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Authors: Rachel Green

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

Viridian Tears (36 page)

BOOK: Viridian Tears
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“New issue came out last year, though the ninety-four issue are still valid currency. Is that what we’re looking for? Plates for fifty-pound notes?”

“I’m not sure we’ve gone back far enough. I don’t think its banknotes at all.”

“What then?”

Meinwen shrugged. “Search me. All I know is they were about ten inches by twelve.”

“Could be anything.” White shifted position. “Still, I’m glad you’re all right.”

“More by luck than judgement. To be honest, I thought we were all for the chop until Vera walked in. She shot Malcolm without a second look, just to stop Graham being wanted for murder.”

“There is some honor between thieves then.”

“Not so as you’d notice.” Meinwen helped herself to a handful of grapes from White’s bedside table. “Graham still tried to kill David. That he didn’t die was a minor miracle.”

“Also attributable to Vera, according to your statement.”

“Yes, she’s a saint.” Meinwen reached for another grape but White smacked the back of her hand. “Leave the grapes. Have a banana instead. I can’t stand them.”

“Why not?”

“Too many as a kid and no doubt I’ll be force fed them when I finally retire.” White shuddered. “Until then, you can keep the mushy things away, thank you very much.”

“Right.” Meinwen reached for one. “I won’t say no. It’s about sixteen hours since I ate breakfast.”

“Did Vera kill Shirley Burbridge?”

“She must have done. I thought it must have been Graham until she turned up. He could easily have taken the cake knife and stabbed her in the dark of the séance.”

“Why not Vera?”

“Because of what she said. She didn’t want Graham to be a murderer, implying he didn’t kill Shirley.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” White took a grape for himself and began to peel it. “And Mr. and Mrs. Maguire? How are they? The husband’s recovering, you said.”

“No, but I implied it. They’ve got him sedated at the moment after some surgery on his leg. They made Eden go home.”

“She must be frantic.”

The door opened, the space filled by the nurse Meinwen had spoke to earlier. “Time for your visitor to go now, Mr. White.”

“Any chance of a cup of tea?” White raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” White waited until the door swung shut. “That’ll take her at least five minutes. Now. What was in that box we dug up? Besides the forgery plates, I mean?”

“It was the travelling case of a seventeenth century witchfinder. It was full of original torture implements. Your lads have taken it as evidence.”

“If it was a genuine purchase it’ll go to the estate once the trial is over.”

“Assuming you catch Graham and Vera.”

“Indeed.” White finished peeling his grape and popped it in his mouth. He made a face. “You might have warned me there were seeds.”

 

 

Chapter 43

 

Meinwen gripped the brass rail above her head and hung on as if for dear life as it slammed against the wall, gouging a pair of horizontal lines in the plaster from the decorative finials. All she could see was a mass of black curls as Winston pounded into her, his thick cock filling her more completely than the
Annie Winters’ Double Rotating Rabbit
ever managed, even with the attachments. She could feel the bars of the headboard raising blisters across her back and as he approached orgasm, his thrusts speeded up until he stiffened and came, his whole body stiff as he ejaculated three ounces of semen into the latex tip of a
Hercules Workhorse
.

“Unghhh.” His whole body relaxed and his arms, which had been taut as hydraulic jacks a moment ago, bent to allow him to sink onto her, his weight pressing her so far into the mattress that had there been a pea beneath it, she’d have felt it flattened. His cock lost its rigidity until half a dozen Kegel exercises pushed it straight out. He pulled the condom off and tied a knot in it with one hand, a neat trick she’d never seen any of her other partners do, not that there had been many. He passed her the package.

“What would I want with it?”

“You could use if for your spells and potions.” He grinned and slid off to her right, tossing the condom to the bin next to the dressing table. It missed and landed with a dull plop on the floor. She hoped it hadn’t burst.

She sat up and hiked a pillow against the brass rails. “Whatever for?”

“Powerful stuff, my man juice. You could use it in a love potion or something.”

“Only if I wanted to contravene half a dozen health and safety regulations. And that’s assuming I don’t ban you from my life forever for saying ‘man juice.’ Who on earth uses phrases like that outside of a soft porn flick?”

“I don’t know. I got it from a soft porn flick.”

“Good grief.”

“You can talk. I found it in your bookcase while you were visiting your friend at the hospital. You’re out of tissues, by the way.”

“Again?” Meinwen rolled her hand to rid it of the clenched-fist stiffness. The bones in her wrist clicked. “It’s a rented house, anyway. How am I supposed to know what’s in the bookcases?”

“It was between
The Pagan Year
and
Spells to Cast using Bodily Waste
. Quite appropriate, really. I don’t know why you rejected my offer so abruptly.”

“Because there’s plenty more where it came from?” She rolled onto her side and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Get away from me, woman! You’ll damage me.”

“I don’t think it can be damaged by use, can it?” She closed her hand over his cock and kneaded the flesh. “Any sign of life?”

“No.” Winston extricated himself from her grasp. “My balls are aching. Are you always like this after a near-death experience?”

“I’ll let you know next time.” Meinwen transferred her hand to her own moist genitals. “What can I say? The re-affirmation of life is a primal social urge after a scare. I bet it’s the same for the others.”

