No Easy Answer Page 5

  ‘What!’

  ‘I had a long conversation with a forensic anthropologist colleague in London and she agrees with my findings. The discolouration, the rather wizened appearance gave me a hint.’ He shook his head. ‘Honestly, Mike, you do seem to get embroiled in the weirdest cases but I think this one will be your best yet.’ He waited a beat for effect. ‘They were mummified.’

  Andrews’ jaw dropped. ‘Mummified!’

  ‘That’s what he said,’ West answered, sitting back behind his desk over an hour and a half later. ‘It isn’t, it seems, that difficult. The bodies just needed to be kept in a warm, dry atmosphere for anything from a few weeks to a few months and natural mummification would take place.’

  ‘Mummified!’ Andrews said again, trying to take it in, his eyes wide in disbelief. ‘And that’s what happened here?’

  ‘Partially. But someone had done their research in how the Egyptians did it too.’ West had felt his stomach do a gentle flip-flop when Kennedy had told him the details. ‘It’s pretty gruesome stuff.’ He ran a finger down his side. ‘The torsos had been slit open down one side and all the organs removed. Then the bodies were stuffed with a mix of rags and straw and sewn up again.’

  ‘But… but…’ Andrews held a hand up. ‘Okay, sorry, this is something else. So this person or persons, killed these people and turned them into mummies. So why chop them up, and why remove the head?’

  ‘Kennedy said… and he sounded like he knew what he was talking about… that the hardest part of the mummification process is removing the brain from inside the skull. Egyptians, it seems, used to remove it through the nose.’

  ‘No,’ Andrews begged, ‘don’t go into detail.’ He was munching on one of the cakes West had brought back. He looked at the remainder in his hand and lobbed it into the bin.

  West looked at him in amusement. ‘All the blood and guts we’ve seen over the years and this is what makes you squeamish?’

  ‘Yes, well pardon me if the thoughts of some Egyptian sucking a brain out of someone’s nose through a straw gives me the collywobbles.’

  ‘I don’t think they actually sucked it out, I think they pushed–’ He saw Andrews face twist and relented. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop! But your reaction probably proves Kennedy’s theory on why the head is missing. The perpetrator of this bizarre mummification found it to be one step too far and instead decided to remove the heads completely.’

  ‘Bloody marvellous. So we’ve got to search for four missing heads.’

  ‘No, that’s the good news. This all happened around fifty years ago. At least the mummification bit did. According to Kennedy, the dissection into separate body parts occurred only recently and was probably done simply to facilitate removal and disposal.’

  ‘Okay.’ Andrews dragged the word out as he grappled with this idea. ‘Four dead bodies, killed and mummified around fifty years ago, and now the killer decides to get rid of them.’

  ‘It’s unlikely to be the killer. They’d have to be around seventy at least. No, someone else is guilty of dissecting the bodies and dumping them.’

  That remark had Andrews’ eyebrows shooting up. ‘Right, so some toerag comes upon four headless bodies and instead of phoning us, they decide to chop them into pieces and get rid… doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It makes no sense but it’s what we’ve got. There are two older adults and two younger. Kennedy says it’s likely they are a family so let’s start with looking back…’ He thought a moment. ‘Sixty years to be on the safe side. Any reports of a missing family. Also get someone to check the same time frame for any heads or skulls that have turned up, either singly or, if we should be so lucky, in a bag of four.’

  ‘A bag of four heads.’ Andrews laughed. ‘Now wouldn’t that be so convenient!’

  ‘One of these days, things are going to go in our favour. Speaking of which,’ West said with a frown, ‘anything yet on the delightful Mr Checkley?’

  ‘Baxter is digging as we speak.’ Andrews got to his feet and checked his watch. ‘I’ll get Jarvis to look into missing persons in the morning and I’ll look into the case of the missing heads myself.’

  The case of the missing heads. West would tell that one to Edel when he got home: it would make her laugh.

  7

  Although West didn’t know it, Edel could do with a reason to be cheerful. She was having a bad day.

