“This is the sort of case that we take on a results-only basis,” Beryl said, looking over at Edwina.
Edwina gave the tiniest of nods.
“What does that mean?” Jack asked. He eyed the paltry pile of coins and bit his lower lip.
“It means that we do not charge anything unless we get the desired result,” Edwina said.
“You mean you won’t charge me anything if you don’t get my father off the hook?” Jack said.
“That’s right,” Edwina said.
Jack smiled and swept the coins into his pocket. “Then I’d best get back to work. I’m going to need to sell a bunch more papers today, because I know you’re going to want to collect your fee. Thanks very much, ladies.” He gave them each a nod and popped his hat back upon his head before turning to the scullery door and dashing out through it.
“Oh dear,” Edwina said, looking after him. “I’m afraid that boy is in for a terrible disappointment.”
“It looks grim for Frank Prentice, doesn’t it?” Beryl said.
“It’s all too easy to believe that the town drunk had one too many and delivered a fatal blow to someone with whom he had a long-standing argument,” Edwina said.
“Hector Lomax seemed to be the sort of man that many people wanted to murder. I suppose it’s not a surprise that Jack’s father would be amongst them,” Beryl said.
“It may not be a surprise, but it certainly is a tragedy. That family’s been barely clinging on to what little they have without this happening. I’ve heard in town that they were in danger of being turned out of the cottage they are letting because they had failed to pay for the past several months,” Edwina said. “It was said that Frank losing his job at the Lomax farm started them towards ruin.”
“If Hector knew how much Frank relied on his job at the farm, it seems downright cruel for him to go out of his way to get Frank fired from his job as the sexton as well,” Beryl said. “Do you know of any reason why he would be so vindictive?”
“I’m afraid that’s just the sort of man he always was. He seemed to take delight in causing others pain. I can’t say I’m glad that he has been murdered, but just like Clifford Hammond, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“Do you think Frank’s the one who did it?” Beryl asked.
“As much as I hate to think so, I think often the obvious solution is the correct one.”
Chapter 8
Edwina felt her usual trepidation at the idea of taking on a new client. While she had derived a great deal of satisfaction from the fledgling private enquiry agency, which Beryl had suggested they open only a few weeks earlier, Edwina was still not certain that either of them was truly qualified to represent herself in such a way. And while she could not deny that the earnings from their last case had kept them from going into arrears with the merchants of Walmsley Parva, it was less likely that this case would do so. After all, even if they did pull off some sort of miracle and prove Jack’s father to be innocent, there would be no money in it.
Not that that was the most important reason for taking the case, Edwina reminded herself sternly. She felt rather shocked and amazed that her mind could take such a mercenary bent in the face of another’s tragedy. That little shadow of shame slithering through the privacy of her own mind galvanized her into action.
“I propose we start with the scene of the crime,” Edwina said. “I expect the vicar will be at the church. Since that is where Hector’s body was found, I suggest we have a word with him.”
She began to gather up the crockery and place it haphazardly in the sink. Usually, she would take the time to wash the dishes straightaway, but as an independent businesswoman, she could not always make housekeeping her priority. Whatever would her mother have said? She didn’t like to consider it and was somewhat relieved to realize she needn’t care. Besides, the death duties after her mother died were one of the reasons Edwina had felt such pressure to look for a source of income. She hurried down the hall, with Beryl close at her heels. Crumpet capered along beside them, begging to be included. She took pity on him, bent down and strapped on his lead.
“I suppose this means you don’t wish to take the automobile,” Beryl said, looking down at Crumpet.
“He needs a walk, and so do I,” Edwina said. “You know very well that the churchyard is within easy walking distance. Besides, the fresh air will do us all good.”
Edwina lifted her second-best hat from the hall tree and looked in the mirror as she placed it on her head. While she had never been a classic beauty, Edwina had always been rather proud of her complexion and even now had no desire to spoil it with too much sun. She also had not any desire to behave as a modern woman when it came to hats. She was rather too fond of them for that. Beryl felt no such affinity and strode out the door bareheaded.
