Murder Served Cold

by Paula Williams

  They broke away from each other at the sound and looked in my direction. I flattened myself on the ground so that now it wasn’t just the smell of wet leaves filling my nostrils, but the wet leaves themselves. Then, the biggest stroke of luck. A couple of wood pigeons, obviously as startled by the sound of my near-fall as Doreen and Gerald had been, clattered out of the bushes just above me. With my heart still thudding, I peered down at the car park and saw that Gerald and Doreen had obviously decided the noise came from the wood pigeons, and were once again engrossed in each other.

  I felt in my pocket for my phone and only just stopped myself from groaning out loud. It wasn’t there. I’d only left the wretched thing in the car. How could I have been so stupid?

  I was about to go back and fetch it when there was a sudden dramatic change in the body language between the two lovebirds. Doreen pulled away from him, her hands to her mouth, her head going from side to side, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Even without hearing her actual words, I could see she was obviously in some considerable distress. Whatever Gerald had said to her, she didn’t like it one little bit.

  He looked as twitchy as a canary in a cattery but made no move to comfort her. Then Doreen moved towards him, both hands outstretched as if she was imploring him. This time, he was the one shaking his head as he backed away. Then he turned and scuttled back to his car.

  The throaty roar of Gerald’s look-at-me Porsche set the wood pigeons off on another panicked flight as he exited the car park, sending up a shower of loose stones as he did so, before roaring off down the hill. I could only hope that in his hurry, he wouldn’t notice Mum’s car in the gateway.

  Doreen was still standing in the middle of the car park, shaking her head as she stared after him. Then she stiffened and strode towards her car. Even from a distance, I could see she’ d gone from being desperately upset to hissing, spitting rage. Talk about hell hath no fury. There was no doubt I was looking at a woman scorned – and one who’d just decided she was not going to take it lying down.

  She jumped in her car, then she, too, roared out of the car park and rocketed off back down the hill, heading, I assumed, back to Dintscombe.

  I disentangled myself from the undergrowth, brushed as much of the wet leaves and mud off as I could, then made my way back to Mum’s car, where my phone looked reproachfully up at me from the passenger seat. I was so busy blaming myself for being such an idiot that, at that moment, my brain wasn’t totally in gear. If it had it been, I might have remembered I’d failed my driving test the first time round because of what the hatchet-faced examiner described as an ‘inadequate’ three-point turn, and I’d have driven up to the car park to turn round. Instead, I attempted to do it in the narrow gateway.

  It was soon apparent there’d been no significant improvement in my three-point turning skills. In fact, I lost count of how many shuffles it took, and began to think panicky thoughts of Mum’s little car being wedged across the narrow lane forever. Then, just when I was starting to breathe again at what was surely the final shuffle, my muddy shoe slipped on the accelerator and I went back too way too fast. There was an ominous crunch as the back of the car connected with the heavy metal gate.

  That little pink marshmallow car was top of Mum’s best loved list, ahead of the cat, George Clooney and my dad. But I was sure to drop off the list completely, and was going to be sweeping the salon floor and unwinding perm rollers for the rest of my life, when Mum saw what I’d done to her precious car.

  Still feeling shaky, I drove down the hill and made my way back along the lane. As I reached the bypass, I turned right to go back to Dintscombe. I told myself I was concerned about Doreen and wanted to check she’d got back safely. Or maybe, even, bump into Liam if his fire had burnt itself out. But the truth was, I was not in any great hurry to face my mother and needed a bit more time to think up a convincing story.

  When I drove past Doreen’s cottage the little blue hatchback was parked safely on the drive. I pulled in to the lay-by at the park entrance again and called Liam. I pushed the worry about the car firmly to the back of my mind and focussed on the job in hand.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  “You’d better believe it,” I said, tingling with excitement. “She was only meeting our esteemed Councillor Crabshaw.”

  “I knew it,” he breathed. “I knew there was something dodgy about that fellow. I’ll bet you she’s been passing on confidential stuff to him. It has to be something like that. Remember that new retail development?”

