Death Unholy

by Phillip Strang

  ‘But these people are apparently sane,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘They are. If we had Elizabeth Grimshaw checked out by a psychologist, the result would be exactly that.’

  ‘And if she starts telling the psychiatrist that a pagan god through his mouthpiece had commanded her to kill someone?’

  ‘Apart from that, but on all the other tests she’d check out.’

  ‘As would Kathy Saunders. What are you getting at, Yarwood?’

  ‘We should try to empathise.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Elizabeth Grimshaw. Let’s bring her back up here to the interview room.’

  ‘I’ll leave it up to you, but we need to follow this by the book.’

  ***

  ‘Before we start with Elizabeth Grimshaw,’ Tremayne said, ‘I’ve had a preliminary report on Oldfield’s car. Apart from the weather conditions, they’ve found no explanation as to why his vehicle was going so fast, attempting to overtake, smashing into the rear of the mobile crane.’

  ‘Kathy Saunders?’ Clare asked.

  ‘There’s no sign that she attempted to interfere with the vehicle.’

  The two police officers moved from Tremayne’s office to the interview room. Elizabeth Grimshaw sat opposite Tremayne. The woman’s lawyer sat opposite Clare. Tremayne dealt with the formalities. ‘It up to you,’ Tremayne said, giving Clare the first question.’

  ‘Miss Grimshaw, we need to understand why perfectly reasonable people commit what to us is a crime,’ Clare said.

  ‘I’ve protected the community.’

  ‘That’s hardly a reason for killing someone.’

  ‘It is for me.’

  ‘Miss Grimshaw,’ Tremayne said, ‘I’ve asked Sergeant Yarwood to lead the questioning with you. She feels that an understanding of Avon Hill and its beliefs will help to wrap up this case. I’ve had one of our team killed; I don’t want another.’

  ‘What you want is not important,’ Elizabeth Grimshaw said.

  ‘Are you telling us that the police have no authority?’ Clare asked.

  ‘You’d need to understand our history.’

  ‘Will you tell us?’

  ‘It would be better to talk to Dr Wylshere.’

  ‘Why?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘It was his ancestor who found the ancient words.’

  ‘Miss Grimshaw, you must understand that this sounds bizarre to us,’ Clare said.

  ‘That’s why we keep it secret.’

  ‘The whole community in Avon Hill?’

  ‘Those who dissent know the penalty.’

  ‘Death?’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Mavis Godwin lived for a while.’

  ‘Why did she live?’

  ‘Dr Wylshere protected her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’d need to ask him.’

  ‘But we’re asking you. Why did he protect her?’

  ‘She was promised to him, but then she went and married that Trevor Godwin.’

  ‘You did not like Trevor Godwin?’ Clare asked.

  ‘He was a lazy man, good for nothing, but we protected him, even ensured that his woman was safe.’

  ‘Did she live in Avon Hill?’

  ‘A long time ago, but after she had rejected Dr Wylshere and chosen Trevor Godwin, she left.’

  ‘There was a relationship between Edmund Wylshere and Mavis Godwin?’

  ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘Did Harriet Wylshere kill Mavis Godwin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why are you telling us?’ Clare asked.

  ‘Dr Wylshere will deal with those deemed unworthy.’

  ‘Are you unworthy?’

  ‘It is you that needs to worry.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘They will deal with you.’

  Yarwood and myself?’ Tremayne asked.

  ‘You have interfered.’

  ‘We responded to a shooting at the pub.’

  ‘It did not need the police.’

  ‘It was a crime scene.’

  ‘It was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Kathy Saunders?’

  ‘They killed her, two birds with one stone.’

  ‘They killed Constable Oldfield as well.’

  ‘An officer of the law and Kathy Saunders, the two birds,’ Elizabeth Grimshaw said.

  ‘Wylshere was sedated,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘Check with the hospital, the medic in the ambulance.’

  ‘What will we find?’

