Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) (18 page)

Rupert, as if under a spell, followed her up
the winding steps to the lamp room. He gasped at the stunning sight through the
windows as Louise unbuckled his belt and pulled his grey flannel work trousers
to the floor.

‘They’re nice Y-fronts, Rupert,’ she said,
mockingly, as she yanked them down next.

Louise pulled him onto the rug, paying no
heed as the lighthouse door below opened and closed. She guided Rupert inside
her, sensing that he had no idea exactly where to stick it. Rupert, with his
white, pigeon chest and puny limbs, was thrilled to experience the pleasure of mounting
a woman for the first time – and in such remarkable circumstances.

As he climaxed, his pimply bottom bobbing like
an eager rabbit’s, Rupert’s goofy mouth swung open, poised to emit his first
ever yell of ecstasy. Louise was ready and clamped her hand down firmly to
silence him.

‘Whose briefcase is that?’
enquired Dan, as he and John walked into the kitchen, having just returned from
the outbuilding.

‘It must be the Finds Liaison Officer’s I’d
guess,’ said John. ‘Louise is probably giving him a guided tour or something.

‘Louise, Emma, we’re back!’ he shouted up
the spiral staircase. ‘Anyone home?’

John and Dan both scrubbed their hands hard
in the sink.

‘I feel like a rock-pool bath after that,’
said John, ‘but I suppose we better wait for the man from the council to go – I
don’t think he’d appreciate seeing us jumping around the rocks without our
clothes on.

‘Ugh, am I glad that little job is over,’
added John, soaping his arms to his elbows. ‘I can’t believe that neither
Louise nor Emma came looking for us, we’ve been ages. I think we did the right
thing though. I just did not want to be going down that shaft again.’

‘No, you were right,’ said Dan in a low
voice, filling the kettle. ‘Once that find is investigated, the local
archaeology people are sure to want to go down it and scout around. It wouldn’t
do for them to find a puddle of dried blood in the passageway. Mind you, it
won’t only be the heritage boffins either will it? I’ll bet the police will have
a good scout around everywhere too.’

‘They’re unlikely to forensically examine
every inch of it without good reason,’ said John. ‘Now that we’ve cleaned the
area up, there should be no reason for them to suspect the exact location where
Zak met his death. We must keep our fingers crossed that they’ll judge it to be
natural causes arising from a tragic accident out at sea. Anyway, let’s go and
find the others.’

John climbed the staircase, calling as he
did so. Louise was not in their room. He looked in on Emma. She had just woken
after doing her best to sleep off her headache. She had no idea where Louise
was. John called to the lamp room: ‘Louise, are you up there?’

The lamp room door eventually opened and a slightly
breathless voice called down, ‘yes I’m coming, give me a moment.’

‘We’re making some tea if you’re
interested,’ shouted John.

By the time John had made a pot of tea and
arranged five mugs on a tray, Louise, the council man and Emma were assembled
in the lounge.

‘Sorry Dan and I weren’t here to meet you,
Mr Spencer,’ said John, handing him his second cuppa. ‘I hope Louise has been
looking after you ok.’

‘Call me Rupert,’ said Rupert, extending his
hand, grinning. ‘Yes she’s been particularly attentive to my every need. She
took me up to the lamp room and showed me a splendid view. It was a most
memorable experience.’

That earned Rupert a sharp look from Louise
who could tell he was fizzing with pride at having finally lost his cherry. She
moved her chair within easy ankle-kicking distance.

‘Come on, down to business,’ she said. ‘I
will go and get what we found from the safe and array it on the coffee table
for Rupert to take a look at and he can tell us what he thinks.’

With any luck, his deep-seated love of
ancient artefacts would reassert itself in his mind. So it proved. Not for the
first time that morning, the bulging eyes of Rupert Spencer, Finds Liaison Officer
and first-rate archaeology nerd, seemed poised to tumble from their sockets. He
put his hand to his gaping mouth in theatrical astonishment at what he saw
before him. It
was
an incredible sight – for all of them.

‘Astonishing,’ said Rupert, eventually, his
bulbous eyes gleaming. ‘Oh how glad I am that this constitutes Treasure Trove and
not salvage from a wreck.’

‘Aah, so you officially agree that I was
right,’ said Dan, smiling.

