Hit Me with Your Rhythm Stick (Dead Reckoning series - Part 44)

Continued from Episode 43 (Don't Blame It on That Girl)

The story so far:  Josiah's 'on the rebound' romance with the woman he thought was his old flame, Jeanette DeVille, proved to be with her twin sister, Nenette, and led to him and Archibald being left for dead in the rapidly rising waters of the cellar of Evanley Hall.  Since then, there has been much to occupy the Merkin-under-Heathwood police force, not least the apparent suicide of a young man in the local reservoir (last seen in the company of Precious DeVille - Nenette's supposed daughter) and then the further apparent suicides of Nenette and her 'driver' Hames.  The common denominator in all of these deaths appears to be Precious, who made a surprise reappearance, fetchingly dressed in lingerie, in Archibald's hotel room, a room he thought he had been given as a Secret Santa gift from Josiah.  Now Archibald is missing, along with two operatives from the rival firm of Cadwallader and Carruthers.  As Detectives Wood and Stone were reviewing the CCTV footage from the Country Club, showing Archibald apparently being wheeled out in a body bag, Samantha suddenly left them without explanation:

“It’s a bloody cheek, that’s what it is!” D.I. Wood slapped a stack of papers down on his desk and fumed, “She comes swanning in here without a ‘by your leave’ and then just clears off without any explanation whatsoever!”
He extracted a cigarette from his pack, rolled it around his lips and then, noticing the disapproving look of his Sergeant, stuffed it back in the packet with ill temper.
“Do you think she spotted something, sir?”  D.S. Stone asked, “Maybe that’s why she shot off in such a hurry?”
“Spotted something?  Like what?”
“Well, I don’t know” D.S. Stone shook his head, shrugged and looked thoughtful, “Must have been something on that CCTV footage, I suppose”
“I didn’t see anything particularly enlightening, did you?”  D.I. Wood frowned.
“Not to be honest, sir”
“Better get on to the hotel and check out that girl’s name.  I don’t think for a minute that she’ll turn out to be one of the staff, but you never know your luck in a raffle”
“Will do, sir” D.S. Stone marched back to his desk.
“Oh, and Stoney,” D.I. Wood shouted after him, “While you’re at it, run an ANPR check on Mrs. Knight’s car.  Let’s see if we can figure out where she’s off to, eh?”
“Right, sir”

* * * *

For Josiah Oakshott, the delights of the Cheshire countryside were not proving to be much of a distraction from the grim reality of his mission.  He kept running, over and over again, the content of the ‘phone call he had received:
“Oakshott and Underwood, Josiah Oakshott speaking, how may I help you?”  He had said, in his best ‘customer-friendly’ voice.  A mix, he liked to think, of both sympathy and businesslike efficiency, that he had been honing over the years.
“Hello, Josiah” said a voice that he knew only too well.  A voice that sent a shiver down his spine.
“Miss DeVille, is that you?”
“You know it is, Josiah” She had snapped, “Now be quiet and just listen to me.  If you want Archibald back, safely and in one piece, you’ll do exactly as I tell you…”
“You…you’ve got Archibald!”
“You’re interrupting, Josiah, don’t interrupt!  You will come to Evanley Hall, now.  You will tell no-one where you are going.  You will come alone.  You will not involve the Police or anyone else, is that clear?”
“Yes, perfectly”
“If you disobey any of my instructions, ANY of them, Archibald will suffer, do you understand?”
“I…I  understand”
“Good!  Then I will look forward to seeing you shortly”
And that was it.  The whole thing had only taken a couple of minutes, if that, but, in that time, his whole world had been turned upside down.  In a daze, he had returned to Samantha, told her he had to attend to a client, put on his overcoat and gloves and set off.  He had managed to point Samantha, he hoped, in the right direction to try to get some answers about Archibald’s disappearance, but he also worried that that might constitute ‘involving someone else’, with dire consequences for Archibald, and that worried him, a lot.
He had also, as far as he possibly could, tried to say goodbye to Samantha.  He hoped she would remember and understand.  After all, Josiah thought, with a heavy heart, if he was going to be brutally honest with himself, this was not a trip from which he could reasonably expect to return.

