The Corpse with the Sapphire Eyes (27 page)

As she raced across the dining room in her speedy chair, she raised a hand from her little steering column to wave to us all as though nothing had happened. She left an uneasiness in the room that we could all have done without.

As guests, I wasn't sure if we were supposed to leave the dining room, or if a dessert was due to be served—and if one were due, whether it would arrive, since Dilys had disappeared.

Eirwen stepped up and donned the mantle of hostess. “There isn't anything else, just the roast, so we could all move to the drawing room where Dilys will have set up coffee, if you'd like some.”

Everyone began to move away from the table as I glanced at my watch. It wasn't even 6:00
PM
. There was a very long evening ahead of us, and now the mood was as black as the night.

“THIS ISN'T YOUR AVERAGE HEN
party, is it, Cait?” said Eirwen sympathetically.

“We could have port, by way of a little celebration,” suggested Idris. “We have a couple of bottles of very good port in the dining room. Mother used to drink it, but Janet has banned her from doing so. Just a moment—I'll get it sorted.”

Idris moved with ease and was rapidly followed by his wife, who explained, “He doesn't know where anything is, I'll just give him a hand.”

Owain, Gwen, Bud, Siân, and I sat in silence. I decided it was time for me to start poking about.

“So, Owain, any luck putting that plate back together?” I asked.

Owain squared his shoulders and replied defiantly, “Not yet. I was busy with other things this afternoon.” Having seen his reaction to its being broken, I couldn't imagine what had been more important to Owain than working on his precious plate.

He continued, “I had Idris prying into all my stuff, at your behest, for a start.” He sounded wounded. “There's nothing out of the ordinary in my library,” he added, “nothing to find, nowhere for an interloper to secret themselves. It was a pointless and, of course, fruitless exercise.” He dismissed me with a twitch of his beard.

I decided to press him. “But you told me you have some wonderful old passages and staircases hidden in the walls of that part of the building. Couldn't someone be lurking in there? I'd love to see them, Owain.”

Owain's brow furrowed. “Well, you are
not
welcome to do so,” he said abruptly. “I covered all the ground, and there hasn't been anyone in those passages who shouldn't have been.”

“Who
should
have been in there, then?” I asked. “Or who might have been in there? Where do they lead to anyway?”

“This is unspeakable,” said Owain. “All this, just because someone fell down the stairs? Preposterous. I'll tell you, just so you stop nagging at me. The doors in the bookshelves lead to little corridors, and they lead to narrow staircases. They go up and down, that's it. They are blocked at the bottom—where there's now soil and general detritus, and they are blocked where they abut the new wings. They were simply bricked across when they built onto the older building. They are without purpose—mere follies, nowadays.”

“What was their purpose—when they were first built?” asked Bud.
Clever boy!

“I couldn't say,” replied Owain, too quickly. I wasn't going to ignore that.

“Do you mean you don't know, or that you choose to not tell us?” I asked pointedly.

Owain chewed his bottom lip, making his beard bob up and down. He looked as though he was eating a wriggling furry creature.
Very odd.

“There's port, some sherry, the remainder of the wine from dinner, and I also found some whiskey, which we could add to the coffee,” announced Idris as he and Eirwen rejoined us.

Their arrival created a rather jolly atmosphere. I poured some whiskey into my coffee, choosing to ignore Bud's barb about me becoming a wide-awake drunk, and also took a glass of port. We all settled down again in a much more cheery mood, and there were several toasts to Bud and myself, which was delightful.

Dilys Jones's appearance was greeted with inquiries about Rhian, who, we were assured, would be much better in the morning. Dilys cast a judgmental eye at the alcoholic beverages and left us to our own devices with what seemed to be a warning, rather than a promise. “I'll be back to do a final clear up at nine o'clock, then I'll be off to bed.”

“Idris,” I began, gaining the man's eager attention, “I wondered if you know whether the old Roman bridge was realigned when they laid the tarmacadam on it?”

“I know that,” interrupted Owain before Idris had a chance to reply. “But why do you want to know?”

