Dig Deep

Other than a faint glow coming from one of the back rooms, the town’s charity shop was in darkness, its front door firmly closed. Although it had opened in 1985, the building had been used commercially since the 1800’s when it had variously been a pharmacy, a bank, and a tavern.

The shop was close to the river in Marpleton, a pleasant English market town which had once been home to a nearby priory. In ancient times, monks had wandered back and forth to sell their wares at a market which still existed in diminished form across the road. Regulars were now peering through the shop window, but the main lights stayed off.

A few of the shop’s helpers were huddled in the back room. Patrick, the treasurer, had collected the spare keys from the greengrocer to let them in. The gatherers were addressing one topic: namely, why their long-serving manager, Rhea, had failed to open up the day before.

“I just can’t understand it,” Ivy, one of the shop’s founding members, said. “I’ve never known her not to turn up – unless she’s on holiday. In all the years I’ve known Rhea, she’s never had a day’s sickness.”

“Wasn’t she going to New Zealand to visit her sister?” Patrick asked.

“She was, but not until the following week. It’s in the shop diary. Here. Take a look.” Ivy tapped the relevant pages meaningfully.

“I’m not doubting you, Ivy, but she may have got the dates wrong.”

“She wasn’t in the habit of making mistakes.” Ivy’s loyalty knew no bounds.

Patrick adopted a different approach.

“You’ve tried Rhea’s landline, I take it?”

“Several times. Each time it went straight to answer phone.”

“Right. Still, I expect we’re worrying over nothing.”

“But you have to admit she has been a bit distracted lately,” someone piped up.

Patrick turned to Sylvana hopefully, but she shook her head.

“I’ve tried her on her mobile, but nothing.”

Sylvana was a refugee who had joined the shop two years earlier. Since Rhea had taken her under her wing when she first came to England, her English had improved markedly. Sylvana had been on the verge of admitting her true feelings for Rhea. Reality had crushed the likelihood of her returning to her homeland any time soon and been replaced by something entirely unexpected: an overwhelming love for another human being. Sylvana’s great wish was to know whether that love was returned. Rhea clearly liked her but was it worth risking their friendship for more? The path to such an admission seemed littered with obstacles. Now, the mystery of Rhea’s whereabouts could be added to an already growing list.

***

“Did Rhea say anything about changing her holiday plans, Sylvana?” Patrick asked, determined to get to the bottom of things.

“No. I went to her house for my lesson last Wednesday. She told me she’d be away all next week.” Sylvana had considered the matter carefully. “Yes, that is so.”

“Hmm,” Patrick said. “I guess I’ll have to contact the Area Manager about reopening the shop.”

“You’ll need to do that. Volunteer phone numbers are stored in the locked cabinet and only Rhea has the key,” Ivy interjected. “Head Office have contact numbers too.”

Everyone knew Rhea always carried a set of keys on a fob attached to a waist band. Patrick joked she secretly had a cellar key for the shop’s “more trying customers” – to which he’d received an enigmatic smile. The actual cellar key had supposedly vanished in the mists of time. Certainly, there was no call to use the cellar with ample storage space elsewhere. In any case, the cellar door was kept permanently locked, preventing anyone getting trapped if there was a fire.

Patrick scrutinised the rota sheets.

“Maybe Judd would be willing to help if we reopen the shop,” he suggested.

Sylvana who distrusted Judd, said nothing.

***

Three months earlier, dressed in black jeans and hoodie and trailed by a mournful cocker spaniel, Judd had shown up to enquire about volunteering.

When Sylvana had bent to pat his dog, it had backed off whimpering.

“She gets nervous round new people,” Judd had explained.

Tucking away the banking money, Patrick had gone to fetch Rhea. “A young man’s enquiring about volunteering,” he’d told her. “Shall I send him through?”

“What’s he like?” Rhea was wearily tapping information into the computer at her desk.

“He seems pleasant enough. His dog’s rather nervous.”

Rhea massaged her aching neck. “Send him through,” she said.

***

Rhea had confided in Sylvana about her difficulty in getting references for Judd Digdeep. Eventually, he’d presented her with two typed ones, supposedly from an ex-employer. With typical thoroughness, Rhea had rung one of the numbers to learn more about the new helper. When a voice answered sounding suspiciously like Judd’s, she’d intended to investigate further. However, other things had intervened.

A few weeks after this uncharacteristic omission, Judd was indeed proving to be an asset. Willing to turn his hand to anything, it was a relief not having to lift heavy sacks and boxes donated by the public from one end of the shop to the other. With little guidance, Judd had transformed one of the sorting rooms, leaving it immaculate. 

***

One evening when Sylvana cycled past the back of the shop, she noticed a group of “undesirables” hanging with Judd, engrossed in conversation. She hurried past, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She raised her concerns to Rhea who told her it was nothing to worry about, that she’d keep an “eye on things,” and bafflingly added, “I’d rather you didn’t mention this to anyone else.”

