Deadly Treasures. Vivian Conroy

Duncan’s voice clearly. Goodman was speaking much more softly. I have no idea what he said.’

      How convenient again. Alkmene shifted her weight in the seat. She didn’t trust Peartree’s testimony at all, but the local police would have no reason to doubt him.

      Unless she could prove Peartree had a grudge against Duncan and therefore a reason to incriminate him. What was the true reason for his visit to the dig?

      Peartree said, ‘Look, nobody out here knew the murdered man. Usually killers don’t strike at victims they do not know, unless they’re insane. Are you suggesting we have a madman out here?’

      On the contrary. She considered Peartree very sane, rational and organized. He had overheard a conversation where Duncan threatened the man who had come to see him. It might have given him an idea or two. If Peartree had never wanted Duncan to be in charge of the expedition, as his own bitter words earlier had clearly suggested, this might have seemed the ideal opportunity to remove Duncan from the scene.

      But would you really kill a man to frame another? It seemed like such a risky thing to do. Despite her dislike of Peartree’s attitude now, and also in town earlier, she had to keep an open mind and look for other suspects besides him.

      Suddenly Peartree braked hard, and she was thrown forwards. She just got her hands against the dashboard, but she felt a painful twinge in her neck. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Ruddy dog,’ Peartree cried, gesturing at the road in front of them.

      A big shaggy dog had jumped away from the car. It stood looking at them disdainfully, then jumped into the meadow to their left and ran off. Alkmene looked to the right to see where it had come from. She spied a crooked man carrying a big sack over his shoulder.

      Peartree honked at the man, swinging his fist at him, before he drove on.

      ‘That crackpot also worked on the site,’ Peartree said to Alkmene. ‘Old Paul, they call him. Nobody knows if he even has a last name. Seems he had family living near the Black Castle for centuries. He can trace his genealogy back to Noah if you ask me. I thought it was only the Irish who were obsessed with their family line and heritage, but the Cornish are just as bad.’

      ‘I’ve never had a problem with a man who was proud of his legacy,’ Alkmene said, looking back at the sturdy little man. ‘What on earth is in that sack he’s carrying?’

      ‘His finds for the day. Old Paul is a beachcomber.’ Peartree grimaced. ‘Seems he has laid claim to the land Duncan is digging on. He has an old deed that says the land belongs to his family and Duncan is not allowed to work there. But Price got permission for Duncan via a relation in London. I think the former mayor of this place or something? Anyway, if Duncan recognized the little man’s claims, he would have to share the finds with him. Duncan is not the sharing type, you know.’

      Alkmene nodded. ‘It sounds like Duncan was at odds with a lot of people out here. How long had he been working here?’

      Peartree shrugged. ‘For months I think. I came in a little later. I had been to Monaco on business first.’

      ‘Yes, what do you do exactly?’ Alkmene studied him.

      ‘I’m into wine. Import, export. I met Duncan when I delivered some fine Chardonnay to his father. Duncan told me all about his work here and invited me to come take a look.’

      The meeting surprised Alkmene. She had guessed that Duncan and Peartree had met via Duncan’s patron Price. Or maybe even were old acquaintances, for instance from Duncan’s time at Eton. After all, you didn’t invite someone over for a stay, for weeks on end, without knowing him fairly well.

      With Peartree turning out to be a wine merchant who had just delivered some goods to his father’s house, it seemed a bit odd that Duncan had immediately sought his friendship.

      Jake would probably have considered that a typical class-conscious conviction, but Alkmene knew better than most how Duncan had been raised. He had to have changed a lot to act so at odds with his upbringing.

      As if Peartree sensed her disbelief, he smiled and spoke slowly. ‘No, actually it wasn’t like that. I spread that tale to be kind to Duncan. I don’t want to embarrass him with the truth.’

      Alkmene waited.

      Peartree said, ‘Duncan and I met at a club, playing cards. Duncan was a bit drunk at the time and boasting about a treasure he was going to unearth in Cornwall.’

      Alkmene’s heart beat fast. The Black Castle gold, again.

      Peartree said, ‘I bet Duncan he couldn’t find this alleged treasure and he bet me that he could. I’m afraid that he was so drunk at the time he wagered quite a lot of money on it.’

      Alkmene blinked. It wasn’t Duncan’s excess drinking that baffled her, although it was disconcerting that he had also been drunk when he had been attacked by the locals recently. How much was he drinking and why?

      But far above this unfortunate revelation, Peartree had handed her a far more vital clue. In a few callous words he had explained that Duncan had wagered part of his family fortune on the chances of finding an elusive treasure here on site.

      It was so like Duncan.

      It was so…

      Dumb.

      Alkmene suppressed a deep sigh. ‘So if Duncan doesn’t turn up this alleged treasure, you’ll be rich?’

      Peartree shrugged. ‘Rich is a big word, but I’ll be able to travel to France on holiday instead of business for a change.’

      Alkmene nodded. It still didn’t explain how Peartree had known Duncan. She refused to accept that they had been in the same club by coincidence. They had to have known each other before the unfortunate wager. But the wager did explain why Peartree had come out here. He wanted to see for himself how Duncan was getting along.

      Or rather not getting along. After all, it would be in Peartree’s interest that Duncan did not find anything. That his excavation here would end in abject failure.