Where There’s A Will

by Coles, Linda

  “Smells good,” he said. “How are you, Birdie?”

  “I’m good, Stanley. I see you’ve got proper footwear on today,” she said before smiling and leaning in to give the old man a peck on a wrinkly cheek. Stanley stood frozen to the spot for a moment. It had been some time since a woman other than his daughter had kissed him, even a quick peck.

  When he’d recovered, he said, “Sunday best. I thought I’d better dress properly since I’m going to church. Though I don’t suppose too many do these days.” Not that Stanley was dressed up, but he did have formal trousers on along with his trainers and a pullover that was clean. What more could they ask for?

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Will. “It’s been a while since I’ve been.”

  Birdie busied herself pouring coffee and placed a plate of scones straight from the oven onto the table.

  “Help yourself,” she said proudly as the two men found their places and sat down. Stanley reached for a scone first, split it and spread soft butter on both halves. Since they were still warm, a tiny puddle soon formed in the centre of each piece. He bit into one and devoured it quickly before picking the second up, totally unaware he was being watched.

  “Did you not have breakfast?” asked Will, amused.

  “No, I was saving myself. I was hoping you might have baked, Birdie,” he said.

  “Help yourself to another,” she said before adding, “then we can get to work.” While Stanley buttered and devoured, Birdie carried on regardless. “Does anyone know the names on the list?”

  “Haven’t seen the list yet,” said Stanley, chewing.

  “Allow me to read,” said Will. As Will read through the list and got to Veronica, Stanley gave another grin. “I think we’ve established it’s likely a different Veronica,” said Will for the benefit of Birdie.

  “Katherine Spencer,” said Stanley. “There can only be one Katherine Spencer.”

  “And who’s that?” asked Will.

  “Katherine Spencer, the stupid bloody deputy mayor!”

  “Of course. Now why hadn’t I put two and two together?

  “That should be easy enough to confirm this morning,” said Birdie. “I’ll seek her out and see where she might fit into all this. But I might just add, if it is the same Katherine Spencer, I would expect she knows about the tunnels from planning meetings or whatever. They are bound to have come up in the past with discussions around developments and roading and the like.”

  “Nice one,” agreed Will. “It sounds likely.”

  “I’ll take Veronica then,” said Stanley, wiping butter from his chin. “Just in case.”

  Seventy-Two

  The scones and coffee had been a nice idea, but it was time for Will, Birdie and Stanley to make their way to the church – the reason why they’d come together this morning. They wanted to mix and mingle after the service, and Will just hoped that Stanley would stay awake long enough and not sit snoring through the boring parts. He needn’t have worried: the service delivered was lively and reflected on many aspects of modern-day life and current events. The vicar had done an excellent job, and Will made a mental note to thank her for her thoughts and prayers at the end. He’d never been a churchgoer, there was always something in the way, something more important or pressing going on and, with a young family, it fell into the ‘too hard’ basket. Perhaps he’d rethink things. The vicar had delivered a sermon that struck a chord with Will and he wondered whether Louise might like to come along occasionally. Was he being realistic, though? He’d have to see; he wasn’t going to commit each of his Sunday mornings just yet.

  As the congregation made their way towards the front entrance and coffee, Stanley and Birdie hung back to let everyone pass through then took up the rear along with Will.

  “So, as agreed,” Will started, “we’ll split up, get ourselves a coffee and chat to anyone we can. Is that the plan? Eyes and ears open at the same time?”

  “With the emphasis on the eight, of course, who should be reasonably easy to spot,” said Birdie.

  “One will have a coffee pot in her hand for sure, and we know who the vicar is,” said Stanley.

  “And I already know the sexton,” said Will. “As for the others we’re not sure of, we’ll take it in turns where we can. Stanley, make sure you talk to Katherine too, seeing as you know so much about her.”

  Stanley harrumphed. “I suppose I could give her some grief.”

  “Grief isn’t really what we’re after, Stanley,” said Will warningly. “Play nice and listen hard.”

