A Well Kept Secret (51 page)

The irony of that last thought suddenly struck him; ‘a well kept secret’, it was certainly that! If only Phillip Burton knew that he had searched high and low for the well without the slightest degree of success he wouldn’t need to risk another killing, or even more! It then occurred to him that if he had been sure that the body was so well concealed; then he wouldn’t have bothered to show his hand at all! If that was true, then if followed that he suspected that a new tenant, irrespective of whether it was a relative or a total stranger might conceivably stumble upon the well by chance. The corollary of that was the fact that the well was actually still in existence; as June has so rightly pointed out, he just hadn’t looked for it in the right place yet. His mind dwelt on that concept for a minute or so until quite out of the blue the obvious answer hit him! He had been scouring the grounds looking for the well without success; that was inevitable because it was not there because it never had been! The answer had been staring him in the face almost from the time he had arrived at Springwater House, only he had been too blind to see it!

As he jumped up from the bed, June came into the room, still dressed, but carrying her nightwear over her arm. She looked up at him in mild alarm.

“Martin,” she exclaimed, startled by his sudden flurry of activity. “What on Earth’s the matter?”

“I’ve found it,” he exclaimed, grabbing and hugging her so fiercely it squeezed the breath out of her.

Disengaging herself from his embrace she looked up at him in astonishment.

“What, the lost chord?”

“No, you muddle-minded-mistress, the well!”

“You’re not serious?”

“Maybe I haven’t actually
found
it; it came to me in a flash just a moment ago; it’s just like you said, we have been looking in the wrong place!”

“Fine, so where is the right place?”

“Do you remember me asking you about the new panelling in lower hallway; the place which I remembered was a cupboard when I came here as a child?”

“Yes.”

“I was hiding in that cupboard on my last visit to this house. That is probably why my uncle in his letter assumed that I knew exactly where the well was! I’ve only just realised that was no cupboard, my guess is that it was the access to the cellar, and unless I am very much mistaken, in that cellar there will be a well!”

“You really think so?”

“I’ll bet you a pound to a pinch of snuff that’s where it is! Come on, we will never sleep now unless we can prove this one way or another.”

Without waiting for an answer he propelled her out the door, and quietly but quickly they descended the stairs and went straight round to look at the new panelling.

“That explains something else!” Martin muttered half to himself as he examined closely.

“Liked what?”

“I recall thinking at the time that it was strange that Peter Buxted hadn’t noticed the new panelling after claiming to be a frequent visitor; I’m now virtually certain he is our man. There was no way he would ever draw my attention to this, yet obviously he fears that sooner or later I might want to investigate. No wonder he agreed to return here tomorrow; he wants to see if anything has developed!”

“What are you going to do?”

“We are going to get this panelling off right now and see if I’m right!”

“You will wake the girls!”

“It’s a risk we will have to take; I’ll do it as quietly as possible. Now that I look closely, I can see that this whole new section is held in position by screws. With luck we can remove it without damage or disruption. Do you have any screwdrivers in the kitchen?”

“Yes, as it happens I do.”

She vanished into the kitchen to return a few moments later with a selection of screwdrivers. Martin picked out the one he needed, and working silently and methodically, he proceeded to remove each screw in turn, passing them over to June as he went. From beginning to end it took a good ten minutes before the last screw was out.

“Right, now let’s see if this whole section will lift out,” he muttered.

He prised carefully down one side with a thin bladed screwdriver, and then down the opposite side, and presently he exposed enough of the edge for him to get a grip with his fingers. Moving quietly and carefully, he eased it out of its position, until at last the panelling, mounted on a stout wooden frame came free. He moved it away from its position to rest it carefully on one side before peering into the recess behind.

It was as if the clock had suddenly been turned back a quarter of a century. Within the recess was the door he remembered from his childhood, the door through which he had plunged in a vain effort to hide on that last visit. The whole door and its frame had been moved inwards to enable the panelling to be put across the opening, yet it was unquestionably the same door.
 
Instinctively, he knew that beyond it he would find the answers to the questions that had plagued him since coming to Springwater House. He looked back to where June stood at his shoulder, and he realised how she must feel, knowing that somewhere beyond that dark recess she would almost certainly find the end of her own life’s quest.

“Are you game for this?” he asked quietly. “You don’t have to come you know?”

She smiled bravely. “I’ve come this far,” she replied, “I want to see this through to the end!”

The door and its handle were coated with the dust and cobwebs of many years. It sported a large, rather old-fashioned lock, exactly like the other doors in the house, and the key was still in-situ. He brushed the dirt to one side and seized the key with both hands. As he fully anticipated, the lock was stiff, but eventually yielded to the pressure he exerted, and turned with a subdued squeal of long un-lubricated mechanism. He tugged at the door, and after a few moments it moved outwards, protesting loudly on dry hinges. A puff of stale, musty air washed over him as he pulled the door open wider, revealing an empty interior under the slope of the staircase, with the far reaches lost in gloom.

