The Mystery of Sundays Well

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The Mystery of Sundays Well Page 12

by Anne Crosse


  There were times when you would be better off keeping your big gob shut. Nowadays, you can’t even joke about something, because it can all be misconstrued.

  Robert broke in on Con’s thoughts. “You seem preoccupied,” he remarked.

  “Would you mind very much if we postponed this? I am tired and not feeling very well. I have this unmerciful pain in my back and I really need to lie down,” Con said, pleading.

  To James’s relief, Robert agreed.

  Con McGrath hauled himself up out of the chair and unsteadily made for the door. He had the presence of mind to close it quietly behind him.

  “That was kind of you, sir,” James said.

  “You would want to be blind not to see that the man is fucked,” Robert said.

  “Yes, I agree,” James said.

  “Some people really get a raw deal, don’t they?” Robert said.

  “I agree with that too,” James said.

  “I was going to suggest to him that he killed Hanton because he was having an affair with his wife, but you know what, James?” Robert said.

  “What, sir?”

  “She wouldn’t be worth doing the time for.”

  * * *

  Marie breathed a sigh of relief when her father returned. He hadn’t been arrested.

  “Marie, will you please help me?”

  “Of course, Dad.”

  “Can you get me my painkillers and a glass of water before I collapse down into a small heap?”

  CHAPTER 28

  James arrived at the station half an hour before the desk sergeant. He paced up and down outside until the man showed up.

  “Sorry I’m late, but my alarm never went off.”

  “No, you’re grand,” James said.

  “That’s a lie, I forgot to set it.”

  “Easily done,” James said.

  James sat quietly in the incident room, awaiting Robert’s arrival. If he could make a bet with himself, it would be that when Robert showed his face, the first thing he would come out with would be ‘I thought you had gone missing.’

  He was wrong.

  “I know you don’t like the shite they serve up for breakfast in the hotel, but you could have waited for me,” Robert said.

  “I didn’t sleep a wink last night, sir, so I went for a walk and ended up here.”

  “Right, out with it.”

  “I was thinking about a few things, sir.”

  “You know thinking can be a very dangerous thing, James, but feel free to share. We have all day, after all,” Robert said.

  How would he explain this thing that was going round and round in his head? James wondered. He found it strange that Miss Kneeshaw had a new carpet fitted on top of the old one. He had inadvertently been given this information by Gerry, the carpet fitter. The offcut was fitted up Mrs Dillon’s stairs. Was something dragged down Mrs Dillon’s stairs? Was it a case of blood on the carpet, blood on the stairs?

  Robert would scoff at this theory. Are you suggesting Mrs Dillon killed her sons, or are you suggesting Miss Kneeshaw killed them? What exactly are you suggesting, James? An old woman shot the two boys? For fuck sake, how would she be capable of that? Yes, that’s exactly what he would say.

  “You are right, sir, thinking can be dangerous.”

  “Did you get the red chalk?” Robert asked.

  “Yes, sir, I got it.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “We could be in trouble, Ursula.” George Larby blurted the words out.

  “Take it easy, George. Calm down.”

  “That stupid grandson of mine, I’d love to strangle him.”

  “Sit down and I’ll get you a drink, and when you are nice and relaxed, we will talk,” Miss Kneeshaw said.

  Within ten minutes, George was feeling more at ease, but then Ursula always had that effect on him.

  “Now, George, tell me what young Gerry has been up to that’s got you so riled up,” Miss Kneeshaw said as she refilled his glass.

  “The idiot went and told that detective fellow he laid a new carpet for you.”

  Miss Kneeshaw pointed to the carpet on the floor. “And what’s wrong with that? Am I not entitled to get myself a new carpet, or has it been declared a crime now?”

  “You are entitled to get as many carpets as you like, but this detective fellow asked questions about it. You know, the way they can wrangle things out of you.”

  “What exactly was he asking?”