  “I can do that,” he said.

  “And what about you, Birdie?”

  “I may as well chat with the other two men and see what gives, then we’ll all compare notes at the end. As long as we’ve covered everyone, that’s the important thing.”

  “Then let’s get to it, otherwise we’ll be here all day,” said Will and the three branched off. It wasn’t long before each of them was standing chatting to their target, cup of coffee in one hand, custard cream in the other. Will tried to not watch the others and concentrate on what he was doing as he made a beeline for one of the women, who turned out to be Margaret. She looked after the flower arranging for the church, among other things, and seemed like a sweet soul, a little overweight around the middle and friendly enough. After chatting to her about the weather, always an easy introduction, Will asked about her week. Had anything exciting happened? Apparently something had, she’d won £10 on a scratch card. After another five minutes of less than riveting conversation, Will pretty much discounted her. He saw that Stanley had moved on from Katherine and smiled as he noted the poor woman shaking her head from side to side ever so slightly as the man moved away. He decided he’d go and restore her faith in mankind.

  “I believe you’re the deputy mayor,” Will said kindly.

  “I am, yes. Katherine Spencer, pleased to meet you,” she said, putting a petite hand out to shake Will’s.

  “I’m Will Peters. Are you a volunteer here, then?”

  “Yes, I’m on the roster this week. There’s not many of us now so we take it in turns. It’s quite hard to get volunteers, I’m afraid. Everyone’s so busy. Including me, I guess, else I would do more.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Will and he explained his role at the centre.

  “That must be rewarding work.”

  “It is, though with the recent deaths it’s been a worry too.” In spite of himself, he found himself watching her face for the slightest tell or twitch at the mention of the murders, but all he saw was sadness.

  “Terrible business,” she said, shaking her head gently again. “I hope it ends soon and they catch whoever is responsible.” At that moment Will felt somebody at his side, another parishioner who obviously wanted to bend the deputy’s ear about something. It was time to move on.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Will, noting her turn of phrase. He rolled the words around in his head, ‘hope it ends soon…’, but then, didn’t everyone hope the same? Perhaps he was looking at it from the wrong angle and it was simply an innocent remark. After half an hour, most of the parishioners had ventured off on their way, leaving a few stragglers to drain their cups and finish off the last of the biscuits. Stanley, Birdie and Will were among them, and after each finished chatting to whoever they were speaking to, they made their way out to the front and into the light sunshine to regroup away from eavesdroppers. A woman walked past the church with a young puppy on a lead that strained to go faster than its owner wanted it to. Will watched as the woman yanked quickly on the choke chain, which had the desired effect of bringing it back into line, all part of its training.

  “So,” said Will, focusing back on his two friends, “did we get to speak to everybody we needed to?”

  Stanley went first, “I never saw Veronica, sadly. I was anxious to see if she was the same one, but I think I got everybody else. How about you, Will?”

  “Most people, yes, but no, I didn’t see Veronica either. Birdie?”
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  “Nope to Veronica, but I’ve got her address so I think we can somehow wheedle our way in and find an excuse to chat. We’ve just got to think of something plausible. Did you talk to Katherine then Stanley?” She was clearly teasing him.

  “She’s quite nice actually,” he said. “Maybe I’m wrong about her.”

  “Do you think she is a killer, though?” asked Birdie.

  “Doubt it. Nice and petite, though.”

  Will and Birdie groaned at the man’s thought process. If nothing else, he was a good source for their amusement.

  “We’ll bear that in mind.”

  “She does fit our size profile,” said Will.

  Seventy-Three

  Birdie came up with the plan of popping around to Veronica Lauder’s house and asking her a set of market research questions – a similar idea to Will’s own. He helpfully pointed out she had no ID and no clipboard to make it even begin to look convincing, but Birdie insisted she’d be able to make it work. Finally, Will agreed to drive to the address and wait for her to return, hopefully with some answers about Veronica’s involvement with the church and any knowledge she had about the tunnels. As they turned the corner onto her street, they knew it was unlikely Birdie would get anywhere. The police were already parked outside.

