A Country Way of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 4)

by R. A. Bentley

  Miles shook his head. 'No it's all right, thanks. Can you put a time on it, when he left here?'

  The man hesitated, glancing at Gabriel. 'Dunno really. Two o'clock?'

  'Marie'll know,' said Gabriel. 'It was her as seen him.'

  'All right, thanks. Would now be convenient, Gabriel?'

  Gabriel nodded. 'Come in and sit down.' Drying the sweat from his face and shiny pate, he led then into his office, motioning them to a decrepit sofa. 'He'd thrown a shoe so Marie booked him in,' he said. 'It hadn't happened then. The murder, I mean. Take a pew. What's the latest on Bill?'

  'I haven't seen my father yet, but I'm not expecting any surprises. What do you know about things between Bill and Mr Rowsell senior? Not much love lost on the face of it.'

  Gabriel gave a little snort. 'Bill had to do as he was told. I'd have called him henpecked if there'd been a hen to peck 'im. The old man's a bit of a miser, so Stan reckons. Never does nothin' to the place.'

  'When did Mrs Rowsell die?'

  'Oh, twenty year ago, must be.'

  'Any pals?'

  'Bill? Dunno as he had really. Bit of a loner I think. He used to hang around along of us when we were younger but not now.'

  'He used to call on Miss Pruitt apparently, and the Clements.'

  'Sooner him than me! That woman makes me feel about twelve again.' He laughed. 'No, Beatrice is all right. Didn't know about the Clements.'

  'Did he drink? Socially I mean.'

  'No, not for years. Shouldn't be surprised if he'd took the pledge. Religious, you know.'

  'So we gather. Lady friends?'

  'Not that I know of. Bit discouragin', wouldn't it be, gettin' preached at continuous?'

  'I suppose it would. Now if you could just tell me what you were doing before, during and after the murder we'll leave you in peace. This'll be your formal statement, so the sergeant will type it up and if you agree it's accurate we'll get you to sign it.'

  'All right. I was caulkin' some shoes and doin' a bit of paperwork until one or so. Then I had a pie and pint in the Bell. That was until your mum come rushin' in wantin' the telephone.'

  'You didn't see anyone else, apart from in the Bell?'

  'Don't think so. Yes, sorry, the Vicar and Beatrice. Ronald and me met them as we was comin' back from the gents.'

  'Did you speak?'

  'Not really. Just about the weather.'

  'You're quite sure Ron Adams was with you?'

  'Yes, of course I'm sure. We was talkin' in there. In the gents, I mean. You don't suspect him, do you? He's convinced, you know, that you'll think he done it, because of the fight. I told him not to be so daft, but once he gets an idea in his head there's no shiftin' it.' He turned to Rattigan. 'He can be a bit queer sometimes, our Ronald — had a bad war.'

  'What was the fight about?' said Miles.

  'I think you should ask him that.'

  'All right, I will. Was Rowsell's car there at the time?'

  'When we come out? Yes, it was, and Josie's truck.'

  'Did you see Rowsell?'

  'No, I don't think so. I think I'd remember if he'd been at the pump.'

  'What time was this? Any idea?'

  'It could only have been minutes before your mum come rushin' in, whenever that was. Two-fifteen?'

  'Hmm, I see. Has Stan identified the missing hammer, do you know? Assuming that's what he used.'

  'No, he hasn't. Reckons they're all there. Buckett's next door. Shall I give him a shout?'

  'No, we'll go in there. Just one more thing. I'm trying to work out, by a process of elimination, who got into Glebe Cottage. Can you confirm that you were at the dance until the end?'

  Gabriel looked sceptical. 'What about the ones as didn't go to it? Still, it's a start, I suppose. No, I wasn't, as a matter of fact. Nor were the Bullochs. Me and Marie come out with them and walked as far as here together. We was going to have a coffee at their place, but Martin was worried about his ewes – it was comin' down steady by that time – and Alma was tired, so we left it.'

  'That's interesting. Any idea what time it was?'

  Gabriel shrugged. 'Probably gettin' on for eleven by the time we got outside of here. There was quite a parcel o' folk about by then, comin' away. I'm pretty sure Glebe was in darkness, but of course I wasn't particularly lookin'. It's always a bit of a black hole over there, given it lies back off the road. D'you reckon there's a connection with this business?'

