The Lost Treasure Map Series (24 page)

Then, incredibly, more noises appeared,
afterward, showing that the reporter had gone straight back to the
exact same place, after they had gone into the wood.

“
What do you think that guy was
doing?
”
Bryson muttered, mainly to himself.

Merton shrugged, showing his lack of
interest.

Bryson grew determined to obtain facts, and
he went out of the building, to search for his footprints.

Bryson and Mortimer then started following
them, from where he had left the vault, after he had returned
there. And they went from the vault in the opposite direction, from
where he had arrived from.

“
So you want to look over
there?
”
Merton uttered, catching up with him, desperate to obtain
some information on what he was doing.

“
They go back to castle
anyway,
”
Mortimer continued, while pointing to a place further out,
where the prints sharply turned, going towards the
castle.

They were at a distance away that they would
never have seen from the pathway.

While they followed them, it became apparent
that he had gone through places that had hidden him.

It astonished him that they looked the same
as the other prints that had gone from the castle.

He started to wonder why he had not asked
the police, the night before, to interrogate the man again, to ask
him why he had returned there, and if he had entered the castle.
They had his shoe prints to confirm it! How many people wore the
same shoes, with that type of tread?

He attempted to remember every detail of the
marks, and thought of drawing them.

At an open area ahead, he spotted an unusual
shape, which he watched Mortimer glaring at, astonished. And he
felt a strange feeling that there was something there that he did
not want to see.

Suddenly, there were marks across the
ground, across their path, from where the reporter had obviously
fallen over. Yet there was no sign of anything on the ground that
could have caused him to fall in such a way.

Then, as they went further, Mortimer rushed
ahead, and crouched on a mound of snow. And Bryson observed the
reporter at it, and his blood covering his fingers.

Chapter 44

The Hit Man

Bryson had trouble accepting that the
situation had been confusing before, because now he could not even
imagine solving what had happened.

The thought of departing from the cold
confines of the castle gave him shivers of extreme pleasure.

He could return home, and stay in
reality
–
not on the brink of catastrophe!
–
and he could solve normal problems,
with the effortlessness that he had done.

He studied the crumpled body of the
reporter, trying to ignore how hideous it was, trying to look upon
it as an artist would observe a crazy exhibit at an art exhibition.
But it was no use!

The complexion of the body, drained of
blood, and frozen over the snow, made the place too dangerous, even
though it had been there from the previous day.

He attempted to work out the exact time that
it could have occurred, and where he had been. He could not
understand why he had not heard a gun.

Mortimer still seemed slightly
shocked
–
since the discovery of the body, besides the bushes, where
the reporter had crawled to in his last seconds of life.

“
Who would want to shoot
him?
”
Mortimer muttered, not being able to stay silent any longer,
breaking the deep silence.

“
What worries me more than
anything,
”
Bryson replied, with confusion,
“
is that I don
’t
have any
clues!
”

“
They’ll
find something!”

“
This is ridiculous! We should have
gone back to the castle.
”

“
There was no need for us to go back
...
”

“
But, on the other hand, we could have
gone back to the warm library
–
instead of staying with this
corpse!
”

“
You
’ve
a point, but we may find out
something, which we should know
–
about who did it. His prints will be
found
–
once they find out where he was hiding.
”

“
It has to be in those bushes over
there ...
”

“
You
’re
correct,
”
he muttered, glaring about the wood
with interest, perhaps wondering how much he would ruin it if he
took a look.

They had to stay where they were, and not
touch anything!

“
How did his killer know that he would
be here?
”
Bryson muttered, startled by the thought that there had been
someone watching the reporter, and perhaps them, with a
gun.

“
Perhaps he was lurking about, and saw
him on his own
–
and then followed him to this spot.
”

“
Why would he want to kill the
reporter? At first, he was a lunatic who was strangling people! Now
he is using a gun, with a silencer.
”

“
Why would he have had a silencer? He
might have noticed that sounds were not carrying that well
–
owing to the
atmospheric conditions ...
”

“
However, yesterday sounds were
reasonably loud from throughout the wood, and deep within it. I
heard an airplane away over there! And I
’ve
heard farmers using guns and
shotguns ... And I
’m
fairly sure that we should have heard it.
He must have used a silencer ...
”

“
Shotguns and normal shooting guns
produce much more of an explosion, than a normal handgun. But you
could be correct ...
”

Mortimer eyed up the wound on the corpse,
almost trying to measure it in millimeters, to compare it to a
small handgun bullet.

Then, he jerked, when Inspector
Bailey
’s
heavy breathing emerged in the distance.

His persistent moans followed, and gave
Bryson the impression that Merton had not entirely explained what
had happened, and that he could be thinking that he had dragged him
out for nothing.

Although he could not imagine what he had
said, as the occurrences on this occasion were far from normal.
Yet, perhaps, he just did not fully believe him or something.

