Viridian Tears (28 page)

“Cool am I? I’m freezing, to be quite honest.”

“It’s Wednesday night. Poker night. Me and the lads have a regular date, see.”

“I do. Is this why you couldn’t take me to Boscastle today?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” Winston nodded toward a man with a close-shaved scalp, tee shirt and heavy boots. Meinwen wasn’t sure why he didn’t freeze in weather like this. “Brian comes once a month with our delivery.”

“Drugs.” Meinwen shook her head. “That’s what you blew me off for? Drugs?”

“You blew her off?” One of the other lads, younger than the rest and Caucasian, sporting a mop of curly hair giggled.

“Several times.” Winston winked at him and all four laughed. He turned back to Meinwen. “Are you staying? Would you like a beer? Cup of tea?”

“Could I have a quick word?” She indicated the small bathroom as the only area they couldn’t be observed. “It’s important.”

“Sure.” Winston picked up his cards and dropped them on the table, face-up. “I fold.” He put one arm around Meinwen’s back and guided her toward the back of the garage, followed by wolf whistles and cat calls. Meinwen scowled at the objectification of women but was secretly pleased she still drew a whistle. Agreed, it was from men who probably saw little action outside of two pieces of warm liver in a jam jar but still…

“So what’s up?” Winston closed and bolted the door behind them and leaned against the sink. “Is this about last night?”

“Sort of.” Meinwen looked at the pools of attentiveness that were his eyes and her resolve to be angry with him melted. “Did you tell anyone about Joseph’s key? Did you text anyone or send an email about it?”

“Not a word.” Winston half laughed as he shook his head. “Why? It’s a cool key and all but without the box it’s just that. A cool key.”

“Winston, Joseph was murdered last night. Someone bashed his head in with a brick and threw his body on a compost heap.

“That’s insane. Why would anyone do that? Because he found a key?”

“Looks like it. Someone was searching for it on the canal bank. I reckon it once belonged to Eddie Burbridge.”

“Eddie Burbridge? What would he want with an old witchfinder’s chest?”

“I think it was his nest egg of laundered money. He bought it from an auction before he came to Laverstone to start a new life. I think he was killed for it, his wife was killed for it and Joseph was killed for it.”

“And he built this place, too, and gave me a huge discount on the renovations.” He looked at the cracked white ceiling. “Maybe it’s hidden here.”

Chapter 30

“Hidden here? I doubt it.” Meinwen put a hand over her mouth to stop the giggles escaping. “Why on earth would an East End crime boss hide his nest egg in a garage?”

“Not in the garage as such.” Winston stamped the floor. “Under it. It stands to reason, really. His first big building contract becomes a repository for his wealth and riches.”

Meinwen pursed her lips, shaking her head to refute the idea. “And then he sells the building? I don’t think so.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Winston closed the toilet seat and lowered himself down. “So…did you get a lift to Boscastle?”

“I did, actually, with the murder medium.”

Winston frowned, half-laughing. “Who?”

“You haven’t heard the news today? Michelle Browning, a self-styled medium was having a
seance
–” she used air quotation marks “–for Shirley Burbridge to converse with her late husband.”

“Eddie Burbridge?”

“Exactly, when the lights went out and Shirley was stabbed in the back by person or persons unknown but who was probably her friend Vera.”

“With friends like those, eh?”

“Quite. Well, not content with having one of her seances ended by a murder, Michelle Chattered about it online and managed to increase her persona into an all-powerful medium capable of summoning a murderous spirit. Now she’s as popular as God, at least for a day or two, and can’t answer the phone for taking another booking.”

“Ah, right. I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“You’re jealous of her success. You’ve been a witch ever since I’ve known you and you don’t have anywhere near that sort of popularity.”

“I am not jealous. She’s a trumped-up little upstart who’s too far up herself to realize the trouble she’s in.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ups.’”

“Was it?” Meinwen had to pause to regain her train of thought. “Where was I going with that? Right. Yes. Blackmail. Someone–she thinks it was a man–phoned her last night or this morning to blackmail her into revealing where this missing money is.”

“What money?”

“The money Eddie Burbridge brought with his when he left London to come here. The money we think he laundered with the purchase of John Stearne’s travelling chest, the key to which he dropped or hid on the canal bank when a person or persons unknown mugged him and dumped him in the canal.”

Winston closed his eyes so tight it gave him crow’s feet at the corners. “But this woman…”

“Michelle.”

“…isn’t a real medium, so she doesn’t know where the money is hidden.”

“No.”

“Why can’t she just go to the police?”

“Because the knife used to kill Shirley Burbridge was stolen from her by Vera and has her fingerprints on it. It’s hard to clear yourself when your dabs are all over the murder weapon.”

“Don’t I know it!”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Winston made a steeple of his index fingers and rested his front teeth against them. “What’s your part in all of this? Don’t tell me you’re on the case again?”

“I am, as it happens. Michelle asked me to clear her name. That means finding out who the murderer is. Vera had the opportunity to kill Shirley but she must have had an accomplice to kill Eddie. And why would she, anyway? She’d been his right-hand woman for thirty-odd years. Why suddenly turn on him?”