  Miles sighed. 'If you can find one, Gabriel, perhaps you'll tell us!'

  'So if the weapon's not missing,' said Rattigan, as they entered the garage. 'He must either have put it back afterwards or used something else.'

  'Brilliant, Watson. I congratulate you.'

  'Eh? Well you know what I mean. Shouldn't we check them? The likely ones anyway.'

  'Doubt it's worth the effort, to be honest. Most people know about dabs these days and if there's any blood on it, which owing to his cap there probably isn't, it'll only show which one hit him, which doesn't matter much. Had the lads been here, it'd be different. Still, we'll fit it in if we can. Hello, Buckett, Stan not back yet, presumably?'

  'No, sir. He says all his tools are present and correct, although how he knows beats me.'

  'They're old friends, I expect, used daily. Nothing to report?'

  'No, sir. I worked right up the High Street and Long Lane as far as Mrs Humphries' place and no-one saw anyone – which is a bit surprising, I thought – and there was nothing that looked like a discarded weapon. Mind you, it was lunchtime.'

  They sat in the car, Miles studying Rowsell's letter. 'And never got round to signing it,' he said, handing it over. 'Maybe he thought better of it.'

  Rattigan took out his spectacles. '"I was not the instrument of his death, nor was any man,"' he declaimed. "The Lord smote him and his breath departed and on that day his plans perished, for we brought nothing into the world, and can take nothing out of it. I was stiff necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears and did always resist the Holy Ghost. He spake often but I was filled with the lust of the flesh and stopped my ears against him. Then at last I was instructed. I smote upon my thigh: I was ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I did bear the reproach of my youth. Great is their sin for they repenteth not. Their sins are manifold and he shall judge them. Their gold and silver is cankered; and the rust of them shall be a witness against them and shall eat their flesh as it were fire. Withal I cannot bear witness, for who am I that judgeth another? Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." Why do these people never use paragraphs?'

  It was Mrs Pinnick, the Reverend Shepherd's housekeeper who opened the door to them.

  'Oh, sir, isn't it dreadful? It makes you afraid to go shopping, truly it do.'

  'Miles put on his reassuring smile. 'You really mustn't worry, Mrs Pinnick. You're perfectly safe, I promise you, and we'll have the culprit behind bars soon enough.'

  The vicar rose from his desk as they entered. 'Come on in gentlemen. I've been expecting you. You'll be wanting my statement no doubt.'

  'If we may, sir,' said Miles. 'I don't believe I've introduced you to Sergeant Rattigan. He has the unnerving habit of scribbling down everything you say, but he's perfectly harmless unless provoked.'

  Mr Shepherd gazed quizzically up at the immense policeman. 'I'll have to take your word for that. What on earth do they feed you fellows on, raw steak? Sit down now, both of you. Please feel free to use the desk, Sergeant.'

  'First of all, Mr Shepherd,' said Miles, 'we need to know your movements at around the time of the murder. Will you kindly describe your afternoon's activities, where relevant.'

  The vicar paused for reflection. 'Well, I had a meeting with the W.I. committee this morning, which went on until about one. Nothing relevant there, certainly. Afterwards I brought Miss Pruitt back to lunch, as Mrs Pinnick will confirm. We'd discussed her taking over as organist and I'd decided to press my suit a bit harder.'

  'Can Miss Pruitt play the organ, then?'

>   'Well, no. She can play the piano, of course. I'm quite aware that they are not readily interchangeable, but I'd hoped that with sufficient practice . . .' He stopped and smiled nervously. 'Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to discuss that now.'

  'Perhaps not,' agreed Miles. 'So you had lunch. What then?'

  'We sat chatting for a while then left here together, she to go home and I to my car, which was parked on the roadside. My intention had been to drive down to Nether and see Mrs Collins. She's just had a baby.' He smiled again. 'But I expect you know that. First, however, I wanted some petrol, but Mr Rowsell's car was at the pump and behind him was Mrs Clement's truck, so I waited, and Miss Pruitt stayed to chat.'

  'Could you see either Mr Rowsell or Mrs Clement, when you arrived?'

  'Not Mr Rowsell. Mrs Clement was sitting in the truck.'

  'You could see her?'

  'I didn't see her, no, not until she got out and went into the garage. Moments later she rushed out again in obvious distress and called to us.'