“We will need lighting,” he said, peering inside the opening. “Do you have any torches or lamps available anywhere?”

“There’s a torch in the kitchen,” June volunteered, “and I think there is a paraffin lamp at the back of one of the cupboards as well. I’ll go and see what I can find.”

She vanished into the kitchen to reappear a few minutes later with a torch and a lamp that gave the impression it hadn’t been used in a good many years.

“I’m not even sure how these things work,” she said passing the items over, “but judging by the noise it made when I rattled the lamp there is still fuel in it I’ve brought some matches as well.”

“I can tell you’ve never been a boy scout,” he chaffed, taking the lamp from her. He’d used others like it years ago, and within minutes he had got it to work, and presently it started hissing away quietly as it emitted an encouraging stream of light.

“Right,” he said, straightening up with the lamp held ready in his hand and the torch rammed into his pocket in case of need, “let’s see what we can discover. Are you ready?”

She nodded quickly, and stood up from where she had been crouching as she had watched him working at getting the lantern to light up. Without realising what she was doing, she caught the edge of the panelling they had just removed, and before she could prevent it, the whole thing toppled over to land with a loud crash on the floor.

“Oh, *!+*#!” she exclaimed. It was the only time Martin had heard her swear, although in the circumstances he felt it was quite understandable!

“That’s torn it!” he agreed, putting the lamp down on the floor by the cupboard as he helped June to pick up the panelling. “The girls must be wondering what the hell is going on, we’d better get up there and reassure them before they start piling down the stairs to investigate!”

Together they swiftly ascended the stairs and along the upper hallway to the girl’s room. They opened the door, expecting to see two alarmed teenagers peering at them from their beds, but to their astonishment neither of them appeared to have stirred.

“Well, I’ll be-” Martin started to say, but June pushed past him and went up to the beds, and then turned to face him, with alarm on her face.

“They’re not here!” she exclaimed in sudden alarm. “Look, they’ve put spare pillows under the covers to make us think they were!”

It took him a couple of seconds to take in what she was saying. “The tree house,” he exclaimed suddenly as realisation dawned. “I might have guessed it! They knew they were going back to the school tomorrow, and they’ve decided to spend one last night out there!”

“Oh God, Martin!” she cried in alarm.

“You mustn’t worry; they’ll be all right,” he hastened to assure her. “I remember doing a similar daft thing when I was their age.”

“You really think it’s safe not to worry?” she asked with an almost accusatory look on her face. “Not so long back you were telling me that a ruthless murderer will be targeting this place almost any time, and there are now two defenceless young girls out there in the dark who have no idea of the potential danger they could be in! No, Martin, I think we should get them back in here where we can keep an eye on them, and the sooner the better!”

“Maybe you are right,” he agreed. “I’ll go and fetch them in before we start on other things, they will probably complain like mad, but as you say, better to be safe than sorry.”

They left the room and hurried back to the stairs.

“Not a word to them about what we have discovered,” he cautioned, “if they once get a sniff of that we will never get them back to bed, and the less they know about things the better.”

“I quite agree,” she said. “I could kick myself for being so clumsy, but at least it alerted us to the fact that they are outside. You get them in while I get the kettle on to make them a hot drink.”

They descended the stairs together, and halfway down June suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and gasped. At almost the same moment Martin saw what had startled her. Standing in the hallway close to the foot of the stairs was the figure of a man! A tall man, with blondish hair and somewhat cherubic features; Martin knew instinctively that he was looking at Paul Collins!

Seeing any form of intruder in the house at that hour of the night was shocking enough, seeing June’s husband there was even worse, particularly as Charles had assured him that he was no longer in the Wellworthy area. Martin had been so wrapped up with the more serious threat posed by the unknown killer that he had completely dismissed the man from his mind following the solicitor’s assurance. Assurance or not, he was there, and he had had the nerve to actually break into the house! With an angry snarl he launched himself down the remaining stairs with the intention of tackling the fellow in a particularly violent manner. It was an impulse that died almost as it was born, he pulled up short as he saw the wicked glitter of a large knife held firmly in the man’s hands. There was no mistaking the intent in his eyes either; he was big enough and strong enough to do a lot of damage with that knife.

“I’d think twice before you do something stupid if I were you,” the intruder snapped at him.

Martin stood there a pace in front of June, glowering angrily at the man who had created so much misery for her.

“How the hell do you get in here, Collins?”

The man smiled at him, an evil sort of smirk. “Ah, so you know who I am, do you?” he sneered. “That saves me the trouble of explaining it to you I suppose. To answer your question, I came in the same way your daughter left; through the back door. Oh yes, very obliging girl you’ve got there.”