  “Lilly told me she was out on a date with the detective fellow, and Gerry sang like a canary when they were having a bit of a lock-in. Then Mr Snoop decided to try and get Lilly to expound, the following day, I think, or was it that night. Oh look, Ursula, I can’t think straight.”

  “It was the young man she was out with, not…”

  “Yes, the young one. James something or other.”

  “Handsome looking creature. I knew someone like him once.”

  George laughed. “Are you trying to make me jealous, Ursula?”

  “It was you I was talking about, you daft bat. You were like a Greek god with your shiny blond hair when you were young.”

  “And now I have a shiny bald head,” George said, and laughed.

  “So, you think the long-haired detective is putting two and two together and making five out of it.”

  “I hate snoops, always have,” George said.

  “It’s his job to snoop.”

  “I don’t think you realize the seriousness of this, Ursula.”

  “It will only become serious if we make it serious. So, if he comes asking, we will not give him food for thought.”

  “Robert Carroll is no threat at all, he couldn’t catch a cold, according to the talk going around about him. But this young fellow was the one who solved the murders two years ago, according to those in the know.”

  “I remember Robert Carroll’s father, nice man he was. It was common knowledge he had a hard time with the young Robert. He went off to France on a wild goose chase after his poor father had gone to the trouble of getting him into the guards. Not one bit grateful. I hate that, children who have everything done for them, then just throw it back in their parents’ faces. Nellie Dillon was another martyr, oh how I used to pity her. She’s grand now though, peace at last…”

  “What are we going to do, Ursula?” George cut in.

  “We do absolutely nothing, George. Do you understand?”

  “You are not worried then?”

  “Not one bit, and you should put your worries into an envelope and post them to Worry Land.”

  “I couldn’t sleep the other night and I got a panic attack. I felt like I was drowning, all my life flashed before me,” George said.

  “Another drink?”

  “I’ll be drunk and I won’t be able to walk out of here,” George said.

  “You can sleep on the sofa, wouldn’t be your first time.”

  “She made a right idiot out of me, the woman I married. I will rephrase that, the woman I was forced to marry.”

  “She wouldn’t be the first woman to tell a lie in order to get her man,” Miss Kneeshaw said as she refilled George’s glass.

  “I loved you, Ursula. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “My father loved you too.”

  “He gave me the money to start my business and buy the corner shop when that bastard of a bank manager turned me down.”

  “My father was a shrewd man, George. He knew you had a good business head on your shoulders and you deserved a start.”

  “Lilly is alright, but that other blabbermouth is just like…”

  “Now forget everything bad, think of the nice things. That’s what I do when I feel a bit down.”

  “And when you feel so down that you feel you will never get up again, what do you do then, Ursula?”

  “To every problem there is a solution.”

  “What if there’s not, what if the whole thing is going to come tumbling down around our ears, what then, Ursula?”

  “Don
’t be upsetting yourself,” Miss Kneeshaw said, smiling.

  “But I can’t help it. I wish I could be calm like you.”

  “Outward appearances can be really deceiving, George.”

  “That pain in my chest is back again, Ursula, and it frightens me.”

  “It’s only stress, isn’t that what your doctor said? And we all know stress is brought on by ourselves, by allowing things to get to us. Do your breathing exercises when you get home, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Can I ring you later?”

  “Will they be there when you get home?”

  “No. Gerry is doing the bar, and Lilly is out with that young detective fellow.”

  “Good, so you should get yourself into bed, and stay there safe and sound for the rest of this good night.”

  “I do trust you, Ursula, I always have.”

  “Goodnight, George, and thanks for being a such a good friend.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Nellie Dillon was surprised to see Miss Kneeshaw hadn’t opened the shop. A list of reasons came to mind. Maybe her alarm clock didn’t go off, or maybe it did and she had an early doctor’s appointment, or even the dentist for that matter. Then, on the other hand, she could have decided to take the day off.

