Chapter 17

 

   Breakfast at the Thompson residence the following morning was a rather broody affair. At breakfast they were both still in their dressing gowns and both of them were scruffy, neither of them having shaved. When Jimmy could stand it no longer, he glared across the table at his brother.
   'Have you nothing to say? Nothing at all?'
   Jock raised red lidded eyes and gave his groin a leisurely scratch. Jimmy pushed his chair back in disgust, left the table and stood staring out the window at the moody sky.
   'We will just have to phone the police,' said Jimmy eventually, his fingers twisting behind his back.
   'We will do no such thing.'
   Jimmy spun round, his dishevelled hair falling over his eyes.
   'Oh? And what do you propose we do with him?'
   Jock ignored him.
   'You saw his skull smashed in, just as I did,' protested Jimmy passionately. 'This is murder. We're out of our depth here. We must phone the police.'
   'Really? And what do you propose we tell them when they ask us what we were doing digging around in John Brown's grave at two o'clock in the morning?'
   'For heavens sake Jock! Roddy Morrison has been murdered!'
   'Intriguing, isn't it?'
   'Huh?'
   'I mean, where on earth is the other coffin? How could Colin just disappear and Roddy get in there?'
   'Well, will you look at that!' said Jimmy looking at the ceiling in astonishment.
   'What?'
   'That fly.'
   'What about it?'
   'It's upside down.'
   'So?'
   'It must have been flying upside down to land upside down.'
   'Man, you're a really deep thinker at times.'
   'Jock, what are we going to do?'
   'There is only one thing we can do.'
   'Call the police?'
   'No, we're going to have to put him back.'
   'You're not funny.'
   'I'm serious, I see no other options.'
   'Well, enjoy yourself.'
   'What do you mean?'
   'I'm washing my hands of this whole thing. You're going to have to do it alone.'
   'Oh, and how am I supposed to carry the coffin by myself?'
   'Ask Mary to help you.'
   'You're in this up to your neck as much as I am.'
   'The only place your neck is familiar with is being stuck up your arse.'
   'Well, I never!' exclaimed Jock, rising angrily to his feet. 'Listen, Roddy has been murdered, and if we are caught with him, the police will think we killed him.'
   'Okay, you have a point, keep talking.'
   'Another thing, we can't very well keep the coffin here, can we?'
   Jimmy nodded, but said nothing.
   'So, we have to put him back.'
   'And what then?'
   'Then we call the police.'
   'Really, and what do we tell them we were doing digging around in John's grave?'
   'We call the police with an anonymous phone call from a public phone box.'
   Jimmy looked over at his brother.
   'Yes, that might work,' he said after thinking about it.
   'The police then dig up Roddy and we are in the clear.'
   'They will be asking a lot of questions around the island.'
   'It will have nothing to do with us.'
   'What about the other body?'
   'Roddy's murderers must have taken it.'
   'Why would the murderers steal the other body?'
   'It doesn't make any sense, I grant you, but I can't think of any other explanation. Let's just put Roddy back where we found him and let the police sort it out. A mix up at the mortuary is one thing, but murder is quite another.'
   Jimmy nodded.
   'Then it's agreed,' declared Jock. 'As soon as it's dark, we put Roddy right back where we found him.'
   'And then we call the police,' said Jimmy emphatically, 'and wash our hands of this whole mess.'
   Jock nodded, and then headed upstairs. A short time later, shaved and dressed, he walked back into the kitchen.
   'I'm going out for a while,' he said, 'but I'll be back before evening.'
   'Where are you going?'
   'None of your business.'
   With that, he left the house, jumped into the car and drove off with a crunch of tyres on gravel.

   After washing and drying the breakfast dishes, Jimmy then swept the kitchen floor, and when that was done, he started hoovering. By mid morning he had cleaned the whole house and had run out of things to do. As he was stirring milk into his third cup of coffee of the day, he spotted a large spider perched on the outside of the kitchen window. Feeling brave, knowing there was a sheet of glass between them, he walked over and slowly raised a pointed finger. The little brute hunkered down as his finger approached. Suddenly, Jimmy jabbed his finger onto the glass. The spider jumped backwards, landed on the ground three feet away from the house and scuttled away. Jimmy was amazed. He'd had no idea spiders could jump. His gaze wandered out of the kitchen window over to their workshop and he began to feel sick.

   After his coffee, Jimmy headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. Shaved and wearing clean clothes, he felt a little better, but he still felt sick. When he could stand the oppressiveness no longer, he let himself out the back door and wandered over to the workshop.
   When he stepped inside, motes of dust sparkled in the dull light slanting in one of the dirty windows. Gathering his courage, he sidled over to the coffin and peered inside. Morrison's body was damp and beginning to smell. He ran a finger along the lid propped up beside the coffin, drawing a clean line through the grime. Perhaps it was his professionalism that prompted him, but he decided to clean the coffin. It didn't seem right to him for it to be in such a muddy state. From the sink in the corner, he fetched a bucket with warm soapy water and a sponge. When he was done washing it and had dried it with an old towel, he slipped the coffin lid back on and grabbed a tin of wax polish and a dry cloth.

