Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder Read online

  Because she’d had such a disturbed sleep Lucy couldn’t help dozing off for a few minutes. The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake.

  “Miss Goodly?” Rivers said.

  Lucy snapped awake. “What is it? Has something happened?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Rivers looked as awful as Lucy felt. Worse, in fact. His blue eyes had lost their normal spark, his jacket was crumpled, and even his hair had lost its usual stylish floppiness and was hanging in strings over his forehead, as though he’d combed it with one of the porcupines from the wildlife park.

  “I was cleaning Lady Sibyl’s carriage yet again and I found this,” he continued in a voice that sounded very shaken. He showed Lucy what lay in his palm.

  An earring in the shape of a starfish with a diamond at its centre.

  Lucy stared at it, aghast. “It’s the same as the one we found when Angus Reedy was murdered! Does this mean Lady Sibyl is the murderer? That can’t be possible!”

  “Oh, Miss Goodly, I wanted to tell you my suspicions when I bumped into you at the hotel. Her Ladyship has been acting very strangely the last few weeks. I’m a good servant. I keep my employer’s business private. But the fact is … the fact is …”

  “You must tell me, Rivers. What is it?”

  “Little things, Miss Goodly. Muddy shoes when she says she hasn’t been out. And, as I told you before, she’s been off in the carriage without me a few times, flying alone and I don’t know where to. Coming back with the carriage in a state. She went off somewhere the evening before you and Lord Grave visited Brighton.”

  Lucy remembered her earlier fleeting suspicion about Lady Sibyl and how she’d dismissed it. “But Lady Sibyl’s so devoted to MAAM. If she is the villain, she must be a really good actor.”

  “I want to be wrong, believe me, Miss Goodly.” Rivers looked very much as though he was going to burst into tears. Lucy very much hoped he wouldn’t.

  “You said you’ve cleaned the outside of the carriage lots of times lately. When was the last time you cleaned out the inside?”

  Rivers shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. There’s been so much going on. I must confess it’s been a few days. Probably not since before I gave the Beguildys a lift to their friend’s house. That was the night you and his Lordship were attacked by the stone angel.”

  “And have any other ladies, apart from Lady Sibyl, been in the carriage since then?”

  “No. Only Prudence Beguildy.”

  “So then, it’s possible that the earring belongs to Prudence, not Lady Sibyl?”

  “You’re suggesting Miss Beguildy is the culprit?” Rivers stared at her. “I-I— obviously I would be most relieved if Lady Sibyl is innocent. But even so …”

  Lucy could hardly believe what she was thinking herself. Could Prudence really be the murderer? Prudence, who had been so kind when her brother had been so nasty? And who had comforted her on the morning of Angus Reedy’s murder? Lucy peered at the starfish earring again. Now she thought about it, it was something Prudence might wear, given her fondness for sea-related accessories. But if Prudence was the perpetrator, what about the night in the graveyard when Lucy had battled with the graverobber over control of the stone angel? She was certain that had been a man, even though she had never seen him clearly. And the person who broke into Grave Hall and tried to steal the notebook, injuring Vonk in the process, who was clear that the attacker was male. Unless … unless …

  “Prudence wasn’t acting alone!” Lucy exclaimed. “It’s her and Beguildy working together! Rivers, when I suggested that maybe the crimes were committed by a man and a woman working as a team, Beguildy was very quick to rubbish my idea. Maybe that’s because I was on to them! And it could all add up, it really could. The two crimes at Grave Hall, they could have made it look as though someone had broken in.”

  “An inside job? You have a very devious mind, Miss Goodly,” Rivers said admiringly. “And of course Beguildy was at the Charm Inn. So he had plenty of opportunity to do the dreadful deed on poor Mrs Charm.”

  “Exactly!” Lucy said. “And then the jeweller’s. Roland Mole says a woman was seen in his shop the night the Emerald Eye was stolen. That could have been Prudence.”

  “Yes, it could!” Rivers said. He looked excited now that his mistress was seemingly in the clear. “I must say it’s fiendishly clever of them to alternate the perpetrator like that. Designed to cause maximum confusion.”

