Free Bones in High Places by Suzette Hill Page A

he’s on the same trail as ourselves and going to the same place. Crumpelmeyer didn’t knife him for nothing, deranged though he is. There’s method in that madness and I’m damn sure he knows the vicar’s got the plan … You do realize that according to him the likely positions of that gold are actually marked on it by two dots? We’d be mad not to follow this up!’
    ‘But Crumpelmeyer never had a sighting of those documents. How does he know there are two dots?’
    ‘Apparently the wife was always going on about them. Her mother held the title deeds and had told the daughter all the details. That’s why Victor murdered her, stupid sod. When the old girl died he assumed her daughter would automatically inherit the deeds and plans as well as the money – only she didn’t. Left it all to the parson instead! Poor old Victor was so incensed he strangled the wife out of spite and then went on to knife the vicar while trying to get hold of the things.’ There was another snort of laughter.
    ‘Cor,’ replied the other, ‘what you might call a fated family. Didn’t he do the mother in as well?’
    ‘That’s the story and what the authorities reckon, but I’m not convinced of it myself. During the last couple of months I’ve got to know our friend pretty well – sort of made a study of him. And the odd thing is he freely confesses to murdering the wife and attacking the vicar – one of his most favoured topics of conversation in fact, sort of takes a pride in it – but he almost never mentions the mother, shows no interest at all. It’s as if she never existed for him. No, I think someone else was responsible for that one.’
    There was a chortle from across the table. ‘Maybe it was the vicar. That’d be a laugh!’ He picked up the newspaper and stared quizzically at F.O.’s photograph. Some laugh, I thought, flinching nervously. This was getting too near the hind leg! ‘But I still think it’s a long shot,’ he continued. ‘On the other hand, if Crumpelmeyer’s right and the stuff is there like you think, I don’t see why some poncy parson should get his mitts on it. What about the Workers, I say!’
    There was a pause, and then the other said slowly. ‘As it happens, you could be right. Crumplelmeyer’s bonkers all right, but all the same he’s clearer in his mind than when he first came in; and although he barely mentions the mother-in-law, just recently he made an interesting comment on Oughterard.’
    ‘Oh yes, what was that then?’
    ‘It was something like, “I know that sort – cool as they come, and devious as hell. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Not anything.” Well, at first, of course, I thought it was just old Victor having another of his mad rants, angry about his lost money … Except that he wasn’t ranting. He was thoughtful, very thoughtful. I asked him what he was getting at, but he just smiled that fat smile, muttered something that sounded like “killer clerics”, and then clammed up … didn’t utter another word. But I could see he was still thinking, sort of preoccupied. And you know, I keep remembering that … and wondering if he wasn’t on to something, something which could prove exceedingly useful – what you might call a handy little lever … Though, mind you, it’s not only the parson we’ve got to deal with – there’s that other one, his minder or whatever. Smarmy bastard. Didn’t like the look of him at all – pretty shifty if you ask me. Snooty with it!’
    I was just thinking how right he was, when with a gasp and an oath he leapt to his feet. ‘There’s a bloody cat out there. Get down, you little bugger!’ And before I had a chance to retreat I was knocked roughly from the sill, landing heavily on some stony ground below. ‘Can’t abide cats,’ I heard him exclaim. ‘Mean slinking creatures.’
       
    Hell hath no fury like a cat maligned, and I made it my mission there and then to get my own back on such a gross specimen. Even