  Nellie made her way to Miss Kneeshaw’s bedroom, it was her favourite room in the whole of the house. Today, she would be changing the sheets and pillowslips and putting a new bedspread on.

  Miss Kneeshaw wasn’t a fan of duvets, she preferred candlewick bedspreads. The white one with the pink trim was the one she really loved, but she had to make do with the blue one while it was getting washed and dried. Nellie always hurried the process along by putting it in the airing cupboard, and after a few days it would be warm and fresh, and back in its rightful place.

  As soon as Nellie entered the bedroom, the shoebox on the bed caught her eye. What have we here? she wondered as she opened the box.

  It contained the most beautiful peep-toe shoes she’d ever seen. Blue suede and really expensive looking. They were spang new, never been worn, she realized as she turned them over and inspected the soles and heels. They reminded her a bit of the shoes she wore for her own wedding. She had a pair of suede court shoes, and she’d tried to make them look different. Peep-toe was her first attempt, but one turned out bigger than the other. So then she had the bright idea to cut the whole way across the toe area. The result was exactly what she wanted. Cutaway toe shoes, the latest fashion; she knew because she had seen a pair just like them in a fashion magazine. She had been pleased with her achievement and congratulated herself on her inventiveness. However, she was soon to regret her redesigning idea on her wedding day.

  It was on a frosty morning in the last week of October, and her poor toes were so frozen that she thought she was going to get frostbite. She would have done with a pair of gloves for her equally cold fingers, but there was no way she was wearing the knitted ones she possessed. They didn’t look sophisticated enough.

  It was a struggle to button up the second-hand tweed coat, but she managed it. So, with the child in her belly causing the buttons to almost stretch to breaking point, she said the words ‘For better or worse’.

  There was no better, just a whole lot of worse.

  But what was Miss Kneeshaw doing with these beautiful shoes? Nellie pushed her past memories away. The poor woman would never be able to wear them on account of that club foot of hers. Maybe the shoes belonged to her mother, or it could be possible they were a present from somebody special. A viscount for instance.

  Nellie looked at the box in an effort to find a clue. Even though she couldn’t speak the language, she recognized it was German. Miss Kneeshaw had told her that her mother refused to leave Germany, so maybe they brought the shoes with them as a keepsake. A memory of a loved one lost.

  Just as Nellie was about to replace the lid on the shoebox, she noticed the envelope on the bed addressed to Mrs N. Dillon. She opened it with shaking hands. What was this about? she wondered. Was she getting the sack, were the shoes a termination of employment present? A golden handshake, so to speak.

  Nellie couldn’t bear to read the letter, so she put it back in the envelope and stuffed it into her pocket. It was best to hear the bad news from the woman herself, she thought as she made her way to the parlour.

  As soon as Nellie turned the doorknob, a terrible sense of foreboding suddenly descended upon her.

  She stood in the doorway for a few seconds with her eyes shut tight. Something was dreadfully wrong, she knew. She had to force herself to open her eyes, and when she did, she wished she hadn’t.

  Mrs Kneeshaw was lying on the floor; there was a lot of blood, and that tiny little pistol she kept in the bookcase.

  She didn’t tell Miss Kneeshaw she knew it was there; didn’t tell her she’d taken the little gun out of the drawer for a good look.

  “What have you done, Miss Kneeshaw, what have you done?” she whispered.

  Nellie heard a voice in her head giving orders: it could be possible she was still alive, time is vital, call an ambulance at once. She rushed to the phone in the hall. Her hand was shaking so much that she had to dial the three numbers several times.

  * * *

  Someone dressed in white was peering down at Nellie. “You’ve had a terrible shock, Mrs Dillon. Try and drink this tea,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Are you an angel?” Nellie asked.

  “I hope not.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in hospital. You got a little turn. My name is Nurse Breen, by the way.”

  “Miss Kneeshaw…”

  “Try to get some rest,” Nurse Breen said.

  “No, I want to know how she is,” Nellie insisted.

