Screaming Yellow

by Rachel Green

  Chapter 23

  Meinwen waited at Simon’s elbow while he knocked on the door to The Larches, hoping he’d get the better reception.

  Amanda’s face was tired when she opened it. She just stood back and let them in. “I’ll fetch Mrs. Markhew for you. Please wait in the sitting room.”

  They didn’t have to wait for long. Jean soon entered, trailed by Mary.

  Jean’s face looked drawn and pinched as she sat in an armchair, folding her long black skirt around her legs. “Will this take long?” Meinwen caught the flash of a high-heeled leather boot, but made no comment under Jean’s wilting glare.

  Simon glanced at Meinwen. “I don’t think so. Meinwen and I just want to get a feel of what happened on the night in question.”

  “I hope this is the last of such intrusions.” Jean drew herself upright. “Proceed, then, and don’t be too long about it.”

  “We need Peter and Nicole as well,” Meinwen said. “They saw or heard Mr. Markhew before retiring.”

  An upward nod from Jean sent Amanda to fetch them. She returned a few minutes later with both, Nicole looking like a magazine model and Peter still stuffing his shirt into his jeans, his hair at all angles and the lines of a pillow etched upon his face. Jean glared at him as he tried to tame his unruly hair.

  Simon stood. “We just want a recreation of the night. We don’t know what happened in the study, so we’ll look at what happened out here.” He walked out into the hall and with a glance around the room the others followed suit. “Jennifer and I arrived at seven. Amanda answered the door and Mary greeted us, then she and Jennifer went into the sitting room and I studied this painting of the Pieta. I heard a high-pitched squeal then Jean came and greeted me.”

  “I’d been upstairs in my room,” said Jean. “Robert had been working in his study before you arrived.”

  Meinwen stood to one side with her notes as Simon acted the part of master of ceremonies.

  Simon looked at his notes. “We had dinner and Robert and I retired to the study to talk. At nine o’clock Robert came out of the study to ask if any letters had been delivered.”

  “I said there was.” Amanda mimed handing Robert the mail.

  “Yes. Robert came back into the study, began to read it, then put it in his pocket and said he’d read it later.” Simon mimed coming out of the study. “Jennifer and I left at nine-fifteen.

  “Nine-ten I think,” said Amanda. “I remember the clock chiming the quarter-hour a few minutes after you’d gone.”

  “Was it?” Simon looked momentarily flustered. “The clock in the car must be a little fast.”

  Meinwen raised an eyebrow. “Which makes the stranger asking for directions nearer to nine-fifteen.”

  “What stranger?” asked Jean. “This is the first I’ve heard about a stranger.”

  “The police are looking for him,” said Simon. “We don’t know if he’s connected to the case, or even if he came here at all.”

  “I would like to be informed of any progress on that,” said Jean.

  Simon nodded. “Of course.” He paused. “Where were we?”

  “You were leaving at nine-ten,” said Nicole.

  “I went straight to bed.” Jean looked at Mary. “I had a headache.”

  “I went to clear up after the meal and wash up,” said Amanda.

  Peter grinned. “I was still at the pub. I’d have left to come back about then.”

  “Okay, the next reference on the night we have is at nine-thirty.” Simon looked up at Peter and Nicole.

  “I heard him arguing with someone from outside,” said Peter. “I was on my way round to my cottage.”

  “Do you usually go around the back of the house?”

  Peter nodded. “Of course. I didn’t want to disturb anyone by going through the house needlessly. It’s quicker to go around the side, anyway.”

  “You also mentioned you saw someone going out of the gate,” Meinwen said.

  “I did, yes. That was shortly before I heard Sir Robert. I don’t know who it was, but I think it was a woman.”

  “Right.” Simon looked at Nicole. “You heard Mr. Markhew arguing with someone as well, I believe?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I didn’t see you,” said Mary. “I was in the living room, watching telly. I’d have seen you if you were in the hall.”

  Nicole blushed. “I wasn’t here at all, to be honest. I was just repeating what Peter told me.”

  “So where were you?” Meinwen asked. “In Peter’s room, I take it?”

