Wicked Words (ebook)

Argumento de Wicked Words (ebook)

A Honey Driver Mystery

'Quirky characters and intriguing goings-on in my favourite city, Bath. J G
Goodhind's wonderful books are crying out to be made into a TV series. An
absolute treat!'
Jill Mansell on Walking with Ghosts.

The bucket of the digger had wicked-looking teeth along one edge that made a grating sound as it tore into the concrete slab protecting the top of the cesspit. At first there was only a crazy paving effect, a profusion of cracks and crumbling like crushed bits of bone. The concrete was roughly three inches thick, the metal mesh that kept it together becoming gradually exposed.

The cesspit was no longer used; the washrooms in St Lukes Church next door in the parish of Much Maryleigh were now connected to the main sewer and water supply. The cesspit was on the field side of the churchyard wall, away from the graves of villagers past and present. The field itself was no longer a field but an environmentally friendly burial site. There were no gravestones, only saplings sprouting from the graves of the newly dead. In time the field would become woodlands.

There were two men overseeing the job; one was driving the digger, the other was looking on. This latter man, the older one, looked up on seeing a man he recognized as Peter Pierce. His bottom lip curled in contempt. Pierce was one of the new arrivals in the village. He was running across the field, waving his arms.

His face taking on a deep scowl, the older man signalled the younger man to switch off the digger while he turned to face their neighbour.

You cant do that, Pierce shouted as he came to a stop, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face flushed and his mouth wide open. Thats my piece of land. Its on my deeds, he shouted breathlessly. Youve had a letter about it from my solicitor.

Ned Shaw made no effort to look anything except hostile. Pierce was bluffing. When his sort disagreed with something, they resorted to a lawyers letter, an injunction, in fact anything that would prevent an enterprise going forward.

This was my field, Pierce. Long before you arrived it was my field.

It was common land, Pierce retorted. Everyone used it.

Including you, Ned said with a scowl. I had no problem with people using it when we werent using it. Now its sold.

But it has historical significance, Pierce blurted.

Neds look hardened. Bullshit!

His family had lived in the village for generations. He made no secret of his dislike for new arrivals like Peter Pierce. He blamed them for his change in drinking habits. In the past hed taken his custom to the Poacher but it was a smarty-tarty place now, all posh nosh and muted lighting. He now drank at the Rose and Crown, a more traditional place where they still played darts and the height of cuisine was steak and chips.

Leaning on his shovel, he addressed Ned in a no-nonsense manner. Unless you want to end up buried before your time, get the hell out of here. The lands sold, you can no longer use it, and no matter how hard you try this field was always on my deeds. Its not common land. Its my land and I can do as I please with it.

Peter Pierce was unfortunate enough to have a pink, Cupids bow-shaped mouth. He pouted like a girl.

The people at the university said there could be important artefacts buried here

Ned Shaw sneered. They did a dig years ago. Nothing was ever found.

There could still be

Bullshit! Theres only bodies here now.

Peter Pierce looked as though he were about to explode.

You had no right to sell it to these people, these hippies! he shouted. He glared at the driver of the digger, eyes blazing, his cheeks puffing in and out like a pair of pink bellows.

Ned Shaw stood his ground, shirtsleeves rolled up ready for action, exposing his dark, hairy arms.

The hippy comment was obviously intended for the digger driver, one of the people who had bought the land from Ned.

The Shaw family had owned the land for generations using it as grazing, ploughing it up when they felt moved to, and letting it go to seed for the rest of the time. As hed explained to Pierce, hed had no problem with people using it when he wasnt using it; the kids had gone playing there, the courting couples had lain there in August when the grass was tall and golden and the ground warm.

Ned had not been entirely convinced that their venture into an environmentally friendly burial park would work, but theyd showed him the colour of their money and hed sold the field. Following their purchase they put work his way. The cesspit was on the land hed sold them. He had rights to do as he liked with it, but Peter Pierce was adamant, insisting the land was his, purely because of the shape of it and a wall. On Peters side of the wall beyond the church boundary was a stone lean-to that hed converted into a pump room for his swimming pool. According to him it meant the wall was his.

Look, Ive already told you, Ned began, his patience grating along with his voice. The wall and this land

Peter Pierce shook his head so hard it looked in danger of falling off. Well I dont know about that! he snapped. Im going to see my lawyer. Ill have this sorted. You just see if I dont. Until then, stop or Ill get an injunction. You can stop taking this cesspit apart right now!

Hed come out with exactly what Ned had been expecting. His patience snapped. His fist shot forward, grabbing a handful of Peter Pierces cashmere sweater. They were nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball.

Anger simmered in Neds voice.

If you dont get out of my bloody sight youre going to be in that cesspit wallowing around in the shit that you say is yours. Right?

The suddenness with which Ned let him go took Peter by surprise. It was as though hed been held in a very large elastic band that had suddenly let go and sent him stumbling. He was sent sprawling in a pile of leaves and rubbish, the basis for this years compost heap.

Your missus wont like the smell of you when you get ome, Ned shouted.

Scrambling to his feet, Peter pointed at him with a shaking finger. Ill have you, Ned Shaw. Ill have you yet.

Ned made a sudden dash only a few steps but enough to send Peter Pierce running awkwardly but swiftly backwards.

Youll be hearing from my lawyer, he shouted once he was safely out of the reach of Neds fearsome hands. And Ill report you to the police. Assault and battery. Lets see what youve got to say then.

The younger man, Gary, jumped down from the cab of the digger, tossed his dreadlocks out of his eyes, and gave Ned a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Take no notice of that wanker, he said.

Neds eyes were narrowed, his countenance concerned. He shook the hand from his shoulder and remarked glumly, It aint you with the police record.

'The kick-off to Goodhind's new mystery series - fast moving with a likeable
heroine and an impeccably rendered Bath background...'
Kirkus Reviews
(USA) on Something in the Blood

'Sometimes it is the location alone makes you curious about a detective novel....Jean G Goodhind in her debut novel has added much more than that - a droll plot and a lot of British humour...'0