  She spotted another face looking down at her.

  “Miss Kneeshaw sadly passed away. Now you must stay calm, you’re not doing yourself any good getting upset,” a man’s voice said.

  “Did someone shoot her?” Nellie asked, hoping that was what had happened. She hoped that the thing that rushed into her mind when she saw Miss Kneeshaw with her red stained hair, was not of her own doing. Why would she do something like that to herself? Why would she do something so awful.

  “Detective Inspector Carroll would like to talk to you tomorrow morning. Now, in the meantime, you have to get your strength back,” Nurse Breen said.

  “I need to know what happened. Please, tell me,” Nellie said, pleading.

  Nellie could see the nurse holding out a kidney bowl and the man in a white coat taking a syringe out of it.

  “No!” Nellie cried out. “Please, no.”

  “It’s for your own good. You must trust us,” the man in the white coat said.

  “You are in safe hands with Doctor McMorrow. Now, let him do his job, Mrs Dillon,” Nurse Breen said.

  Nellie felt her whole body fizzing and then, she was floating. She felt so light, like a feather, really.

  The voices sounded far away, but she could hear them clearly.

  “Would you believe it, Doctor, he’s still waiting outside after I told him to go away until tomorrow,” Nurse Breen said.

  “That’s one persistent little policeman,” Doctor McMorrow said.

  Nellie didn’t want to hear any more, she just wanted to sleep.

  “Would you credit it? Here he is, coming in again,” Nurse Breen said.

  “Is she in good health? She hasn’t had a heart attack, has she? She will be able to talk to us, won’t she?” Robert asked.

  “Get out!” Doctor McMorrow said with a roar.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Robert called over his shoulder as he retreated.

  “Can you believe the cheek of that fellow? At least the young man with him had the sense to stay outside,” Nurse Breen said.

  “The shock this lady must have got, can’t have been one bit pleasant,” Doctor McMorrow said.

  “Her two sons were found dead out in the well, and then the fright of finding the Kneeshaw woman. God,
that must have been the final straw,” Nurse Breen said.

  “She’s a tough old biddy, she’ll be back to her old self after a few days’ rest,” Doctor McMorrow said.

  “I hope so.”

  “We’ll put her on a mild sedative, that should help her through the weeks ahead. She’ll have a lot of flashbacks, no doubt,” the doctor said.

  “Can I tell you something in confidence?” Nurse Breen asked.

  “Fire away.”

  “Another thing this little lady didn’t know, at least I don’t think anyone told her. You know, the way you are always the last to know about something you actually really should know,” Nurse Breen said.

  “The suspense is killing me, and we’ve had enough of that for one night,” Doctor McMorrow said, jokingly.

  “Do you remember the blonde girl who was admitted here one night? Brigit Barry was her name, at least we got that out of her.”

  “God, yes; she was in the early stages of pregnancy,” the doctor said, nodding.

  “And do you remember we asked her who the father was, and could we call him because she was so distressed and frightened,” Nurse Breen said.

  “She would make a great spy that little blonde bombshell, because she didn’t give an inch, did she? Anyway, what happened to her?” the doctor asked.

  “Her uncle got her into a place down the country; don’t know why because nobody bats an eyelid about those kinds of delicate matters nowadays,” Nurse Breen said.

  “And if my calculations are correct, she’s had the child, has she not?”

  Nurse Breen pointed to the patient. “She has indeed, and there’s the grandmother, and she doesn’t even know it.”

  “Granny Nellie Dillon,” the doctor said with a grin.

  * * *

  Nellie was still floating, not fully knocked out, she realized, because she had heard every word.

  CHAPTER 31

  Doctor Morris made sure he had all the details written down because he was sick to death of that Carroll fellow treating him like he was some sort of imbecile. It had also been brought to his attention by a concerned friend in the guise of the desk sergeant, that the gumshoe was making remarks about him which were not very flattering.

 

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