley Manning was attacked a few days ago by her estranged husband, Robert Manning, who is a suspect in that murder.  She came here to convalesce.’

‘And how is Ashley Manning involved?  Did she know your brother?’

‘Yes.  They’d been in a relationship.’

‘I see.  Okay, Mr Wearing.  In that case, I’ll notify the Chief Inspector.’  Ron Turner stood up.  ‘And as to this other matter - you’re sure someone went over the cliff sometime in the last few hours?'

‘Yes.’

‘Very well.  I’ll arrange for a rescue team to go out there.’

James frowned.  ‘But what about Tristan Harrow?  He’s been murdered.’

‘So you say.’  Turner paused.  ‘I’ll send someone to Cragleigh as soon as it’s light to have a look around.’

As the door closed behind Turner, James’s fist hit the table.  ‘Tristan’s dead and that idiot won’t believe me.’

At that moment, the doctor appeared at the kitchen door and James got to his feet.

‘Dr Wearing, your friend is sleeping now.  She has concussion from the bang on the head but otherwise, she’ll be fine.  Just needs rest and warmth.’

‘Thank God.’

‘I’ll drop back later this morning and see how she’s getting on.’

CHAPTER 20

James followed Sergeant Turner and the rescue team back to the ruins at dawn, where the first glimpse of sunrise appeared as a pale light on the horizon.  He walked to the edge of the cliff and stared down at the broken, contorted body on the rocks below.  Moments later, joined by Turner, they watched the men make their perilous journey down the jagged rock face.  Buffeted by the wind, they lifted the body, now on a metal stretcher, to the top of the cliff, where it came to rest at James’s feet.  He looked down at the face, greyish-white and wax-like, the eyes staring back at him.

Sergeant Turner knelt down and felt inside the man’s pockets.  ‘There’s no ID on him.  Do you who he is?’

‘No.  I’ve never seen him before.’

‘Then it looks like we’ll have to ask the young lady.’  James nodded.

Turner left, following the rescue team as they carried the body away, leaving James alone.  As he stood there, dark clouds moved across the face of the sun and the birds that had appeared early that morning were gone, knowing of more unsettled weather to come.  A chill went through him as he looked out across the expanse of bushland, the image of Tristan’s lifeless face still fresh in his mind.

‘Morning, Dr Wearing.’

James looked around to see Fitzjohn.  He wore a dark grey overcoat and a maroon scarf.  His hand held down his hat against the force of the wind.

‘Chief Inspector, I didn’t realise you’d arrived.’

‘I got to Blackheath about an hour ago.  I would have been here sooner but for the roads.  They’re almost impassable in some places.  I had a word with Sergeant Turner just now.  He filled me in about last night.  It sounds as though Ashley Manning is lucky to be alive.’  James nodded.  ‘Where is she now?’

‘At a bed and breakfast in Blackheath.  She has concussion, but other than that, the doctor says she’ll be fine.’

‘Well, I’m glad.’

James looked back out across the valley.  ‘I wish I could say the same for Tristan.’

‘Ah yes, but there’s good news.  Dr Harrow’s been found.  Alive.’

James swung around to face Fitzjohn.  ‘But I found him myself, in the courtyard.  He’d been stabbed.’

‘So I understand.  Even so, he is alive and at this moment being flown back to Sydney, albeit in critical condition.  However, I’m told he has a chance.’

‘Thank, God for that.’  James could feel Fitzjohn’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Where did they find him?’

‘With a neighbour of yours.  A Tom Gregory, I believe.  Apparently, Mr Gregory became concerned about Ashley Manning when the weather took a turn for the worst and went over to Cragleigh.  She wasn’t there but he found Dr Harrow in the yard at the back of your house and took him to his cottage before going for help.’

James frowned.  ‘I thought Tristan was dead.  How could I have been so stupid?’

‘Don’t reproach yourself.  Anyone could make a mistake like that, especially with those weather conditions.  His heartbeat would have been almost undetectable.  He was only just alive when Mr Gregory found him.’

They turned around and started to walk back.  ‘I wonder why Tristan came here.’

‘Well, perhaps Ms Manning can tell us.  Why don’t we drive back to Blackheath together?  I’ll tell my Sergeant to go on ahead.’

They drove in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts.  ‘It’s beautiful country, Dr Wearing.  Do you spend a lot of time here?’

‘Whenever I can get away.’

‘I gather your brother didn’t have the same enthusiasm for Cragleigh.’

‘On the contrary, he loved the place.  That’s why I couldn’t understand it when he wanted to sell.’   James frowned.  ‘I wish he’d confided in me.  I might have been able to help with whatever went wrong in his life.’

‘Were you never close?’

‘No.  Alex resented my very existence.’

‘Why?’

James glanced at Fitzjohn.  ‘Alex and I weren’t brothers, Chief Inspector.  Actually, we were cousins.  Emily and Harold Wearing adopted me when I was just a few days old.  My mother was Harold Wearing’s sister.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’  James looked at Fitzjohn in surprise.  ‘Investigations such as I’m conducting, unearth such detail.  On the whole, I suppose, a gross invasion of privacy, but necessary nevertheless.  So, that’s the reason for the rift between you two.’

‘Yes, although, it goes further than that.  You see, my mother was no relation to the Wearing’s.  She’d come to live with my grandparents as a small child.  They never legally adopted her.’  James paused and his eyebrows rose.  ‘So, in truth, Chief Inspector, Alex and I weren’t related at all.  And our equal share in Cragleigh didn’t help the situation.’

‘I take it your brother believed he should be the sole beneficiary.’

‘Yes.’  James sighed.  ‘Of course, now that I am, I suppose, in your eyes, it gives me an even greater motive to kill him.'

They reached the inn to be met by Nicholas Ellis

‘James.  Thank God you’re back.’

James frowned.  ‘Ashley?’

Nicholas shook his head.  ‘I don’t know what happened out there last night, but it’s had a dreadful effect on her.  She woke a few minutes ago screaming something about Tristan Harrow and a knife.  Mrs Thompson’s with her now.’  James and Fitzjohn followed Nicholas into the living room, where they found Ashley on the sofa, staring into the flames of the fire.  She looked around as they came into the room, her face pale and gaunt.

Eileen Thompson patted Ashley’s hand.  ‘I’ll go make some tea.’

As she left the room, James sat down next to Ashley.

‘Dr Harrow’s dead, James.  I remembered it all when I woke up.’

‘No, Ashley, he’s been found alive.’

‘But I saw Robert stab him.’

James shook his head.  ‘Tristan’s alive.  Tom Gregory found him in time.  He’s been taken back to Sydney.’

He touched Ashley’s hand.  ‘You said Robert.  Was that the man at the lookout last night?’

‘Yes.’  Ashley frowned.  ‘Where is he now?’

James hesitated before he said, ‘The police recovered his body from the base of the cliff this morning.’

‘He’s dead?’

James nodded.

I’m afraid we have to ask you to identify the body, Ms Manning.’  Ashley looked across at Fitzjohn, who stood in the doorway.

‘Did Dr Harrow say why he went to Cragleigh?’ Fitzjohn asked.

‘To see, Catherine Wearing, he said.  Apparently, her housekeeper thought she’d be there.’

James shook his head.  ‘Seems strange Tristan would drive all that way to see Catherine.  It’s not as though they’re even friends.’

Ashley looked back into the fire.  ‘He didn’t explain.  Didn’t get the chance.  Minutes after he arrive, Robert burst in and stabbed Dr Harrow in the back.’  Ashley winced.  'Then he came after me.'