  That morning, instead of her story flowing from her fingers in a steady stream of words, she had hit a wall, unsure of her character’s next step. She had sat tapping her fingers on the front of her keyboard staring at the screen, willing the words to pop into her brain but they seemed to be stuck fast.

  Light from the window caught her engagement ring and she lifted her hand, tilting it back and forward. Diamonds never shone as beautifully as they did in the jeweller’s shop. She’d read somewhere that their lights were specially designed to make everything sparkle better. Still, even on this dull day, it was a beautiful ring.

  She stared at the screen once more but she knew the only way to get past the wall was to take a step away. Maybe go for a walk. Or, she stared at her ring again, she could do what she’d planned to do for months and take her old engagement and wedding ring into a jewellers to sell. The proceeds would go to charity. The Samaritans, to be exact. Maybe getting that out of the way would free up space in her brain to work out her storyline.

  Less than an hour later, Edel was pulling into the car park of the Meridian Point shopping centre in Greystones. She wasn’t in a hurry and window-shopped as she made her way through the centre, letting her mind relax as she filled it with colour. It was almost twenty minutes later when she found herself outside Cunningham’s Jewellers.

  It had been their advert in a local newspaper that had caught her eye the week before. Quality jewellery bought and sold. She’d immediately resolved to sell her old wedding and engagement ring and put that part of her life firmly into the drawer marked past.

  The door opened into a small but well-laid-out space. Walls were lined with cabinets holding an array of jewellery. Gold gleamed and precious stones glinted in the shop’s LED lights. There was only one customer but she was smiling and saying her goodbyes as Edel entered. Relieved to have the place to herself, she bypassed the displays and headed straight to the one counter at the back.

  ‘Good morning,’ the sales assistant said. ‘What can I help you with today?’

  Edel took her hand from her pocket and dropped the two rings on the counter. ‘I want to sell these, please.’ She looked down at the engagement ring – the diamond and sapphire cluster that her late husband had surprised her with. It sparkled in the light as she nudged it slightly. And the plain gold band – the wedding ring Simon had slipped onto her finger with so many promises. Promises that had all been built on lies. The fingers of her right hand closed over the engagement ring that Mike had given her, rubbing it as if it were a talisman.

  The assistant picked up the gold band and gave it a cursory check before putting it down to pick up the other ring. This time he put his hand under the counter and pulled out a jeweller’s loupe, sliding back the cover and holding the lens over the stones. ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘Good quality diamonds and sapphires.’

  He put the loupe down. ‘It looks good but I can’t give you an evaluation, I’m afraid. Mr Cunningham prefers to do that himself and he’s not here today. If you’d like to bring them back next week?’

  Edel huffed. Now that she’d taken the decision to bring them in, she wanted it done with, wanted these last memories of that disastrous marriage gone.

  The assistant must have seen the debate wash over her face. ‘You could leave them and Mr Cunningham could give you the valuation by phone, if that would help?’

  ‘It would indeed,’ she said, relieved. ‘Plus, the proceeds are going to charity so could it be arranged that it goes to the Samaritans directly?’

  A raised eyebrow was the immediate reaction. ‘How very generous. I’m sure t
hat won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Good.’ Edel picked up the engagement ring for a final look. It certainly sparkled so beautifully. She frowned then; her new ring was put into the shade by it. ‘It’s odd,’ she said, looking at the assistant. ‘I don’t know how much it cost but I’m sure it didn’t cost as much as this one.’ She lifted her ring finger to show him. ‘And yet this doesn’t seem to sparkle in the same way.’

  The assistant caught her hand and pulled it closer. ‘A lovely design,’ he said, reaching for his loupe. He held it to his eye and bent to look at her ring through it.

  Edel saw a frown appear as he straightened and dropped her hand. He held the loupe for a second before snapping it shut. ‘The lights we use, these LED lights,’ he waved a hand around the shop, ‘are chosen to reflect the light from diamonds. Real diamonds,’ he said. ‘Not simulated ones.’

