The Maze

by Hania Allen

Genres: Thrillers; Crime Fiction

Synopsis

When the body of a man is found in the countryside outside Dundee with a gun in his hand, DI Dania Gorska dismisses suicide in favour of murder. Italian voice coach, Luca Terranova, in the city to search for his missing twin brother Piero - a fashion designer whose clothes are on display at the V&A there - confirms that the dead man is indeed Piero.

Searching for a motive for the murder, Dania's investigation leads her to Alderwood Manor Maze with its famous moving statues and hedges. Who was the person Piero was seen shouting at in the Maze? Could this be his killer? The McGarry family, who live at the manor harbour secrets of their own, and the more Dania delves into the case, the more she finds herself trapped in a maze of lies.

But it is when Marek, Dania's investigative journalist brother, takes a trip to Italy and uncovers the history of the Terranova family that Dania learns the shocking truth - a truth that will put her in mortal danger . . .

Praise for Hania Allen

'Nicely nasty in all the right places . . . The story rattles along until bringing the curtain down with an unnerving twist' Craig Robertson

'A fresh new find for crime fans ... the plot is intriguing, the characters are well drawn, and the end comes with an unnerving twist. Extremely readable' Sunday Post

'Captivating characters and an intriguing plot. A great new find for crime fans' Lin Anderson

'Pitch-perfect . . . a witty, tense crime novel written in a highly readable style' Russel D McLean

Release date: June 20, 2024

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 90000

Sample

‘Ach, you’re rubbish at this. Here, give them to me.’ Ailsa reached across and tugged off the headphones. Before her younger sister could react, she put them on, then, none too gently, snatched the metal detector from the girl’s reluctant hand. Since she was taller, she had to adjust its length.

Chloe, who was holding the shovel, watched Ailsa swing the search coil left and right as she walked slowly along the furrow. ‘You’re not much better at it yourself,’ she muttered.

The teenagers had decided to give the field a good going-over, and had been systematically searching for the past two hours. It had been top of their list ever since Ailsa had overheard a guy at school talking to his mates about the vast cache of Roman coins buried around here. She and Chloe had had to wait until school broke for summer and their dad was busy on the combine harvester before they could ‘borrow’ his metal detector. Fortunately, at this time of year their mum was too busy on the farm to notice her daughters sneaking away.

The headphones, which were sitting loosely on Ailsa’s head, had a habit of sliding off. She paused to rearrange them, catching her long, fair hair in the speakers. Although the LCD screen display flashed when anything was detected, she preferred the distinctive tones of the audio. As she adjusted the headband’s grip, she became aware of the early chorus of birds, making her wonder why there seemed to be so many crows. She’d been here before on a field trip, but hadn’t seen nearly as many.

This area north of Dundee was fields and woodland and little else. But over the gentle rise of the hill lay Alderwood Manor and the surrounding estate. And in the estate was the famous Victorian Maze, which, according to what Ailsa had also overheard, had reopened in May after a long period of renovation. When she’d heard that there was to be a competition to see who could pass through the Maze in the fastest time and – more importantly – discovered how much the prize money was, she and Chloe had decided to make it a priority to learn its secrets, especially as this was no ordinary maze. And for people who knew this part of Dundee well, it was child’s play to find a way into the back of the estate and sneak into the Maze without paying.

‘Well, are you going to get on with it or what?’ Chloe said. ‘We haven’t much time left.’

Ailsa made a point of ignoring her. She squinted into the July sunshine, then lifted the detector and resumed the search, swinging the coil rhythmically. So far, their hoard consisted of several beer-bottle tops, an old pre-decimal penny and a metal button.

She’d reached the edge of the field and had moved on to the grassy border when a change in tone came from the detector.

‘I’ve got something,’ she called.

Chloe, who’d been playing with her mobile, hurried over. ‘Where?’

‘Just here.’ Ailsa moved the device slowly. The sound waxed and waned, allowing her to pinpoint the location.

Without waiting, Chloe thrust the tip of the shovel into the grass. After several goes, she succeeded in pulling back the turf. The ground underneath was dry, thanks to the recent lack of rain. She dropped to her knees and, ignoring the curls falling into her eyes, dug deeper, stopping now and then to run her hands through the dark earth.

‘Keep going,’ Ailsa commanded.

‘No, wait, I’ve got it.’ She lifted something out of the soil.

