by Jo Smedley
“You’re sure Russ didn’t do it?” I asked her. “The police still have him in custody.”
“Positive.”
“But if there was a boyfriend… then he’s still the prime suspect. And he was in the house at the time.”
“I know. That’s why the police still have him.”
I frowned. We’d been over this a few times. Her next retort in the argument was usually you’ve met him to which I would have to agree… he didn’t seem like murdering material. Too thick. Too passive. Too frightened. But who knew what he would be like when riled? In the heat of the moment could he have done it before he realised, then panicked?
Irene reached for the telephone directory and started flicking through.
“What?”
“I’ve figured out how we can get a little further into the circle,” she said. “I’ve always fancied a conservatory out the back.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Lucus had to leave the house even earlier than usual the next day, and with no Lucus to timetable our morning, Lillian and I were ready for a dog walk much earlier than normal.
Knowing Irene was unlikely to be joining me due to the early departure, I decided to head for the cemetery. The walk was a little longer and on a day like today, where it was fair but a little windy, the trees surrounding the cemetery provided a perfect windbreak. Given I’d consumed a few extra biscuits the day before the longer walk certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Moss was excited by the change in routine and Lillian too remained awake longer than normal, helped no end by a string of “nee naas” that whizzed past on the main road heading for some accident or other. Our house was located mid-point between the fire station and the hospital, so “nee naas” weren’t all that uncommon. Lillian had seen plenty, but at her age, every one was a novelty and I’d got used to pointing out everything.
Look Lillian, a fire engine.
Look Lillian, an ambulance.
And on the walk into town, I’d purposely rush to a set of closed barriers for: Look Lillian, a train!
Once into the cemetery properly, the quiet descended and the uneven paths led to a gentle rocking of the buggy which invariably sent Lillian off to sleep. So it was just me, the dog and the ball, which I sent whizzing across the head stones in the old section.
The smaller paths around the old section were flanked by hand-carved head stones and graves featuring statues of angels as well as some significant monuments, obelisks and anchors. Whole families were buried beneath and the graves were widely dispersed, with many additional names engraved on both the main head stone and the low granite walls which marked off the boundaries of each plot.
There were very few visitors to the old section and I always felt happy to let Moss run off his lead. Technically, it was a “dogs on leads” area throughout, but we weren’t bothering anyone, so I took the risk.
Crossing the main entrance road, we then circled around an area where the big headstones had been collected ahead of disposal at some point in the future. These must have been moved from their original plots sometime in the past and were now all bunched up together. There were never any flowers in this section. Whoever owned these graves had long since forgotten who their relatives were. Like Irene said, they were just monuments to forgotten people. At the time of their manufacture, the person they had represented was clearly very well loved. The head stones here were nearly all above my head height, but despite the size of their memorials, no one remembered them anymore.
Walking along another avenue of trees we then came to the World War One section, which was maintained by the war graves commission, and from that we headed into an area of widely dispersed graves, which were only intermittently visited. Some plots here still had family who knew those buried underneath and were well tended, others sat untended year on year. Some headstones had been so neglected they had become unsafe and the cemetery staff had lain them on the grass.
As we continued down the west fence we gradually walked towards the newer section of the cemetery, and I put Moss back on his lead.
I always faced a choice now. To circle back on myself, leaving the same way we had come, or to head out through the crematorium entrance and create a circular walk. I was somewhat famed for my preference for circular routes, but without Irene here to tease me, I decided to head towards the crematorium.
I turned into the entrance, which was right next to the garden of remembrance, and glanced to my left. No one here was forgotten. Each plaque had its own set of flowers and as usual there were a few people there tending to the plaques and ensuring the water and the flowers were fresh.
It was a very small area, ashes taking up much less space than full coffins, and compared to the vast expanses between head stones in the old section, this somehow seemed like a cheap man’s memory, though I knew from Irene just a small plot here would set the bereaved back several hundred. Funerals weren’t cheap. A fact I found disgusting as, like eating, it was something all of us would do eventually. Surely the fact you’d just lost a family member was hard enough without having to find over two thousand pounds to dispose of their body through a funeral director.