‘Oh yes quite so, you see it would
constitute wreck had this dropped to the seabed accidentally from the ship as
it foundered. But because, as you say, Dan, it was salvaged at the time by
Captain Felipe and placed in the spot you found it specifically by him, to
which he hoped one day to return and take it away, then it is most definitely
treasure, and fine treasure at that.

‘You mentioned the gold and silver coins and
ingots on the phone but these too are remarkably fine and valuable specimens,’ Rupert
continued, pointing to the pewter drinking goblets.

‘So what happens now?’ asked Dan.

‘Well, you’ve done absolutely the right
thing by reporting this find to me as Finds Liaison Officer for Cornwall. By law
you are required to do so within 14 days if you know or suspect that what you have
found comes within the legal definition of treasure as defined in the Treasure
Act of 1996 or indeed constitutes what used to be called Treasure Trove,’
droned Rupert, pompously, anxious to atone for his earlier slip-ups.

Rupert puffed himself up in his chair and
took a noisy slurp of tea. He felt in charge now. Here he was, a man of the
world, an expert in his field and also – with effect from that day – someone
who could charm and seduce the ladies. No longer would he just be an archaeologist
bookworm, now he was a proper man who could hold his head high in the world.

‘Fine, so the next step is?’ asked Dan
impatiently. ‘We don’t want this stuff to sit on the coffee table, it needs to
be somewhere secure.’

‘Yes indeed,’ said Rupert. ‘What I need to
do now is to inform Her Majesty’s Coroner for Cornwall who is likely to call a
formal inquest into this find. This has two key functions: to decide who found
it and whether it constitutes treasure. If it is declared treasure, it belongs
to the Crown and I will inform the British Museum to ascertain whether they or
any other museum wishes to purchase these items. That being the case, and it is
highly likely, the hoard will be bought by a museum from the Crown based on a
market valuation carried out by the Treasure Valuation Committee. Provided you
are declared the legitimate finders, all or part of the sum paid will be shared
between the four of you.’

The others listened in silence, taking it in.

‘The one big unknown,’ continued Rupert, ‘is
this – what effect will the question of ownership of the land where you found
this treasure have on your claim? If you have the sales particulars of the
lighthouse and island, Louise, I might be able to shed some light on it.’

Dan went to get them, he had put them safe
along with Captain Felipe’s diary.

‘You see,’ said Rupert, ‘if you seek out
treasure on land you don’t own without the permission of the owner, you might
not be entitled to much if any of the subsequent value.’

The others looked at him in dismay. Was this
wisdom talking, or youthful bluster? But within a few seconds they had reason
to be grateful to him.

‘It shouldn’t be hard to sort out,’ he said,
glancing at the plans and architectural drawings. ‘This isn’t quite my field
but I know something about it. Aah yes, you see the tunnel is marked on the
diagram and was clearly borne in mind when the sale was made.

‘Yes, look here, amid the legal jargon, it
was included as part of the sale of the island to your parents, Louise, as an
easement
appurtenant.
I don’t blame you for missing that, what it means is that the
tunnel and two caves adjacent belong to your parents but the easement allows
the Crown access along the tunnel. In other words, there is effectively a
public right, or at least, a Royal right of way leading to this island but its
ownership rests with your parents.

‘This is good news since while they may be
entitled to a 50% share in this find, provided they say that what you took from
the cave was with their permission, you will each get quarter shares of the
remaining 50%.

‘And . . . ,’ Rupert paused for maximum
effect, sitting tall in his chair and colouring slightly, ‘I’m pleased to inform
you that you would be in line for several tens of thousands of pounds each – even
based on a quarter of a half, with the rest going to your mum and dad Louise,
so they should be pleased with you.’

‘That’d be a first,’ said Louise, grinning
at him. ‘That sounds pretty darn good to me. So as Dan says, where do we go
from here?’

 ‘My advice would be that you come ashore
with me now and we’ll take the hoard to the Royal Cornwall Museum – my van is
parked near the jetty, it will easily fit in the back – and hand it over to the
Curator,’ said Rupert. ‘He will give you a receipt for the items and keep
everything securely pending the decision of the Coroner.’

The others looked at each other in excitement
at the news. This sounded promising. No-one minded that half the value would
probably go to Louise’s parents. It was, after all, thanks to them that they
were having such a fantastic holiday in the first place, let alone getting the
opportunity to find buried treasure!