Idris looked embarrassed. “It doesn't matter why, Uncle,” he said. “They were very careful to move the bridge and reconstruct it according to the original Roman design, but it needed to be widened, to allow for the proper installation of the newly invented process to lay the surface, and they took the opportunity to do some excavation work on the river. I believe they realigned the river somewhat, then built the new footings, then rebuilt and expanded the bridge.” He looked pleased with himself. “I have all the papers and plans if you'd like to see them,” he added with enthusiasm. “I've pulled them all out so they'll be ready when the engineers get here in the morning. They've been very good by the way—I managed to get hold of a chap on his mobile this afternoon, and he understands the problem we have, being stuck here with no one able to get in or out, and, you know, the body and so forth. I also mentioned your wedding.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

Owain was quiet for a moment, but couldn't resist the urge to speak. “I bet you don't know why they moved the bridge,” he said.

I felt Bud sigh beside me, knowing what was about to happen. Siân tensed and took a glug from her coffee cup, as I replied, “I believe it was because it was in the wrong place for the major landscaping that was undertaken at the same time. The original Roman approach to the temple, and therefore the original road to the castle, would have been built in a straight line—as Roman roads were always built. Now you have a curved, sweeping roadway down to the driveway surrounding the temple. It sits well as a part of the early twentieth century landscaping, including the artfully positioned trees and the location of the stable block. But the new design necessitated the bridge being moved to a higher point on the hill. I suspect that the original location was closer to the sea. I further suspect that the river's original path brought it right into the temple, passing through where this very wing now stands, then out again, toward the sea, through where the Gothic-revival wing was built. Would that be correct, Owain?”

Although there wasn't very much of Owain's face to be seen, I could tell from his bald pate that he was flushed with anger. I heard Bud tut quietly next to me.

“Why do you say that?” blustered Owain. “Nothing can be proved. You're surmising. Wildly, if I might say so.”

“That pendant you were wearing today was a clue,” I replied. Owain absentmindedly clutched at his midriff. It was interesting to note how automatically he did it, and it suggested to me that he was wearing the medallion beneath his white shirt and sad old evening suit.

“It's a very ordinary pendant,” he said defensively.

“No, it's not,” I replied quietly. Everyone was alert, but puzzled. “It shows what I thought were the two faces of Janus, but each face had a river of water flowing from it. That's not ‘ordinary,' is it, Owain?”

He shook his head like a small boy. “I found it when I was exploring with my brother, Teilo, when we were young. We each had one. I believe they were made especially for this temple—as offerings to Neptune.”

“Like when they take collection at chapel?” asked Gwen.

“In a way,” replied Owain.

“Gold doesn't change in water,” I said. “It doesn't tarnish or diminish. So, while water is Neptune's element, as it is LlÅ·r's, the Welsh god of water, so gold is the way with which they can be honored. Where exactly did you find it, Owain? Did Teilo come across a way into the Roman temple when he went missing overnight, as a boy?”

The anticipation in the room crackled like the logs in the fireplace.

Owain looked at me with surprise. “You know about that?”

I nodded. “Mair mentioned it earlier today.”

Owain seemed to sink into his seat. “It was a very long time ago. Such a long time. I was a very young boy, I remember. But when Teilo showed me the shiny thing he'd found, I knew I had to find more. And that's when it all started.”

“The tunneling?” I said softly.

Owain nodded.

Idris and Eirwen were on the edge of their seats. “What tunneling?” said Idris.

“Your uncle's spent the last fifty years or so gradually working his way from the coal chute to the base of the Roman temple, haven't you, Owain?” The man nodded. “And yet you haven't found mounds of gold coins, or a hidden treasure anywhere, have you?” Owain shook his head sadly. “And when did David Davies find out about it all?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath from Siân and Gwen.

“More than six months ago.” Owain was close to tears.

“And he forced you to let him join in with the hunt, and he began to make you uncomfortable about it, didn't he?”

