Mortuus Virgo Read online

  ‘Coin,’ he said again through his smashed teeth.

  She looked down at the face with the terrible injuries.

  ‘Coin?’ she asked, ‘Oh, your coin, don’t you worry about that, I’ll keep it safe until you get better.’

  ‘Listen!’ he hissed suddenly, using the last of his strength, ‘Too late…….. Important…… the coin…… be careful……’

  ‘Careful,’ she said ‘What do you mean careful? Who did this to you?’

  It was three hours later when the policewoman left India’s flat. The librarian was wrapped in her dressing gown and lay on the sofa, her eyes red and swollen after all the crying. She had scrubbed the blood from her body and put her clothes in the bin. No matter how much she washed them, she knew she could never wear them again, not after they had been soaked with the blood of a dead man.

  India sipped on her coffee, regretting not having any wine in the flat. After they had taken the body away, the questions had started, first in the back of the police car and then back at her place. There was not much to tell really, she had simply found the body and called the police. She had told them about his visit to the library and the request to research the mysterious necklace but as the policewoman said, it was probably a coincidence and he was most likely the victim of a particularly vicious mugging. Nevertheless, they would call around the library tomorrow to pick it up just in case it was valuable and may be the motive for the mugging. After they had left, she had stood for almost ten minutes under a scalding shower, desperate to wash away the remains of the night.

  At last it was quiet and as she sipped her coffee she contemplated the last few hours. The strange Mr Jones, the necklace, the murder, it all seemed so surreal, like something from a cheap gangster film, but what made it even more strange was the fact that he had used the last of his strength to warn her of some unknown danger, and that danger seemed linked to the coin he had left at the library. She crossed the room to her bookshelf and drew out a book on ancient coins to see if there was anything about it in one of her many reference books, but, before settling down, went to the kitchen to see if there was anything stronger to drink. It was going to be a long night.

  The ringing was incessant. Over and over again it screeched, reaching deep into her mind forcing her up from the depths of sleep her body desperately craved. For a few seconds she struggled to remember why she was on the sofa, covered with nothing more than her dressing gown. The discovery channel was droning some obscure programme in the corner, the telly left on from last night and the whole of the flat was lit up like Blackpool promenade. Her memories came flooding back as she sat up, holding her head in her hands. The half bottle of vodka she had found at the back of the fridge had seemed like a good idea at the time, but boy did she regret it now. She searched for her phone between the cushions before finally finding it under the sofa and looked at the screen. Jenny Work, it said. India groaned. Why on Earth would the library manager be ringing at six thirty in the morning? She focussed on the green button and cleared her throat in an attempt to sound half human.

  ‘Hello, Jen,’ she said, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘India,’ called the voice, ‘Thank God, where are you?’

  ‘At home,’ she answered, ‘Why, where did you think I was?’

  ‘Oh, India, You took so long to answer I thought…’

  ‘Jen!’ interrupted India, ‘Get to the point. It’s stupid o’clock, I’ve had a shit night and I need to go to bed, now what’s the matter?’

  ‘India, I need you to come in to work, right now.’

  ‘Now, but why, what’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s the Library,’ said Jen, ‘It’s on fire!’

  Despite the urgency of Jen’s call, there was no way she could meet people in the state she was in so she showered quickly and put a bit of slap on. She stared at the gaunt face in the mirror.

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ she groaned at herself, shocked at the image and picked up her car keys from the hall table. After a moments pause, she replaced the keys and picked up her mobile to call a taxi. The last thing she needed now was to lose her license.

  An hour after she had received Jenny’s call, India stood in the drizzling rain surrounded by police officers. Two fire engines were packing up while the crew of a third were throwing out still smouldering books out of one of the library’s windows to the roadway below. The whole scene was shimmering in blue flashing lights and occasional early bird joggers were being moved on by the police. She spotted Jenny standing under an umbrella talking to a female police officer and walked over to join them.

  ‘Jen, what’s happened?’ she asked, interrupting the conversation.

  ‘India,’ said Jenny spinning around, ‘I’m so glad you’re safe. For a while there we thought you may be still in there.’ She indicated the smouldering shell of the library.

  ‘No, I’ve been home all night,’ she said, ‘Had quite an evening of my own, as constable Deeley can testify.’ She smiled at the police woman. ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Hello, Miss Sommers,’ she said, ‘We meet again.’

  ‘We do, how come you’re still working?’

  ‘Oh you know, short staffed, government cuts, that sort of thing.

  ‘You know each other?’ interrupted Jenny.

  ‘Constable Deeley was the one who interviewed me last night,’ said India.

  ‘Last night! Why, what happened last night?’

  ‘Sorry Jenny, you haven’t heard have you, there was a man stabbed in the car park. I was the one who found him.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Jenny, ‘Is he…?’

  India nodded, confirming the unfinished question.

  ‘How awful,’ she gasped, ‘Are you Okay?’

  ‘Been better, but anyway, what happened here?’

  ‘Don’t know much, but the firemen are making the building safe as we speak. Apparently they managed to contain the worst, but there is still a lot of damage.