  ‘At the exact time your constable and Kathy Saunders were killed, Dr Wylshere was awake and coherent. Check, you’ll find that I’m correct.’

  ***

  Clare left the police station late that night. After the strange interview with Elizabeth Grimshaw, she had phoned the hospital to check on Wylshere’s condition and also to check his times of consciousness. They tallied with what had been said in the interview room.

  Vic Oldfield’s parents had arrived earlier in the day, and Clare had spent time with them, organised for them to see the body. Oldfield’s girlfriend had also been present, and she had bonded with his parents. Clare had ensured that the parents had a hotel room in Salisbury for the night.

  Harry was at home when she arrived. He had prepared a meal and a bottle of wine for her. She spoke about her day, Vic Oldfield, the investigation, but not for long. In the end, they drank two bottles of wine, the majority consumed by Clare, before retiring to bed. They made love, and she had cuddled up into his arms and fallen asleep. It was five in the morning when she woke.

  Harry told her to be careful and not to revisit Avon Hill.

  Tremayne was in the office when she arrived. He did not look well ‘What is it, guv?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve been checking Avon Hill on the computer.’

  ‘Not like you, guv.’

  ‘Did you know that statistically Avon Hill has on average more sunshine and less rain than anywhere else in Wiltshire?’

  ‘Is that relevant?’

  ‘Here’s another fact. There have been no reported sales of property in the village for over eighty years.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘I don’t know, unless the properties are passed from father to son.’

  ‘Or mother to daughter,’ Clare reminded him, in the interests of political correctness.

  ‘It’s unusual. Also, the pub has been in the same family for three hundred years.’

  ‘Any information about births and deaths?’

  ‘Sketchy. There are six distinct family names spread amongst a population of fifty-six, and then there are others who have lived there in the past: the Saunders, Edmund Wylshere and his wife, and Trevor and Mavis Godwin. There are probably others, but I’ve not been able to trace them.

  ‘Are you saying there’s a lot of intermarrying between the families?’

  ‘We’ve looked into this before. I think we agree that the answer is yes.’

  ‘What’s the significance of the church in Avon Hill? Supposedly they conducted their ceremonies there and then sacrificed around the back,’ Tremayne said.

  ‘I’ve no idea. We’ve never checked the church,’ Clare said. She was sitting in Tremayne’s office. The man was fired up, always a dangerous sign as it meant he had his teeth into something and he wasn't going to let up until he got a result.

  ‘We need to check with Wylshere. Push him, see if he’ll tell us more. Miss Grimshaw opened up here away from the village, maybe he will.’

  ‘Don’t count on it,’ Clare said. ‘Elizabeth Grimshaw placed her fate in the hands of Dr Wylshere. He’s not likely to tell us much.’

  ‘Regardless, that’s where we’ll head first.’

  ‘And secondly?’

  ‘I need to check that church and get a full team into the wood around the back. If Trevor Godwin’s in there, I want him,’ Tremayne said. Clare shuddered at the thought.

&n
bsp; Chapter 29

  ‘He left thirty minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see him on the way here.’ Not the words that Tremayne wanted to hear from the nurse outside Wylshere’s hospital room.

  ‘I thought he was here for a few days,’ Tremayne replied. He was leaning with his back against the wall, dismayed at the nurse’s statement.

  ‘It was against advice, but he’s a doctor.’

  ‘Any idea who picked him up?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Do you just let patients walk out of here of their own free will all the time?’

  ‘I didn’t. You should ask the doctor who was responsible for him. I’m just the nurse.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Tremayne said, ‘it’s been a tough week.’

  ‘I know that. I knew Vic Oldfield.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We went out together a few times, nothing serious.’

  ‘Yarwood is taking it badly.’

  ‘And you, Detective Inspector?’

  ‘Ask me after we’ve arrested whoever was responsible.’

  ‘Yarwood, you know where he’s gone?’ Tremayne said after they had left the hospital.