Ailsa bent over, trying to make out what her sister was ­holding.

‘Aye, I think it’s a coin,’ Chloe said excitedly.

‘Hold on.’ Ailsa fished in her rucksack and removed a water bottle. She poured the water over the coin, getting much of it over her sister’s hands.

Chloe ran the object down the side of her jeans, then held it up. ‘There’s a man’s head. He’s wearing a crown.’

‘What’s on the other side?’

She flipped it over. ‘Looks like a lion standing on something.’ She brought it close to her eyes. ‘It says 1939. And 1945 ­underneath.’

‘It’s a war medal,’ Ailsa said, straightening. ‘See that bar at the top? There’d be a ribbon attached to it, ken.’

‘So, where is it?’

‘Must have rotted away.’

‘Do you think it’s worth anything?’

Ailsa tilted her head. ‘Aye, well, it will be to the person who lost it.’

‘What do we do with it, eh?’

‘We should hand it in to the polis.’

‘Won’t they ask how we got it?’

‘We’ll say we found it lying somewhere.’ Ailsa looked around. ‘In those woods.’

Chloe looked unconvinced. She followed the direction of her sister’s gaze. ‘I vote we have a keek in there.’

‘Why?’

‘Whoever told you there are Roman coins here seems to have got his facts wrong. There’s nothing in this field. But maybe there’s something in the woodland.’

Ailsa studied her sister. For once, she might be on to something. The guy at school had prattled on about the area west of Emmock Road, and given a reasonably clear description of how far north to drive before the turn-off, but the more she thought about it the more she was starting to question whether this really was the right place. When it came to burying treasure, woodland was a better bet than a field, which would be ploughed regularly.

Chloe wiped her muddy fingers on the grass, and pulled back the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She peered at her watch. ‘We’ve got time. Let’s just go in a wee way.’

‘Ach, fine. But if we find anything, you do the digging.’

‘Don’t I always?’ Chloe said sulkily.

They made for the trees.

The previous autumn had carpeted the ground, and the damp winter had turned the leaves into a rotting mulch. The absence of footprints or disturbance in the leaves made it clear that few ­people came here. Did that mean that no one had yet poked around? And found the treasure? Ailsa felt her spirits rise.

The girls ventured further into the wood, Ailsa skimming the detector over the ground. A sudden loud cawing made her pause. The crows rose into the air, flapping their ragged wings. As she turned her head to the left, gazing between the column-like tree trunks, she spotted something that looked out of place. Every­where the ground was flat. But a short distance away, in front of a line of closely packed trees, it curved into a long mound.

‘You think that’s it?’ Chloe said, glancing at Ailsa.

‘No, that’s not it.’

‘How do you know?’ Chloe said, a note of defiance in her voice.

‘Treasure would be buried deeper than that.’

But the instant she said it, she knew she’d have to go and ­investigate.

Chloe was chewing her thumb. ‘I think there’s a body under there. It’s the right length for a Roman soldier.’

‘Aye, and when was the last time you saw a Roman soldier?’ Ailsa said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Yet she had to admit that the mound would easily accom­modate a man. Could it be one of these burial barrows she’d learnt about in school? She made her way through the trees, ­mentally ticking off the possibilities. One was that someone had indeed found the treasure but, rather than take it home, he’d reburied it, giving him time to decide what to do with it. He was probably scouring sites online where he could sell it.

The mound was covered with leaves. Ailsa was tempted simply to kick them away, but something made her hesitate. She lifted the detector and ran it over the barrow. The sudden noise in the headphones was so loud that even Chloe couldn’t have failed to hear it. Before she could stop her, Chloe had dropped to her knees and was pushing away the leaves.

It was the gleam of metal that made Ailsa grab her sister’s arm and drag her away. Chloe tumbled on to her back.

‘Hey, what the hell did you do that for?’ she yelled. ‘You told me to dig.’

But Ailsa had stopped listening. She was staring at what was clearly a pistol. And the hand that was holding it, the fingers reduced almost to bone. Slowly, she became aware of the crows, sitting not far from the barrow, watching. And waiting …

‘So, don’t you want me to keep digging?’ Chloe asked ­petulantly. She hauled herself to her feet and brushed soil off her clothes.

‘We’re getting out of here,’ Ailsa said, her voice sounding strange.