“The others who are in the hospital, you mean? No wonder the night shift is popular with the nurses.” Winston rolled onto his side. “What time is it anyway?”

“Twenty-past two.”

“Good grief. I’ve got to be at work in a few hours.” He pulled the duvet over his naked body. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Why? Will you turn into a wrinkled prune?” Meinwen lifted the duvet. “Oh-oh. Too late.”

 

 

Chapter 44

 

Meinwen took lilies to the hospital. One bunch for the inspector and another for David Maguire. She dropped in on White first, pleased to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed. Beryl was on the bedside chair, working her way through the remainder of his grapes and spitting the seeds into a disposable bedpan. The television murmured in the background, one of the gamut of scandal chat shows that Beryl was following with subtitles.

“You’re being discharged, I take it?” She handed him a bunch of lilies, which he handed straight to Beryl.

“Hello love. He’s supposed to have a week of complete rest. Have you got a potion for that?”

“Not without using another shovel to the head.” Meinwen smiled and patted him on the arm. “I’m glad. You need a hobby, Inspector.”

“Don’t encourage him to be under my feet all day long.” Beryl put the flowers on the bedside table, careful not to get too near the pollen. “He needs an out-of-the-house hobby.”

“How about crosswords?”

White jerked his head toward Beryl. “I get enough of those as it is.”

“You’ll get more if you don’t stop the cheek.” His long-suffering wife winked at Meinwen. “How about taking up long walks along short cliffs?”

“That’s a good idea. The walking, not the cliffs. You should get a dog.”

“Much as I’d like a dog, when would I have time to look after one?” White stood, his knee popping as it straightened. “I’m quite happy with my–”

“Cameron…”

“Wife.” He turned to her. “I’m just going to go with Meinwen to see how Mr. Maguire is, love. We’ll only be down the corridor if the doctor comes.” He led her out of the room. “What am I supposed to do with a week of rest? I’ll go mad, watching Beryl’s telly all day.”

“Read a book? Go to the pub? Do what normal people do?” Meinwen peered though the glass panel in the door to David’s private room and seeing him talking to Eden, knocked. The both looked up and beckoned her in.

“Meinwen! Inspector. Perfect timing. David was asking after his Blackberry.”

“We couldn’t find it in the kitchen.” Meinwen looked at the barely suppressed smiles. “What am I missing?”

David pulled the bedside entertainment terminal around and opened an internet browser. “When that woman came to put plastic wrap over my leg I dropped it into her bag. If she hasn’t found it we can track its whereabouts using the on-board GPS.” He typed a string of characters into the browser and turned the screen to face them.

“Folkestone.” White looked at them. “Well I’ll be blowed.” He patted his pocket. “Drat. Beryl’s got my phone.” He picked up the bedside one and dialed out. “Peters? Get in touch with the police at Folkestone. It looks like our fugitives are boarding a ferry.” He listened to the reply and put the phone down. “That was quick thinking of you, sir.”

“Thanks. I’d like it back if you catch them, though. I’ll be in here for another day or two and I’m not sure work will cope if they can’t ask me about my case load.”

“We’ll do our best.” White turned to go but received a prod from Meinwen. “Er…How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore, actually.” David stroked the bandages over his thigh. “They had to open the leg up and put stitches in, I’m told. I’ll be off it for a week, then light exercise.”

“It was a brave thing you did, confronting two armed criminals. I’ll recommend some public display of recognition for it.”

“There’s no need.” David gazed at Eden. “It was all spur of the moment in defence of my wife.”

“I understand you’re a solicitor?”

“That’s right.”

“A public honour doesn’t go unnoticed should you ever decide to climb the legal ladder.”

David rubbed his beard. “You may have a point there. Perhaps magistrates wouldn’t be difficult if I was a judge. Thank you, Detective Inspector.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to be of help.” While gave him a nod. “I’ll leave you in peace, then.”

Eden reached out to catch his wrist. “But how are you, Detective Inspector? Last time I saw you, you were comatose on the floor of my kitchen.”

White tapped his head with his knuckles. “It takes more than a shovel to stop the police. I’d be right as rain if they weren’t forcing me to take a week’s sick leave.”

Meinwen handed her the second bunch of lilies. “I’ll be in touch about the circle stone.”

“The what?” Eden looked puzzled for a moment. “Right, yes. I’d forgotten all about that. What was in that chest, by the way?”

“Forgery plates for something. Maybe fifty pound notes. I didn’t get to see them.”

“That was a lot of trouble to go to to hide a couple of steel plates.”

“It wasn’t just the plates.” Meinwen watched the inspector as he left the room. “It was the seventeenth century travelling case of a witchfinder. Full of torture instruments. Horrible, really, but historically an important find. Worth hundreds of thousands, I expect.”

“Who does it belong to now?”

“I don’t know. It depends on Shirley Burbridge’s will, I suppose. It’s a pity. It should be in a museum.”

“George Burbridge, then.”

“If he’s the benefactor.” Meinwen’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her bag. “It’s Michelle. I’ll have to take this.” She held a hand up as a goodbye and hurried from the room, stabbing the ‘accept call’ button as the door closed behind her. “Hello?”

“Meinwen?”

“Yes, Michelle, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“It’s Malcolm’s ghost. He won’t leave me alone.”

 

 

BOOK: Viridian Tears
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