The Dragon’s Head Clasp

By Janet Baldey

‘Knock, knock.’

Marie opened the door of her sister’s room and breathed in a cloud of fragrance.  Roses were everywhere.  Thrust into vases they smothered every surface, decorating the room in shades of cream, ivory and gold

         ‘Wow’, she said.  ‘Ronnie’s really pushed the boat out.  What prompted this?’

         ‘They’re not from Ronnie.’  Joanne was peering at herself in the mirror, her varnished fingertips blending in dabs of rouge.   ‘Ronnie’s history.’ 

         ‘Oh no!  You haven’t broken up with him!’ 

Marie’s distress was real.  In her view, Ronnie had been a keeper.  Her beautiful sister, not yet twenty, had already left behind a string of broken hearts.  Most had not been worth a jot but Ronnie had been different.  Hard-working and sensible, with good-humoured patience he had tamed her wilful sister without using either a whip or a chair. 

‘Yep.  He was boring.’  Joanne brushed her hair into a tawny waterfall. 

‘Who are these from then?’

Joanne put down her brush.  Her green eyes sparkled as she spun to face Marie.  ‘Neville from work’, she said.

 Marie’s heart took a dive.  She shared an office with Neville and detested him intensely.  Boastful and arrogant he demanded attention incessantly and even after work his voice followed her home.  To get by, he relied on charming the right people and always totally ignored her.  Homely women were not to his taste and he had made this as obvious as a slap in the face.

 Even worse, she knew he had a darker side.   She caught a glimpse of it when a workmate contradicted some nonsense he’d had spouted.   Fascinated, she’d watched Neville’s complexion redden and his eyes flame.   Sensing trouble, she’d immediately become immersed in her work but not before she’d seen him stride out of the door and punch the corridor wall with a violence that scarred the paintwork.  Ever since, she’d treated him with caution, as one would a time-bomb.

But it was no good telling Joanne this.   She wouldn’t believe a word, so Marie hid her feelings.

‘Really?  He’s an awful flirt, you know.’

‘Not now, he isn’t.’  Joanne smirked as she slid into a satin sheath that accentuated every curve of her body.

‘So, where’s he taking you?  Must be somewhere special.’

‘We’re going on a mystery tour.’  Joanne gestured dramatically.  ‘Isn’t that exciting?’

‘Depends on where you’re going.’

‘Oh.  I think I know.  He’s taking me to meet his parents.  That’s why it’s such a secret.  He’s terribly well connected.  His dad’s an ambassador and his mum’s a barrister.  They’re an actual Lord and Lady and live in a huge manor house somewhere in the shires.   He says it’ll all be his when they pop off.’

Marie’s concern deepened.  She didn’t believe a word of it, it was a typical Neville flight of fancy.  But it did beg the question, what sort of man treated his parent’s death as a pulling tool?

‘If he’s so well off, why is he working at the post office?’

 ‘Research.  He’s writing a book, Marie.  He’s written several.  Just fancy, I’m dating an actual author!  Can you do this up for me?’

Oh, that’s pretty.’  Marie looked at the necklace Joanne was holding out to her

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?  Neville gave it to me.  He said it matched the colour of my eyes.  Just paste but still…….’

The thick gold chain felt smooth and heavy in Marie’s hands and as she watched its faceted stones caught the light and glittered.  It didn’t seem like paste to her and a memory struggled to surface.

Joanne parted her hair and bent her slender neck.

‘Right, how does this work?’  Marie looked at the clasp and gasped.  Goosebumps peppered her skin.

‘Hold on Joanne.  I’ve seen this necklace before.  Do you remember that robbery? It’s in the local paper this week. They showed pictures and one of the necklaces was just like this and with the same clasp.  A dragon’s head with little emerald eyes’.

‘Oh, what nonsense.  Are you saying that Neville’s a thief?  I call that downright nasty.  You’re just jealous.  Give it back and I’ll do it myself.’

‘No, really Joanne.  Wait, I’ll get the paper.’

Her heart pounding, Marie ran down the stairs, praying that she hadn’t thrown it out.  No, it was still on the table.  With a gasp of relief, she snatched it up.

‘Look,’ she slapped the newspaper in front of Joanne and pointed.   The girl stared for a long time and when she did speak, her voice wavered.

‘OK, it’s similar.   But it can’t be the same.   Now leave me alone, I’ve got to get ready.’

 ‘What time are you meeting him?’

‘Eight o’clock.  Not that it’s any of your business.’

Marie ignored her.  ‘Joanne, listen.  I promised Dad I’d keep you safe and it’s just not safe for you to go out alone with a man you hardly know.  People get murdered, you know.  There was that poor girl only recently.  You don’t want to end up in a ditch, do you? Look, for Dad’s sake, do me a favour.  The police station is just around the corner. You’ve got plenty of time.’

‘Your trouble is, you read too many crime novels. Neville’s not a thief, he’s not a rapist and he’s certainly not a murderer.  He’s a sweet man.’

‘Yeah’ thought Marie.  ‘As sweet as a snake hiding amongst bluebells.’

  But, as Marie had guessed, the mention of their father did the trick.  Joanne had been his favourite.  He’d always called her ‘His Prettiness’ and even though he’d died two years ago, Joanne still cherished that memory.  Eventually, she allowed herself to be led to the police station where she pouted and stared at the ground.  The Desk Officer examined the necklace carefully and passed them over to a Detective Inspector who beckoned them into his room.

It was Marie who did most of the talking to the very nice man who listened intently and then asked Joanne a lot of questions.  So many that Joanne began to fidget and glance at the clock.

‘Sorry to keep you, Madam.  Just one more.  Where did you say you were meeting your young man?’

‘I didn’t.’  Joanne clamped her mouth shut but then changed her mind when she saw the detective’s face.   ‘The Mall.  Outside Creasey’s.’ she added.

         ‘I’m afraid I’m going to keep the necklace.  I’m sorry’.  Now it was the DI’s turn to look at the clock.  ‘But I just have to make a quick telephone call and then we’re done.’  Without looking at either of them, he left the room.

         The telephone call was anything but quick and by the time he reappeared the room had grown too small for Joanne;  she was pacing its perimeter and spitting at Marie like a caged cat.

‘Can we go now?’ without waiting for an answer, she was off, slamming the door behind her.

          ‘Too late, I’m afraid,’ the officer muttered.  He winked at Marie and shook her hand.  ‘Thank you for your cooperation.  She’s a bit sparky, your sister so I’m afraid your name’s going to be mud for a while.  But never mind, in a day or so she’ll be thanking you. You may even have saved her life.’

         Panting, Marie hurried to catch up with her sister.  As she did, her mind wandered back to the interview.  She wondered what the detective had meant.  He was very nice she thought. Very nice indeed.  Lovely eyes.  And had he held her hand just a trifle too long?   The sound of sirens exploded her daydream and she followed her sister back home.

         It didn’t surprise Marie that Neville didn’t turn up for work on Monday.  What did surprise her was what he was eventually charged with.   The detective had turned up on their doorstep the following day.  He couldn’t tell them much, but what he did say shocked them both, even succeeding in wiping the sneer from Joanne’s face.   It seemed that both she and her sister had brushed shoulders with a monster and for the first time Marie felt glad to be plain.

         But not that plain, for this time she was certain she hadn’t imagined it.  The detective had definitely looked at her in a certain way and what was more, he’d said he’d call again, once the trial was over.

Copyright Janet Baldey