He watched him appear, with mild curiosity,
considering what he intended to persuade Merton to explain to
him.

Or did he suspect them of carrying out the
ghastly crimes?

His eyes hardly moved from them, and he
suddenly stopped, placed his hands at his hips, and tried to see
the body.

When Bryson looked again, he was rushing
towards them, not caring how tired he became.

“
Are you sure that he was
shot?
”
he
moaned loudly.

“
We ought to be able to recognize a
bullet wound,
”
Merton moaned, not really thinking about what he was saying
any longer.

“
How do you know the person never
stabbed him with something? Or perhaps after he could not strangle
him!
”

Merton shrugged, and vaguely thought it
over.

“
There are not any other footprints
near him though. And he collapsed over there, across the
snow.
”

Inspector Bailey moved his head, and
carefully studied the ground that he was going over.

“
So while you were searching ... This
fellow was being shot ...
”

Bryson slightly moved his position, to
see beneath the shoes of the reporter, and one of his nearby
prints
–
and that they were as he had expected them to be.

As Inspector Bailey approached him, Bryson
decided to grasp the opportunity to show them that he was
right.

“
You said that he
didn
’t
kill
the servant!
”

“
What ...?
”
Inspector Bailey uttered, tiredly
walking closer to the corpse.

“
Is that the same tread mark that we
followed from the castle, over to that road?
”

“
It does seem to be the
same,
”
he
murmured, studying it, with surprise, and slight amusement that
they could have allowed such a detail to go amiss.

“
If you want a better look at a proper
print, look over there.
”

Inspector Bailey walked over to the prints,
where the reporter had fallen to the ground, and he examined the
footprints.

“
Let
’s
find out where the
killer
’s
prints are,
”
he called over, looking at
Merton.

Inspector Bailey approached them, glanced at
the corpse, from where he was, homed into a position, and he
marched straight over to the position that Bryson had carefully
worked out.

The place, behind bushes, was hard to
see, and the killer had chosen it well. The reporter surely would
not have looked there, and it had concealed the
person
’s
footprints.

Bryson studied the shoe marks, as he arrived
there, with them, and was surprised to see that they were the same.
As if the gunman had deliberately chosen the same shoes. Yet they
looked in better condition!

He believed that the person had carried out
a revenge attack, for what the reporter had done.

There had been many people
about
–
with reasons. But where had the person obtained a gun? And
how had he managed to do it without anyone seeing or hearing
him?

Bryson carefully thought it over. But
they had been in groups, except for one of two of
James
’s
associates. But they had not been on their own for a long
time. And when it had taken place, they had been away over
there.

Nobody would have had the slightest
inkling that he had been the reporter, or that he had done
anything
–
especially after the police had released him. How could any
of them have even known about the reporter? It was too
far-fetched!

Bryson left with Merton and Mortimer, when
more policemen started coming towards them through the wood. He
knew that the prints of the gunman would lead to a road, and that
he was too professional to do anything stupid like revealing where
he was staying. Yet there was a chance that he could have left
something behind!

He now thought of him like a hit man. But
what if he was mistaken, and that he had killed the reporter just
because he had been on his own.

What if the reporter, if that is what he had
been, had been watching from the wood, and the killer had been in
the castle, killing the servant. Both had reacted to them leaving
the castle! The reporter had not properly seen the person hiding
the body outside the kitchen, and had been checking what the killer
had been doing, when he had entered the castle.

Nevertheless, why had he returned, and why
had he been watching the castle?

Chapter 45

Ancient Treasure

Adrenalin exploded through Bryson, as he
interpreted the text of the ancient diary again.

There was no doubt about it, every time he
had read the ancient text, he had acknowledged the same thing.

They had left the diary, forgetting it,
leaving it for another time, when they had enough time to look for
the treasure mentioned in it. They had not the time to look for
both. And it could have been discovered anyway! But, when he had
examined it again, at where he had left it in his room, he had
believed that it could still be buried there, somewhere.

He had then realized that he had
actually seen the missing page from it
–
an old crumpled piece of paper,
which nobody had bothered about
–
at the place he had found the diary. And he
had found it there
–
unnoticed by the others.

He had sat reading it repeatedly, in
amazement, and had decided not to tell anyone until he had time to
put the information that he had learned together
–
and perhaps discover
something.

It was defiantly an authentic diary of one
of his ancestors, who had stayed in the castle during the Victorian
era, and who had been the daughter of the owner! And it gave a good
deal of facts about the owner.

When Merton and Mortimer entered the
library, he insisted in only suggesting it to Merton.

Mortimer had other things to think of, and
seemed to have little concern about looking through the books. He
surely was still thinking of the crime that had occurred, and
perhaps who had done it.

Bryson returned to what he had been
doing.