  'Are you able to give me a time, when Mrs Clement called out?'

  'I think it must have been about two-fifteen to two-twenty. We left the house somewhat after two and spoke briefly to Mr Shuttler and Mr Adams on the way down – they were outside the Bell – and then we waited a little, so I don't suppose it was earlier than about a quarter past.'

  'Where was Mrs Clement when you were talking to the others — still in her truck?'

  'Yes, she must have been. I didn't notice her until she got out. Mr Rowsell's car was by the pump, so she'd stopped in front of the smithy. She wasn't all that close to us.'

  'But she definitely came from her truck?'

  'I . . . yes, I'm sure she did.'

  'Alone?'

  'Yes, I think so.'

  'What did you talk to Messrs Shutler and Adams about?'

  The vicar looked doubtful. 'Only the weather, I think. Yes, we discussed the prospect of more snow, and I told them to go back in the warm. They hadn't any coats on. We only spoke for a moment or two.'

  'And what did you do, after Mrs Clement ran out of the garage?'

  'We hurried to her and she told us what had happened.'

  'Was there anyone else there?'

  'I don't believe so, apart from Lady Felix who went straight into the garage.'

  'And how did Mrs Clement seem?'

  'Oh, extremely shocked and upset, as well she might be.'

  'What did she say had happened?'

  'That Mr Rowsell was lying injured in the inspection pit.'

  'Did she say he'd been attacked?'

  'Yes, I believe so. Or was it I who told her? I'm not entirely sure. It seemed clear to me from the nature of the injury that he had been.'

  'Why do you say that?'

  'Well, the wound was on the back of his head, or seemed to be.'

  'What happened then?'

  'We all went inside and confirmed what Mrs Clement had told us. Then Lady Felix went to telephone to Sir Roger and I returned to Mrs Clement.' The vicar looked a little shamefaced. 'You will think I should have looked around the garage, but I had no idea what I might be up against. It seemed wiser to go outside, and I didn't wish to leave Mrs Clement alone.'

  'I think you did the right thing. But what about Miss Pruitt? Were you not concerned about her?'

  The vicar looked embarrassed. 'I thought she had gone with Lady Felix. I was distressed to discover she had stayed behind.'

  'All right. Did Mr Rowsell speak or make any sound while you were in there?'

  'I don't believe so, though I was only there for moments. He was, of course, face-downwards. He had the look, somehow, of someone unconscious, if not dead. I'm not even sure I would have recognised him, under the circumstances, had not Mrs Clement identified him.'

  'Thank you, Mr Shepherd, that was very clearly put. We will ask you to sign that statement later. Tell me, if you will, about Bill Rowsell. You knew him well, presumably?'

  The vicar looked equivocal. 'I had a fair amount to do with him, certainly, but I can't say I ever really knew the man. He was a very private person, I think, and not one to share confidences. Not with me anyway. He did, however, like to engage me on matters of doctrine.'

  'When was that?'

  'Oh, whenever he bumped into me.' The vicar was silent for a moment, then sighed. 'I may as well tell you, Mr Felix, that I came to dread those occasions. He was, I'm afraid, obsessed with sin. That sort always is. Nor was he really interested in discussion; he just wanted to harangue me.'

  'On sin?'

  'On it's ubiquity in the village and the certainty of divine retribution. He seemed to envisage for us the fate of a Sodom or Gomorrah. It became most tiresome.'

  'Couldn't you just have agreed with him?'

  'I . . . no I could not! It would have been quite against my principles.'

  'Don't you believe in sin, Mr Shepherd?'

  The vicar looked down his nose at him, then smiled. 'I believe you are teasing me again, Mr Felix! Our creed is one of forgiveness — that is rather the point of it!'

  'What about his life in the church. A conscientious attender no doubt?'

  'Oh yes, certainly. He seldom missed a Sunday service, that I can remember. But there are, of course, many such. Beyond that he took no part in church activities, which is partly why I know so little about him. He came, he worshipped and he went.'

  'Took communion?'

  'Yes, of course.'

  'Did he ever arrive with anyone, or leave with them?'

  The vicar considered. 'I rather think not, though one can't be sure, of course. He tended to place himself a little apart from the rest of the congregation unless the church was crowded, which made one rather aware of his singing. Not loud, you understand, but it stood out.'