***

The day the shop reopened, without Rhea at the helm, was Sylvana’s birthday. Patrick invited her to join him later for one of his “wife’s specials” – homemade pizza and pear wine. The food tasted delicious, but she pushed her plate to one side.

“You’re still worried about Rhea, aren’t you?” Patrick observed.

“Her cell phone is dead. It’s strange. I knocked on her door last night, but still no answer.”

Patrick got up. “I tell you what. I happen to know Rhea’s neighbour, Angela, from the book club. She looks after the garden when Rhea goes away. She may well have a spare key. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but it wouldn’t do any harm to check if everything is alright.”

Sylvana was relieved. “That’s a great idea, thanks Patrick.”

“I’ve been known to have a few in my time. Come on, get your coat. Let’s see if we can solve this mystery.”

***

Half an hour later, the pair were standing in Rhea’s house. The hallway led into an open-plan kitchen diner with gleaming countertops and state of the art gadgets. The smell of coffee lingered invitingly.

When Rhea’s partner Lyndsey had died five years earlier, she’d left her with a generous insurance pay-out. Sylvana sighed, remembering the other day when she and Rhea had drawn close over a bottle of wine. Rhea had even given her a present.

“Only to be opened on your birthday,” she instructed. But beneath the gaiety, she’d been out of sorts. Rhea had brushed aside Sylvana’s offer of help with a brisk “I’m fine.”

“I’ll check down here if you do upstairs,” Patrick said, jolting Sylvana back to the present.

The passport was lying on the bedside table. However, the photograph bore little resemblance to the person Sylvana had come to love and admire. Having spent time working for a private detective agency when she was younger, instinct overrode caution, and she began a meticulous search for clues. Predictably, Rhea’s shop keys were lying on the bedside table. More unexpected was the discovery of another set of keys attached to a ring with a tag labelled “cellar.”

“Are you alright?” Patrick called up from the bottom of the staircase.

“I’m ok.” Sylvana tucked the cellar keys into her bag. Then she remembered Rhea’s present and opened it. She was surprised to find a pay as you go phone, already charged up.

“Well?” Patrick exclaimed. “Did you find anything?”

“Just this.” She gave him the passport.

“That’s odd. It appears she never made it to New Zealand, after all. Maybe it’s time to involve the police.”

“What? Right now?”

“It is rather late! I doubt they’ll want to be disturbed tonight.” Patrick thought of the half-opened bottle of wine waiting back home. “I’ll act tomorrow morning. Shall I walk you back?”

“No need. I can take care of myself,” Sylvana said firmly.

***

The moon was her only companion as Sylvana descended the cellar steps at the back of the shop. With growing unease, she encased her hands in a pair of gloves and took off her shoes. She didn’t want anyone to know of her presence.

After three attempts the door creaked open and she was met by a cloying damp, overlaid by something else. Something unpleasant. Tensing, she flicked on her phone torch and spotted a narrow corridor with another door at the end. Filled with foreboding, she slowly turned the handle.

She smelt the body before she saw it! Wearing the trademark hoodie, it (the bloating discoloured thing in front of her could hardly be called human), Judd lay slumped against an upturned table, his eyes staring and opaque. Sylvana covered her face with a handkerchief to prevent retching and inspected the scene, noting the bloodied head and smashed vase lying beside it. The blood had pooled and dried, staining the clothes and floor. She was no expert, but if the rotting undertones were anything to go by, death had probably occurred a few days earlier.

Even then, horror was blunted by relief. So long as it wasn’t Rhea, she had the strength for anything.

But where was Rhea?

***

Adjusting to the dimness, Sylvana tried to make sense of her surroundings. Some crudely constructed shelves filled with storage tubs and packets lay stacked against one of the walls – the place was obviously some kind of drug’s den. Could Judd’s death have been the result of a disagreement with other gang members? Sylvana’s stomach lurched. What if they turned up and found her?

She’d only just locked the cellar door and picked up her shoes when she heard voices on the driveway. Somehow, she managed to scramble behind one of the bins underneath the fire escape. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited until the scuffling feet passed, and the gang disappeared down the cellar steps. Then, she bolted into the night as fast as her trembling legs would carry her.

She would decide what to do when she got home.

***

Halfway across the town’s park, muffled ringtones came from her bag.

“Sylvana?” The voice was clear as day at the other end of the line.

“Rhea! Is it really you? Thank God! Are you alright? Where are you calling from? Talk to me!”

“If I tell you, you must keep it to yourself.” Rhea said urgently.

“Of course. By the way, I have your keys.”

“The shop keys?”

“The cellar keys. Long story. I have just been down there. I found him! Judd. Dead! It was horrible!” Sylvana began to laugh hysterically as the shock kicked in.

“You went into the cellar?” Rhea repeated. “Why?”

“I needed to know if you were alright. I was so afraid I was going to find you, not him. When I saw your passport, I knew you couldn’t have gone abroad; that something must have happened.”

“I didn’t get the chance.”