  “They won’t feel so clever soon! We have to find Lord Grave, get him on his own, tell him what you’ve found and what we think it means.” Lucy headed for the door, but Rivers put his hand on her arm to stop her, the excitement fading from his face.

  “Wait. Wait. We can’t go storming in accusing members of MAAM of serious wrongdoing. There’s a chance that we’re dreadfully mistaken. And we don’t know why the Beguildys are building a golem. Do you have any ideas?”

  Lucy thought hard. “Maybe one of the other clues we’ve collected so far would explain it?”

  “And what are they?”

  “Let’s see. The night of the break-in, there was nothing much apart from a magical trace that I found – a strange web-like thing. There was one at the jeweller’s too. No one else could see them.”

  “Intriguing. But not much to go on. Any other clues at the jeweller’s?”

  “No. Wait, yes. I’d forgotten. Bertie found a blond hair trapped in the hinges of the cabinet the Emerald Eye was taken from. Oh!”

  Rivers was watching her intently “What is it?”

  An idea had jolted to life in Lucy’s brain. She paused for a moment, letting the tendrils of her thoughts come together. “Maybe this is a mad idea. It’s something Diamond O’Brien said. About Jerome Wormwood.”

  “Who?”

  “He worked at the circus. He was Mortimer Thorne’s assistant. Thorne’s in prison for making a golem. Diamond said that Jerome Wormwood had white-blond hair. Just like Beguildy’s. Rivers, what if Beguildy Beguildy is Jerome Wormwood and the hair Bertie found was his? Diamond said he vanished about a year ago. Smell told me that the Beguildys only joined MAAM a few months ago. What if Jerome Wormwood took on a new identity and became Beguildy Beguildy?”

  Rivers stroked his chin thoughtfully. “But what about Prudence Beguildy? Did this Wormwood fellow have a twin sister?”

  “Diamond said he was an orphan, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have had a twin sister, does it? They could have been separated when they were orphaned, sent to different places to live, then later come together again when they grew up. And the Beguildys are actually orphans! Prudence told me that their parents died when they were both very young!”

  Rivers shook his head. “I don’t know. It all seems a bit far-fetched. Even if you’re right, it still doesn’t explain why Beguildy would build a golem.”

  Lucy had already anticipated this question. “Wormwood was devoted to Thorne according to Diamond. Thorne’s stuck in prison for the rest of his life. So maybe Wormwood wants to rescue him?”

  “Ah. I see! Wormwood could use the golem to free Thorne? Is that what you’re saying? It’s quite an idea, Miss Goodly!” Rivers chuckled slightly and ran his hands through his hair.

  “But it is possible.”

  “Perhaps so, but I think we should do a little more discreet investigating before we share this theory with anyone else. Then we can present a cast-iron case.”

  “But what sort of investigating?”

  “We could shortcut to the Beguildys’ residence. Vonk told me you’re a dab hand at that sort of thing. We can have a quick look around. See if we can find any incriminating evidence about the whys and wherefores of it all. Something to really nail the perpetrators so they can’t squirm out of it. What say you, Miss Goodly?”

  “I say yes! But I don’t know anything about the Beguildys’ house. I need to at least know what it looks like to be able to make the shortcut.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve been there a few times with her
Ladyship. I can describe it to you in lots of detail. That would work wouldn’t it?”

  “I can try.”

  “Right. Now there’s an abandoned outbuilding in the grounds, we could aim for that. Less chance of being seen by the Beguildys’ servants that way.”

  Rivers described the building to Lucy. A disused stone cowshed, long and low with a mossy roof, set in the grounds of the Beguildys’ house.

  Lucy closed her eyes and imagined as hard as she could. But nothing happened. She tried again.

  “Come on, Miss Goodly,” Rivers said, sounding uncharacteristically testy when Lucy had tried and failed to make the shortcut the second time.

  “I can’t do it!”

  “Try. Just once more. Really focus. That old cowshed still has the whiff of cow about it, if that helps.”

