Page 72 of The Chapel of Bones

‘To think we had them here in custody, and all the time . . .’

‘Don’t blame yourself, Wesley. We couldn’t have known about the Casa Mirabilis connection, could we? And at least we know where to find them now. They’ve got animals to look after, so I don’t think they’ll do a runner.’

‘Let’s hope you’re right. We need to go up there and have a word with them. I’ll tell the boss.’

Wesley hurried to Gerry’s office. This was the most promising lead they’d had to date. If Rachel had spoken to Fiorenza before the couple had been released, it would have saved them a journey up to Dartmoor. But sadly, they hadn’t been in possession of a crystal ball, so it couldn’t be helped.

42

Gerry rubbed his hands together with glee when he heard the news, and insisted on going up to the kennels on Dartmoor himself, leaving Rachel disappointed. Wesley knew she’d been looking forward to the outing.

Wesley drove as usual and Gerry gazed out of the car window, enjoying the view. The journey took them through Neston and out to the edge of the moor, past small villages and farms to a more sparsely populated landscape. A roughly painted sign beside a pair of ramshackle gateposts told them they’d reached their destination. The rusty gate was firmly shut and padlocked, but when they left the car, they could hear dogs barking in the distance, though there was no other sign of life.

‘Sounds like the famous whisht hounds of Dartmoor, said Gerry, half joking.

The gate being locked, Wesley was forced to climb over, but Gerry hesitated.

‘Can’t you open it, Wes?’

Wesley looked at the padlock, new and shiny in contrast to the gate itself, and shook his head. Gerry produced the skeleton keys he always carried with him, a gift, he claimed, from a grateful burglar many years ago. He got to work, and when the lock snapped open, he pushed the gate open with a loud creak.

‘You could have done that earlier, saved me the climb,’ said Wesley.

‘Thought the exercise would do you good.’

Wesley shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. ‘I’m not the one who needs exercise, Gerry. Have you made that appointment with the physio my sister recommended?’

‘Haven’t had time, as you well know,’ said Gerry as he began to walk up the rough track. ‘Two deaths. Three if you count the man in the wall. We need to catch whoever’s doing this.’

‘Dale Gadson wanted to tell us something and Jim Baker is the obvious connection, but he’s denying everything. Let’s see what Betsy and Barnaby have to tell us about their time at St Julian’s.’

The sound of barking grew louder as they neared a low stone building, half hidden behind a copse of trees. When it came into view, Wesley recognised it as a classic Devon longhouse, probably very ancient, designed to accommodate livestock at one end and humans at the other. It was surrounded by more recent outhouses, but all the buildings had a neglected look. The two detectives marched up to the front door and Gerry raised the heavy iron knocker, letting it fall three times. Inside the house it must have sounded like a portent of doom.

When there was no reply, they walked round to the back of the house. There they saw enclosures full of dogs. They had beds and toys, and the large spaces looked as though they had been kept clean. Betsy and Barnaby Chalmers hadn’t been lying when they’d said they looked after the animals well. When the dogs saw the newcomers, the barking grew excited, and the couple appeared at the door of a ramshackle outhouse each carrying a spade, as though they were preparing to defend their charges from attack.

When they saw who’d come calling, they put the spades to one side.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ Barnaby said warily. He didn’t seem pleased to see them, which was hardly surprising. Betsy stood beside him looking as though she was poised for a swift getaway. ‘We’vemade our confession. We’ve told you everything. All we want now is to be left alone until our court case comes up.’

Betsy nodded in agreement. ‘That’s right. We’ve said we’re sorry. We’ve offered to give the money back. What more can we do?’

‘We’re not here about that,’ said Gerry. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ The dogs were barking loudly now and it was getting difficult to hear over the noise.

Without another word, the couple led the way into the house. The dusty room they ended up in contained furniture that looked as though it had been salvaged from a skip. Wesley and Pam weren’t exactly obsessively house-proud, but this place made their house look like something out ofHomes and Gardens. A trio of large German shepherd dogs and an elderly Border collie were settled on the pair of sofas, and they looked up as the newcomers entered. Betsy shooed one of them off so the policemen could sit down. The dog obeyed, resigned to the disturbance, and made itself comfortable on a spare armchair.

Betsy must have seen Wesley watching the animals, because she explained that of the four, two had health problems and two had been found homes and were getting used to a domestic setting. When she talked about the dogs, her expression softened. It was clear she loved them. The hairy kidnap victims had never been in any danger, but that would probably make no difference to how the court viewed the offence when their case came to trial.

Once the detectives were seated, resigned to getting dog hair all over their clothing, Wesley came to the reason for their visit.

‘You lived in the house bought by Timothy Fontescue-Burns and renamed Casa Mirabilis. This was when you called yourselves Aphrodite and Apollo.’ He tilted his head to one side politely and awaited the answer.

The pair looked at each other. ‘What about it?’

‘You heard about the body found in the wall?’

They exchanged another look, then nodded in unison, reminding Wesley of a pair of nodding dogs he’d once seen in a souvenir shop. ‘It was on the radio.’

‘The body belonged to a man called Aleric Donnal. He was an academic with an interest in medieval history. Did he ever come to the house?’