‘Why?’

‘There’s a body under there.’

‘A Roman soldier?’

‘Did the Romans carry pistols?’ Ailsa snapped.

Chloe stared at the mound. Her expression changed. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth. ‘We need to call the polis.’

‘We’re leaving, and we’re not telling anyone we were here.’ Seeing the doubt on her sister’s face, Ailsa gripped her arm and added, ‘You know fine well what will happen if we do. We’ll be up to our necks in the brown stuff.’

‘Because we took Dad’s metal detector without his permission?’

‘No, you numpty. Because we took Dad’s car without his ­permission.’ She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Neither of us has a ­driving licence. Remember?’

‘I take it you’ve not been here before, boss.’

‘Alderwood Manor?’ Dania shook her head. ‘My first time. You?’

‘Same.’ Honor steered the car smoothly on to Strathmartine Road.

Dania had been along Strathmartine on a previous case that took her way up north to Balkello. On her return, she’d marvelled at the view, a dizzyingly vast sky that stretched from horizon to horizon over Dundee’s spires and old jute chimneys. As fine views of Dundee went – and there were many – it was one of the best.

DI Dania Gorska and DS Honor Randall were off shift, and had decided to spend the afternoon at Alderwood Manor estate. It had been the article written by Dania’s brother, coinciding with the reopening of the Victorian Maze two months earlier, that had prompted them to visit Alderwood. The Maze had been closed for several years for a major refurbishment, and the good citizens of Dundee had been ­pawing the ground to see what it looked like now.

‘And how is your brother liking the new job?’ Honor said.

‘Marek? He seems to be enjoying his promotion.’

‘Principal investigative journalist. That must come with a hefty increase in salary.’

Dania smiled. ‘With Marek, it’s never the money.’

‘I did wonder why he’d left DC Thomson to take a position with a new newspaper.’

‘He told me he has more freedom. He can start an investi­­gation without needing permission from the top brass. And he’s managed to negotiate some time for himself.’

‘How does that work?’

‘He might take on an assignment that wouldn’t necessarily lead to an article. He gets those now and again.’

‘Does he have people working for him?’

‘A few.’

‘If he’s as good a boss as you are, boss, he’ll have no difficulty getting them to follow orders.’

‘Are you trying to butter me up, Honor?’

‘Yep. I’m hoping you’ll pay my entrance fee.’

Dania laughed. ‘It’s done.’

‘Already?’

‘I bought the tickets online. Numbers are restricted, so I applied early.’

‘Do you think the place will be heaving?’

‘Friday afternoon? I expect so.’

They turned on to the A90. ‘So, when’s the Maze competition?’ Honor said, pressing down on the accelerator.

‘I think it’s the end of August.’

‘You know, when I heard what the prize money was, I nearly fainted.’

‘I’m betting you have to pay to enter, and the fee will be almost as much,’ Dania said cynically. ‘Are you thinking of giving it a go?’

‘I’ll reserve judgement till I’ve seen what the Maze is like.’

But Dania knew that Honor would almost certainly enter. There was something about competitions that she couldn’t resist. But whether it was to prove herself to others, or only to herself, Dania had never been able to establish.

They’d reached Old Glamis Road. Minutes later, the sat-nav directed them on to Emmock. The road narrowed considerably. Or appeared to. It was the stone walls and overhanging branches with their canopy of leaves that gave the impression they were hemmed in.

‘And how is Marek coping with having a woman for a boss?’ Honor said suddenly.

‘Probably as well as you are.’

‘Have you met her?’

‘Not yet. Okay, watch out for the entrance.’

‘On it.’

Honor slowed almost to a crawl. She must have spotted the ornamental gates on the right because she took the turn-off in good time. They followed a road surfaced with tarmac. On either side were pyramidal hedges trimmed to perfection, a task that must have required an army of gardeners. Dania was relieved there were no potholes as they’d taken her Fiat 500. Honor had insisted on driving, not because Dania’s rank had its privileges, but because she claimed to know this area of Dundee well. By that, Dania ­concluded that her latest man lived somewhere around here.

A minute or so later, they passed a small stone building set back from the road. A sign told passers-by that this was Alderwood Manor Lodge. It looked deserted. Perhaps, in the past, visitors to the Manor had had to stop here and wait while the estate keeper checked a register, then phoned through that they had arrived. Or lifted his shotgun and told them to clear off. Peering between the hedges gave visitors a glimpse of manicured lawns. The marble statues dotted about were of scantily clad women draped with ­garlands of flowers.

