Cursed Inheritance (33 page)

work. And a story to impress the girls in the pub of an

evening.

By now some of the other ferry passengers had left their

cars and were hanging over the rail, staring into the grey

water at the body that was floating face down. A bundle of . ragged grey clothes and rotting flesh.

An hour later when the police launch had hauled the

body out of the cold tidal waters of the Trad, Gerry

Heffernan stood on the deck staring down at the dead

woman, whose sodden garments clung around her swollen

body. He foughtˇ the impulse to cover her gnawed and

disfigured face. The river’s hungry crabs had devoured her

eyes and flesh. But she fitted the description all right.

Gwen Madeley had turned up at last.

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Lord Coslake observed with his customary bluntness that as Penelope was much in my company and she was a defenceless widow in a new land, we should ask the Lord’s blessing on our union. It seems I must take her for my wife for better or for worse.

Penelope has behaved with much modesty of late and forbids me her bed. Yet I cannot help but think of that day when I spied her with Isaac Morton and the look of pleasure and triumph on her sweet face. It may be that I should tell her my true reason for leaving England. We can seek a new life and a new world but the sins of the blood are with us always.

The weather here grows cooler and I fear what the winter holds for us. Henry Barras died of the bloody flux two nights since. It is strange that the Lord has struck down only members of our Council. Perhaps it is a judgement upon us. Lord Coslake and Master Heath go on the morrow to seek out the Chief of the natives. As we have no harvest we must trade for food or go hungry. A Spanish ship was sighted in the bay of Chesupioc. I pray that the Lord will keep us safe from our enemies. And from all other evils.

Set down by Edmund Selbiwood, Gentleman, at Annetown this twelfth day of October 1605.

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.

Neil Watson felt a bead of sweat trickle down his brow as he dug and felt a sudden longing for the cool Devon climate. Hannah Gotleib was sieving the small pile of soil bound for the spoil heap and she smiled as he caught her eye.

‘Chuck just told me about Max Selbiwood. rm sorry. 1 guess you were getting quite close to him.’ There was a question in there somewhere but Neil didn’t rise to the bait. He hadn’t broadcast his relationship with Max around the dig. As far as his temporary colleagues were concerned, Max had been helping Neil with some historical research.

‘Yeah. It was very sudden. Probably the best way to go. Have you had a chance to read the documents he gave us yet?’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Only some of them. 1 guess that stuff about the Morton brothers being shot fits with those skeletons we found. What do you say?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘I think we have ourselves a murder mystery,’ she said earnestly.

‘Not much mystery now we know who did it. Isaac shot his brother then shot himself.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

Neil stopped scraping at the dry earth with his trowel and looked up at her. ‘I’ll tell you when I’ve had a chance toˇ read all the papers.’

She smiled. ‘Having something written by someone who built this place makes the settlers kind of real, don’t you think? When you get back home, can you send me more details about Edmund’s family home? Potwoolstan Hall, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve got some pictures of the place already but I’ll see what else 1 can find.’ He hesitated. ‘Some people were murdered there a few years ago: the cook went mad with a shotgun or something.’

Hannah put her hand to her mouth in a gesture of horror but before Neil could say more he heard a man’s voice behind him. ‘Dr Watson. May 1 speak with you for a moment?’

Neil swung round and saw Brett Selbiwood standing on

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the edge of the trench looking down on him. He took a step back, uncertain what to expect. Another punch perhaps. He didn’t need this right now.

‘If we could speak in private.’

Neillooked at the man, then at Hannah, who was picking tiny shards of pottery from the soil, oblivious to any animosity between Neil and the newcomer. After a moment of hesitation he climbed out of the trench.

He walked away from the main excavation site, taking the path through the trees; the way to the reconstructed settlement that Hannah had shown him when he had first arrived in Virginia. Brett followed a couple of paces behind.

‘Look, I want to say I’m sorry for what I did. I guess I thought you were trying to take advantage of my pa and … ‘

Neil stopped and turned to face him. ‘That’s OK,’ he said automatically, wondering what had brought about this change of heart. He was soon to find out.