  Nicole nodded. “That’s right.” She looked up at the new mistress of the house. “Mr. Markhew knew about it, ma’am.”

  Jean just nodded. “I’ll talk to you later about that.”

  Simon coughed. “So Robert was arguing at nine-thirty, overheard by Peter. What happened next?”

  “My program finished and I went up to bed,” said Mary. “I said goodnight to Uncle Robert through the door at nine forty-five.”

  “Did he reply?”

  “I think so. He was busy working, I think. I could hear him talking into his computer.”

  Simon made a note of the time on his sheet. “All right. Then what?”

  Mary shrugged. “I went to go to bed and asked Amanda not to disturb him.”

  “I was taking him his bedtime drink,” the maid said. “That was at nine-fifty.”

  “I told her not to disturb him, but she came back five minutes later.” Mary shot an accusatory glare at Amanda, who shrugged.

  “He never went without his nighttime drink,” she said. “It helped him sleep.”

  “Did you try to deliver it again after Mary had gone upstairs?” Meinwen asked.

  “No, I gave up,” said Amanda. “The next I knew Father Brande was banging on the door saying Mr. Markhew had been murdered.”

  “I see.” Simon looked at Meinwen. “That’s all the information I have unless anyone else can add anything.”

  “No, that sets it clear in my head,” Meinwen said. “Does anyone else have anything?”

  No one spoke.

  “Thank you for putting up with this,” said Meinwen. “It’s been very helpful indeed.”

  Jean looked at Amanda. “Would you mind seeing them out? I seem to have developed a headache.” She paused and looked at Meinwen. “Perhaps it’s an accent grating on me.”

  “Or a guilty conscience, perhaps.” Meinwen smiled. “Just one thing. Peter? When you came back at nine-thirty was the blue Vauxhall in the drive?”

  Peter nodded. “Of course. All the cars were there.”

  * * * *

  Mary flinched as Jean turned on Nicole. She couldn’t see what the secretary had done wrong but was glad not to be on the receiving end of her mother’s ire.

  “Upstairs.” Jean’s eyes flashed with anger. “Right now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nicole hurried upstairs, a lock of hair falling from the tight knit of her bun.

  Jean surveyed the rest of them. “Mary, you will go to your room. Amanda, attend to your duties in the kitchen. Peter, I’ll see you in the morning. Dismissed.” She went upstairs, lifting her long skirt so she didn’t trip.

  “Were you sleeping with Nicole?” asked Mary.

  Peter nodded. “Sir Robert asked me to give her whatever she wanted. There are no emotional ties between us, though.”

  “Good.” Mary stared so hard at him he had to blink back tears. She turned and went up the stairs without a backward glance.

  * * * *

  “I need a stiff one.”

  Meinwen looked at Simon in surprise. “I didn’t even know you were gay.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “A drink, I mean. Will you join me?”

  “If you like.” Meinwen looked out of the car into the dark street. “Won’t people find it a little odd that a priest is going into a pub with a witch?”

  He nodded, his eyes fixed on the road. “All we need now is a rabbi and we’ve got the makings of a good joke,” he said.<
br />
  It was Meinwen’s turn to laugh.

  * * * *

  Jean circled the naked Nicole, a pair of wicked-looking Japanese clamps in her hand. “Your sexual activities with Peter will cease. “You will come to me when you have such needs in future.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nicole stood in a relaxed posture, her hands clasped loosely at her back. Jean trailed a finger over her nipples.

  “Perhaps this will remind you who owns your arse.” Jean fastened a clamp to each of her nipples. “Until you elect to leave, of course.”

  “I won’t, ma’am.” Nicole bit her lip to distract herself from the pain in her nipples. “I have no wish to leave. I’m happy here.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Jean fastened a chain between the two clamps and pulled.

  * * * *

  “Jennifer?” Simon pressed the cell brick to his ear against the hubbub of the pub. “We’re at the White Art. Fancy joining us?” His face clouded. “Yes, I know I missed dinner. We’ll get some chips on the way home.” He turned the phone off and gave Meinwen a sheepish grin. “She’ll be along shortly.”