* * * *

“Anything, Stoney?”  D.I. Wood looked up from his Caribbean brochure at his Sergeant, who had entered the office and was looking rather thoughtful.
“Not really, sir” D.S. Stone sucked a pencil and consulted his notebook, “As expected, the Country Club doesn’t have anyone of that name on their staff”
“Quelle surprise!” D.I. Wood raised an eyebrow and tutted.  “Remind me, what was her name supposed to be?”
D.S. Stone flicked through a couple of pages and said, eventually, “Erm, Heyvell, sir, Lana Heyvell”
“Hmm” D.I. Wood frowned, “Bloody funny name to make up for a name tag, isn’t it?  I mean, you’d think she’d go for something simple like ‘Jane Smith’, or something, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, you would, sir” D.S. Stone frowned as he studied his notebook.
“How about ANPR?  Any luck with tracking Mrs. Knight?”
“No, not really, sir” D.S. Stone shook his head, still studying the notebook, “We clocked her leaving Merkin-under-Heathwood heading north, but then she must have gone down one of the back roads.  Nothing since, sorry sir”
“North?  She’s shot off out of town?  What the hell’s she up to?”
“I don’t know sir, it’s…oh hell!”
“What’s the matter, Sergeant?”
“It’s an anagram!”
“What’s an anagram?”
“That girl’s name, sir.  It’s an anagram, at least, I think it is” D.S. Stone scribbled a few words in his notebook and started crossing letters out.
“I wish you’d tell me what the hell it is you’re doing, Sergeant!” D.I. Wood snapped, “Anyone would think that I’M NOT YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER!”
“Sorry, sir” D.S. Stone looked up from his notebook, “You’re not going to like this”
“There’s nothing about this case that I like, Stoney, so go on, surprise me” D.I. Wood put his chin on his hand and stared at his Sergeant.
“Lana Heyvell, sir” D.S. Stone took a deep breath, in anticipation of the coming storm, “It’s an anagram of ‘Evanley Hall’”

* * * *

Josiah negotiated the deeply rutted track leading up to the Hall with mounting trepidation.  He noted that there were some dim lights illuminating Jeannie’s dilapidated cottage.  It was, he thought, somehow, comforting that someone was going about their normal everyday business just a few yards away from his destination.  He sighed and drove on.  He couldn’t, he reflected, realistically expect any help from that quarter, even if he had been able to raise the alarm.
He drove over the cattle grid and onto the gravel drive.  He winced at the memory of his excitement on the last occasion when he was driven to the Hall, a time when he had anticipated a romantic, candlelit dinner with an attractive former girlfriend, only to be knocked unconscious and left to die in a water-filled cellar.
There were no welcoming lights on at the Hall, on this occasion.  In fact, it looked deserted.  He eased himself out of the limousine and closed the door as quietly as he could manage, in the hope that his arrival had not been noticed.  All was quiet in the twilight of this miserable day.  He looked all around him, but there was no-one to be seen.  Then, a faint noise, right on the edge of his hearing, grabbed his attention.  It sounded like… someone digging!

* * * *

“Evanley Hall!  REALLY?”  D.I. Wood had a face like thunder.
“I suppose it could be a…coincidence, perhaps?”  D.S. Stone responded, unconvincingly.
“She spotted it, didn’t she?”  D.I. Wood put his head in his hands, “That’s why she shot off like that, that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”
“Well…possibly?”  D.S. Stone squirmed.
“Heading north!  She’s heading for Cheshire, isn’t she?”  D.I. Wood groaned.
“It’s certainly a possibility, sir” D.S. Stone nodded, miserably.
D.I. Wood took a deep breath, sighed and then squared his shoulders.  Rising from his desk like an avenging angel, he grabbed his coat, patted his jacket pocket for the reassuring presence of a packet of cigarettes, and swept out of his office.
“Right, Stoney.” He shouted over his shoulder, “Get a couple of Uniforms and have them follow us.  We’re heading back to bear country and this time; I’m taking an elephant gun!”

* * * *

Josiah followed the sound he had heard, with considerable trepidation.  It led him around the corner, past the kitchen window, and into the rear garden, beyond.  In the distance, he could see some lanterns, apparently arranged on the ground.  The sound of digging had now stopped.  Instead, there was just an eerie silence, as if the whole house and surrounding area was holding its breath.  He continued to walk, tentatively, toward the arrangement of lights.  There didn’t seem, he noted, gratefully, to be anyone in the vicinity.
As he drew closer to the spectacle, he became aware of just what the lanterns were, apparently, illuminating.  It was something he was very familiar with indeed.  There was no mistaking that there was an open grave right there, in front of him.  He began to quicken his pace, and started to mutter:
“Oh God no, not Archibald, please God, no!”
He found himself on the edge of the grave and forced himself to look down, dreading what he might find.  To his immense relief, the grave was empty.  He straightened up, sighed deeply and momentarily relaxed.  Then the silence was broken.  A man’s voice behind him said:
“Sorry, Mr. Oakshott”
He spun around, just in time to see the flat side of a shovel hurtling straight toward him.

You can find a lot more from Josiah and Archibald, including the prequel novel to this series, in The Undertakers collection.

Now read Part 45