Despite the tragedies of the day, Edwina found herself enjoying the sights and sounds of the countryside as they walked along the lane. Birds chirped merrily up in the trees, puffy white clouds scudded across the brilliant blue sky, and Crumpet found seemingly endless pleasant scents to inspect at the base of the hedgerows. Edwina could almost forget the purpose of their errand. Although, Jack’s face filled with misery flitted through her thoughts, unbidden, as they neared the imposing grey stone structure that was the church.
“I think I should take the lead here as far as any questions are concerned,” Edwina said. “Vicars are, after all, far more my area of expertise than yours.”
It was surprising, but it was true. Edwina happily conceded that Beryl had far more expertise with almost every variety of man than she herself had. But if there was one subspecies of the sex that Edwina was more qualified to interrogate, it was a country vicar. Something about her flamboyant friend reduced the already unprepossessing vicar, Wilfred Lowethorpe, to an even more shadowy version of himself whenever she spoke to him.
No matter how many times Edwina reminded Beryl that the best way to deal with him was to refrain from flirting and winking, her friend simply could not be convinced. It was a failing that had not endeared Beryl to the vicar’s wife, a local paragon of godly good works and no-nonsense acts of charity.
Edwina had always gotten on quite well with Muriel Lowethorpe, despite some trouble she and Beryl had created at the recent May Day celebration, of which Muriel was the chairwoman. Edwina certainly did not want to test a relationship that had just gotten back on solid footing.
“I defer to your better judgment,” Beryl said. “Where do you suggest we begin?”
They came to a stop right outside the lych-gate and peered into the churchyard over a low wooden fence. A movement at the far corner of the grounds caught Edwina’s eye. The vicar stood stooped over a headstone, and Edwina could hear him muttering to himself. She inclined her head in his direction and, after fastening Crumpet’s lead to a post, beckoned for Beryl to follow her. She would not get very far with the vicar if she allowed her dog to prance about on the graves. The vicar was, quite properly, a stickler for propriety when it came to the dead.
The vicar straightened as they approached, then took a step back when he spotted Beryl. Edwina fervently hoped her friend could control any enthusiastic bouts of winking or an inclination to elbow the vicar in the ribs.
“What brings you two ladies to the church this morning?” he asked. He cast a worried glance over his shoulder, and Edwina wondered if Muriel was within the church, polishing the brasses or arranging some flowers in front of the pulpit.
“We’ve been retained by Jack Prentice to look into the case against his father,” Edwina said. “We felt it best to start at the beginning, so we came to see where both Hector’s body and Frank Prentice were found.”
The vicar bobbed his head as a sort of acknowledgment that the churchyard was indeed the place where such shenanigans had taken place. Edwina could not help but note his usually grey coloring had gone even more ashen. He lifted a bony finger and pointed to the other side of the yard, and as he did so, two bright spots of color a
ppeared on his gaunt cheeks.
“I found Hector Lomax’s body right over there. It gave me a terrible turn. At first, I thought he had simply fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time someone who had had too much to drink stumbled onto the grounds for a quiet nap,” the vicar said.
“When did you realize that he was dead?” Edwina said.
“When I bent over and shook him by the shoulder. I must have gone about it a bit more vigorously than I had realized, because his head turned sideways, and that’s when I saw the blood and the dent in his skull,” he said. The scowl on his face deepened, and Edwina found herself surprised that he was not disposed to be more charitable towards a member of the community who had met with such a fate.
“Did you find Frank Prentice too?” Edwina asked.
“No, I didn’t. Constable Gibbs found Frank as she was making a thorough search of the grounds for clues. I feel as though everywhere I turn, the entire property has been desecrated,” the vicar said.
“What do you think happened?” Edwina asked.