  ‘Avon Hill.’

  ‘Exactly. We need to find him. Have you tried his number?’

  ‘I’m trying now, guv.’

  The two police officers left the hospital on Odstock Road and headed back to Bemerton Road and the police station. Tremayne called the CSE on his mobile phone. ‘Any more?’ he asked.

  ‘No more to tell you about Vic Oldfield and Kathy Saunders. They were both killed on impact with the railway line below. Their deaths would have been instantaneous.’

  ‘Avon Hill?’

  ‘We’re preparing to check out the area to the rear of the church. No one’s keen to go back.’

  ‘Not your people as well.’

  ‘You have to admit that it’s a strange place, almost medieval.’

  ‘I’d agree with that,’ Tremayne said. ‘Mind you, if you find Godwin’s body, then we’ll all be spending a lot more time down there, even Yarwood, who doesn’t look too keen on a return either.’

  ‘When will you be in Avon Hill?’ Hughes asked.

  ‘We’re looking for Dr Wylshere first. After that, we’ll be there.’

  Tremayne ended the phone conversation. The police station was nearby. He was anxious to press on, although a return visit to Avon Hill needed backup. Oldfield had told Clare and him about the reaction that night when he had ventured there with Constable Dallimore. Even though they had been wrong to walk around a village in the early hours of the morning, the men they had encountered had possibly been violent, and no doubt were the same people as at the pub after the shooting.

  Moulton was in the office when Tremayne and Clare arrived. ‘What’s this with Wylshere? How did he get away?’

  ‘He’s a free man. There’s no charge against him,’ Tremayne replied. He wasn’t in the mood for debating with a man who was out of touch with the reality of the case. He’d not been to the village; he’d not seen a dead fifteen-year old youth or a man whose legs were the only part of his body that remained, and he’d certainly not seen a woman face down in a water trough.

  ‘I would have thought you’d have stationed a uniform outside his room,’ Moulton said.

  Tremayne could see the CSI was dangling the bait, waiting for him to bite, and then he could add insubordination to the list of reasons to retire him. He wasn’t going to fall for that trick. ‘There was. I’ll deal with what happened later,’ he said.

  Clare called Oldfield’s parents to see how they were. They were fine, although they had not slept the previous night. As Clare was due to go back out to Avon Hill, she asked if they could go with someone else to deal with the formal identification of their son. They agreed and told her that their son’s girlfriend would be going too. Clare had always thought that the relationship of Vic Oldfield and his girlfriend was not intense, although she may have misread the signals. Clare knew that he had always shown an interest in her, and it was more than professional, but he had never said anything, never intimated that he wanted more. She knew that she had liked him very much as a person and as a fellow professional, but apart from that, she had never felt the need or the desire to reciprocate with any more than the cordiality required, and besides she had Harry, although their periods of not talking to each other were increasing. It was evident that the current case was impacting on their relationship, and she hoped it would be over soon. And as for a visit to Avon Hill, she did not look forward to it. It was a place that caused people to commit acts, violent acts, that they would not normally consider. She went to visit Elizabeth Grimshaw in her cell.

  ‘I’m worried about Brutus,’ the woman said. She was sitting in her cell, oblivious to the surroundings.

  ‘I’ll check on him,’ Clare said.

  ‘Are you going out there?’

  ‘We need to find Trevor Godwin.’

  The woman raised herself from where she had been sitting and rushed up to Clare. She threw her arms around her. ‘Please don’t.’

  Clare was not sure how to react. Never before had a prisoner in the cells, charged with murder, shown affection for the person who had put them there.

  ‘Why?’ Clare asked. After the embrace, the two women had sat down on the bed in the cell.

  ‘They will kill anyone who goes there.’

  ‘Why are you telling me?’

  ‘They frighten me, they always have. I don’t like them, any more than the others, but they control our lives.’