  Meinwen nodded, taking a long draught of the pint of local ale. She put it on the table and wiped away the foam mustache. “It’ll do. Not a patch on Bois Bach, though.”

  “Not a patch on what?”

  “The local brew in the Cesail Gwlanog in Dovey,” she explained. “Many a night I’ve been plastered on that.”

  “I try not to drink to excess,” said Simon. “The where?”

  “The Woolly Armpit. It’s cold in Dovey.” Meinwen grinned, the alcohol loosening her reservations. “Were you never young?”

  Simon smiled. “Perhaps when I was at university.”

  “Mind if I join you, Father?” Sergeant Davies leaned over the table. “I could do with a sobering influence on some of the folk in here.” He sat without waiting for a reply, dropping a pint of the local brew squarely onto a beer mat. It was followed moments later by a bottle of cola with a straw in the top as a woman sat.

  “Ah.” Simon touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Meinwen, this is Latitia Campbell…”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Meinwen extended a hand across the table. Latitia shook it and Meinwen froze.

  “…she works up at the Manor.”

  Meinwen saw the smile in the newcomer’s eyes, her hand held a moment longer than necessary.

  “I’ve got the night off,” Latitia said. “Since the mistress of the house is at home. You’re the new witch, aren’t you?”

  “Quite an old one, actually.” Meinwen grinned and picked up her beer again.

  “Found anything new about the case?” Sergeant Davies picked up his glass but found it already empty. He turned to the bar and raised his voice, circling his hand to indicate the whole table. “Mike? Another round over here, please.”

  “Nothing much,” said Meinwen. “How about you?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing to do with me.” Davies shrugged. “Out of my hands, that one. I just get stuck with the road accidents and the like.”

  “I think it was the daughter what did it,” said Latitia. “I saw her with some bloke today and I heard she was engaged to the son. They’re a funny lot if you ask me.”

  “What man?” asked Meinwen. “Who?”

  “Search me. I don’t know them that well. Probably a close cousin or something.” Latitia laughed.

  “Am I missing gossip?” Jennifer pulled up a chair next to Simon. “I’ll have a gin and tonic. I don’t think Mary could have done it, though I’d like to know where her money comes from. She’d be too afraid of getting blood on her clothes.”

  “Who do you fancy for the deed then?” asked Latitia. “The butler?”

  “They don’t have a butler.” Jennifer took her drink from Mike’s tray. “What about Catherine? She had an argument with Mr. Markhew.”

  “Too obvious.” Latitia opened a packet of peanuts, spilling half of them on the floor. Meinwen wondered why the girl appeared so drunk when she was only drinking cola. “You’re not going to kill a man just after you’ve argued with him. I think the little Goth did it, hoping to get at the money once she got married to Richard.”

  “I wonder where he got to?” asked Davies. “We’ve got a national lookout for him.”

  “I think he’s in Birmingham,” said Jennifer. “I think he’s with the stranger who asked for directions from Simon.”

  “How did you work that out?” asked Meinwen.

  “Well, you said there was a train that went there, and he’s nowhere to be found.”

  Latitia laughed. “Birmingham is as good a place as any.”

  “What do you think, Simon?” Jennifer asked. “You’ve been very quiet. You must have something to contribute.”

  “There’s the ring Meinwen found,” Simon said, ignoring the witch’s glare. “That might be a clue.”

  “What ring?” Latitia and Jennifer asked together.

  “I found it in the park,” said Meinwen, reluctant to discuss it but forced to by Simon’s words. “It was a Celtic design, a lover’s knot.”

  “It was probably Mary’s,” said Jennifer. “I bet Richard gave it to her and she threw it away because it hadn’t got skulls and bats on it. You can tell she doesn’t really like him.”

  “She talks about him constantly,” said Meinwen.

  “That’s just a cover,” said Latitia. “Have you seen her hair? I bet she’s a lesbian. She’ll have been having a fling with one of the staff, you watch.”