   He was so intent on what he was doing, and so lost in his macabre thoughts that he didn't hear a car pull in off the main road. The first he became aware of it was when it parked up outside. When the door to the workshop creaked opened, he didn't turn around. He had no wish to speak to his brother and hoped he would just go to the house and leave him alone.
   'Ah, it's yourself!' greeted Sergeant Holmes brightly, stepping into the workshop and closing the door behind him.
   'Bob!' wailed Jimmy, spinning round with wide staring eyes, his polishing cloth tucked guiltily behind his back.
   Somewhat startled by his reaction, Holmes raised a curious eyebrow.
   'Is something the matter Jock?'
   Jimmy shook his head vigorously.
   'The m . . . m . . . matter?'
   'So it's the polishing you're doing?'
   Jimmy took the cloth from behind his back and stared at it in wonder, as if he could think of no good reason how it had got there.
   'Heffins, are you okay?' asked Holmes with concern. 'You're looking very pale man.'
   'Of course I'm okay,' croaked Jimmy. 'Why shouldn't I be?'
   'You know,' smiled Holmes, sauntering across the workshop towards the coffin. 'I've always wanted to see how you finished these things off inside.'
   Oh no! You can't do that!' exclaimed Jimmy, reaching both arms across the coffin defensively.
   Holmes pulled up.
   'Why on earth not?'
   'It's . . . it's . . . it's a secret.'
   'You don't say?'
   'Yes, you'll have to speak to my brother about it.'
   Holmes eyed the coffin suspiciously.
   'Hmmmm,' he mused, noting the spade scrapes in the wood. 'This one has been in the ground already by the looks of things.'
   'It's a new design. We've been testing it.'
   Holmes blinked.
   'You're kidding me, right?'
   'No, it's a prototype,' said Jimmy, scrambling for words. 'We buried it a few weeks ago to see how it would stand up to the peaty conditions and we've just dug it up to examine it, to see how it's been doing.'
   Holmes blinked again.
   'So that's what you were up to the other night!'
   'What do you mean?' asked Jimmy suspiciously.
   'Oh nothing,' said Holmes with a laugh, shaking his head at his own stupidity.
   'Yes, and we've applied for a new patent for the lining, which has still to be approved. It's still a trade secret, you see, that's why you can't see inside.'
   Holmes, beginning to suspect that this particular Thompson was starting to lose his marbles, changed the subject.
   'I don't suppose you haff heard anything about Roddy Morrison yet?'
   Jimmy shook his head so hard it made his eyes hurt.
   'It's been two days now,' continued Holmes. 'I'm becoming very concerned. I've checked with the ferry company and spoken to a few of the crew. Unless he smuggled himself to the mainland in the boot of a car, which I very much doubt, then he is still on the island.'
   'I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere,' croaked Jimmy.
   Holmes glanced at the coffin.
   'Well, if you see or hear anything, would you please let me know?'
   'Of course we will,' said Jimmy.
   When Holmes left the workshop and drove down the driveway, Jimmy collapsed into a chair, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

   It was quite some time before he felt sufficiently recovered to carry on with his polishing. Dark emotions clawed at his soul as he stared at the coffin, and he knew he was beginning to lose his mind. The pressure was getting to him.
   The coffin was quite badly scraped in places and he began to work polish into the wood to try to disguise the damage as best he could. When that was done, he removed the lid so he could polish round the edges. Roddy Morrison's pasty expression and the dried blood on his face and in his matted hair gave him the shivers.
   Just then another car drove up their drive and pulled up outside the house. When the car door slammed, Jimmy was in two minds to run out and confront his brother on the driveway. But instead, he bottled up his anger and muttered to himself as he continued his polishing. When the door to the workshop creaked open, he didn't turn around. He was in no mood for company.
   'Jock!'
   Jimmy spun round, his eyes wide with panic. In desperation, he slid the coffin lid over the body.
   'Oh I hope you don't mind the intrusion,' said a delighted Mary. 'I was hoping to find you here.'
   Dumfounded, Jimmy stood with his back to the coffin.
   'Mary—'
   Before he could say anymore, she suddenly ran over and gave him a big hug. He tried to push her away.
   'Look, I'm not—'
   'I'm sorry about last night,' said Mary huskily, lifting her face to his. 'You just caught me by surprise, that's all. After you'd left, I felt so silly. I acted like a little girl.'
   'But—'
   Before he could blurt out another word, she pulled his head down and kissed him full on the lips. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, Jimmy's entire being exploded in a flash of bright light.
   'Oh Jock,' whispered Mary, hugging him tightly. 'I had no idea it could be like this.'
   The scent of her skin and the warm feel of her hair in his face made his legs go weak. Unable to help himself, he put his arms around her and pulled her close.
   'Why didn't you tell me you were an undertaker?' asked Mary softly, glancing round the workshop.
   'I . . . er.'
   'It doesn't matter,' she whispered, lifting her face to be kissed again.
   With trembling fingers, Jimmy ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms to her wrists.
   'You'd better go Mary,' whispered Jimmy breathlessly.
   She looked crestfallen.
   'Why?'
   'Er, things aren't quite what they seem.'
   'Of course, you're busy. Will you be at the hotel tonight?'
   'I can't promise anything, but I'll try. There's someone I need to speak to first.'
   She gave him another hug, then with a little wave and a beautiful smile she let herself out of the workshop and closed the door behind her. Jimmy ran a hand over his head, and then burst into tears. Life was coming at him from all over the place and he didn't like it.

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