Owain leapt out of his seat, his coffee spilling everywhere. “He was horrid to me. He said if I didn't let him in on my plan, he'd tell Mother. I knew she'd put a stop to it. But I'm so
close
. I must be. I've opened it all up—I have stood where the ancients stood, and have looked into the mouth of Neptune. But all I've ever found are the two coins that Teilo and I discovered half a century ago. There
must
be more. The plate said there'd be enough to save the Cadwalladers. I know we haven't any money any more, Idris, and I know that you and Eirwen worry about that. If only I can find the treasure I can save us.”

Idris stood to comfort the distressed man. “Come on now, Uncle Owain, try not to get upset. I don't think any of us believe there's really a treasure. It's a lovely idea, but it can't be true. Please don't tell me you've been doing all this, all these years, just for us?”

Owain was very close to tears. I felt sorry for him. It's a terrible thing to see someone lose their belief in their dreams, especially when their dreams are the promise of stability and security for a whole family.

As Idris hugged his uncle, I said, “But you're wrong, Idris. There
is
a treasure. It's just that it's not what Owain thought it was, and it certainly isn't to be found where he's been looking.”

Owain glared at me. “There you go again! You're quite something. Here two minutes and telling me about my own home, its history, and our birthright. You know nothing. You can't. So you can just shut up now, and let us be. I hope they fix the blessed bridge so you can get married and go away. We like being here, alone. We're all happy here. At least we were. We don't need you, and I certainly don't need your pity, your encouragement, or your stupid theories.”

Owain stamped around a bit. Eirwen helped him with his spilled coffee, and he finally said, “I'm going to my library, and I'll thank you all to
not
join me.”

As he slammed the door behind him, making Eirwen start, Gwen said, “Do you think Owain could have pushed David down the stairs because David was forcing himself into his little world?”

“It's definitely one theory,” I replied.

“But you have others?” asked Siân with trepidation.

I nodded. “Yes, a few.”
I don't think it was what anyone wanted to hear.

IDRIS POKED AT THE LOGS
in the fire, adding a couple of fresh ones while he was at it. Sparks flew, cresting, falling, and dying within seconds.

“That's all we are at the end, isn't it? Ashes.”

We all turned to see Rhian standing at the door. Half-dazed, haggard, and utterly deflated, she walked unsteadily toward the fire.

“I'm cold,” she said simply. Holding her hands toward the flames that had yet to take hold of the new logs, she finally crouched down, her pale cheeks reflecting the yellow and orange glow.

“Would you like a drink, Rhian?” Eirwen spoke quietly, and Rhian seemed to not hear her. Eirwen rose from her seat and moved to stand behind Rhian. She touched her hunched shoulder tenderly. “Come on, Rhian, don't stay there. It's not good for your skin.”

Rhian uncurled herself and stood upright. “Alice said some very hurtful things at dinner,” she said. “I know what she's like—I've lived here all my life so I should do by now—but today? That was bad. Why is she so horrible to me?”

Eirwen tried to comfort Rhian with a hug. “She's horrible to everyone, Rhian, not just you. Don't take it personally.”

Rhian shook her head. “It's not right, Eirwen. We all let her get away with murder, just because she's old. And, yes, I know you all rely on her to let you keep living here, but she really shouldn't act like she does. It's inhuman. Treats us all worse than dogs, she does. I . . . I think I'm going to start looking for a job in event planning somewhere else, Idris. I know it's really only you and Eirwen it'll affect, and I'm sure you'll be able to find someone to replace me. If they don't live here, they might last quite a while. Of course, then you'd have to pay them a good deal more than you pay me—but I think it's time for me to make the break. Time to get away from this place. Get out into the real world.”

Idris and Eirwen looked horrified. “It's not the best time to be making such a big decision,” said Eirwen. “Let's get the funeral and so forth over with first? There'll be time enough for you to think about whether to stay or go after that.”

I judged that Eirwen's concern was focused on Rhian, the widow, but I suspected that Idris's nervous twitch owed its appearance more to the idea of having to pay a living wage to her replacement. It hadn't occurred to me that wages for Rhian, David, and Dilys would likely be very small because they lived in, but it made sense.