  ‘Simulated?’ Edel looked at the ring on her finger and wanted to cry. How could this be? ‘You mean like cubic zirconia, or something?’

  ‘No.’ The assistant pursed his lips. ‘I can’t be one hundred per cent sure, but I think it’s more likely to be moissanite.’ He reached for her hand, pulling it forward so that it was close to the light cast by the illuminated display cabinet beside him. ‘See. The sparkle. It’s not clear like a diamond, it has a lot of blue and green in it. Moissanite can be found naturally but mostly it’s man-made.’

  ‘It’s cheap?’

  He shrugged. ‘Yes. A little more expensive than cubic zirconia because it’s harder so doesn’t scratch the way zirconia does. But a lot cheaper than a diamond.’

  Edel took her hand back and stared at the ring. ‘If I told you this cost eight thousand euro?’

  ‘I’d say you’ve been had.’ He frowned again. ‘You didn’t buy this in a reputable jewellers for that kind of money.’ When she said they had and mentioned the name, his frown deepened. ‘Okay. Then someone pulled a switch.’

  It was Edel’s turn to frown. ‘The man who sold it to us, he insisted that he take it away to give it a final polish before we left. I didn’t think it needed it but didn’t want to argue so I slipped it off and gave it to him.’

  ‘He left your sight?’

  ‘Yes, he was gone a minute, maybe two.’

  The assistant shrugged but said nothing.

  He didn’t have to. Edel looked down at the ring again and felt a sharp sting of tears. She and Mike had been so excited, so delighted, they wouldn’t have noticed a switch.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Edel met the sympathetic gaze. ‘Do?’ She shook her head. ‘If I bought a diamond ring in here, then came back a few days later and said I’d been sold a fake, what would you do?’

  The assistant considered her question, then sighed. ‘I’d assume you were trying to pull a fast one. So, I’d show you a copy of the sales receipt that indicated the carat of the diamond and the overall value of the ring. If you persisted in your claim, I’d call the guards, and let them deal with it. Mr Cunningham would insist on your being prosecuted for what he would see as extortion.’

  ‘Exactly!’ She fiddled with the ring. ‘It’s still a beautiful ring and my fiancé will never know that it’s not worth what he paid.’

  ‘You’re going to let the man who pulled the switch get away with it?’ The assistant sounded horrified at the thought.

  ‘If I hadn’t come in here, I might never have known. Sometimes, it’s best to be in the dark. Now, if you’d give me a receipt for the rings I’m leaving for valuation, I’ll be on my way.’

  Any desire to go shopping had faded. Instead, Edel trudged past the shop windows and through the car park. Head down and deep in thought, the blare of a horn startled her. She jumped out of the way of an oncoming car, waving a hand in apology to the scowling driver who raised a middle finger in reply.

  She sat into her car, her eyes dropping to the hand that rested on the steering wheel. Man-made or not… the ring looked so lovely and fit her so perfectly. The assistant in Debeerds must have been waiting for someone to choose that particular ring to set his plan in action. He took her beautiful ring, exchanged it, and brought this fake back to her – all done so smoothly, so slickly they’d never noticed.

  What was it the assistant had said about the engagement ring she’d left in to sell? Good quality diamonds and sapphires. The thought made her eyes sting. A genuine ring for a fake relationship. And now this disaster!

  A disaster – if she let it be one. She held the ring up again. It was pretty; only she would know it wasn’t a diamond. They had the certificate from Debeerds for the insurance so there was no reason to take it in for valuation.

  She’d keep the secret and if that meant letting that thief get away with it, well so be it. Mike had wanted to buy her a special ring, to emphasise his commitment to her and to their relationship. She wasn’t willing to tell him it was a fake.

  Nor was she willing to consider the worry that flitted through her mind. That perhaps it was a bad omen.

  8

  ‘I thought you’d find that amusing,’ West said that evening. Edel had rung to ask him to pick up a takeaway from the local Indian restaurant on the way and the containers lay between them, the aroma tantalising. Despite having already eaten too much, he reached for the spoon and had another spoonful of the lamb balti.

