Pandora's Box (Bring Out Your Dead series - Part 47)

Continued from Episode 46 - 'Harbour Lights'

The story so far (you can read from the start at 'Episode 1 - Board Stiff!'):  Josiah and Archibald, our two Undertakers, have been on a mission to Spain to collect the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock.  The ferry from Spain to Portsmouth has been anything but relaxing and has certainly taken much longer than anyone, particularly Samantha, ever expected.  Now docked, it's time for some touching reunions?  Well, perhaps!

 

Samantha braved the persistent rain as she stood by the limousine, watching the trail of, apparently exhausted and depressed, passengers leaving the ferry terminal.  She scanned the stream of fatigued faces, looking for any that might be vaguely familiar.  Suddenly spotting the distinctive, shambling frame, of Archibald Thurble, she waved her arms energetically and shouted:

“Archie!  Archie!  Over here!”

A number of passengers gave her curious looks, but the object of her attention remained where he was, looking baffled.

“ARCHIE!  I’M HERE!”  She tried again.  This time, a woman standing behind Archibald clearly poked him and pointed in Samantha’s direction.  He nodded and ambled over, followed, to Samantha’s surprise, by the woman who had poked him, and a man.

“Mr. O. told me to come and find you” Archibald announced, without any preamble, “I’m to take the hearse over to the loading bay” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the terminal building.

“Nice to see you, too, Archie!”  Samantha said, sarcastically, “Never mind that I’ve been waiting here for hours.  Who are your friends?” She nodded toward the man and the woman.

“Oh, yeah” Archibald nodded, as if just remembering they were there, “that’s another thing Mr. O. said I was to tell you about, this is…”  His memory gave up on him and he stared blankly at Amber.

“Amber Hamble” Amber lurched forward and held out her hand, “and this is my husband, Lawrence” She indicated the dripping wet person behind her, towing a couple of suitcases.

“Delighted to meet you, I’m sure but, erm…” Samantha shook hands but looked in a puzzled fashion at Archibald.

“Oh, yeah, right” Archibald tugged at a sleeve as he recalled what else he was supposed to say, “the thing is, we’re giving them a lift back up our way.”  When Samantha continued to look puzzled, he added, “on account of their motor being stuck back at the airport”

“Well, of course, if that’s what Josiah wants to happen” Samantha smiled weakly, clearly at a loss.

“We do hope we’re not putting you out” Amber said, hopefully, “but your erm…business partner, is it?”

“Well, shall we say ‘business associate’” Samantha suggested, “and, of course, my fiancé”

“Yes, well, he did say that he would be happy to help us” Amber pointed out, firmly.

“Of course,” Samantha nodded, “please put your cases in the boot and get yourselves into the car, we can’t have you getting soaked now, can we?”  She remarked, archly.

Samantha grabbed Archibald by the arm and steered him a little way from the limousine.

“What the hell is going on?” She hissed.

“You what?”  Archibald looked puzzled.

“With these two!  Why are we ferrying them half way across the country?”

“Oh, yeah,” Archibald scratched his head and looked embarrassed, “it’s on account of Mr. O. saying we were all going to die”

“Pardon?”

“On the ‘plane, like” Archibald said, by way of explanation, “and her” He nodded toward Amber, who was sliding into the car, “she took the right hump and wouldn’t get back on the ‘plane when we landed in Paris.  So, Mr. O. reckons we owe it to her to help them get back to their car”

“I don’t know, Archie” Samantha shook her head, “this trip has been an absolute disaster, hasn’t it?”

“Erm, it’s sort of had its moments” Archibald agreed, sheepishly.

“You’d better get the hearse over to the bay” Samantha handed him the keys, “I’ll entertain these two.  Make sure you tell Josiah that I definitely want a word with him before we go anywhere!”  Samantha’s eyes flashed and Archibald started to make good his escape, until a thought occurred to him:

“You’d better tell them two to hotch up,” He shouted over his shoulder, as he scampered toward the hearse, “only they’ll have to make room for Miss Lace, an’ all”

“Miss Lace?”  Samantha looked perplexed, “Who the heck is Miss Lace?”

* * * *

 

In the Customs shed, D.I. Wood was rubbing his hands with glee.

“This is where the dog gets to see the rabbit, Stoney!”  He grinned.

“It will certainly be interesting to find out exactly what they’ve been transporting, sir” D.S. Stone agreed, cautiously.