It was like receiving a sudden blow between the eyes. The thought of his daughter falling into the hands of a pervert like Collins came close to making him throw caution to the winds

“What the hell have you done with Beverley; if you’ve touched her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands, knife or no knife!”

“Oh dear, I’m trembling with terror now,” Collins responded sarcastically. “You can stop panicking, because she’s all right; for the moment that is. I have her somewhere quite safe.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Nothing very much.”

Collins glanced up to where June stood transfixed with horror.

“Just a straight trade;” he added, with light menace in his voice. “My whore of a wife for your currently innocent daughter.”

Martin heard the strangled gasp from behind him.

“And if I don’t agree?”

Collins shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to have a young lass to comfort me in my old age. I must say she has a nice round arse on her; now that I come to think about it, maybe it won’t be so bad after all?”

He looked at Martin with cold eyes.

“But she’s only a child,” Martin protested, but even before the words were out of his mouth he knew it was a complete waste of breath. If Paul Collins, who was out on licence after being convicted of a whole catalogue of horrendous crimes had Beverley secreted somewhere, then he was helpless to prevent him dictating any terms he liked. It was time to quell his inner rage and start thinking. “How do I know you will keep your word?” he asked.

“You don’t,” Collins agreed, “On the other hand I can promise you that if you thwart me here, I will certainly make the kid pay for it.”

“It’s o.k. Martin,” said June suddenly, overcoming her shock and stepping down just ahead of him. “I’ll go with him, it’s the only way.”

He put out an instinctive restraining hand.

“You can’t do that,” he protested, “you know what it means!”

“And if I don’t, what happens to Beverley?” she countered. “Isn’t much choice, is there? I always knew it would end like this one day.”

“But don’t you see? He isn’t going to hang around here once he has you outside! You’ll be dragged into a car and spirited off to god-knows where! Sooner or later he will torture you, and then he will kill you to keep you silent, and he will kill Beverley also. You can’t go!”

“I’m sorry; it’s the only hope for her. If I go with him willingly, he will let her go, I promise you he will. Martin, I’m nothing to you, but she is your daughter!”

“I’m not going to allow you to sacrifice your life to no purpose!” Martin snapped. “He won’t do anything if you refuse to go; he’s too much of a coward. He knows I will hunt him down and kill him slowly with my bare hands if he so much as lays a finger on her!”

He reached into his pocket for his mobile phone, intent on calling the police. All at the same moment Collins suddenly lunged forward and grabbed June, pulling her savagely forward so that she sprawled face down on the floor with a cry of fear and pain. Even as Martin dropped the phone to spring forward to her aid Collins had twisted her over and pushed the knife tight against her throat.

“Stop where you are!” he shouted. “You even touch me, and she’s dead!”

Martin was within inches of him, and he could see the terror in her eyes, but there was no mistaking the intent of the knife that was already pushed against the flesh of her throat.

“Now back off!” Collins snarled.

“You harm, her and I’ll break your neck!”

Collins laughed contemptuously. “My, who’s the big hero? Listen mister, even if you had the guts to do anything, it’s a question of whether her life, and your daughter’s, is worth mine isn’t it? Without me I promise you that you will never find your daughter. She’s out there with a friend of mine who quite fancies her, and come to think of it, if I’m not back soon, he might just try her for size, if you know what I mean?
 
Now as it happens, I’ve a real score to settle with this treacherous bitch, which is no bloody concern of yours. So, I’m going to walk out of here, she’s coming with me, and you are going to do nothing. I’ll phone you in an hour and tell you where you can find your daughter. Try being a hero, and this one’s dead, and as like as not you will be soon afterwards. That will just leave me with a youngster to amuse myself with. The choice is yours.”

Neither man moved as June lay petrified on the floor with the knife pressed firmly against her throat.

“Maybe you think I haven’t the bottle to do anything,” Collins snapped. “Perhaps if I slice her ear off now you will be convinced?”

He glowered at Martin, and for the moment there was no doubting who had the whip hand. He eased back a little, watching Collins like a hawk.

“Right, so get back over there, against the wall,” Collins spat savagely at him. “Now, or I’ll cut her anyway!”

Martin knew that he had no choice, and reluctantly he took a couple of slow paces backward, every muscle tensed, looking for that slightest lapse on Collins’ attention that would give him the chance to leap on the man and disarm him. Collins watched him all the time, and presently he started to get back on his feet dragging June up with him, holding her tightly with one arm whilst the knife remained pressed against her throat.

“That’s right,” he said. “Now, down on your belly; Mr Hero!”

Martin glared at the man and saw the knife tighten against June’s throat and knew that he still had no choice. Slowly he lowered himself down, still watching for that one slight lapse that would be all he needed.

“Good,” said Collins when finally he saw that Martin was flat down. “Now I’m going to leave. Remember; don’t do anything for an hour if you want to find your daughter alive. I will phone you then, and you will know it’s all over.”