  “You mean the so-called ‘out of town’ one, that turned out to be so close to the centre, the High Street now looks like a ghost town with more boarded-up shops than open ones?”

  “That’s the one. The Planning Committee was seriously misled about the original application and I’m pretty sure your Councillor Crabshaw had something to do with that. If he was in cahoots with someone senior in the Planning Department, that makes it seem even more likely.”

  “They looked like they were into more than just cahoots,” I said and couldn’t help adding, “or, put it this way, they looked as if things between them were pretty hot, judging by the way the two of them were tangled up together.”

  “On her front doorstep?” Liam sounded surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought Gerald Crabshaw would have been that indiscreet.”

  “Ah no. Well, actually he wasn’t.” I’d been hoping I wouldn’t have to tell him, but it was too late now. I’d started so I had to finish. “I, I know you said not to but I – well, the thing is, I followed her.”

  “You followed her?” Liam’s voice crackled with annoyance. “Damn right I told you not to. That was a pretty stupid thing to do.”

  “They didn’t see me, honest,” I said quickly. “They met in the car park up in Compton Woods. I know the area well from when I used to play up there as a kid, so I parked in a gateway and made my way up through the bushes. I used to be very good at tracking when I was a Girl Guide, you know.”

  “Did you now?” He sighed then, to my relief, laughed softly. “Well, you showed initiative, that’s for sure. Even so, you might have been putting yourself in danger. I would hate to lose my bright new research assistant when I’ve only just found her. Promise me, next time, you’ll do what I say. “

  Next time? There was going to be a next time? Bright new research assistant? I glowed in the warmth of his praise. Suddenly, the worry of having to tell Mum about the car faded into insignificance. “I promise. But if I hadn’t followed her, I wouldn’t have seen them cuddled up together. And that’s not all. They were cosy for a while, but then he must have said something to upset her, because they suddenly broke apart and he beetled back to his car and drove off. She stood there for a while, looking shocked. Then she seemed to pull herself together. She looked spitting mad as she drove off. I was actually a bit worried about her, which is why I came back here to her cottage, just to check she got home in one piece. Which she did, thank goodness.”

  “You’ve done a brilliant job.” I glowed some more until he went on, “Did you manage to get any pictures?”

  “Ah well, the thing is…” Now for the tricky bit. Should I confess I’d left my phone in the car or try and brazen it out? I decided to go for a half truth. “It was really difficult. I couldn’t get too close in case they saw me.”

  “Not to worry. You’ve given me something to work on now. I’m grateful to you.”

  I glowed yet again. “How’s your fire going?” I asked.

  “Pretty good. Everyone’s being a bit tight-lipped at the moment, but that says to me it’s pointing towards arson. We’ve been told we’ll have a statement any moment now. So, once again, I’m just hanging around waiting. The story of my life.”

  “I’d happily swap with you,” I said wistfully. “I’ve got to go home and face my mother.”

  “Ah now, you’re not telling me you’ve gone and dinged the pink marshmallow, are you?”

  “I’m afraid so. I was doing
a three point turn and, well, let’s just say, there was an incident between the car and a metal gate and the car came off worse.”

  “That’s tough. And I’m sorry I can’t put that down on my expenses for you, otherwise I would. However, I do have a mate who’s very good at knocking out dents. He’ll do you a good job and not rip you off.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind, thanks. I’ve got a feeling being ripped off is the least of my worries and that I’m going to be paying for my error of judgement in unpaid labour in the salon for the rest of my life.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I took my time driving back to the village and, once there, turned up the hill towards the farm instead of going home. Putting off facing my mum? You bet your life I was. But I was also concerned that Will hadn’t been in touch, so I thought I’d call in and see if he was about. He wasn’t. But his father was.

  It was difficult to decide whether John Manning looked better or worse than the last time I’d seen him. Then, he’d been white-faced, unshaven and shocked as he was driven away in the back of the police car. Now, he was still white-faced, but clean-shaven, his hair smoothed tidily back and his clothes, though crumpled, looked clean.