  ‘It’s centuries since the lord of the manor held sway over the people. Back then, the peasants were illiterate, easily led, but now…’

  ‘Dr Wylshere is their voice. Others have tried to go against them, but none have survived, you will not survive.’

  ‘Are you saying that I’ll be killed if I go into the wood behind the church?’

  ‘Some will die, probably you.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because of what I have told you.’

  ‘You never answered my earlier question. Why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘I don’t want you to die.’

  ‘But you are going to prison for what you have done.’

  ‘Brutus is innocent. Promise me that if anything happens to me, if you survive, that you will look after him.’

  ‘I promise,’ Clare said.

  ***

  Eventually, at two in the afternoon, Jim Hughes and his crime examiners relocated to Avon Hill. The welcome as they drove through the village and past the pub was distinctly chilly. Hughes had offered a wave, received none in reply.

  There was an old wooden garage next to the church. Hughes decided that it would be suitable as a base. He could see that they would need to spend two days, possibly more, in the village. The area to the back of the church was extensive, and even more overgrown than Cuthbert’s Wood. The uniforms rolled out the crime scene tape around the entrances to the church and to the wood.

  ‘A bit gloomy,’ one of Hughes’s team said.

  ‘Don’t start. Half the people here are scared as it is.’

  Hughes knew those who showed the most bravado would be the first to freak out. He had noticed no wildlife near the church, no birds. ‘Two of you can check the church,’ he said.

  ‘What about the vicar?’ someone asked.

  ‘There’s no vicar, and whatever goes on down here, it’s got nothing to do with Christianity.’

  Hughes and his team, it was decided, would conduct the initial check in the wood behind the church. After they had concluded, there would be a more detailed search by two CSEs, who would conduct a methodical check looking for signs of recent soil disturbance. Hughes thought that may not prove to be so easy, and he had a ground penetrating radar coming down from London. It was due to arrive within twenty-four hours.

  Clare and Tremayne arrived two hours later. The day was drawing to a close
. Clare left Tremayne with Hughes and went to check on Brutus. The dog was pleased to see her and gave her a big lick on her face. Its tail was wagging as well.

  ‘She’s not coming back, is she?’ the next-door neighbour, an elderly man in his eighties, asked.

  ‘That’s not for me to say,’ Clare replied.

  ‘You can’t put her in prison.’

  ‘She’s admitted to the crime.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘What don’t I understand?’ Clare asked. The man, initially friendly, had changed. His appearance was menacing, and he was standing too close to her. She did not feel comfortable with the situation. He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm.

  ‘I’m telling you. Leave this village.’

  Clare removed the man’s hand from her wrist and moved closer to the door out into the garden. ‘Why? A young man is killed, and you act as though it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You must understand, even if it’s only for your well-being, that you cannot stay here. Once it’s dark, then…’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Things happen.’

  ‘Are you trying to scare me?’

  ‘I’m only telling you what you must know. Elizabeth liked you, so does the dog. I don’t want to see you hurt, even killed.’

  ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘Not all of you will leave this village, believe me. Please, I beg you. I’ll even ask your God to tell you if it helps but go now. Do not even go back to the church. Just take your car and drive out of here and don’t stop until you can drive no more. Don’t stay.’

  ‘I’m a police officer. I can’t disregard my responsibilities.’

  ‘You have only one responsibility.’

  ‘And that is?’ Clare asked.

  The man looked at her, this time in a friendly manner. ‘To yourself and those you love. For the sake of Elizabeth and her dog, please leave.’

  ‘And Dr Wylshere?’

  ‘He is here.’

  Clare left the small cottage, unsure of her feelings. One side of her wanted to run and never stop, the other regarded what the man had said as superstitious nonsense. She remembered the intensity with which he had gripped her, the imprint of his fingers still on her wrist. If she had phoned Harry, she knew what he would say, but she was a police sergeant, not a little girl afraid of the dark, looking under beds.