Dying Fall, A (31 page)

‘Who else was in the White Hand?’ she asks. ‘Who was in charge? Who was the Arch Wizard?’

Elaine’s eyes flicker from side to side. ‘I don’t know. You only know your chapter and our chapter was the four of us.’

‘Someone must have known.’

‘Clayton, Guy and Pendragon were knights. They had messages from the Arch Wizard sometimes but I don’t think they ever met him.’

‘And you weren’t a knight?’

‘Oh no. Women weren’t allowed to be knights.’

Sexist as well as racist and homophobic, thinks Ruth. But surely someone must know who the Arch Wizard is. Somebody prancing round in robes, setting people’s houses on fire, that can’t stay a secret for long. She thinks of the masked figure on the riverbank and shivers.

‘Who was Dan?’ she asks. ‘Did he have a role in all this?’

‘Oh, he didn’t know about the White Hand. We couldn’t tell him. But he was Percival, wasn’t he? The one who found the grail.’

So when Dan wrote about the White Hand, he had no way of knowing that two of his closest friends and his boss were actually members. But, even so, both Guy and Clayton had clearly been scared of someone or something. Guy had insisted that the bones be stored in a safe place and Clayton had received threatening letters (or so he said). Did they know the identity of the Arch Wizard? Did they know that he was capable of murder?

‘Elaine,’ she says. ‘Do you know who killed Dan?’

Elaine seems to sag in her chair, becoming young and vulnerable again. When she speaks, it is in almost a baby voice.

‘I didn’t have anything to do with the fire. Guy and I had been to the pub. When we got back, there were flames everywhere. I thought it was our house at first. Guy called the fire brigade. It was awful. I was screaming. We saw them bring Daniel’s body out. The paramedics were giving him mouth-to-mouth but Guy wouldn’t let me go to him. I was hysterical. I had to take a tranquiliser.’

Ruth declines the invitation to pity Elaine. Instead she says, ‘You know something, don’t you? That’s why you’re so scared.’

Elaine looks at her. Her face is not so much pale as drained of life. Her lips are almost white and Ruth can see the veins beneath her skin. She looks around the room, hands clenching and unclenching.

‘Elaine,’ says Ruth, more gently. ‘Why did you come to see me?’

‘I think the White Hand killed Daniel,’ says Elaine in a whisper.

She sounds so scared that, despite herself, Ruth looks over her shoulder. The French windows are dark now and the night is quiet. She would give anything to hear Sandy’s patrol car driving past. She turns back to Elaine, who is still clenching and unclenching.

‘Do you know why they killed him?’

‘Guy thought that Daniel had discovered something about the High King,’ she says at last. ‘Daniel didn’t tell Guy what it was but Guy suspected.’

So much for it being a joint project, thinks Ruth. She is unreasonably pleased that Dan hadn’t shared his suspicions with Guy, even though he had planned to take her into his confidence. Despite his protestations in his diaries, Dan obviously hadn’t completely trusted Guy. ‘What did Guy suspect?’ she asks.

‘He didn’t say,’ says Elaine. ‘But he thought it could be something that could dishonour the High King. Daniel didn’t understand, you see. He liked the idea of King Arthur but all he cared about was making a great discovery. He wanted to be famous.’

Don’t we all, thinks Ruth. Once again, she feels a terrible sadness for her friend, who was, indeed, on the verge of great distinction in his field. And Elaine will never know how much Dan too was under the spell of King Arthur. It’s just that he didn’t care if the Raven King was black or white. All that mattered to him was the truth.

‘Does Guy know who killed Dan?’ she asks.

‘No,’ says Elaine. ‘But I know he suspects it was on the Arch Wizard’s orders.’

Ruth leans forward. ‘Elaine, is Clayton Henry the Arch Wizard?’

‘I don’t think so. He was so fond of Daniel.’

‘Was it Clayton who switched the skeletons?’ She doesn’t think it’s worth pretending that she doesn’t know about this. Everyone will know by now that Ruth has spotted the switch. Only yesterday she had the C14 results on the two sets of bones that she examined at CNN Forensics. They are a few hundred years old, no more. Ruth wonders where they came from. But, at the time, Clayton had seemed genuinely surprised.

‘No,’ says Elaine. ‘I don’t know who did that. It wouldn’t have been Clayton. He wanted to carry on with the investigations. He thought that he could make a lot of money out of the tomb of King Arthur. He’s terribly in debt, you know.’

‘Where are King Arthur’s bones now?’