‘Ok, folks, shall we do as the man from the
council says and go over with him and hand over the loot to the Curator at the
museum? It will make his day I expect,’ said Louise.

Rupert helped them load the treasure into
boxes and between them they heaved them across the rocks to the Cornwall
Council motorboat where the skipper was waiting patiently.

‘I say, I’m sorry we were a while,’ said Rupert.
‘I hope you haven’t been too bored.’

‘Bored?’ replied the skipper, stroking his
grey moustache. ‘I’ve had my newspaper to read and a lovely view to gaze at, I
could sit here all day in this boat.’ He helped Rupert and the students lift
the boxes on board.

‘Right, jump in everybody,’ said Rupert
cheerily. ‘You don’t mind a few extra passengers do you, Pete?’

‘Certainly not sir, so long as we’re still
afloat, I’m happy,’ he replied.

Dan looked contentedly towards Wreckers
Island as the boat began its journey across the bay. The tension and danger of
the previous day when bad luck seemed ever poised to strike had been replaced
with a sense of calm and order. The unfortunate matter of what to do about Zak
had been dealt with promptly and soon the treasure would soon be sitting safely
in the sturdy vaults of a long-established and respected museum. At last he
could relax.

He glanced casually across at the newspaper
now lying beneath skipper Pete’s steering wheel. It was that morning’s edition
of the Cornish Gazette. The front page headline read: ‘
Body found off the
coast
’.

Dan read it with only mild curiosity at
first, absentmindedly wondering where exactly. Reality hit him with a jolt:
Zak! His body had already been found! It must have been discovered within an hour
or two of them dumping it to have made it into the following day’s paper – just
what they didn’t want to happen.

Dan shot a sharp look at John but he hadn’t
noticed and nor had the girls.

‘Pete, it is Pete isn’t it, would you mind
if I had a look at your paper – catch up on the local gossip?’ asked Dan.

‘No not at all cap’n, you go right ahead,’
said Pete, amiably.

Dan took the newspaper, angling it so that
the others couldn’t see, swallowed hard and began reading.

THE body of a man with a severe head
wound was recovered from the sea off the south Cornish coast last night.

The discovery was made in a ravine close
to Gunwalloe Cove yesterday evening by a fisherman. The man is thought to be
local although a formal identification has not yet taken place.

The man, in his late 40s, was wearing a ship’s
safety harness and it is possible he was lost overboard and the tide carried
his body to the shore, say police.

‘It is not possible at this stage to be
sure what caused the injury sustained to the head or whether it was responsible
for the man’s death,’ said a spokesman for Devon & Cornwall Police.

‘We believe that death occurred sometime
within the last 24 hours and will treat it as suspicious until foul play can be
ruled out.

‘Inquiries are on-going and the Coroner
has been informed. We would appeal to anyone with any information to contact
Devon & Cornwall Police.’

A chill settled on Dan’s heart. So, Her
Majesty’s Coroner would be getting two reports in close succession: one about
an unexplained death; the other about a haul of treasure being found. What an
unfortunate juxtaposition. Both events were linked in the most unfair and
unforeseen circumstances.

Dan pictured himself standing in the dock,
trying to explain everything to a judge. It would take some doing. Whatever the
mitigating circumstances, moving bodies, covering up evidence and failing to
report a death were very serious offences. Not sufficient to land anyone with a
murder charge probably, but plenty enough for charges of some kind to be
brought and custodial sentences passed, degree courses and careers wrecked and
a huge official reward, which could set them up for the rest of their lives,
forfeited. Yet if through their actions they could spare Emma a terrible
ordeal, surely it was worth it.

Emma smiled at him. ‘A penny for your
thoughts,’ she said as Dan slipped the paper to John.

‘No, you wouldn’t want them, not for a penny,’
he replied.

‘What about a gold coin,’ she whispered
mischievously. ‘I bet you were thinking flattering things about going back to
Oxford University with me on your arm and our money worries solved.

‘Oh Dan,’ she continued, her watery blue
eyes gazing lovingly at him as they sat alongside each other in the stern of
the boat, ‘what a wonderful, unforgettable time this is.’

Dan smiled at her and caressed her arm.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we are very lucky.’

It was true, he reflected, they
were
very lucky, they just had to hope their luck held.