Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

Raglan, waiting for them one day. He’s a bad ’un too, truth be known. He has a gun, so rumour has it.’

‘An estate agent with a gun; business must be bad,’ said Charley.

Lily’s face was serious. ‘You might mock young lady, but that’s what I heard,’ she said.

‘Sorry,’ said Charley. ‘I didn’t mean to joke, but why would an estate agent have a gun?’

‘I don’t know the answer to that, but he might if he’s mixing in violent circles.’ The old woman pulled herself to the edge of her seat. ‘Now, I suppose you won’t be leaving until you have taken a look at this bricked-up door, will you?’

‘Indeed,’ said Charley, ‘but before we do, are the church documents archived here? There may be something amongst them that will help our investigation.’

‘All there is, is stored in the attic,’ she said.

‘Excellent!’ said Charley. ‘Maybe I could send a couple of my officers round to have a look?’

Lily looked pensive. ‘Of course. I haven’t been able to get up there for years. Can I be nosey and ask if you can tell me any more about the bodies you have found in the house?’

‘It’s no secret. We’ve found the remains of a female that we are advised may be around eighty to a hundred years old. We think there may be some pagan history owing to the way she was laid to rest. The other is a male whom the pathologist thinks may have been in the house for a few weeks, months at the most.’

Lily’s face drained. She fell back onto the cushion. Charley and Annie rushed to her aid.

‘It must be all the excitement,’ she said when she came round from her faint.

‘Well there is going to be a lot of activity around for a while, and a lot of media interest. Maybe you would like to take a break from your duties for a while?’

Lily looked shocked. ‘Where would I go? This is my home. I’ve lived here all my life, and my mother, and father before me. I don’t think so.’

Chapter 11

Behind the red-and-gold, heavy brocade curtain there was nothing for the women to see but a blank wall. Although in knowing that there was once an opening that led into a secret passage, Charley fancied she could make out the shape of the porthole. She laid the palm of her hand on the cold stone, and imagined that the masonry would reveal what was hidden. ‘I wonder who bricked it up?’

‘What does it matter?’ asked Annie.

‘The wall’s not rough, the plaster is perfectly smooth; whoever did this was concerned about how the final results looked.’

Lily scowled. ‘The artisans of yesteryear had pride in their work, not like today.’ She turned and walked away, stopped at the tabernacle that doubled up as the altar and appeared to be searching for something in her deep pocket. Three keys were produced, and then she held them up to the stream of jewel-toned rays of light pouring from the stained-glass window.

Annie lifted a brow. ‘She’s got a point.’

With a nod of her head to indicate to Annie that she should observe the old woman, Charley lowered her voice.

‘I was thinking it was more to hide any trace of the door’s existence.’ Her attention swiftly moved from Lily to Annie’s face. Charley frowned. ‘Don’t you see why it would it matter? Let’s face it, a rough bulging wall would have served just as well as a smooth one, if the intention to stop Seth having access to the cluster of church buildings from the tunnel, was only to keep Lucinda safe from her husband’s alcoholic episodes.’

‘Mmm,’ Annie looked thoughtful, ‘you’re right, but wouldn’t a lock and key serve the same purpose? Plus, if it’s true what Ms Pritchard says, and Seth instructed it to be done, then why didn’t he wall up the fireplace entrance instead, or both for that matter?’

Charley shook her head. ‘It doesn’t make sense, does it, or am I just thinking too deeply?’

All of a sudden Annie’s eyes dimmed. ‘If only we could speak to the brickies?’

Lily Pritchard was kneeling on the floor, her arm on the recessed cupboard door, her head inside the ambry. ‘You’ll ’ave a job on. They’ll be long dead and buried.’

‘Nothing wrong with the hearing,’ said Annie cocking her head. The two detectives walked slowly towards Lily. Looking over her shoulder, they could see that the ambry was lined with purple silk, and appeared to contain a variety of highly decorated, precious metal chalices amongst other fine objects. Charley turned to see the silent Annie’s mouth was wide open, as she focused on the bejewelled antiques. She nudged the younger detective. ‘Shut it. You’ll catch flies!’

Lily clung to the tabernacle. On one knee she made an attempt to stand, and puffed and panted. Annie stepped forward and put a helping hand on the old woman’s elbow. ‘Let me help you find whatever you’re looking for,’ she said, peering further into the cupboard as she did so.

‘I need to find the donation boxes. They were in here, if my memory serves me right.’

‘Why?’ Annie mouthed to Charley. ‘You expecting visitors?’ she said to Lily.

Lily opened the drawer beneath, and immediately stopped rummaging when she had found what she was looking for. One by one she took out several dark wooden boxes and laid them on the faded carpet. ‘You, more than most, should know what folk round ’ere are like. They’re nosey, they are. When they hear about this palaver on the news they’ll be like bees around a pot ’o jam. We’ll have visitors all right, mark my words.’

‘I don’t understand. Why would you need donation boxes?’

Lily looked from Annie’s face to Charley’s. ‘Are you sure she’s smart enough to be a detective?’ Charley found herself unable to suppress the laugh that rose in her throat. Annie scowled.

Lily pushed tendrils of stray hair from her forehead, damp from the exertion, with a crooked finger. ‘Do they pay for interviews these days?