‘I don’t know. Guy thinks they’ve probably been burnt on a funeral pyre somewhere. That would be the respectful thing to do.’

Despite everything, Ruth feels a pang for those precious, irreplaceable bones. If they are gone, there is no way that Dan’s discovery can ever be tested. All that will remain will be the DNA and isotope findings, Susan’s photos and Dan’s diary. Not enough.

She looks at Elaine, now calmly sipping tea. ‘Why are you telling me all this?’ she asks again.

Elaine looks back, wide-eyed. Her expression is utterly transparent and candid and Ruth does not trust her an inch.

‘Well, you know anyway. You’ve got the memory stick.’

‘You said you were scared. What are you scared of?’ Elaine’s gaze does not falter. ‘I’m afraid they’ll kill me too. They know I’m emotional. Occasionally I drink too much. I’m a liability.’

Ruth remembers what Guy said about Elaine, the woman he claims to love like a sister.
Mental health issues . . . sometimes, the slightest little thing . . .
She thinks of Dan’s diary and the description of Elaine, drunk, in the hotel bar. She can imagine that Elaine—sensitive, highly-strung, bruised from an unhappy love affair—would be a threat to any secret society. But does Elaine really think that her fellow White Hand members would kill her? Ruth looks at Elaine, huddled on the flowery sofa, and believes that she does. There is fear everywhere at Pendle University. There was fear in that first letter from Dan, fear in Clayton Henry’s eyes when he realised that the bones had been switched, fear in Guy’s face when he sat on the pier telling Ruth how he wanted to continue Dan’s work. And Pendragon, of course, was scared enough to kill himself.

She is about to speak when Elaine stiffens and looks round. She has heard something. A wheezing, snuffling sound just outside the back door. Ruth gets to her feet, just as a tall cloaked figure appears at the window. For a moment, Ruth is frozen in terror. Is this it? The Grim Reaper? The Arch Wizard come to exact his revenge? But then the door opens, and a white dog rockets into the room.

Elaine screams.

‘Hi, Cathbad,’ says Ruth, struggling to contain Thing’s welcome. ‘What time do you call this?’

One way or another, Ruth is not looking forward to her meeting with Clayton Henry. But it’s their last day in Lytham, the bags are packed, the house is clean and the car full of petrol. Cathbad is going to take Kate to Nickelodeon World (to her great delight) so, hopefully, she will sleep the whole way home. Ruth is meeting Clayton at his office at eleven. They will see the relics, which are being held at the university, and she should be finished by midday. Ruth will pick Cathbad and Kate up at the Pleasure Beach, they can call in at Beach Row to collect Thing, and then they’ll be on their way. She never has to think about Elaine, Guy, Clayton or the White Hand, ever again.

Ruth has rung Tim to tell him about Elaine’s revelations but is currently getting no reply. In the light of day, Elaine’s story seems stranger than ever. Is there really an Arch Wizard whose command has to be obeyed on pain of death? And is it possible that no one knows the name of this demonic figure? Did Elaine really not know who killed Dan? Does Clayton not know who moved the bones? Elaine doesn’t trust Guy, Guy doesn’t trust Elaine and neither of them trusts Clayton. Ruth doesn’t understand any of it. All she knows is that the sooner she and Kate (and Cathbad and Thing) are out of this place the better. Sandy still doesn’t know who is sending the texts but Ruth is pretty sure that her every move is being watched. It’s a horrible, frightening thought. Kate will have some happy memories of this holiday—the donkeys, the sand henge, the water park—but for Ruth, Lancashire will always be the place where the courtly Arthurian legend dissolved into the darker realm of the Raven King.

When she had told Cathbad about Elaine and the recreation of Camelot, he had quoted dreamily, ‘Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable, Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat.’ Except that this Elaine is not loveable or even (in good light) particularly fair. But maybe it was her Arthurian name which started this dangerous obsession. Ruth thanks God that she resisted the temptation to name her daughter after a tragic character in legend or literature.

She tries ringing Tim again but his phone goes straight through to voicemail. She hesitates for a moment and then rings Nelson.

‘Hello, Ruth.’ He sounds wary. She wonders who is listening.

She tells him about Elaine’s visit and about the revelation that she, Guy and Clayton were members of the White Hand.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of Tim all morning.’

‘They’ve gone to Lancaster. They’ve got a lead about the White Hand.’

Ruth laughs, she sounds slightly hysterical. ‘They should talk to Elaine. She knows all about the White Hand. Apparently they all dressed up in Arthurian clothes and had a ceremony on Pendle Hill. Does Sandy know about that?’