  “Hmm, now that’s a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” Birdie said, leaning forward in her seat.

  “I’d say so,” said Will. “Though we are all assuming it is to do with the murders.”

  “Of course we are,” said Birdie. “If we’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably a slight female and someone with access to the church, I’m damn sure the police have come to the same.”

  Will pulled up to the kerb, staying away from the property, and turned the engine off. They sat watching.

  “I wonder how long they’ve been in there and what they’re asking.” Birdie voiced.

  “How did you get found out?” asked Will. “When they first came to your house to arrest you?”

  “That was different,” said Birdie, “I had to call the ambulance. Plus, I was covered in his blood and the knife was still in my hand. It all happened so quickly with me. I didn’t intend to kill him, you know.”

  “How interesting,” said Stanley. “What had you intended to do as you stuck the knife into him? Carve a slice off?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “It wasn’t planned, if you must know,” Birdie replied haughtily. “We’d just had a hell of a row and it was the nearest object I could reach as I saw red. Before I knew it, he was slumped on the floor. What a bloody mess too – literally. But no, by the time the police had arrived I guess I was ready to talk. It was all a bit shocking really. So, you see I’m not much help in guessing what’s going on inside there unless they’ve got evidence and are arresting her.”

  “Do you think they’ll frogmarch her down the path?” asked Stanley. “Like they do on the telly? Perhaps she’ll be handcuffed.”

  “That depends on what they’ve got on her,” said Will. “But if they do frogmarch her, you’ll be able to see if she’s ‘your’ Veronica.”

  “Well, I did a Google search on each of the names,” said Birdie, “and there wasn’t one bit of interesting information between them all.”

  “What does Veronica do for a living, did you find that out?” asked Will

  “Actually,” said Birdie, “Veronica’s name did pop up on a website and I never thought about its significance until you just said. She’s a funeral director, you probably know her.”

  “Really? The name doesn’t ring a bell, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know her, I suppose. I don’t know every funeral director, and I meet a fair few while digging graves, obviously.”

  “Well, here she comes,” said Birdie, nodding towards the house. “There’s no handcuffs that I can see. Maybe she’s helping them with their enquiries down at the station.”

  The three stayed silent as Veronica Lauder was escorted to one of the waiting police cars. Will noticed his contact, DI Mason, along with DC Flint. He also noticed the woman’s distinctive boots.

  “Okay, I don’t recognise her,” said Will, “though that doesn’t mean to say I haven’t met her. You women are always changing your hair and whatnot,” he said, turning to Birdie. “Her boots, on the other hand, that’s a different story. I’ve seen them before for sure. What was the funeral firm called, do you recall?”

  “No, but let me look now while we’re waiting.”

  Will glanced in his rear-view mirror as she tapped away on her phone before announcing, “Sanders & Co. Here, look, there’s a picture of her.” She passed the phone over to Will.

  “Yes, I knew I’d seen her recently,” he said, satisfied. Even though it had been the dead of night, he remembered where it was. He checked the other pictures of the staff and found the one of Duncan Sanders himself. It had been Mr Sanders that had attempted to undo the catches on the casket and had ended up flying through the air, landing face down by Will’s digger. “Well, that certainly is a coincidence.”

  “You do know them, then?”

  “Kind of, I’m not sure we’ve ever spoken. I wonder if she and Duncan are related – maybe brother and sister? Obviously not husband and wife since they have different surnames.”

  “That doesn’t mean much these days,” Stanley piped up. “Could live over the brush?” The trio were silent as they watched the liveried vehicle pull away with Veronica inside. Will was the first to speak as the car disappeared from sight.

  “I suppose a funeral director parked at the church wouldn’t give anyone cause for concern with their car, now, would it?”

  “I guess not,” said Birdie. “And, of course, she’s got access to inside.”