‘I checked out my pa’s will. Sorry to tell you that he’s left you nothing. Or your grandma.’

‘It never crossed my mind that he would. That wasn’t why I tried to find him, Brett. I wasn’t interested in his money.’

‘Then what … ?’

‘My grandmother wanted me to find him. I did as she asked because she’s dying. Then I found out that Max was descended from one of the first people to settle here in 1605 and he was interested in local history. We had a lot in common. And in spite of the fact that he left my grandmother pregnant and never contacted her again, I liked him.’ He paused, letting the words sink in. ‘He kindly donated some documents to the museum before his death.’

Brett opened his mouth as if he were about to protest. Neil could almost see dollar signs in his eyes. The documents so casually given away might have been worth something.

‘And before you say anything, it was all his idea, not mine. And the museum’s extremely grateful.’

‘What were these documents?’

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‘An account written by an Edmund Selbiwood in 1605 of the first days of the Annetown settlement. As 1 said, the museum’s very grateful to have them.’

Neil carried on walking. They had reachedˇ the reconstructed settlement but the place was empty. The modem-day settlers who re-enacted the past - unlike their seventeenth-century counterparts - probably took days off.

‘1 came here to invite you to Max’s funeral,’ Brett said after a few moments, as if the words were choking him. ‘1 guess he would have wanted you there.’

After giving him the date and the venue, Brett hurried back to the car park, leaving Neil to wander back to the dig alone.

When he reached the excavation, Hannah strolled over to greet him.

‘The bones we found on the edge of the churchyard site, the other early burials.’

‘Seven complete skeletons if 1 remember right.’ He’d been reading up in his spare time, mainly to avoid Chuck’s constant baseball commentary.

‘We asked a toxicologist to test samples of bone using a plasma mass spectrometer. Now you usually need soft tissue or hair to get a result but the equipment was so sophisticated that … ‘

‘What did they find?’

‘The results haven’t come back yet.’ She hesitated. ‘But forget hostile natives and wild animals. I’ve read some accounts of a mysterious illness that was going round the early settlers here and I’m wondering whether the main danger they had to face came from within Annetown itself. ‘

But before Neil had a chance to reply, Professor Keller appeared, his tanned face a picture of concern. ‘There’s a call for you from England, Dr Watson. You can take it in my office.’

Five minutes later, Neil had other things on his mind than the past.

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Wesley, newly returned from Yorkshire in the late afternoon, wished he could have gone straight home but there was no chance of that just yet. As they set off for Gwen Madeley’s cottage both men experienced the trepidation that police officers always feel when they are the bearers of bad news, appearing on some unsuspecting person’s doorstep like birds of ill omen.

A momentary look of alarm crossed Arbel Harford’s face when she answered the door and she led them through to the sitting room in silence.

‘I get the feeling this isn’t a social call,’ she said as she sat down in the armchair nearest the unlit fire.

‘Is your husband still at the Hall?’

‘No. He went back to London yesterday. I was going to go with him but I didn’t like to leave in case .. : in case Gwen came back.’

Wesley glanced at Heffernan, who was standing beside him, shuffling his feet. He decided to come straight to the point.

‘I’m afraid we have some bad news, Mrs Jameston. A body’s been found.’

Arbel sat forward, her eyes large and terrified.

‘I’m afraid we’re pretty sure it’s Ms Madeley. I’m sorry.’ Wesley bowed his head respectfully for a moment. He could see tears forming in Arbel’s eyes.

Arbel took a deep, steadying breath. ‘How did she die?’ The question came out in a whisper.

‘She was found in the river. We think she probably drowned.’

Arbel looked down at her hands. ‘She was very depressed when I last spoke to her on the phone. She was terribly worried about her brother. The situation was really getting her down. She was taking pills - tranquillisers. And when Tony saw her at the Hall she said she was upset about that man Evans dragging up the past again. It was suicide, I take it?’

‘We’ll know more after the postmortem but we’re

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keeping an open mind at the moment,’ Wesley said softly.

Heffeman spoke. ‘Why should she be upset about Evans? Surely you’re the one who should have been upset. It was your family. ‘

‘I know. 1 was. But…’

Wesley held his breath, sensing that Arbel was about to make some revelation. Perhaps she hadn’t liked to speak freely before but now that Gwen was dead, she felt able to do so.