  But his eyes were as empty and haunted as ever.

  “It’s good to see you home again, Mr Manning,” I said. “How are you?”

  “How am I?” He frowned as if he was having to dig deep to find the answer to that particular question. “I’m sober. That’s what I am. But where are my manners? Come along in, Katie, please do. Will’s off on the farm somewhere but he’ll be back shortly, I’m sure. He hasn’t had his lunch yet.”

  I followed him down the long gloomy passage and into the kitchen, which was tidier than the last time I’d seen it. It had lost that cold, unlived-in feeling, thanks to the range that was giving out a gentle, comforting warmth. A cat was curled up in the chair next to it and fixed me with a warning glare, daring me to try to move him.

  John stood on one side of the large deal table, I stood on the other. We stared at each other for a long, awkward moment. I swallowed hard. Jeez, this was awkward. What did I say now? A mumbled, “I – I hope you’re feeling better,” was the best I could come up with.

  He shook his head. “Anything but, lass,” he sighed. “Anything but. At least the drinking stopped me thinking and feeling. But now, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  My heart contracted with pity for him. He looked so lost and broken that I forgot the awkwardness and just wanted to make him feel better. “Have you seen a doctor?” I asked gently.

  “Of course not. What would he do? Tell me to give up drinking, that’s what.” The knuckles on his hands showed white where he gripped the back of the chair. “The police still think I killed her, you know.”

  “Then they’re wrong. Because you didn’t,” I said fiercely.

  “No. No. You’re quite right, I didn’t. And Will tells me how you’ve gone around defending me to everyone, for which I’m grateful. Even though you were wasting your time. Because, you know, when they put me in that police cell and shut the door, I thought… for a moment then, I thought maybe I had. Maybe I had killed her but couldn’t remember.” I had to strain to hear him as his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “And that was what scared me most. It also made me see what a monster I’d become. That I could have killed someone and not even remembered it. I thought, too, how ashamed and disgusted Sally would be. That was what Marjorie said to me that day, you know, and she was absolutely right. Which was why I was so furious with her. Because I knew she spoke nothing but the truth.”

  “But you didn’t kill her.”

  “I swear to God I didn’t. But I came damn close to killing myself with my stupid drinking. And where would that have left Will? To lose both parents within a year? Goodness knows what would have happened to me if the farm shop hadn’t been locked that afternoon. I’d have probably ended up with alcohol poisoning.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked uneasily.

  He gestured to me to sit down, then pulled the chair out and sat down opposite me, his head bowed. He never once looked up as he spoke. “After I’d had the run-in with Marjorie, I stormed into the house, grabbed the whisky bottle and went up to my room. But there was only a bit left in that bottle, so I went out across the yard to the farm shop, where I used to keep a stash. But I figured Will must have found it – he’d found all the ones in the house –and locked the door to keep me out. Goodness knows what state I’d have been in if I’d found those bottles. As it was, I drank enough to blot out the whole of the rest of that day.”

  “You don’t remember going into the pub that night? I was working there behind the bar. I served you. Several times.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember a thing until I came round next morning with you and Will standing over me and Will asking me what the hell I’d done.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Go back a bit. You said Will must have found your stash. Where did you say you kept it?”

  “In the farm shop. Down behind one of the freezers. I assumed he’d been in there, found it and locked the door to keep me out.”

  “But Will hasn’t been able to set foot in the place since his mother died.” John looked up and winced as I said that. But I kept going. “He told me he tried a few times but just couldn’t face it. The day we found poor Marjorie, that was the first time Will had been in there since – since Sally…”

  “He couldn’t face going in the shop?” He rubbed his hands down his face, his eyes deeply troubled. “Poor lad. I – I didn’t know. He always seemed so together, I thought he was ok. That he was handling things. If I’d known…” His voice trailed away.

  I sighed. “Don’t you two ever talk to each other? About things other than the farm, I mean? No, I don’t suppose you do. It’s not your way, is it?”

