Page 59 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

P hilip closed Nature’s Diner early. By ten o’clock there was only me and Adele left as customers. Sally came over and swiped up my plate just as I took the last mouthful of pistachio mousse cake. She even made a grab for my coffee cup before I batted her hand away.

‘I’ve had a husband and a son badgering me every five minutes for the past six hours about knocking that sodding wall down. The sooner its done, the sooner I can go to bed and the sooner I get rid of this bloody headache.’ She marches back towards the kitchen.

‘What is it about men and knocking things down?’ Adele asks.

‘It makes them feel manly and masculine.’

‘What makes women feel feminine, then?’

‘Taking the hammer and chisel from the men and showing them how it’s done,’ I grin.

We go upstairs to change into clothes we’re happy to see covered in dust. Something is niggling away in my brain. I grab Adele’s mobile and hunt for Alison’s number that I’ve scrawled down on a bit of paper. She answers almost straight away.

‘Alison, sorry for calling so late.’

‘It’s fine,’ she says. There are tears in her voice. She’s been crying.

‘Is everything all right?’

She sighs. ‘Yes. I’m… I’m fine. What can I do for you?’

It’s like I’m talking to a younger version of myself.

‘I’ve been able to get the preliminary postmortem results on your sisters.

They’ve managed to identify them through dental records.

It seems Jennifer had a broken bone in her arm that didn’t heal correctly.

Your mother was asked, and she said she didn’t know anything about your sister ever breaking a bone.

I find that hard to believe unless it was covered up in some way. Is there…’

‘Ah. I think I can fill in the gap there,’ Alison said.

‘It happened about a month or so before they disappeared. We were out playing one Sunday on the farm. There was an old coal bunker we were told never to go in. To mischievous children, that’s like an invitation.

So, obviously, we went in. Jennifer slipped and fell.

She cracked her arm on the concrete floor.

We all agreed not to say anything because we knew how much shit we’d be in.

I didn’t realise her arm was broken. I thought she’d just hurt it. ’

‘Right.’

‘You thought she’d broken it while being abused or something?’

‘It had crossed my mind.’

‘We were adventurous when we were all together. We loved making up stories and going on imaginary hunts for treasure. Jennifer had such a…’ She pauses as she composes herself. ‘She was an excellent storyteller.’

I sit down on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, Alison.’

‘It never goes away,’ she says. ‘I can be on a night out celebrating a friend’s birthday, and I’m laughing and having fun, and all of a sudden a voice in my head will ask me what Jennifer or Celia would be doing right now, if they were still alive, and it floors me.’

I don’t know what to say. Alison is looking for answers, for reassurance, and I can’t give them to her. I make some excuse about it being late and end the call.

There is no doubt in my mind I’ll be able to find out what happened to Jennifer and Celia. I know I can solve this. I’m only worried about the effect it will have on Alison when she learns the truth.

* * *

By the time we descend the steps to the cellar, Philip, Sally, Carl and the two Labradors, are waiting for us. Carl, dressed in jeans and an oversized jumper and wearing safety glasses, has a huge smile on his face.

‘About bloody time,’ Carl says.

‘Language!’ Sally chastises.

‘This feels like the unveiling of something. I’m expecting a Lord Mayor to come down the stairs to cut a ribbon,’ Adele says.

‘I’m nervous,’ Sally says. ‘I’ve seen The Mummy . I know what happens when you disturb something that’s not meant to be disturbed.’ Her eyes are constantly gazing about the room, looking for anything scurrying along the ground.

‘Are you worried Philip is going to unleash thousands of years of bad luck and pestilence?’ I ask.

‘Considering everything we’ve all been through recently, including a sodding pandemic, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Language!’ Carl mocks. ‘It might be the entrance to a secret underground tomb,’ he says excitedly.

Sally shivers. ‘I’m picturing those beetles in The Mummy that get inside your skin.’

‘Really?’ Adele asks. ‘I’m picturing Kenneth Williams in Carry On Screaming howling “Frying tonight!”’

Sally laughs. ‘I love that film.’

Philip exaggerates a cough. ‘Is there any chance we can begin? I do plan on retiring in the next twenty years.’

‘In this economy? You’ll be lucky,’ I fire back.

‘Sorry, Phil. You begin. We’ll stay back here and point out where you’re going wrong.’ Sally winks.

Philip shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He’s seriously outnumbered. He unfolds a step ladder and places it in the corner of the room. He climbs up, hammer and chisel in hand, and begins chipping away at the cement between the bricks.

It’s a slow process, but once he gets started passing the bricks down to me one by one, a large hole is soon revealed. He takes a torch from me, turns it on and looks inside.

‘It only goes back a few metres. If that,’ he says. He reaches inside. ‘I can almost touch the back wall.’

‘Can you see down to the floor?’ I ask.

He leans inside and tries to look down. ‘No. Not yet. I’ll need to take more bricks out.’

‘Why would you build another wall so close to the existing one?’ Sally asks Adele from the back of the room.

‘I don’t know. Unless… is it possible it’s a load-bearing wall? Could the structure be weak so that was built to hold up the ceiling?’

‘And we’re calmly taking it down while sitting beneath it ready to get crushed?’ Sally asks, fear entering her voice.

‘We’re not exactly being sensible, are we?’

‘When we bought the place, the surveyors said the structure was sound,’ Philip reassures them.

‘They didn’t notice the false wall, though, did they?’

More bricks are removed and handed down to me. I hand them to Carl who is placing them, neatly, in the corner of the room. When the hole is large enough for Philip to lean fully into, he asks for the torch once again.

‘Well? Anything?’ I ask.

Philip looks back at his wife. ‘Sal, maybe you should take Carl up.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

‘No. I’ve been waiting for this all night. I want to see what’s behind there. Is it anything valuable?’

Philip descends the steps, hands me the torch and tells me to take a look.

Reluctantly, I do. On the top step, reaching up on tiptoe, I lean over and look into the black.

I shine the torch down and look into the empty eyes of a leathered skull.

I look up and down the small space and see a mummified body laid out on the ground.