At the end of the short drive, there was a huge house with honey-stone walls, its wings capped with steep, tiled roofs. Ornamental planters, their flowers spilling colour on to the ground, stood either side of the entrance. Dania’s first thought was that she hoped the sash windows were double-glazed as she’d been in such houses before. When the wind blew, the windows rattled alarmingly and the draught was sometimes strong enough to ­disturb the curtains.

A man was standing watching the car approach. He checked their tickets, then smilingly but firmly directed them to the right.

At least he didn’t have a shotgun, Dania thought, putting away her phone.

They followed the arrows to a field that had been converted into a car park. From the number of vehicles, it was clear ­everywhere would be crowded.

‘Do you think it’s the Maze they’ve a­ll come to see, boss?’ Honor said, pulling into the nearest free space.

‘I’m not sure. There are other activities on offer. Mind you, the Maze might be the big attraction. Everyone seems to know about the murders that took place there.’

Honor switched off the ignition. ‘That’s news to me,’ she said, looking curiously at Dania.

‘You didn’t read my brother’s article carefully enough.’

‘I have to confess that I didn’t read it at all. Who was murdered, then?’

‘Several members of the McGarry family. All siblings.’

‘Crikey. When was this?’

‘Sometime during the Victorian era. Not long after the Maze was built, in fact.’

‘What happened? Why were they murdered?’

‘The oldest was in line to inherit. He was the first McGarry found dead in the Maze.’

‘Don’t tell me. One by one, the others were killed, too.’

‘And in order of age, until there was only the youngest left.’

‘Surely he was the prime suspect.’

‘And he was able to prove that he’d been nowhere near the estate each time a body was found.’

‘But I bet forensics then wasn’t what it is now.’

‘I’m sure our scientists would have shredded his evidence. Anyway, he inherited. The husband of the present owner, Glenna McGarry, is a direct descendant. But they’re divorced, and I understand he no longer has a claim to the estate.’

Honor was frowning. ‘I had no idea the place has such a rich history.’

‘Marek did some digging in the archives. It was all about ­dynastic power.’

‘Like Game of Thrones.’

Dania smiled. ‘But without the nudity and the dragons.’

They left the car. The air was sticky with humidity. ‘Do you think it’s going to rain?’ Dania said, studying the sky.

‘If it does, it’ll rain for forty days. And if it doesn’t, it’ll be fine weather for forty days.’

‘How do you make that out?’

‘It’s July the fifteenth. St Swithin’s Day.’ Honor looked ­cheekily at Dania. ‘Are you superstitious, boss?’

Dania threw her a warning look. ‘It’s unlucky to be ­superstitious.’

They followed the signs to the Maze, passing the Manor. A peek through the conservatory windows revealed a red-tiled floor, cream rattan furniture and tubs planted with small orange trees. There was even a tiny fountain. As Dania turned away, she thought she saw a shadow move near the door into the house. Someone had been sitting in the conservatory. Glenna McGarry, perhaps?

As if echoing her thoughts, Honor said, ‘So, this Glenna McGarry is the book publisher, right?’

‘She bought up the company, which was running at a loss, and turned it round. It’s made her extremely wealthy. Mind you, she was wealthy before.’

‘Yep, I remember now. She was interviewed on the radio. There’s also a newspaper arm to the company, isn’t there?’

‘Dundee Today.’

‘Which is the newspaper Marek now works for,’ Honor said triumphantly. ‘I’ve finally joined the dots.’

‘I’ve heard that Dundee Today is selling better than either the Courier or the Evening Telegraph.’

‘I’m sure that’s largely down to your brother.’

‘He says it’s largely down to his boss. She’s always ahead of the game when it comes to publishing what Dundonians want to read.’ They’d stopped under a tree alive with sparrows. ‘Which way now?’ Dania said, studying the warning on the adjacent post: it was forbidden to allow unaccompanied children into the Maze, children had to be supervised at all times, and the owners of the estate would take no responsibility if these rules were not followed and visitors came to harm.

‘Hang on, there’s a QR code.’ Honor whipped out her mobile and held it over the image. ‘Great, here’s a map of the estate.’