  Lucy gathered up her energy and tried again, even though she was sure she was wasting her time and they would be better off finding Lord Grave and telling him what the Beguildys had been up to. But to her surprise and excitement, after a few moments of intense concentration, the sparks that heralded the forming of a shortcut began fizzling and sparkling. Seconds later it opened. Once it got going, the whole process was much swifter than usual, as though the shortcut sensed the need for urgency.

  Lucy peered though the opening, trying to make out what lay on the other side, but everything was in darkness, with only square outlines of light visible here and there. Perhaps this was the inside of the old cowshed and the windows were shuttered up? But how on earth had she’d managed to shortcut into it when Rivers had only described the outside?

  “Let’s go,” Rivers said.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Lucy asked.

  “Very sure. Don’t be scared.” Rivers took Lucy’s hand. “We’ll go through together.”

  Lucy had a moment of misgiving, then squashed the feeling down. “All right.”

  Seconds after the two of them had stepped through into the mysterious darkened building, the shortcut made a sucking noise and sealed itself shut, with the usual rush of energy that ruffled Lucy’s hair.

  “Rivers, why did it do that?” Lucy said, perplexed that the shortcut had closed all by itself. “I didn’t even—”

  “No, you didn’t. I did. Now let’s open these shutters and see what we have here.” Although it was very dark, Rivers seemed to have no trouble finding his way to one of the windows.

  “I didn’t know you could shortcut!”

  “Neither did I, to be honest, Miss Goodly. Perhaps somehow you transferred your power to me in your moment of need?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m very glad we made it, however it happened. These shutters! They’re always so stiff.” There was a creaking and scraping as Rivers wrenched the shutters open, the hinges flaking rust. Light flowed into the room and Lucy’s next question died on her lips as she glimpsed the horror before her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE REAL JEROME WORMWOOD

  “The Beguildys have certainly been busy,” Rivers said. “Don’t worry, Miss Goodly, this thing looks harmless as yet.”

  Lucy inched towards the monstrous form laid out on the stone table that stood in the middle of the cowshed, preparing herself to flee at the slightest hint of movement. She could see now why the graverobber had needed to steal so much grave dirt to build the golem, which was easily twice her height. The clay-rich earth was tightly packed and had been baked hard to a terracotta colour. Stones of various sizes were mixed into some parts of the body and the whole thing had the appearance of a very badly carved statue. The golem’s head was jagged along the top, as though its maker had clumsily attempted to give it the appearance of having hair. The monster’s face was completely blank with no features whatsoever. Its hands and feet were crudely formed with sausage-like fingers and stubby toes. But those sausage-like fingers were not at all comical with their fifteen-centimetre-long blades for fingernails. The feet were nothing to laugh about either; the toenails were half-moons of metal, which looked lethally sharp. Lucy was not the sort of girl who had a fit of the vapours at every opportunity, but her head began to swim at the idea of the golem becoming a living entity, and she thought she might be sick. Not wanting to look at it for a moment longer, she headed for the door and went outside.

  “Come back,” Rivers called.

  But Lucy paid no heed to him, and went out into the cool afternoon air, breathing slowly to calm herself. A fine rain began to fall. Lucy lifted her face to it, grateful for its softness and freshness. As the horrible sick feeling faded, she began to take in more of her surroundings. From where she stood, the land sloped gently upwards to the Beguildys’ house. Lucy frowned. It looked wrong somehow, a strange shape, jagged and uneven. The fine rain stopped for a brief moment and a watery sun peeped out of a slice of cloud. Now she could see the house more clearly, Lucy realised why it had looked so odd. It was a ruin. Even as she watched, a flock of crows flew down and settled themselves on the exposed rafters, cawing enthusiastically to each other. Then the gap in the clouds closed and it began to rain again, this time heavily.

  “Quite a mess, isn’t it? I don’t know how the Beguildys can bear to live in such squalor.” Lucy jumped. Rivers was standing behind her. “Best get out of the rain. You’ll catch your death if you stand out here much longer.”