  John shook his head. “I didn’t know,” he repeated the words like they were some kind of mantra. “I didn’t know.”

  “But, hang about, if it wasn’t Will who locked the door, then who was it?” I asked. My stomach lurched as I realised the implication of what I was saying.

  John caught on at the same time. His face went even whiter, his eyes widened with shock. “You mean; the murderer was in there? At that very moment when I tried the door? That he—?”

  The chair made an ugly screeching noise on the floor as he stood up. He paced about the room. “Oh, dear God,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “What have I done? What the hell have I done?”

  “Come and sit down again,” I put my hand on his arm and steered him gently back towards the chair. “And John, you haven’t done anything.”

  It was the first time in my life I’d ever called him anything other than Mr Manning, but the use of his Christian name came naturally, my only thought was concern for him. He looked so terrible, I was afraid he was going to keel over.

  “Can I get you anything?” I asked. “Tea? Brandy?”

  He shook his head violently. “I swear, Katie, on Sally’s grave, I will never touch alcohol again for as long as I live. As for you saying I didn’t do anything – you don’t get it, do you?”

  I did get it. But I’d rather been hoping he hadn’t. He was beating himself up enough as it was.

  “Well, yes, but—” I began but he cut in, his voice harsh.

  “I didn’t do anything, and that’s just the point. If I hadn’t been so stinking drunk, I would have gone back to the house and found my key. Had I done so I might just have saved Marjorie’s life. Because whoever it was that locked that door…” He swallowed hard. “It wasn’t me and it wasn’t Will. So it could only have been the murderer, couldn’t it? While I was trying the door, he was – he must have been – well, you know. If I’d had my wits about me, I could have, I should have prevented it. Although what the poor woman was doing in there in the first place, heaven alone knows. If only I’d...”

  Helpless, I could only stare at him as his voice trailed away. I searched desperate
ly for something to say that wouldn’t make it worse for him.

  “See?” He looked at me intently. “You think so too.”

  “No. No, of course I don’t. You can’t torture yourself like that,” I said, as I struggled to get through to him, to say something, anything, that would take the haunted look from his eyes. “We can all blame ourselves for one thing or another. If I’d listened to her more carefully that morning, maybe I’d have been able to tell the police who she was going to have it out with. Who had got her dander up, as she put it.”

  “Oh, that one’s easy. She was talking about me.”

  “No, she wasn’t. I’m absolutely certain about that, because she’d already had a go about you,” I felt my cheeks redden. “I’m sorry. I – I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s ok.” He gave a wry smile. “I think I can guess exactly what she was saying about me. I’ll say this for Marjorie, she’d never say anything behind your back that she wasn’t prepared to say to your face. And say it to my face she did.”

  “That’s true. But she hadn’t arranged to meet you that afternoon, had she? That just happened by chance when she was passing the farm and saw you crossing the yard. So what exactly did she say?”

  “Well, she said Sally would be ashamed of me,” he said.

  “No. I don’t mean that. I mean, at the beginning. What made her come into the yard and have a go at you in the first place?”

  He screwed up his face in concentration. “Something – it was something to do with the state of the bridle path. The one we call Pendle Drove. Said – yes, that’s it. I remember now. She said something about what a disgrace it was, that it was ankle deep in mud and impassable. And how Will and I should know better than to go driving our vehicles up and down it – and didn’t we know what legs were for?”

  “And had you been driving up and down it?”

  “Well, I hadn’t. Can’t speak for Will, although I can’t think why he would. That drove goes all the way around our boundary and comes out on the land at the back of old Jack Shrewton’s barn. It was the way the local farmers used to take their cattle, back in the old days, to get to the other side of the village. But nobody ever goes along there now. We certainly don’t, unless we’re checking the boundary fences. But as we’ve had no stock grazing there for a while, there’s no reason we should. So I don’t know who’s been churning up the lane, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t us. One of those damn hooray Henries in their four-wheel drives, off-roading, I expect.”