“My first thought was that it had something to do with the vandalism we’ve been experiencing lately. I haven’t liked to say anything, but now that there’s been a murder, I don’t suppose litter and desecrated graves are of much account,” he said.
“Have you been finding a lot of vandalism at the church? That seems surprising. I would not have thought anyone would have dared,” Edwina said.
Behind her Beryl let out the smallest of snorts. Edwina shot a warning glance over her shoulder. Fortunately, the vicar seemed too caught up in his own emotions to have noticed any lack of respect on Beryl’s part.
“Oh yes. I haven’t wanted to draw attention to the behavior, because I thought that would encourage more of it. But we have had quite a rash of vandalism over the past few weeks. Considering who I suspect was responsible, I now feel as though I should have said something to the authorities,” the vicar said.
“Who is it that you suspect of being responsible?” Edwina asked.
“Well, until today I shouldn’t have liked to have named names. I have always believed in not being the first to cast stones,” the vicar said.
“Very admirable, I’m sure,” Edwina said. “It sounds as though you regret not doing more to get to the bottom of it.”
“Indeed I do. I keep asking myself if I had taken action if Hector Lomax would still be alive,” the vicar said.
“Does that mean you suspect that the vandalism and the murder are connected?” Beryl said. Edwina worried that Beryl’s interjection would stem the flow of information from the vicar, but she needn’t have worried. Truly, she had never seen the man so worked up.
“I am very sorry to say that I believe Frank Prentice is responsible for the vandalism and for the murder,” the vicar said. “I hate to speak ill of any man, but the evidence is too strong against him.”
“What evidence is that?” Beryl asked. Edwina shot her a warning glance, and Beryl gave a slight nod of her head.
“Although we have experienced a bit of vandalism off and on for some time, it has occurred more frequently ever since I unfortunately relieved Frank Prentice of his sexton duties,” the vicar said.
“So you believe the fact that you let him go caused him to turn to vandalism in retribution?” Edwina said.
The vicar nodded. “That’s exactly what I believe. The attacks on the headstones, the building, and the grounds have escalated ever since he lost his job here. I cannot help but conclude that he lashed out in a drunken fit at Hector and killed him,” the vicar said. “Perhaps if I had shared my suspicions with Constable Gibbs earlier, she would have either warned him off or caught him red-handed and put him away for a little while.”
“Do you really think that Frank would have been so angry about the loss of his job that he would make a leap from vandalism to murder?” Edwina asked.
“He’s been lurking around the churchyard ever since I let him go. When I confronted him about being responsible for the vandalism, he threatened me. He said he didn’t blame me for what had happened but that he was desperate for the money. He actually put his hands on me and demanded I give him what I had upon my person,” the vicar said.
“He must have been very desperate indeed,” Edwina said. “He has no history of violence.”
“What exactly happened with Frank and Hector?” Beryl asked. “Was it enough to get Frank dismissed?”
“Hector’s complaint about Frank’s work was simply the last straw. Frank had been negligent in his duties for quite some time. He simply was not the same man that he once had been. I tried to be patient and show mercy, but eventually, enough was enough,” the vicar said.
“What sorts of things was he failing at?” Edwina asked.
“As the sexton, he was responsible for having graves dug in time for funeral services. More often than not, I would need to go and seek him out when he didn’t show up and the hour was growing late. Every time, I found him in some state of a drunken stupor. You know what he’s like,” the vicar said, turning to Edwina.
Indeed, Edwina did know what he was like, as did all the rest of the village. His son Jack had the unpleasant duty of collecting his father at the pub every night in an effort to ensure he found his way home. The family’s financial troubles had a great deal to do with how much of their small income he drank.
“So when Hector complained about the grave not being dug in time for his brother’s funeral, you decided finally to dismiss him from his duties?” Edwina said.