  “Definitely not my Veronica,” said Stanley unhelpfully.

  “I wonder what led them to her in the first place?” Will asked.

  “Maybe they sussed the car, and then CCTV cameras probably,” said Birdie.

  “Would she be that stupid, though? Every criminal knows about CCTV cameras, it’s how-not-to-commit-a-crime 101. That church couldn’t be any closer to a police station either.”

  “Maybe they’ve got something else on her that we don’t know about. Or she is just helping with enquiries. An employee could have taken the car and used it in the same scenario that we’re considering.”

  “We’re not going to get to talk to her now, that’s for sure,” said Will, starting the engine. “I may as well drop you to both back home and spend what’s left of the day with my family before it’s back to work tomorrow.”

  As Will turned the car around to head back to Birdie’s place, he noticed a man walking along with a dog. It was well behaved, unlike the puppy he’d seen earlier while waiting at the church, and it gave Will an idea.

  “She’s only slight now, isn’t she, Veronica,” he said.

  “Yes,” the two chimed.

  “How is anybody, man or woman, going to get a live man out of a cold, dark cellar and into a car without a commotion?”

  “Gunpoint,” said Stanley firmly. “That’s how I’d do it.”

  “Trust you,” said Birdie. “Knifepoint more likely.”

  Stanley raised his eyebrows and said, “You would, though, wouldn’t you?”

  “Fairly visual, though, isn’t it, holding a knife to someone’s throat or a gun to someone’s back? How about something a little less obvious?” Will suggested.

  “Like what?” asked Birdie.

  “I noticed a puppy earlier, not long into its training and the owner had one of those choke leads around its neck. Each time the puppy strained on the leash, she yanked it back so it would learn, and hopefully quickly. Look at this chap walking his dog,” Will said, pointing as they passed by. “The dog’s no longer on a choke leash, he’s already been taught to be obedient.”

  “I see where you’re going with this,” said Birdie. “You think maybe it was something like a choke leash around the victim’s neck, hence the bruises you saw.”
r />   “That would explain some of the bruising, wouldn’t it – if Jonesy wasn’t strangled, if neither of them were strangled?”

  “Unless you’re into bondage,” said Stanley. “I mean our perpetrator, not the victims. I’ve seen a man on a lead before,” he added, shaking his head in disgust. “Bloody perverts. Anyway, it would still look odd though, the leash part, out in public.”

  “How about one of those shock collars?” Birdie suggested. “That way there would be no leash attached at all, it would look much more natural to any onlooker.”

  “Birdie, that’s an excellent idea! Something so simple and easy to get a hold of.”

  “Bugger that,” said Stanley. “Must be some weirdo.”

  “I think weirdo covers most murderers in general, wouldn’t you say?” added Birdie.

  Seventy-Four

  Back at the police station, DI Rochelle Mason and DC Stephen Flint had just finished interviewing Veronica Lauder and both were feeling rather despondent.

  “Coffee?” asked Flint, as they entered the incident room.

  “Please, and I’d better have sugar in it as well,” she said, making her way over to her desk. What a way to spend a Sunday morning, but on a murder investigation time waited for no one. She’d take some days when it was all over, recharge her depleted batteries then. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her hands behind her head and closed her eyes for a moment, waiting for her drink to arrive. When she heard the light tap from the mug being set down, she looked up at DC Flint and said, “It seemed like everything was going to slot into place. Or so I thought.”

  “Just because she’s got an alibi doesn’t mean to say she didn’t do it, as we both know,” said Flint. “Everything else fits.”

  “It has to be somebody with access to the church and we’ve been through each one now. The vicar and the sexton both have ironclad alibis, so that leaves us with three other men and three women. Margaret also has an alibi, though shaky, by the way, and I’m not convinced about the deputy mayor, Katherine, either. She is hiding something for sure. She was as cagey as a cagey thing, so we need to have another go at her. That alibi of hers is a little too convenient for my liking. A bit forced.”