‘Sandy knows that Clayton Henry was involved in some way. Tim found a picture of him on Pendragon’s computer.’

‘Does he think Clayton was behind Dan’s death?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Nelson sounds rather put out. ‘He doesn’t confide in me.’

‘I’m seeing Clayton Henry today,’ says Ruth. ‘He’s going to show me some artefacts found at the site.’

‘Jesus, Ruth.’ Nelson’s voice is sharp. ‘Be careful. Man sounds like a nutter. Katie’s not going with you, is she?’

Kate’s the one he’s worried about, thinks Ruth.
She
can have a breakfast meeting with Jack the Ripper as long as Kate is safe.

‘Cathbad’s taking her to Nickelodeon World.’

‘Well, she can’t come to any harm there.’

Nelson puts down the phone feeling frustrated. He wishes he could ask Ruth not to go to her meeting, he wishes he could haul Elaine Morgan in for questioning. But he’s not Ruth’s husband and he’s not the officer in charge of this enquiry. And even if he was her husband, he reflects gloomily, he doubts if she’d listen to him. Over the last few days Michelle has been pleasant but detached. She and her mother are always whisking off to places, ostensibly leaving him free to relax, in reality to fret about the case and wish that he could do more than just attend interviews ‘as an observer’. Sandy’s warning had disconcerted him too. On the one hand, the idea of old Sandy as a marriage counsellor is laughable. On the other, if
Sandy
has noticed something between him and Ruth, who else might become suspicious? His sisters? His mother? Michelle’s mother?

He doesn’t like all this stuff about Arch Wizards and King Arthur. In his experience, when people start dressing up they lose track of what is real and what is make-believe. Maybe whoever killed Dan Golding thought that they were preparing a sacrificial victim, atoning for some ancient wrong. In reality, a man was burnt to death in his own home. He can’t bear the thought of Katie (or Ruth) mixing with these people. At least they’re going home this afternoon. Katie can have a nice morning at the Pleasure Beach with Cathbad, then back to Norfolk and safety. Jesus, it’s come to something when he thinks of Cathbad as the perfect babysitter.

He knows that Sandy and Tim have gone to Lancaster on the trail of some suspected White Hand members. Nevertheless, he leaves a message for Sandy, saying that he has some new information and asking him to ring as soon as possible. Then, on impulse, he dials a more familiar number.

‘Detective Sergeant Dave Clough.’

‘Hi, Cloughie.’

‘Boss! How are you? Is it grim up north?’

‘You don’t know the half of it, Cloughie. What’s it like being in charge?’

Clough is nominally in charge of the department, but with Nelson and Judy away his team consists of only three people: a frighteningly simple PC called Rocky Taylor, a grizzled old hand called Tom Henty and an extremely keen WPC, Tanya Fuller.

Nevertheless Nelson can almost hear Clough expanding his chest. ‘Not too bad. Think I’m running a pretty tight ship. Everything’s under control.’

‘That’s good to hear. Listen, I need a favour. Could you check the files for anything on a woman called Elaine Morgan.’ He spells it out.

‘What’s this about? Thought you were on holiday.’

‘It’s a long story. I’m almost looking forward to coming back to Norfolk.’

Clough laughs. ‘As bad as that? Leave it to me, boss.’ Nelson switches off his phone feeling slightly better. He trusts Clough to find the information, and though he hates to admit it, it feels good to be called ‘boss’ again and to have someone jump to do his bidding. He paces Louise’s spotless front room, wishing there was some more action that he could take, the more forceful the better. One of his abrupt turns brings him into collision with a small table bearing a bowl full of pot-pourri. Nelson scoops up the mess, cursing under his breath. Louise’s house is full of such things. Normally, he gets some pleasure from staying in such a pretty, well-ordered home but now, somehow, it gets on his nerves. How many fragrant leaves and sea shells does one house need, for God’s sake?

‘What are you doing, Harry?’ Michelle is standing in the doorway. He can see her feet, which are clad in unusually low-heeled shoes. She must be going out for a walk.

‘Knocked something over.’

‘Do try and be careful. Mum keeps the house so nice.’ Nelson ignores this. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Pendleton. For a walk and a pub lunch. Are you coming?’

Pendleton. That must be near Pendle Hill and that awful, spooky witch’s house. Nelson never wants to see the place again. He thinks of searching the house with Cathbad, neither of them knowing that its owner was hanging, lifeless, in one of the outhouses. He thinks of the garden and the raven in the tree, of the twinkling dream-catchers and the herbs brewing on the range.