Page 20 of The Chapel of Bones

Wesley saw a look of surprise pass across Pam’s face. Neither of them had ever heard Neil address anyone as ‘darling’ before.

‘No, I’ve been stuck in the archives trying to see what I can find out about the site,’ said Annabel. She had the sort of accent associated with BBC TV presenters back in the 1950s. A healthy-looking young woman, she had let her blonde hair grow back into its natural shiny brown, still tamed with her habitual Alice band. Her brief and disastrous marriage to a member of the landed gentry had ended when she’d found her new husband was having an affair with his cousin’s wife – and Annabel was hardly the type to turn a blind eye to that sort of betrayal. At first glance, she and Neil made an incongruous couple. And yet they’dcollaborated together professionally for years, and they seemed completely relaxed in each other’s company.

Neil turned back to Wesley. ‘After you called in earlier, we did a geophys survey and it looks as though there’s a rectangular building there – probably around seven metres by four if the printout’s anything to go by. It’s aligned east–west, so I suspect it is a chapel. And the geophys has shown up some strange buried shapes a similar size to those grotesques we found.’

‘More of them?’ Wesley asked, his interest piqued.

‘I think we’ve found a chapel decorated with grotesques. They’re meant to ward off evil.’ Neil grinned. ‘Pity they didn’t work for the poor sod who ended up behind that wall. When do you think he was put in there?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’ Wesley turned to Annabel. He’d left a message for her earlier that day in the hope she’d recognise Donnal’s name as a user of her archives. ‘Have you had any luck with that name I mentioned? Aleric Donnal? It looks as though he was an academic carrying out research at Fontescue Hall.’

At the mention of the hall, he was sure he saw Annabel’s cheeks redden a little. ‘The name isn’t familiar, I’m afraid. Sorry.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You said you found a letter from my retired colleague, Ron Hands.’

‘That’s right. It said Donnal hadn’t returned something he’d borrowed.’

Annabel rolled her eyes. ‘We get that problem from time to time with facsimiles academics are allowed to take off the premises. I’m still in touch with Ron, so I can ask him. He’s a nice man and he’ll probably be glad of the challenge.’

‘Thanks. Might be useful. So far Aleric Donnal’s a bit of a mystery. According to Mr Fontescue, he was connected with a university, but he wasn’t sure which one. And when we tried to contact local universities, either the person who’d know wasn’tthere or all their office staff had gone home. We’ll probably have to wait until after the weekend to find out more.’

‘Want me to make enquiries among my contacts?’

‘Thanks. That would be a terrific help.’ Wesley was surprised at how keen Annabel was to join in the investigation.

The doorbell rang again. This time his worst fears were realised. It was Della. As soon as she marched in, Neil and Annabel said they needed to rush back and said their goodbyes.

Once they’d gone, Della sat down on the sofa and demanded wine, claiming that she’d had a hell of a day. Pam looked at Wesley and pulled a face.

‘Sorry, Mum, we’ve got a lot to do.’

She was trying to be firm, but as usual, her mother’s personality won out. There had been times when Wesley had wondered whether Pam’s father had been rather relieved to leave this life and his overbearing wife with her strange New Age ideas. But he’d dismissed these uncharitable thoughts. His devout churchgoing parents, he knew, would have told him to be more understanding. But it wasn’t always easy.

‘Goats,’ Della announced loudly. ‘One of mine’s a bit off colour. Your frightful boss, Gerry, has a son who’s a vet. Can you ask him to call round and have a look at Blossom?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself? You can find the number of the veterinary surgery online. Carnvale, just off the Neston Road.’

‘I thought you’d be able to get mate’s rates.’

‘No, Della. I can’t get mate’s rates. If the animal’s sick, you should call the surgery.’

His mother-in-law didn’t look pleased. But that wasn’t Wesley’s problem.

‘If that’s all, Mum . . .’ Pam stood up. The time for subtle hints was over. If they weren’t firm, they both knew she’d be there for the duration, drinking their wine and demanding that Wesleywalk her home because, according to Della, the police didn’t do their job properly, which meant the streets of Tradmouth weren’t safe.

Della assumed a hurt expression, as though her only child had thrust an arrow through her heart. Wesley hoped Pam wouldn’t fall for it and abandon her resolve.

The situation was helped by the ringing of Wesley’s phone, and he rushed out into the hall to answer it.

‘Is that Inspector Peterson?’

‘Speaking.’

‘It’s Pete Wolsey here. We met at the Duke’s Arms earlier today.’

‘I remember. What can I do for you, Mr Wolsey?’

‘That briefcase you were asking about. I’ve found it. Like I thought, it was tucked away in my loft.’

‘That’s great news. Hold onto it and I’ll send someone round to pick it up tomorrow.’