Page 13 of The Chapel of Bones

However, it certainly looked as though there’d been a substantial building of some sort on the site, and he straightened himself up and turned to Helen. ‘I think you might have something interesting here. I’ve been told the tree surgeons found something else. Some stone carvings?’

Helen nodded. ‘Darren said he’d hidden them somewhere safe, but he didn’t say exactly where. Just somewhere among the trees. We could look for them, I suppose,’ she suggested with a gleam in her eyes.

‘My thoughts exactly.’ Neil looked at the area of woodland that formed part of Sycamore House’s garden. The tree surgeons had got rid of the pestilent leylandii, and the rest of the trees were deciduous, well-established and still in full leaf, although some of the leaves were starting to turn brown. Helen barged on ahead with the enthusiasm of Howard Carter entering the tomb of Tutankhamen. Neil trailed behind, barely able to keep up.

Then he heard an excited shriek. ‘They’re here. I think I’ve found them.’

He ran over to her. Three moss-covered shapes, each around three feet long, were lying on the ground. He was wearing his digging clothes, so he knelt and began to examine them, taking his trowel from his pocket to gently scrape away the moss. At first he couldn’t quite make out what they represented, but after a while, he realised that one was a griffin, a mythical beast, half lion, half eagle; the second resembled a bull; while the third was a leering ape.

‘What do you think?’ Helen asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

‘I’m not quite sure yet,’ said Neil. ‘I’m just wondering what else we’re going to find.’

10

The Duke’s Arms was a traditional sort of pub, not much larger than many people’s living rooms. It consisted of a single bar and was the kind of establishment in which a pickled egg and a packet of crisps was the only solid sustenance available, the antithesis of the modern gastropub. Gerry eyed the hand pumps on the bar greedily. But they weren’t there for fun. They needed to speak to Darren’s grandfather.

They scanned the bar for likely candidates. Most of the drinkers weren’t the right age to be the man they were looking for. But one elderly man sitting on his own on a stool at the end of the bar with a half-empty glass fitted the bill.

Wesley wondered whether Darren’s grandfather would be the kind to treat someone with his skin colour with suspicion, but the man’s reaction when Wes offered to buy him a pint made him realise he’d been unfair.

‘Thank you kindly,’ he said with a grateful raise of his glass. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’

‘You wouldn’t have a grandson called Darren, would you? Tree surgeon?’

The man looked up, puzzled. ‘Mate of his, are you?’ At that moment he noticed Gerry standing behind Wesley. ‘Who’s your friend?’

When the two policemen showed their ID, the man turned his head away.

‘Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble,’ Wesley assured him. ‘We just want to ask you about a job you did, that’s all.’

The man hesitated for a moment, then, clearly deciding they could be trusted not to arrest him, he nodded. ‘It’s a good while since I did any work. What do you want to know?’

‘What’s your name?’ Wesley asked. ‘We can’t keep referring to you as “Darren’s grandad”.’

‘Pete,’ the man answered. ‘Pete Wolsey.’

‘And you did some work at Sycamore House?’

He shook his head.

‘It used to have a different name. Casa Mirabilis,’ said Wesley.

Pete gave him a sideways look. ‘Yeah, I remember now. I did do a bit of work there.’

Gerry made himself comfortable on a neighbouring bar stool while Wesley remained standing.

‘What exactly did you do?’ Wesley asked.

‘Knocked through a cupboard under the stairs and fitted a toilet.’

Gerry took over. ‘When was this?’

‘Years ago.’

‘Can you be more exact?’

‘Around ten years. Maybe twelve. Can’t rightly remember.’