“Perhaps she’s not the guilty party.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, consider this. What if Eddie was killed for reasons that may or may not involve this money and Vera realized the danger the rest of the family was in. I mean, if Vera stole the knife from Michelle it’s a bit obvious she’s involved, isn’t it? What if she’s being framed by a third party?”

“I hadn’t even thought of that.” Meinwen leaned back against the sink, chewing skin on the side of her forefinger. It helped her think. “Who do you think this third party is?”

“How should I know? I’m just the local mechanic.”

“You’re anything but ‘just the mechanic.’” Meinwen raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. “Sorry. I need to talk to Vera, don’t I? See if I can get her to spill the beans.”

There was a knock on the door. “Are you two done in there, yet? There are people out here who need the bathroom too, you know.”

“Sorry”. Meinwen unbolted the door and stepped out. The tall man with the blonde hair was leaning on the car Winston had been working on last night. His bottom was almost in the exact position hers had been when–

“Gary.” Winston came out of the bathroom pulling up his trousers. “All yours, my man.”

“Cheers.” The two of them did a complicated little handshake as they passed, the meaning of which eluded Meinwen but for the deep suspicion it was somehow about her.

“Are you playing poker or what?” Brian lounged backward on his chair, balancing the two back legs with the lightest movement of his raised foot against the card table.

The youngest of them, the one with the curls, snorted beer out of his nose. “Isn’t that what he was doing? Playing poke her?”

“I’ll give you a point for that. That was funny.” The fourth man, an older black guy with a beard and a bluesman’s hat, tossed a plastic chip across the table.

“Sure. Meinwen was just on her way out.” Winston flopped down into his chair. “Whose deal is it?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Meinwen looked around at the four faces. It was as if they’d already forgotten she was there, so interested were they by their manly rituals.

“Sure, yeah.” Winston waved with only a glance up. “Can you get back all right?”

“Fine, thanks. It’s only a forty minute walk.”

“You’ve no car?” The oldest of them looked at her, his card momentarily forgotten. “You can’t walk in this. You’ll catch your death.”

“No, honestly. I’m used to walking.”

“Nonsense.” He threw down his cards and scooped up his poker chips. “I’ll take you home. I was on a losing streak anyway and these boys are all about the drinking.” He stood, dragging his coat off the back of the chair, and gave a mock bow. “Allow me to escort you home, my lady.”

Meinwen glanced across at Winston. His eyes were hooded, watching but not reacting. “Is that all right? Can I trust this gentleman?”

“Lucas? Sure. He’s a good man. A friend of my dad’s.”

“God rest his soul.” Lucas swung the jacket like a bullfighter’s cape, slipping both arms in and zipping it closed before it settles. He picked up a felt cap and jammed on his head. “This way, Madame.” He held out his crooked arm.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Meinwen picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then took the proffered arm.

* * * *

Lucas switched on the ignition but remained parked for a few minutes, letting the car warm up and the windows de-mist. He blew into his hands while they waited, rubbing them together like a theatrical miser. “Circulation,” he said when she glanced across. “Ever since I was diagnosed with diabetes I’ve had bad circulation.”

“How’s your diet? Plenty of fiber and fresh vegetables?”

“You sound like my wife. ‘Lucas, eat your beans. Carrots. Peas.’ I love her like my right hand but still, you know. Too much, woman.” He snorted and nudged her with his elbow. “That’s what she used to say to me, too.” He raised his voice to illustrate. “‘It’s too much, Lucas, I can’t manage it all.’“

“I’m sure you made her happy.”

“Happy? She was ecstatic. Isn’t it every woman’s dream to find a chef to fall in love with? I used to feed her dishes from every country under the sun and a few more besides.” He chuckled and nudged her again. “You thought I meant something else, didn’t you. You modern girls have all got one-track minds.”

“I was going to say you should exercise regularly to reduce your blood pressure but I’d be opening another box of innuendo, wouldn’t I?”

“Only if you wanted to.” Lucas pulled away from the curb. “Where am I taking you?”

“Vicarage Road, please, near St. Pity’s?”

“Ah. I know it.”

They drove without speaking for a few minutes, Lucas humming softly as he worked his way through Laverstone’s one-way system. He asked for more directions only when they had pulled into her road and she indicated her house. He pulled up outside of it. “Listen. I might be an old fool but I’ve known Winston since he was knee high to a walnut. He keeps his feelings to himself for the most part but I can tell what’s going on in his noggin. All I’m asking, really is don’t break his heart.”

“Me? Break his heart?” Meinwen shook her head thinking there must be something in her ears to make her hear what she thought she’d heard. “He’s the one being all aloof and enigmatic.”

“He’s just afraid of getting his heart broken.” Lucas patted her hand as it rested on her bag. “He’s dealt with a lot of loss in his life and he’s in a good place at the moment. If you treat him badly it might do him harm.” He let go again. “I’m just saying.”

Chapter 31

“Nobody seems to have much respect for you, do they, Mr. Dibben?” Eden looked up from mixing paste. Animal glue had become less popular these days, mostly thanks to cheaper plastic-based alternatives but Eden tried to keep everything as natural as possible.

Frank Dibben made no comment either way and seemed content with whatever she thought best. Thankfully, he was scheduled for cryomation so she was free to use surgical staples to close the Y-section sutures. A little bone glue over the top would stop him leaking between preparation and viewing.