  'But nevertheless you've learned nothing about him,' frowned Miles, 'in all those years?'

  'Well, no, nothing significant. But sometimes, you know, there is little to learn. I know that he was unmarried and farmed with his widowed father; although, to my shame, I have never knowingly met that gentleman. His mother I knew only to greet as they left the church. They used to attend together. She was most severe of countenance, I remember, and scarcely spoke.'

  Miles glanced at Rattigan. 'What about when he was younger?'

  Again the vicar hesitated. 'He attended with his mother until she died. After that, not so much. Which is often the case, of course, at that age.'

  'Yes, I suppose it is. And in those days, did you ever see him keeping company with other young people?'

  The vicar shook his head regretfully. 'Dear me, Inspector. I'm sorry to be so negative, but I really don't know. I saw him about the place naturally, but I can't tell you whom he was friendly with or what he did. He never stood out, if you know what I mean. Not as a young man anyway, the preaching came later.'

  'Did he ever walk out with Ellen Titmus?'

  'Ellen! Heavens, I shouldn't think so. He was hardly her sort, surely? I don't think I ever saw him with a girl. Why Ellen, of all people?'

  'Well it was just a passing thought. Mr Shepherd, I will ask once again. Did Mr Rowsell ever confide in you in any way? Something that was troubling him in particular, perhaps?'

  'No, Inspector, he did not.'

  'All right,' sighed Miles. 'Then knowing what you will probably answer, do you have your suspicions about who might have done this thing?'

  The vicar shook his head. 'No, I haven't, and suspicion alone would not be enough. These people are my flock and they trust me. You can hardly expect me to say anything else.'

  'That is not a universal response, you know, from the clergy.'

  'Well I'm afraid it is mine.'

  'Did you kill Bill Rowsell, Mr Shepherd?'

  'The vicar smiled. 'No, Inspector, I did not.'

  'Then thank you for your time, sir.'

  The vicar showed them out. 'Do you suppose . . .' he began. 'It's just that you mentioned Miss Titmus. Do you think there may be a connection between what we di
scussed previously and this sad business?'

  'That's hard to say, sir,' said Miles pointedly. 'Since we've been able to learn so little about Mr Rowsell.'

  'Can be quite obdurate if pressed,' mused Miles. 'Not as meek and mild as I imagined him to be.'

  'His statement came out a bit pat, if you ask me,' said Rattigan, 'as if he'd been rehearsing it. Even the hesitations seemed rehearsed. And then he's determined not to tell you anything about Rowsell. You'd think he could have dredged up some tidbit to keep you happy. Is someone threatening him, do you think?'

  'It's not impossible. Though to give him his due, he made it perfectly clear where his loyalties lie.'

  'You didn't mention the letter.'

  'No. We'll keep that up our sleeves, I think.'

  After dinner they sat and discussed this latest piece of intelligence.

  'It's a queer piece of work, when you consider it,' said Miles. 'If he'd planned to add anything to it, it would logically have been at the beginning, where, in fact, he's left no room. The end seems complete. I suspect it was only a draft, not half a letter. There may even be a later one, though it wasn't in his desk.'

  'It's all bits and pieces, isn't it?' said Connie, who was studying the untidy and ink-blotted page. 'I mean, he's writing in sort of seventeenth century English with oddments of Bible thrown in. They are from the Bible, I take it?'

  'I can't say I recognise them,' said Daisy, 'and I've sat through enough sermons, goodness knows.'

  'Too much fire and brimstone for Mr Shepherd,' said Lavinia. 'It's all a bit nonconformist, isn't it?'

  '"Vengeance is mine," is St Paul's epistle to the Romans,' said Rattigan. 'They nearly all use that.'

  'Yes, they do,' agreed Miles. Although he left out the Hosea, I'm glad to say.'

  'What's that one?' said Connie.

  'You won't want to hear it, darling — not nice.'

  'Of course I do. Don't be silly.'

  'Victorian husband,' said Daisy, nodding sagely.

  'Nonsense!' said Miles. 'My wife shall be my equal in all respects. Just so long as she darns my socks. Give it to 'em, Teddy.'

  '"They shall fall by the sword,"' quoth Rattigan. '"Their infants shall be dashed in pieces, and their women with child shall be ripped up."'