The Dragon’s Head Clasp

By Janet Baldey

The police were conducting house to house enquiries and now they were starting on her street.  They’d be wasting their time at her house, she had nothing of importance to tell them although she hoped they had some luck soon.  Two women had already been found dead and she didn’t want there to be a third.

         Marie opened the door of her sister’s room and walked into a cloud of fragrance. Roses were everywhere.  Thrust into vases, they decorated 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 foundation. “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 sister, not yet twenty, had already left behind her a string of broken hearts. Most had been not 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 sent the flowers then?”

         Joanne put down her brush and her green eyes were sparkling as she spun to face Marie.  “Neville from work.”

         Marie’s heart took a dive. She shared an office with Neville and detested him. 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 but always totally ignored her. Homely women were not to his choice and he made this as obvious as a slap in the face.  Even worse, she sensed he had a darker side. She’d caught a glimpse of it when a colleague had contradicted some nonsense he’d spouted. Fascinated, she’d watched as his complexion reddened and his eyes flamed. 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 violence that scarred the plaster. Ever since, she’d treated him 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 sheath that accentuated every curve.

         “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 in the Shires. He says it will 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 parents’ 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. He’s written several.  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. Said it matched the colour of my eyes. Just paste but still…” Joanne parted her hair and bent her slender neck.

         The gold chain felt smooth and heavy in Marie’s hands and its faceted stones caught the light and glittered. It didn’t seem like paste to her and a memory struggled to surface.  She looked at its clasp and gasped. Goosebumps peppered her skin.

         “Hold on, Joanne. I’ve seen this necklace before. Do you remember that robbery that was in the local paper? They showed pictures of jewellery that was taken and one of the necklaces was just like this. It had 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 downstairs praying that she hadn’t thrown in out. With a gasp of relief she saw it was still beside the table. She snatched it up.

         “Look,” she slapped the newspaper in front of Joanne and pointed. Her sister stared at it 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 to go out with a man you hardly know. People get murdered. 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 hoped, the mention of their father did the trick. Joanne had been his favourite. He’d always called her “His prettiness” and even though he died over two years ago, Joanne still cherished his 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 it 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 look 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 changed her mind when she saw the expression on the detective’s face. “The Mall, outside Creasey’s,” she said.

         “I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep the necklace. I’m sorry.”  Now it was the D.I.’s turn to look at the clock. “Now I just have to make a quick telephone call, then we’re done.”

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

         “Can I 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 is 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, she wondered what the detective had meant. He was very nice, she thought. Lovely eyes, and had he held her hand just a trifle too long? The sudden sound of police sirens exploded her dream 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 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 and even succeeded in wiping the scowl from Joanne’s face.  Pieces from the same set of stolen jewellery had been found on the bodies of the two murdered girls. It seemed that Joanne had had a lucky escape; they’d brushed shoulders with a monster and for the first time, Marie felt glad to be plain.

        

Copyright Janet Baldey