  “Susan Pargeter!” said Jennifer. “I bet that’s why she drove off on the night of the murder. She’d just found out about the engagement.”

  “It might have been Catherine’s.” Latitia leaned forward. “She was always into the Celtic jewelry. It could easily have been hers.”

  “Why would she throw it away?” Jennifer asked.

  Latitia shrugged. “I still think it was Mary’s. Perhaps she’s secretly married Richard already and had to throw the ring away to pretend she wasn’t.”

  “Perhaps she married Peter instead,” said Simon.

  “Why would she? I’m telling you, she’s a lesbian and she’ll only marry Richard for the money. Why would she want Peter if she can have Richard?”

  “She’s got a point, you know.” Jennifer drained her third gin and tonic. “Everybody knows she doesn’t like Richard.”

  Chapter 24

  Inspector White looked at the clock and groaned. Beryl was going to be annoyed and when Beryl was annoyed, White would rather be anywhere than in the range of her sarcasm. The problem was, if he didn’t go home soon and suffer the sarcasm, it would turn into silence and that was worse.

  He glanced at the phone. One more call before he could leave. Perhaps he’d pick up a Chinese meal on the way. Beryl would like that, and it would offset the pointed comments about burned dinners.

  He read the number off a sheet of paper and dialed. “Mr. J Stevens?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hello, it’s Laverstone CID here.”

  “CID? What’s happened?”

  “Nothing to worry about, just a routine check. Would you please confirm your travel for the evening of Tuesday the tenth of April?”

  “Er…Was that the night I was in Laverstone? I took the late train home.”

  “You took the eleven twenty-five express back to Chester? Thank you. If I could ask you one more thing… Did you see anyone else on the train?”

  “Anyone else? There were a few people. I just read the paper though. Sorry.”

  “He would have been Caucasian, in his twenties, unshaven and wearing a hoodie.”

  “A what?”

  “Like a hooded sweatshirt, sir”

  “Oh, yes. Jack. We met in the pub. Nice enough lad. A student, I think.”

  “Splendid! Where did he get off the train?”

  “Birmingham New Street. I saw him light a cigarette on the platform. You’re not allowed to do that, you know.”

  “Indeed not, sir.
Thank you. You’ve been a great help.”

  White replaced the phone, grinning to himself for the confirmation that the unknown stranger had indeed been on the train to Birmingham.

  He picked up the phone again.

  “British Transport Police? This is Inspector White here, Laverstone CID.”

  * * * *

  Meinwen shivered and pulled her coat tight as she stepped out of the pub. “Aren’t you cold?”

  Latitia laughed. “You get used to it. Parts of the manor are a lot colder than this.” She looked up at the sky. “At least it’s a clear night. There shouldn’t be any rain.”

  “No.” Meinwen left the relative shelter of the doorway. “Mind if I ask you something?” She glanced at the pub door. Simon had gone to visit the gents on their way out and Jennifer had hung back to wait for him.

  Latitia followed her look. “Something you don’t want your friends to hear, eh? Go ahead then. Fill your boots.”

  “What do you know about Tom, the gravedigger-handyman at the church? I heard he sometimes does work at the manor.”

  Latitia shrugged. “Not much. He’s not there often. The house staff are pretty handy and can turn their hand to just about anything. We only really see him if we need someone to coach paint the truck. He’s a dab hand at that. Used to do it for years until the plastic signs forced him out of business in the eighties.”

  Meinwen frowned. “Coach paint?”

  “You know. Putting the little gold lines on and the shop name.”

  “Ah!” Meinwen nodded vigorously. “But you’re talking about Old Tom. I meant the young one, his son.”

  It was Latitia’s turn to frown. “What are you on about? Tom was never married. Never had a son. He lives on his own in Bank Cottages.”

  “Oh.” Meinwen forced a laugh. “I must have got the wrong end of the stick. Never mind, then. I’ll see you again?”

  Latitia nodded. “I expect so. It’s not that big a town.” She headed off toward the manor, turning to wave goodbye.

  Meinwen shivered, hugging herself until the door opened and Simon and Jennifer came out.