  Edel was pushing a piece of chicken around her plate. She looked up, a puzzled frown between her eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘The case of the missing heads.’ His eyes watering, he reached for his beer to wash down what appeared to be a whole chilli. It was a few seconds before he could speak. ‘Sounded like an Agatha Christie title to me.’

  ‘Oh, yes, it does.’

  He looked at her more closely, surprised at her obvious lack of interest. Maybe Agatha Christie was the wrong reference to make or maybe it was something else. He hadn’t noticed till now, but she was looking a little pale. ‘You’re very distracted this evening. Is everything okay?’

  ‘My characters are causing me a little grief,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine once I can untangle the tale.’ She finally speared the chicken with the fork and put it into her mouth. A few minutes of companionable silence later, she asked, ‘You really think that Checkley guy is involved in his cousin’s death?’

  West put his fork down and pushed the plate away. ‘That was good.’ He sighed and picked up his beer. ‘It’s a line we’re following but I don’t know, to be honest. I want it to be. He’s an unlikeable man.’

  She laughed. ‘You’ve met unlikeable men before, they’ve not all been guilty of something.’

  ‘True, but ever since I saw him in Debeerds I’ve had a feeling that we’re missing something with him.’

  ‘Gut instinct,’ she said. ‘That old detective favourite.’

  ‘Something like that.’ It was as good a way as any of explaining the inexplicable… the feeling that what you were seeing wasn’t the full story, that there was something nasty hiding behind a polished, expensive exterior. He’d seen it too many times to be surprised. ‘We’ll look into him anyway, see what happens.’

  ‘Dig for some dirt, you mean.’

  West frowned at a tone he took to be critical. ‘If that’s the way you want to look at it. I prefer to think of it as doing my job.’ He finished his beer and got to his feet. In silence he took his plate to the dishwasher, put the lids on the half-empty containers and found a space for them in the fridge. He could feel her eyes on him but wasn’t in the mood for whatever it was she wanted to say. Possibly he was being overly sensitive but the dig for dirt comment had taken him by surprise. Was that what she thought of his work?

  It was only when he reached for her plate that he noticed something he should have seen before. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.

  ‘You haven’t lost it, have you?’ he said, pointing to her hand. Was that it? She was upset because she’d lost it?

  But she shook her head quickly. ‘It’s up beside my computer. I’m not used to it on
my finger yet and when I’m typing it feels awkward so I took it off and forgot to put it back on.’

  He should have been relieved but he wasn’t because he knew, without a doubt, she was lying. Maybe it was his wary heart.

  Or a gut instinct. Edel had been right, after all, about it being an old detective favourite.

  Whichever it was, it was shouting that there was something not quite right about her story.

  9

  The sense that something was wrong didn’t fade and West arrived at the station the next morning, grim-faced and tired from a night spent tossing and turning. It was a day he’d have happily buried himself in paperwork. He’d even have welcomed one of Morrison’s unending audits rather than have a conversation with anyone. Especially with the man who was heading towards his office door. Andrews saw everything.

  ‘Morning,’ West said, keeping his fingers moving on the keyboard.

  ‘Grab your jacket. We’ve an appointment with the sacristan of Whitefriar Street Church at ten.’

  West kept his eyes on the computer screen but his fingers slowed to a halt. Whitefriar Street Church. ‘Okay,’ he said, turning to look at Andrews who was grinning from ear to ear. ‘I give in, why are we going there?’

  ‘Because forty-eight years ago, four skulls were found there.’

  It was enough to push West’s personal problems to the back of his mind. ‘You are kidding me!’

  ‘I know, it is so unbelievable that I had to read the report twice.’ Andrews sat on the spare chair and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Forty-eight years ago, four skulls were found in the side chapel of the church, near the statue and relics of St Valentine. At first, according to the report, they were deemed to be someone’s idea of a joke until they decided to test them and discovered they were human skulls. An investigation didn’t get far. Nobody was reported missing and it was never solved.’