‘There’s something 1 didn’t tell you. 1 didn’t think it was something Gwen would want widely known. 1 told you she was having an affair with Bleasdale.’ She hesitated.

‘Go on.’

‘She was friendly with my sister’s fiance too.’ She emphasised the word friendly. ‘It started shortly before the murders.’

‘You mean Gwen Madeley and Nigel Armley were having an affair?’

Arbel nodded and the two officers looked at each other. After what Wesley had discovered about the gardener, Bleasdale, having been seen with a brown-haired girl near the burning car, he had rather fancied Gwen in the role of his accomplice, especially in view of the pictures she had painted of the scene. But if she had transferred her affec-tions to Nigel Armley then this seemed rather unlikely.

‘How did you know?’ Wesley asked. ‘Did she tell you about it?’

She shook her head. ‘I was looking for her one day. She often hung round the outhouse where Bleasdale kept his things.’ She bowed her head. ‘I found her in there with Nigel. They were … Well, 1 don’t have to spell it out, do I?’

‘Did you tell your sister?’

Arbel shook her head vigorously. ‘How could I? Catriona was besotted with him. 1 said nothing to her. 1 didn’t even tell Gwen I’d seen her. Least said soonest mended, isn’t that what they say?’

‘What was your own relationship with Nigel Armley?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t really have one. He fancied

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himself. Thought he was God’s gift to women. My sister could make her own mistakes,’ she added bitterly.

‘Did Victor Bleasdale know about Gwen and Armley?’.

‘I’ve no idea. I always used to think Gwen only took up with Vic because she was bored. There’s not really that much to do for a teenager in these parts,’ she observed with a faint smile.

‘If Bleasdale found out he might have reacted violently. You said he had a temper.’

Arbel hesitated, understanding the implications. ‘It’s possible, I suppose.’ . ‘Do you think Gwen’s relationship with Nigel Armley could have been serious?’

‘Gwen didn’t confide in me. But as far as I know she’s not had a serious relationship since his death. Perhaps she never got over it.’

‘And what about you? Have you got over what happened?’ .

Arbel took a deep breath. ‘You never get over something like that. But you learn to live with it. Take each day at a time. But I still have the nightmares.’

Wesley looked at her hands and saw that they were shaking. ‘So when Patrick Evans started raking it all up

. ?’ agam ….

‘I wasn’t happy about it. But then if Martha really was innocent then … ‘ She hesitated. ‘I suppose it’s only right that her name should be cleared. For the sake of her daughter. Poor girl.’ She paused. ‘Tony mentioned something about her being up at the Hall. Is that true?’

Wesley nodded.

Arbel closed her eyes for a few seconds and shuddered. ‘She must be braver than I am, to face staying in that place again.’

‘Have you seen her?’

She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t even recognise her now. Anyway, what would be the point?’

‘Did you have much to do with her when she was young?’

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She shook her head. ‘She was just some little kid who hung around the place. 1 was a teenager and teenagers are selfish and self-obsessed, at least 1 was.’

Gerry Heffeman leaned forward. ‘Someone killed your family, love, and 1 don’t think it was Martha Wallace. And a man’s dead. Murdered because he either knew the truth or was getting close to it. 1 reckon if we fmd out who killed Patric” Evans, we fmd out who really killed your family. Will you help us?’

A tear began to run down ArbeI’s right cheek, leaving a glistening track. ‘I want to find out the truth as much as you do. And if someone wanted my family dead … ‘ She let the sentence hang in the air but Wesley mentally completed it. If ‘Someone wanted her family dead then she might be next on the list.

‘And Gwen? You don’t think she could have been murdered, do you?’

‘There were no obvious signs of violence.’ He paused. ‘I’m afraid we need somebody to identify the body. But after all you’ve been through, Mrs Jameston, 1 hardly liked to ask you to do it.’

Arbel bowed her head. She was trying desperately to hold back the tears. ‘I’ve known Gwen since we were small. I’m sorry but … ‘