  Rivers was smiling at her. But it wasn’t his usual open, cheerful smile. It was less friendly, as if he was only just keeping his temper in check. Or perhaps he was feeling as unsettled as she was by the monstrous thing that lay in the building behind him. Realising she really was getting soaked, Lucy reluctantly followed Rivers back inside. There was a pile of old sacking in one corner of the cowshed. Rivers picked up a couple of pieces for them to dry themselves off with.

  “It’s a bit rough, but it’ll do the job. What I wouldn’t give for one of Mrs Crawley’s freshly laundered towels right now!” Rivers said, sounding more like his usual self. When he’d finished drying his face and hair with the sacking, he dropped it on to the stone floor. Lucy wiped her own face and was about to do likewise when she noticed the sacking Rivers had discarded was smudged with black. A memory sprang into her mind. Another rainstorm, the one in London just before she went off to O’Brien’s Midnight Circus with Bertie and Smell. The dirty rainwater running down Rivers’ face. He’d blamed it on the London smog. But there was no smog out here in the middle of nowhere.

  A terrible suspicion began to grow in Lucy. However, she made sure to nonchalantly throw her piece of sacking on top of the one Rivers had flung away. She didn’t want him to know she’d noticed anything odd. Luckily, he was too engrossed in closely examining the golem.

  Lucy had the overwhelming feeling that she needed to get back to Grave Hall, and fast. “We need to fetch Lord Grave urgently! Otherwise the Beguildys might guess we’re on to them and make a run for it.”

  “Not just yet. Come and look.”

  This was, of course, the last thing she wanted to do, but she did as he asked and moved closer to the golem, pretending to study it carefully.

  “It’s impressive, don’t you think?” Rivers asked.

  “Yes,” Lucy said. “But I still think we should leave now.”

  “Not yet, I said,” Rivers replied, bending to examine the golem further.

  Lucy’s unease grew. But she didn’t have to stay here a moment longer than she wanted to. She might not have been able to shortcut to this dreadful place on her own as it was too unfamiliar to her, but she could shortcut back to Grave Hall. She tried not to let fear swamp her as she focused her mind on creating a shortcut to the meeting room where hopefully the rest of MAAM would be gathered by now. But something strange kept happening; it was as though she was bumping into some sort of invisible barrier. She couldn’t get past it, however strongly she channelled her imagination.

  “Stop that,” Rivers said without looking up. The menace in his voice made Lucy’s stomach flip over with fear.
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  “I wasn’t doing anything.”

  Rivers turned to face her. “You remember the jeweller’s? Old Roland Mole thought he had perfect anti-shortcutting charms in place, the fool. They were useless against my shortcutting skills. I’ve spent years honing them. I can shortcut to places you can only dream of. And my anti-shortcut charms are impregnable, unlike Mole’s.”

  Lucy lunged for the door again, but Rivers was too quick for her. He grabbed her and pulled her away.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Miss Goodly, but I need you to stay here for a while.”

  Rivers’ hair was drying now, and the dye that covered it had turned patchy. Here and there, Lucy could see his real hair colour beginning to shine, though. It was a white-ish blond. Lucy remembered again what Diamond O’Brien had said about Jerome Wormwood. The most stunning white-blond hair I’ve ever seen.

  “It was you. You’re Jerome Wormwood, aren’t you? It was you all along! Not Beguildy Beguildy! And Prudence was helping you!”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t twig before, as they say,” Rivers said. “Although Prudence Beguildy had nothing to do with it. But I admit I had a little involuntary help from her and Lady Sibyl, though.”

  Rivers went over to a cupboard that stood in the right-hand corner of the cowshed behind the golem’s head. He opened it and brought out a pile of women’s clothing, including a blonde wig.

  “I stole these from Prudence and her Ladyship. The stupid women have so many clothes they didn’t notice me borrowing a frock here and a cloak there. Prudence wears wigs sometimes, so I took one of those too.”

  “You were dressed as a woman when you stole the Emerald Eye and murdered Angus Reedy!”

  “I thought it would put MAAM on the wrong track if anyone spotted me. It worked more successfully than I could have hoped.”