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘On call,’ said Jenny, ‘Emergency key holder, though why they asked me to come out, I don’t know. By the time I got here they had broken the doors down anyway. I feel like a bit of a spare part to be honest, been here for bloody hours.’

  ‘Then why don’t you go and get some rest?’ asked India, ‘I’ll take over.’

  ‘Oh there’s no need for that,’ said Jenny, ‘That’s not why I called you.’

  ‘Why then?’

  She pointed at a man in plain clothes stood next to a land rover speaking into a mobile phone.

  ‘He asked me to.’

  Constable Deeley led them over to the car.

  ‘Have to go!’ said the man into the phone, looking up as they approached, ‘Speak later.’ He snapped down his clamshell mobile and turned to speak to the women.

  ‘Miss Sommers, I presume?’ he asked.

  ‘Please, call me India,’ she answered and held out her hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Walker, Brandon Walker.’ He turned to the police officer. ‘That’ll be all,’ he said, ‘Could you ensure Mrs Evans gets home safe? There’s nothing more she can do here now.’

  Jenny looked a bit disappointed she wasn’t going to be included in the conversation but gave India a hug of encouragement.

  ‘Give me a ring later, honey,’ she said.

  ‘Will do,’ said India and watched Jenny being led away. She turned to the detective. ‘What’s this about then? I hope you don’t think I have anything to with this?’

  ‘First things first,’ he answered, ‘I need a coffee.’ He opened the car door. ‘Coming?’

  She stared at him for a while before answering cautiously.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘But this had better be good, I’ve got the mother of all hangovers and after the night I’ve had, I would rather be in bed.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer,’ he smiled, ‘But a coffee will be fine.’

  ‘Very funny,’ she said, ‘You know what I me
ant.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘Couldn’t resist. Anyway, all will be revealed in good time. Jump in, I know a lovely little coffee shop not far from here.’

  ‘And it will be open this time of the morning will it?’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said and, flashing a disarming smile, opened the land rover door.

  India lifted the lid on her coffee and blew it gently as the detective tucked into his sausage and egg Mc Muffin.

  ‘Think they would have learned their lesson about that,’ he said between bites.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mc Donald’s.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The temperature of their coffee,’ he said, ‘That woman in America got hundreds of thousands of dollars in compensation when she spilt one of their coffees in her lap.’

  ‘I thought that was an urban myth.’

  ‘Nope, it’s true. She spent seven days in hospital, as I recall.’ Silence fell again as he finished his roll. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, finally wiping the sides of his mouth with his paper napkin, ‘Long night.’

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked India, ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  He took a sip of his own coffee and sat back in his chair, staring at the pretty librarian.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll get straight to the point.’

  ‘About bloody time,’ she murmured.

  ‘Basically India,’ he said, ignoring her remark, ‘I need your help.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘In solving a mystery and in the process, perhaps finding the killer of that man you found last night.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘How on Earth can I help? You’re the policeman, I am just a librarian.’

  ‘You are, but a very special one. I understand you are also a history lecturer and a numismatist to boot.’

  ‘Part time lecturer,’ she corrected, ‘And coin collecting is only a hobby. There are far better experts in both fields than me. Whatever this is about you would be better off going to them.’

  ‘I agree,’ he said, ‘But you are intrinsically linked to this whole situation. The guy who died, the necklace, the burning of the library, they all have one thing in common, you! If I didn’t know better you could almost be a suspect.’ He paused, taking another sip as he let the implication sink in. She looked shocked.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued before she could say anything, ‘I have spent most of the night researching the experts in coins and ancient history but your name keeps coming up and you have certain strengths in both fields. It makes total sense to use someone who can call on both disciplines.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘How can anything I know be of any help?’

  ‘Before I go on India,’ he said, ‘I need to know you are with us on this. If you agree to help then there is no going back. I have no idea where this investigation may lead but there may be danger involved, and there is a faint possibility you could be hurt.’

  ‘Hurt!’ she said, cutting him short, ‘Now just you wait a minute here. This is the twenty first century not a fifties film. How can the police recruit someone they know nothing about to do their dirty work for them? You know nothing about me. I have a job, a family, and as for getting hurt, excuse me but even if this weird offer has any substance, as a responsible organisation I think you will find you have certain responsibilities. What about duty of care, what about risk assessments, what about health and fucking safety?’

  He smiled at her outburst, amused at the cursing coming from such a pretty face, and took another sip of his coffee.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘Let me put it like this. First of all I think you have been wrapped in that little cocoon of yours for far too long. As for knowing nothing about you, your name is India Sommers. You live on your own in flat nine, Station Road. You are twenty six years old and have been a librarian for four years after getting degrees in history and English at Aberystwyth University. Your hobby is coin collecting and you lecture part time in ancient history in your local college. Do you wish me to go on?’

  ‘Please do,’ she said astonished.

  ‘You are single and your last relationship with a man called Nigel ended four months ago due to infidelity, his not yours. You drive a Renault Clio, your parents live in Swindon and your cat is called Winston. When you were nine you were taken down the local police station by your father to get a bollocking when you were caught nicking sweets from the local shop. Your favourite colour’s red and your hair is dyed. Would you like me to bring up your sexual preferences?’