‘Can you download it?’

‘Done. So, which do we try first, boss? We have a choice: ­zipwire through the trees, although it’s a bit of a trek to get there. And there’s a treetop walk. Then there’s the Maze. It’s behind that wall.’

Before Honor could continue, Dania said quickly, ‘I don’t fancy the zipwire. Or the treetop walk.’

‘That’s what I reckoned. The Maze it is, then,’ Honor added eagerly. She sounded as keen to try it as Dania was.

Behind the wall was hedging, which disappeared in both ­directions. Next to the gap in the hedge was a sign declaring that this was the entrance to Alderwood Manor Maze.

Honor ran a hand over the bright green leaves. ‘Hey, this is ­artificial.’

‘That’s right. The whole Maze is like this.’

‘I should have read Marek’s article.’

‘You know what makes this Maze unique?’ Dania asked, ­realising that, if Honor hadn’t heard about the main feature, she was in for a surprise.

‘I don’t, boss. I assume that if you keep one hand on the wall, you’ll be home in time for cocktails.’

‘I think that might be a labyrinth rather than a maze.’ She felt a smile creep on to her lips. ‘Tell you what, let’s just go in and see what happens.’

‘Lead on.’

A short distance beyond the entrance, a hedge barred their way.

‘Where now, Honor? Left or right. You choose.’

‘Let’s go left.’

Dania had been in mazes that would have finished off anyone suffering from claustrophobia. But although the hedges were tall, the paths between them were wide enough that she didn’t feel hemmed in.

They stopped in front of a dark statue standing on a plinth.

‘This is the famous Minotaur,’ Dania said.

‘What’s famous about it?’

‘It was made especially for the Maze, which means it’s unique. Mind you, this statue looks too new. Either it’s had a makeover, or it’s a copy.’

Honor was staring at the bulge under the Minotaur’s skirt. Her gaze drifted to the bull’s head with its horns and ring through the nose. And its fierce expression. The creature was brandishing an axe in each hand. ‘He doesn’t do it for me,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I’d even like to get acquainted.’ She moved away, playing with her phone. ‘There doesn’t seem to be a map of the Maze, boss. Do you happen to know if there’s only one way out?’

‘I remember reading that there are several.’

At the end of the path, they turned right, seeing another statue at the far end. They were partway along when, with no prior warning, a grinding sound shattered the calm. Dania felt a tremor under her feet.

Honor wheeled round. The Minotaur had followed them, ­taking up position at the corner of the path. It glared menacingly at Honor.

‘Boss,’ she murmured. ‘Am I seeing things?’

Dania laughed. ‘You’re not. Or, rather, you are. The statues in this maze can move. For that matter, so can some of the hedges.’ She indicated the ground, which was criss-crossed with what looked like tram lines. ‘There are wheels under some of the objects, and they roll along these tracks. According to Marek’s ­article, the Victorians were famous for building automatons, and the designer of this maze decided to use a similar mechanism here.’

‘What about health and safety?’ Honor said primly. ‘Or did the Victorians not care about that?’

‘Nothing moved while people were in the Maze. The owners shifted things around after everyone had left, so the Maze was ­different the next time it opened. Now, though, objects move with visitors still inside.’ Dania peered up towards the top of the hedge. ‘Marek said there are cameras everywhere. Someone, somewhere, can see everything that’s going on. They’ll be careful not to do anything that might cause an accident. But the cameras seem well hidden.’

‘How did Marek come by this intel?’ Honor said. She’d dropped to her knees and was running her fingers over the tram lines.

‘He interviewed Glenna McGarry for his article. She has the blueprints for the old Maze. There were underground tunnels everywhere. She even had the diagrams showing how the objects were moved. So, for example, with the Minotaur, someone would open a trapdoor under the pedestal, wind up the mechanism, and then flick a switch to get the statue going. And then close off the trapdoor.’

‘Is that how it’s done now?’ Honor said. She was back on her feet, brushing the dust off her jeans.

‘The tunnels are no longer in use. In fact, I suspect they’ve been filled in. Nowadays, it’s all done electronically. The operator sits in front of a large screen, getting feeds from the cameras, and seeing who is standing where. He or she then works the controls and, hey presto, something moves.’

‘Hardware and software, then.’

‘It’s taken years to get the Maze rebuilt so it can be operated this way,’ Dania. . .