by Rebecca Tope
‘He says he’s got something to tell us,’ her mother explained.
‘Can’t think what,’ said Roddy. ‘It’s all obvious now.’
‘What do you mean, boy – obvious?’ The vicar was already losing his fragile composure.
Lilah interposed. ‘There’s a pattern to the whole thing,’ she said slowly, tiredly. ‘It’s all about fathers. Fathers and people letting each other down.’ She sighed. ‘Funny, you call yourself “Father” as well, don’t you? And you’ve been just as useless as the others.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ he blustered. ‘I didn’t come here—’
‘It’s true, though,’ said Roddy.
The vicar sat back, fighting an urge to get up and run away. He was horrified by what was happening. The last thing he’d expected was that it would all rebound on him. Any tracks he might have left had been carefully covered – or so he believed.
Roddy resumed the attack. ‘You haven’t been fatherly at all, have you? Jonathan says you knew Terry was hanging around here. You knew he’d come to confront Dad about being abandoned as a kid. You just sat back and let all this happen.’
The boy was on his feet now, fists clenched, pouring out a lifetime of dislike for the man in front of him.
Lilah took over, more gently. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘all this happened because people failed as fathers. Amos was Elvira’s father, but he never faced up to it. He just carried on, hoarding money for no reason, cutting himself off. Now Phoebe’s dying—’
‘What?’ The vicar didn’t try to conceal his amazement. ‘I’ve just seen her, this afternoon.’
‘She’s got cancer. So she needed someone to look after Elvira, and she told the girl who her father was, and said they’d find a way to make him take care of her. Phoebe didn’t know about Terry. She just thought she could bully or shame Amos into doing what she wanted. When Isaac was killed, that must have seemed pure good luck to her – or witchcraft. Elvira repeated her mother’s intentions to Terry, who decided it made more sense to kill both Isaac and Amos, so Elvira could have all the money directly. After all, Terry really does love Elvira. He wanted to look after her. He decided to kill both the Grimms, but he made a hash of it, which is probably typical.’
The vicar felt the ground disappearing from beneath his feet. He hadn’t dreamt that the Beardons would be so well informed. But he fought to regain some credibility.
‘Terry told Elvira he’d marry her,’ he offered, in a humble tone. ‘Isn’t that something just a bit … redemptive?’
‘They fell in love,’ Lilah confirmed. ‘So perhaps that’s right. Redemptive,’ she repeated slowly. ‘That sounds rather nice.’
‘They had a camp in the Mabberley woods,’ she went on. ‘From about Easter onwards. He was backpacking, pretending to be an ordinary tourist. That’s when the Wing Commander saw him. He must have met Elvira somehow. And he saw Dad in town and confronted him. Cappy was there, but couldn’t see Terry’s face.’
‘And Guy told him to bugger off, which was a great mistake,’ Miranda contributed. ‘A fatal mistake, in fact.’
‘We’re only guessing on that, but Cappy did think there was a major argument going on,’ Lilah went on. ‘He had an old photo of Dad, which might have helped him recognise him. Or Elvira could have pointed him out.’
‘Anyway, they plotted to kill both their fathers,’ Roddy summed up. ‘Only they swapped, to confuse everybody.’
‘Which was quite clever,’ said Lilah. ‘I just wish Daddy could have known about it. In a weird way, I think he’d have been rather impressed. And I suppose it would be easier to kill someone else’s father, rather than your own,’ she added.
‘What I don’t completely understand is Sam,’ said Miranda, with a forlorn sniff. ‘I’m still confused about that. I understand Terry’s jealousy. I always thought Guy was unfair about that, the way he would talk about his own boys in comparison with Sam. But how did Terry know that Sam was part owner of Redstone? Lilah thinks that was the final straw for him.’
The vicar’s neck grew mottled. ‘Well, of course, these things can be ascertained—’
‘You knew, didn’t you?’ Roddy suddenly accused. ‘You came snooping round here, and overheard us in the office that day, when we found that letter. Bloody hell – did you tell him?’
The vicar cringed back, his face a dark red, the picture of guilt and fear.