“What happened?”

“I will tell you, but not now, not on the phone.”

“Patrick is planning to go to the police tomorrow about your passport.”

Rhea asked, “Did you touch anything when you’re went into the cellar? Did you touch… him?”

“No.” Sylvana’s teeth were chattering from shock. “It’s cold outside…I have… I was wearing gloves. But what do you know about Judd?”

“Why were you wearing gloves?”

“I don’t know. I had a bad feeling. I didn’t want to be implicated in anything. Back home I once worked at a detective agency. I learnt about not touching crime scenes.”

“You may want to call the police,” Rhea said, “but please can I ask you not to tell them I got in contact or about me giving you the phone? We’ll meet soon. That is, if you want to. I’ll understand if you don’t want anything more to do with me.”

“Of course I want to meet you.” It seemed silly pretending now. “It’s all I think about.”

***

Sylvana’s heart flipped when she saw the distant figure standing on the pier below. The matinee performance at the Pavilion theatre was in full swing and the pier was almost deserted.

She came up behind Rhea, patting her on the shoulder. “Hey.”

Rhea turned, instantly relaxing when she saw her friend.

“Hey.” Sylvana sank into Rhea’s arms. For a long time, the pair embraced. “It’s so good to see you,” Sylvana said.

“Like wise.” Rhea glanced round. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No. And I’m so hungry.”

Rhea grinned. “How about some fish and chips? I’ll treat you.”

“You mean the famous English fish and chips?”

Rhea grinned. “I’ve discovered a great place on the front.” She linked arms with Sylvana. “Come on, let’s eat. Then, I’ll tell you everything.”

***

“Judd was a bad lot!” Rhea admitted later. “He was running a drug racket and I threatened to report him to the police.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. But how did you find out?”

“Not long after I joined the shop, I was clearing up one of the back rooms and came across a discarded cabinet. There were two sets of cellar keys in it. I never told anyone about them partly because I didn’t want a lot of fuss. I wanted to keep it to myself. Unfortunately, Judd caught me coming up the stairs one evening and demanded to store his things there. I didn’t like the way he spoke to me. When I refused, he threatened to torture his dog in front of me. He implied if I didn’t comply, I’d be next. His eyes were so cold! For the second time in my life I felt real fear.”

There would be time enough to ask about the first time, Sylvana thought, clasping Rhea’s hand.

“I’m afraid there’s more,” Rhea said dully. “You probably won’t want anything to do with me when you hear the rest.”

Sylvana clutched Rhea’s hand more tightly. She’d come too far to be brushed aside. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” She said firmly. “Whatever it is, we’ll bear it together. You see, I love you. I need you to know that.”

“You do?” For a moment, Rhea’s face shone. “That’s a relief,” she said, laughing. “I thought it was just me.”

“Did you?” Sylvana laughed too.

“I may have had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Oh, I’m so happy,” Sylvana said.

“But hold your horses before we get carried away,” Rhea warned.

“Hold my horses?”

“An English expression. It means don’t count your chickens…”

“Count my chickens?”

“Sylvana, my love, let me finish my story before you say anything.”

“Ok. Sorry.” Sylvana nibbled a stray chip.

Rhea was smiling in spite of everything. “In the end, I couldn’t stand being held to ransom by a bully like Judd. A few days ago, I foolishly decided to confront him in the cellar. He went to grab a knife from the table. There was an old jar on one of the shelves and as he turned I smashed it over his head.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t tell you all this but I made sure you had the phone before I left. I hoped you’d stay in touch. The day after, I headed here; not wanting to be traced, I paid for everything with cash.”

“But surely the police will realise you only acted in self defence,” Sylvana insisted.

“Perhaps I should have gone to them straightaway, but I couldn’t face it.” Rhea’s hesitation was palpable. “Especially considering…”

“Considering what?” In spite of the warmth between them, Sylvana felt a sudden chill like someone walking over a grave. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Rhea’s voice broke. “I’m terminally ill. At best, I only have months to live. At worst, it will be weeks. I have all the medication I need. I just want to spend my last days in a place with happy memories.”

“I can’t believe it.” But Sylvana knew Rhea was speaking the truth. She tried to disguise her anguish. “How long have you known?” She whispered.

“I only found out for certain the day before Judd threatened me in the cellar. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have told the police everything long before, but by then I was in too deep.”

“I’m going to stay with you.” Sylvana had never been more certain of anything.

Rhea shook her head. “Stay with me tonight and go back tomorrow. It won’t be long before the police check the cellar. It will look odd if you’re not there. I have every faith in your survival skills. Look how far you’ve come! In the meantime, there’s something I want you to have.”

“What is it?”

Rhea handed Sylvana two envelopes. “Inside one is a plan of the cellar. After years of searching, I think I may have finally uncovered the sealed entrance to a tunnel leading to the old priory. My father was a historian and suspected there might be one near the shop. The other is a copy of my will. It’s my final and dearest wish to make your life better when I’ve gone.”