“I am sorry to say it was my sad duty to do so. Hector was the last in a long line of complaints, but Frank fixated on him as the sole reason he had lost his job. I think it had a great deal to do with the fact that Hector had let him go from his work on the farm as well,” the vicar said. “Looking back, it might have been wiser if I had waited until another parishioner had complained before speaking to Frank. I feel quite guilty about what has happened.”
“When Jack Prentice came to ask us for help, he said that his father was found with a bloody shovel next to him,” Edwina said.
“It was actually a shovel that belongs to the church. In fact, it is the very one he used to dig the graves. I suppose he was trying to make some sort of a statement,” the vicar said.
“Then in your mind there is no doubt that Frank is the one who committed the crime?” Beryl asked.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say absolutely no doubt, but I am willing to say that I would be more surprised to hear that it was someone else. Although, the world has changed so much since the war that I suppose nothing feels as certain as it used to,” the vicar said.
“Could you show us exactly where Hector’s body was found?” Edwina asked.
“Follow me,” the vicar said, setting off across the lumpy ground. Even in the churchyard, evidence of the drought could be seen. Much of the grass was brown at the tips.
The vicar stopped near a forlorn grave at the edge of the hallowed ground. The headstone was for a man who had died more than a hundred years earlier. Edwina felt a wave of sadness wash over her as she looked at the weeds and brambles collecting at the base of the stone. It was clear that there was no one who still cared about this man enough to bother to tend his grave.
Considering her branch of the Davenport line was likely to die out with her, Edwina suddenly felt as though she were looking at her own future. Would anyone bother to visit her final resting place after she was gone? She doubted very much it would take one hundred years for her own headstone to look so thoroughly neglected.
“He was sprawled out right here. I thought he had simply indulged in a night of excess after hearing the results of the Derby. And look, there’s some more deviltry,” the vicar said, pointing at a nearby headstone.
Edwina squinted at a grave marker pleasantly nestled against a small copse of trees. Edwina and Beryl followed him to the headstone, where he clucked his tongue as he looked at a pile of ash tapped out on its top.
“I don’t know wh
at this world is coming to when folks feel free to tap out their pipes on headstones,” the vicar said.
The two spots on his cheeks deepened in color. Beryl leaned over the small pile and sniffed. She walked around the back side of the headstone and stood a few feet back in amongst the trees. Edwina wondered what had gotten into her.
“It does seem quite a sacrilege,” Edwina said soothingly.
“That’s it exactly. The very thought of someone committing murder on hallowed ground would have been unthinkable before the war. Sometimes I find myself wondering, what the world has come to,” the vicar said. “Still, there is much of God’s work yet to do. You will have to excuse me.”
Edwina watched as he hustled away. Muriel had appeared in the doorway to the church. She stood with her hands on her hips. Edwina wondered how much of the vicar’s sudden urgency had to do with God’s work and how much of it had to do with the list that Muriel likely had assigned. She turned back to Beryl.
“If one were about to murder someone, this would be a rather good place to lie in wait, don’t you think?” Beryl said.
“I suppose it would, but only if you knew to expect someone,” Edwina said.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. How would anyone know to wait for Hector here?” Beryl asked.
“Perhaps the pipe smoker was not waiting for Hector, or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps he was just hoping to have a pipe in peace and didn’t wish to be seen. Or perhaps he just wanted to lean against a tree while he smoked,” Edwina said.
“It seems like quite a coincidence that he would pick this very spot, where Hector would be found only a few feet away.”
“But we don’t even know how long the ashes sat there. There’s nothing to say the pipe smoker was here at the same time as Hector,” Edwina said.
“They can’t have sat here long. It wouldn’t take much of a breeze to blow the pile away. Besides, right now it’s the only clue we’ve got,” Beryl said.
“Why did you smell it?” Edwina asked.
“Most pipe smokers are quite loyal to the tobacco that they choose. I thought that if I could identify it, I would be able to recognize it again if we find someone else who smokes this particular type of tobacco. That might lead us to a witness, at the very least,” Beryl said.
Murder Cuts the Mustard Page 6