“Detective Inspector?” A Customs Officer called out, “you wanted to see this?”

D.I. Wood marched over to the scanner and peered at the screen.

“Right, sunshine, what’ve we got?”  He slapped the Customs Officer, matily, on the shoulder.

“It’s a body” The Officer said, flatly, “what were you expecting?”

“A…body!” D.I. Wood exclaimed, “I thought there would be…I dunno, drugs maybe, cash, fags, booze, gold bars even!”

“It’s a coffin” The Officer pointed out.

“I know it’s a coffin but we had reasonable grounds to suspect…Oh bloody hell!  The boss is going to do his fruit!” D.I. Wood ran a shaking hand through what remained of his hair.

“Perhaps we’d better get back to base, file a full report, face the music eh, sir?”  D.S. Stone asked, hopefully.

“I can’t do that, Stoney!” D.I. Wood looked shocked, “He’d have my knackers for cufflinks!  I just don’t understand it!”  D.I. Wood flapped his arms, hunched over and dug his hands deep into his pockets, “If it’s just a body, why’s Doreen traipsed all over Spain with it?”

“It is a puzzle, sir” D.S. Stone conceded.

“And what’s she to Lurch and his pal?  How come they kipped on them banquettes, like us, while she was queening it in her own cabin?  They paid for it, as well, you know?  It doesn’t make any sense!”  D.S. Stone looked despondent, “Who is it that’s supposed to be in this ruddy casket, anyway?”

“Erm, let me just check my pocketbook,” D.S. Stone rifled through his notebook, “Ah yes, it should be Sir Lewisham Carnock, Baronet, a member of the aristocracy, sir”

“I don’t see how that connects with Doreen” D.I. Wood shook his head.  “It’s a bugger this is, I thought we’d got hold of this really complex conspiracy and now it’s all coming apart!”

“I wonder, sir” D.S. Stone furrowed his brow, “what if this isn’t ‘Sir Lewisham’?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just wondered…what if that’s Frankie Knight, in there?”

“Frankie?  Well, he’d have done us a favour if he’s karked it but, even if it is, why would Doreen stick to it like glue?”

“No idea, sir”

“Have you done with this, then?”  The Customs Officer asked.

“Oh, bloody hell!” D.I. Wood snapped, “Yes, I suppose so.  No chance you can tell who it is, from the scan I mean?”

“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?”  The Customs Officer looked at him in astonishment, “it’s a turn up for the books that we can even see the body!  Half the time this thing’s on the blink.  We just turn the lights on. on the monitor, for the look of the thing”

There was a buzzing and crackling from the monitor and the picture disappeared.  The Customs Officer calmly retrieved a wooden mallet from a drawer in his desk, hit the monitor’s casing smartly a couple of times, whereupon the picture reappeared, and replaced the mallet in the desk.

“See what I mean?”  He folded his arms and stared at D.I. Wood.

“Couldn’t we have a peek inside?” D.S. Stone suggested.

“You show me a court order and you can turn it upside down and shake it if you want!” The Customs Officer smirked.

“We’d never get that, Stoney” D.I. Wood shook his head, miserably, “we can’t show reasonable grounds.  We can’t go around opening coffins, particularly some nob’s coffin,  just because we’ve got half an idea it might be someone else.  If we’re wrong, that’d be both our careers down the Swanee!”

“We’re stuffed then, sir!”  D.S. Stone shrugged.

“Hold your foot up, Stoney” D.I. Wood shook his head and rubbed his furrowed brow, “we’re not beaten yet!  Get on to the local plod and get them to lend us an unmarked car, pronto, and don’t take ‘No’ for an answer.”  He took a deep breath, straightened himself up and smoothed down his jacket.  “Sooner or later, someone’s going to have to make a move, so we’ll do the only thing we can do, and that’s follow this lot to the bitter end.”  He turned to the Customs Officer who had been following the conversation with some amusement, “Can you hang on to this until we’ve got a motor sorted out?”

“Well, for a bit, I suppose, but you’ll have to get a move on.  I can’t hold it forever!”  The Customs Officer looked less than pleased.

“And what about the boss, sir?”  D.S. Stone looked doubtful.

“Shit or bust, Stoney, shit or bust!  We either crack this and we’re heroes, or…”

“Or what, sir?”

“Don’t go there, Sergeant, just don’t go there”

A Very Merry Christmas to all our readers

Now read Part 48