‘Roddy, wait,’ Lilah stopped him. ‘That was after Sam died, remember? That wouldn’t explain it.’ She paused, and her eyes widened. ‘But Jonathan knew. He’s always known. Redstone belonged to his father before we bought it. He must have known. It would have been on all the sales paperwork.’
‘And he told Mr Larkin, and Mr Larkin told Barbara and she told Terry.’ Roddy stared at the vicar. ‘Which means it was your fault that Sam was killed,’ he added viciously.
‘Roddy, don’t,’ said Miranda. ‘Facts are facts. It wasn’t the vicar’s fault.’ She looked at the miserable clergyman with a kindly scorn. ‘Perhaps you’d better go now,’ she said. Like a rabbit released from a snare, he leapt up and bolted for the door. Without a word he was gone, though there was clear expression of his feelings in the slamming sound which echoed through the house behind him.
‘He’ll get over it,’ said Miranda. ‘His sort always do, especially when God’s on their side.’
‘But what about us?’ demanded Lilah. ‘When are we going to get over it?’
Miranda moved to the sofa, and sat down in the middle of it. ‘Come here,’ she told them. When they joined her, one on either side, she put an arm around each pair of shoulders.
‘We’ve got each other,’ she said. ‘And I’ve decided to try and keep the farm. It’s what Guy would have wanted. And Sam. We’re going to keep the cows, and make a go of it. We’ve got friends who’ll rally round. We can’t give up now, can we?’
‘Not even now that everything’s over and done with?’ queried Roddy, uncertainly.
‘It isn’t over and done with, Rod,’ said Lilah, hugging her mother. ‘It’s only just beginning!’
It was true. Lilah felt as if she were emerging from an overlong childhood, to begin her adult life. Day by day she watched Den recover, sitting quietly with him, playing gently with his long fingers, thinking of nothing. Before going home, she would lean over and kiss him. His mouth was dry, tasting of hospital and the bland food they gave him.
Jonathan took Tim to the village pub that evening. ‘Come on, man,’ he encouraged, as Tim stared morosely into his beer. ‘She’ll come back. You’re the sort of couple that thrives on breaking up and getting back together. You’ve done nothing but fight since you got married.’
‘I don’t blame her, really. It’s a bugger living with someone like me. She’ll never forgive me for not quitting the service altogether. I thought a compromise would work, but I was only fooling myself.’
Jonathan shook his head, and drank some more beer, grimacing as it went down. ‘This stuff’s vile. This must be the worst pub in England.’
‘It’s not meant for enjoyment. Just a place to be quiet after a day’s work. I like it. It’s real. Sarah loathes it.’
‘Well, I’m on her side in that.’
Jonathan forced down the rest of his beer, musing on the events in which he’d become an unwilling player. All they could do now was pick up the pieces and carry on as best they might.
Cappy had taken it upon herself to befriend Lilah, offering her a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. After a few days, the girl had given into her insistent offers and gone over for a talk. But when it came to it, she could think of little to say. Only one unresolved emotion remained.
‘It’s Sam,’ she blurted. ‘That’s what makes me saddest. We were his whole life and we killed him, between us. I don’t think I’ll ever get round that.’ She wept then, fast-flowing tears, with scarcely a sound to accompany them.
Cappy got up and put an arm round her shoulders.
‘I know, Lil,’ sh
e said. ‘I know.’
About the Author
REBECCA TOPE lives on a smallholding in Herefordshire, with a full complement of livestock, but manages to travel the world and enjoy civilisation from time to time as well. Most of her varied experiences and activities find their way into her books, sooner or later. She is also the author of the Cotswold Mysteries series featuring Thea Osborne.
www.rebeccatope.com
By Rebecca Tope
THE COTSWOLD MYSTERIES
A Cotswold Killing
A Cotswold Ordeal
Death in the Cotswolds
A Cotswold Mystery
Blood in the Cotswolds
Slaughter in the Cotswolds
Fear in the Cotswolds
A Grave in the Cotswolds
Deception in the Cotswolds
Malice in the Cotswolds
THE WEST COUNTRY MYSTERIES
A Dirty Death
Dark Undertakings
Death of a Friend
Grave Concerns
A Death to Record
The Sting of Death
A Market for Murder
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain in 1999.
This ebook edition first published in 2012.
Copyright © 1999 by REBECCA TOPE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–4013–0
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