  ‘Okay stop,’ she hissed, looking around in embarrassment. She leaned forward across the table, ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Police database,’ he said, ‘Think of it as big brother’s version of Google!’

  She sat back, trying unsuccessfully to stare him out.

  ‘Okay,’ she said eventually, ‘And if I agree to do this, what about my job?’

  ‘You just say the word and you will be on unpaid leave from the council with immediate effect.’

  ‘Unpaid!’

  ‘Yes, they will be told you have gone on holiday for a few weeks while the library is being refurbished. Fewer questions that way, but don’t worry, you will be adequately reimbursed by us.’

  ‘How adequately?’

  ‘Twice your current salary plus expenses.’

  ‘And when it is over?’

  ‘Your job will be there waiting.’

  She finished the coffee and stared at the legend around the rim. ‘Danger, very hot liquid’ it said, stating the bloody obvious.

  ‘That reminds me,’ she said, ‘One more thing. About the safety aspect, you never said anything about how dangerous it may be.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘Difficult to say really but as far as the good old Health and Safety Executive goes, do you want the official view or my own?’

  ‘If I am to be working with you I suppose I should have yours.’

  ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘It’s simple. Fuck em!’

  Her eyes widened in shock. Everything about him screamed danger but despite her misgivings it sounded too exciting an opportunity to miss. He was right; she had been in the library far too long.

  ‘Okay Detective Walker,’ she said finally, ‘I think I am going to regret this, but you have a deal,’

  ‘Good!’ he said, ‘And please, call me Brandon.’

  ‘Am I allowed to say anything to my parents about this?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t, why?’

  ‘Oh, you know, it would be quite a shock to find out their daughter is working for the police.’

  ‘Police?’ he said, ‘Who said anything about working for the police?’

  He turned to leave the building, leaving India staring open mouthed behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Rome 64 BC

  Rubria knelt at her bedside, her hands held tightly together in prayer as she had been taught since a child. She prayed earnestly, full of love and ultimate servitude to the Goddess Vesta, thanking her for her glory and the continued bounty of life. She had been up since first bell and had since knelt in prayer for two hours, the reed mat the only acknowledgement to the wear on her knees.

  Her cell was basic but spotlessly clean. The rough stone walls were a stark contrast to the marble slabs of the Temple proper and the only furniture was a simple bed covered with a rough linen sheet and a three legged stool. A tiny arched window pierced the thick walls high above her head, too high to be reached by any acolyte tempted to peer out at the city of sin, but necessary for the passage of fresh air to the tiny cell.

  All too soon, second bell sounded and she raised herself from her knees to face the day. She knew that outside the walls of the Temple, the profile of the city would be looming out of the darkness once more as the miracle of the sun hinted at its imminent rebirth from the hell of night. She turned around and faced the doorway, not quite sure if the shivering was from the pre-dawn temperatur
es or the apprehension about what lay before her. She forgave herself the emotion of relief as the day she had waited so long for, finally arrived.

  Ten long years she had waited. Ten years since she had been taken from her family and brought to the Temple of Vesta to serve the Goddess. At first it had been very hard and she had missed her family so much it hurt. Every day she had asked when she was going home, receiving only kindly smiles from her tutors in return. She even tried to run away once but had been caught no further that the gateway peering into the dirty city that lay beyond. That had been an important milestone for Rubria, as far from being angry; the kindly teacher had sat besides her for a long time giving her comfort and support.

  That had been the first time the needs of the people had been explained to her. How the majority of the poor misguided masses needed their help and prayers to help them on their journey through the torture of life to the ultimate gates of heaven. How the starving and the destitute, the diseased, sick and the lonely, all needed their help and how Rubria, along with selected others had been chosen by Vesta to serve, her and by doing so, help the needy. Soon, the memories eased and one glorious night she had been stood in her cell staring up at the dark sky through the window when the Goddess blessed her with a vision.

  The shooting star, the first she had ever seen had blazed across the heavens, radiating its fleeting glory into her cell for the briefest of moments and filling her with wonder at the bounty of the Goddess. From that moment on everything changed. The lessons became easier, the mantra’s made more sense and she embraced the glory of the Goddess with all her heart

  Not that she had forgotten her family, she often thought of them though these days with fondness and gratitude for allowing her to serve the Goddess. Once a year on the anniversary of her arrival, her mother would visit her in the outer Temple, suitably attired and saying the sort of things you would expect from a mother, but despite looking forward to her visit each time, it was always a relief to get back to her cell when the visit was over.

  Now the time was fast approaching when all she had learned over the last ten years would come to fruition. Today was her birth, her first step into the real service of the Goddess. From now she would take part in the ceremonies expected as a Priestess of Vesta. For the first time in ten years, she would be able to step outside the walls of the Temple, albeit always in the presence of an armed unit of Praetorian Guard, but outside nonetheless. As one of only six Priestesses she would be in great demand across the city and since the retreat of one of the older Sisters into her last ten years as a teacher, the pressures on the other five had been immense as they waited for her replacement to be nominated.