Under watch, where we have wept.”
Angela lowered her phone, glancing at Maggie as though expecting an immediate answer.
Ellie’s eyes widened as the last words of the riddle hung in the air. “That sounds like a church,” she blurted out, her mind racing. “St. Mary’s?”
Angela’s nostrils flared, and Ellie felt a twinge of regret. The riddle had clearly been meant for her gran, not her. She bit her lip, glancing at Maggie.
“We figured as much,” Angela confirmed, her tone clipped. “My officers have searched the church grounds and found nothing.” She turned her piercing gaze to Maggie. “Do you know what this riddle is about?”
Ellie watched her grandmother intently, noticing the subtle shift in her expression. She could almost see the cogs turning behind Maggie’s eyes, weighing honesty against... something else. To Ellie’s surprise, Maggie’s finger twitched, brushing lightly under her nose.
“I haven’t heard about any riddles,” Maggie said, her voice steady but her eyes not quite meeting Angela’s. “But if Thomas reached the bookshop, I imagine whatever he found at the church led him to me for my third of the book.”
Angela hummed noncommittally, her scepticism evident in the slight narrowing of her eyes. It was clear she didn’t believe Maggie any more than Ellie did. Maggie wasn’t a liar, which made her a poor one when she tried. Ellie had noticed the telltale nose-rubbing habit way back when she was only six at Christmas time. That’s how she’d uncovered the harsh reality about Santa and his elves.
“If you find anything, let me know,” Angela said, her tone making it clear she expected to be informed of any developments.
Ellie watched as Angela made to leave, but then the detective paused, turning back to face them. “Where’s my ex-husband?” she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.
Maggie replied without hesitation, “He’s camping in the lakes, birdwatching.”
Angela’s brow furrowed in confusion. “He didn’t come back for your hip?”
“Oh, I don’t need a fuss,” Maggie said, waving her hand dismissively.
Angela shook her head, muttering “Typical,” as she left, closing the door behind her.
As soon as they were alone, Ellie turned to her grandmother. “Gran, did you tell Dad about your hip?”
Maggie’s eyes darted away for a moment before she answered, “Of course I did, dear.”
Ellie felt a surge of frustration. “That’s exactly how you lied a second ago to Angela. What’s going on, Gran? What do you know?”
Maggie sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Right now, not much more than you, I promise. But I didn’t want to tell Angela we knew about the riddles because it’ll only make her want to find them sooner.”
“Find all the riddles, find the rest of the book, and stop these deaths,” Ellie said, piecing it together.
Maggie nodded. “There are two more people out there with the book who could be in danger, and we’re not going to let it happen.”
Swinging the keys around on her finger, Maggie continued, “We’ll search the church tomorrow morning to see if Angela missed anything, and then we’ll go to the shop so you can read the manuscript.”
“What if the police found it?” Ellie asked, worry creeping into her voice.
Maggie tapped her nose, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I thought I hid the original well, but I hid the copy even better.”
Ellie’s foot tapped impatiently against the floor as she cleared the dinner table, her mind racing with thoughts of the riddle. The prospect of waiting until morning to investigate the church seemed unbearable. While Maggie busied herself with the apple crumble, Ellie seized the moment to pull out her notepad from her brown backpack.
Closing her eyes in concentration, she tried to recall the words of the riddle. Her pen scratched across the paper as she jotted down the fragments she remembered:
“This house of stories, tall and grand
Sacred family bells do chime
Under watch, where we have wept”
“Very good recall,” Maggie’s voice startled her. “Cute pen,” she added, nodding at the writing instrument in Ellie’s hand.
Ellie glanced at the pen, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “It’s ironic. Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. It’s a little scratchy to write with, but the ink is nice.”
Maggie leaned closer, her eyes scanning the notepad. “There’s something more for that last line. The line before it.” She recited, “‘Seek the place where history’s kept, Under watch, where we have wept.’ Sounds like X marks the spot, if you ask me.”
Before Ellie could respond, Maggie thrust a bowl of apple crumble into her hands, the dessert drowning in steaming custard. Reluctantly, Ellie crammed her notepad back into her bag, wondering how she was going to sit still and pretend she had an appetite when there was a riddle rattling around in her head.
Chapter 14Watch Your Headstone
Ellie tiptoed along the hushed lane past the quiet cottages, the street lights encasing the village green in a soft yellow halo drawing closer. To her left, string lights twinkled outside the empty outdoor seating of The Old Bell. On her right, the war memorial glowed, thanks to up-lighting buried in the grass. Hardly Times Square, but Ellie remembered when the village would be in total darkness by 11:30 pm. Despite the improvements, the place remained quiet, with only a few TVs flickering behind curtains while the village mostly slept.
Hands deep in her pockets and head down, she hurried past the memorial and up the slight curve to the church. The church had some lighting on the stonework, but the graveyard remained pitch-black. Ellie heard the message loud and clear—this wasn’t a place anyone should be venturing after dark.
She could turn back and hurry to Maggie’s, hopefully catching the end of the movie before her gran woke up. But then she considered the riddle.
“Sacred family bells do chime,” she spoke aloud, her eyes straining up to the church tower looming above her. Though uncertain, she strongly suspected the church bell bore the stamp of Blackwood Bell Foundry. It seemed too perfect a connection to ignore. “The sacred Blackwood family bell.”
Ellie wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but she felt certain that if Thomas had left behind whatever he’d found and the police hadn’t discovered it, she would. If Edmund had gone to the trouble of crafting this game, he wouldn’t have hidden his clues entirely; Ellie had got this far.
“Row by row,” she said aloud to herself, rolling up her sleeves. “What shouldn’t be here?”
Ellie’s heart raced as she stumbled through the darkened graveyard, her eyes straining to make out the shapes of headstones and trees. The church loomed above her, its bell disappearing into the inky blackness of the night sky as the last of the summer grey faded. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig made her jump, her imagination running wild with thoughts of ghosts and ghouls.
