A Room Full Of Bones

‘So Lord Smith didn’t seem unwell yesterday evening?’ says Nelson, sitting in a squashy armchair which seems about to digest him.

‘No. He was his usual self,’ says Romilly. ‘We had supper together and he told me all about the bishop’s coffin and how impressed he was with your colleague Dr Galloway, and he said goodnight about ten. He goes to bed early because he gets up so early. I stayed up to watch the news and Newsnight, then I went to bed. I was woken up at about eleven-thirty by Dan calling out…’ She stops.

‘He called out?’ Nelson prompts.

Romilly Smith takes a deep breath, holding her handkerchief to her eyes. Caroline pats her arm rather ineffectually.

‘I heard him shout something. I went to his room and he seemed to be having the most dreadful nightmare. He was pouring with sweat and his eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to be able to see.’

‘Did he say anything? Anything that you could understand?’

‘He was ranting on about a coach and horses. Afterwards I realised what that meant. Dan had an Irish nanny when he was little. Niamh she was called. She sounds like a real ghoul but he was devoted to her. She told him about this black coach that’s meant to come for people when they’re dying. It’s pulled by six black horses and the coachman’s headless.’

‘It’s called the Coach-a-Bower,’ says Caroline. ‘The black coachman knocks three times on your door and when you open it he throws a bucket of blood in your face.’

‘I thought it was a banshee in the coach,’ says Randolph, still standing by the drinks trolley. ‘You heard her voice and you knew your time was up.’

‘So you know this story too?’ asks Nelson.

‘Dad used to tell it to us’ says Caroline. ‘At bedtime.’ Charming, thinks Nelson. Nothing like a banshee and a bucket of blood to make children sleep well. He’s glad that he was just a working-class dad who stuck to Winnie- the-Pooh.

‘So your husband was talking about this coach,’ says Nelson. ‘Was he delirious?’

‘I think so. He kept saying that the coach was coming for him and he kept talking about a snake.’

‘A snake?’

‘He said a snake was there on the bed with him. He said he could see its eyes. They’re burning, he kept saying.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I felt his forehead. He was boiling hot so I called the doctor. I tried to sponge Dan down, to get him to have some water, but he was beside himself, yelling and… and crying.’

‘What time was this?’

‘About midnight.’

‘Was anyone else in the house?’

‘I was out,’ says Randolph, sounding rather sheepish. ‘I arrived back at the same time as the doctor. I couldn’t believe the state Dad was in.’

‘You should have called me,’ sobs Caroline.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her mother touches her hand. ‘But we just didn’t know how serious it was. Everything happened so quickly.’

‘What did the doctor say?’

‘He said that we should get Danforth to hospital. He was dehydrated and needed liquids intravenously. He called for an ambulance. They were very quick but Dan died on the way to hospital.’

Just like Neil Topham, thinks Nelson. Another man in apparently good health one minute, dead the next. And he doesn’t like the mention of the snake. He doesn’t like it at all. A line from one of the letters comes back to him. We will come for you. We will come for you in the Dreaming.

‘Did they offer a cause of death?’ he asks. ‘I’m sorry if this is hard for you.’

‘Heart attack, the paramedics said, but someone at the hospital said it might have been a lung infection.’

There’ll have to be an autopsy, thinks Nelson. Of course, Danforth Smith could have died of natural causes – heart attacks can happen to anyone – but two suspicious deaths in six days, both connected to the museum?

‘Did Lord Smith have any heart problems?’ he asks.

‘No.’ Romilly seems exhausted by her account. She leans back against the sofa cushions and shuts her eyes. ‘He always seemed as strong as a horse.’ She laughs sadly. ‘Of course, the horses were his life. Maybe he worked too hard. I don’t know.’

‘He was diabetic wasn’t he?’ asks Nelson.

Romilly looks surprised, almost angry. ‘How did you know that?’

‘He told me. When I came to speak to him about Neil Topham’s death.’

‘You don’t suspect that there’s any link between Dan’s death and that chap at the museum,’ says Romilly. ‘I mean, it’s preposterous to suggest-’

‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ says Nelson, ‘but I’ve got two unexpected deaths in a week. I’m sure you’ll agree that I need to investigate. Likely as not, your husband’s death was from natural causes. I’ll leave you alone now, I’m sure you’ve all had enough questions. My sergeant will be here in a few minutes. Could you show her any CCTV footage from last night? I believe you have CCTV?’

‘Yes,’ says Caroline. ‘But I’d know if anyone came in. My cottage is by the gate.’

‘Did you hear the doctor and the ambulance?’

‘No. They came the other way. By the house.’

‘So it’s possible that someone could have got in that way?’

‘Do you really think that someone could have got in and… and poisoned him or something?’ asks Caroline.

Interesting assumption, thinks Nelson. Never assume, that’s his motto.

‘It’s unlikely,’ he says. ‘I just want to make sure that we leave no stone unturned.’

And what do you find under stones, he reflects, as he walks back through the yard, watched by the curious horses and impassive stable lads.

Snakes.

CHAPTER 14

As soon as Ruth meets Janet Meadows she realises why Cathbad said that she was the perfect person to ask about Bishop Augustine. Janet, a tall elegant woman in black, is clearly a male to female transsexual. She tells Ruth as much, as soon they sit down in the refectory, a striking modern building built next to the medieval cathedral.

‘Think it’s best to get this out of the way. I used to be Jan Tomaschewski. I published quite a lot under that name. Five years ago I became Janet. It’s better to say so straight away, otherwise you’ll be thinking to yourself “Isn’t she tall? Hasn’t she got big hands?” I used to be a man. End of story.’

Ruth, who had been looking at Janet’s hands, blushes. ‘Why Meadows?’ is all she can think of saying.

‘Well, Tomaschewski was such a mouthful and it was very patriarchal. Comes from the name Thomas. I was fed up with being named after someone called Thomas so I decided to name myself after something I liked. I live near the water meadows so I thought – meadows.’

‘It’s lovely,’ says Ruth. ‘I used to hate my name. Too plain and biblical. Maybe I should change it.’

‘No,’ says Janet decidedly. ‘Ruth Galloway suits you. I understand you’re a friend of Cathbad’s? There’s another one who changed his name.’

‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘I can never think of him as Michael.’

‘Well, Michael was an archangel,’ says Janet. ‘A rather ambivalent figure.’

Ambivalent in what way, thinks Ruth. Angels are famously sexually ambivalent, of course, and Lucifer was an angel before going over to the dark side. Again the line between saints and sinners is rather blurred.

‘So you want to know about Bishop Augustine,’ says Janet. ‘He’s the flavour of the month with you archaeologists. I wanted to be at the opening of the coffin. I came to the first event but it was cancelled. They