I suppose in that respect, Gill Allenby had saved herself a packet when her first husband simply vanished. Yes, it might have been difficult to lose him and tragic to have no body, but at least she hadn’t the expense of the funeral as well.
Irene said it would be a few weeks before the family set up any sort of memorial for Lesley. Headstones and plaques took time. But just after the funeral, people visited the flowers in the gardens of the crematorium instead, and after those were cleared away there was only a gap of a few weeks while the head stone or plaque was arranged. Lesley’s ashes would have already been picked up by now she assured me. Unless there was a backlog of bodies (her words not mine) the ashes were usually available for collection after 2-3 days. So I wasn’t expecting to see anyone at the crematorium as I walked through. Which was why, when I passed a young woman chasing after a tissue which had blown out of her hand, I simply stopped, grabbed it and passed it over to her without thinking.
“Thanks,” she said. “Wind caught it.”
Her eyes were red rimmed. She’d been standing looking at a vast array of wilting flowers which had been moved to one side of the path. They were browning around the edges now and the cards were a little weather worn, but it was still possible to see Lesley’s name amongst the messages.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Yes. I thought I’d be fine. It’s just… I wasn’t here for the funeral.”
I looked at her. It must be. The face was a little familiar and like Fiona said, she looked more like her mother. It had to be the sister, back from Thailand.
Where was Irene when I needed her? What should I ask? Should I ask anything? What was the right thing to say?
“Oh...,” I managed. “There’s a lot.” She knew I meant the flowers.
“Hmmm.”
“It’s never easy,” I said. It seemed like the right thing to say. I’d not lost a sister or indeed anyone close. But if I had… I was sure it wouldn’t be easy. “She must have been well loved.”
“She was.” The woman tried a lopsided smile.
I stood there. I really couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t intrusive or just plain rude. She was grieving after all. Now wasn’t a good time. I’d met her and maybe that would have to be enough. Just as I’d decided to leave, a young man walked up.
“Sorry, Lou,” he said. “I got stuck behind a caravan on Peaks Parkway.”
The woman turned to him and he folded her into a hug. I looked at his face. We didn’t know him. Lou had a boyfriend, or just a friend, a local male anyway. Yet another one for the incident board.
I kicked up the foot break I’d automatically applied when I’d stopped to hand back the tissue and carried on down the drive leading to the main road.
“Did you come, Joe?” she asked him, as I moved away.
“No. I was
n’t back from Uni. Dad didn’t tell me until I got back last weekend.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
They held hands. Boyfriend then, I guessed, and not a suspect as, like Lou, he was out of the area when Lesley was killed.
I continued home. Irene had fixed up a quote for an unwanted conservatory later that day, so I planned to spend the afternoon at her house. Later this morning it was swimming. I glanced at my watch. I still had a good hour until we had to turn out with the swimming costumes again.
I cast my mind back over what was lurking about in the freezer. I just had time to sort out a casserole if I sped up a little. Lucus was getting a little fed up of my recent meal offerings. These last few days with Irene had been fairly intensive and I’d resorted to our post uni days of ‘baked bean curry’ and ‘Tuna pasta’. He was used to slightly higher calibre food these days and if I was to continue with the investigation and not arouse too much suspicion, I really needed to start using the cooker’s timer facility and ensure he had something more than a one pan wonder.
Chapter Twenty Four
Pete Rand came himself to quote for Irene’s conservatory. I recognised him from the funeral, though he didn’t recognise either of us. Men were much less interested in people as a rule. Another woman might have noticed our threesome, due to the ages involved. Even if they hadn’t recognised the actual faces; something about our group would have rung a bell.
Lucus was the same. My whats - is - name would have been incredibly helpful for him. Before he’d recognise he’d met someone before, I’d have to provide him with an entire plotted history of where we’d met them, who they’d been with at the time, what we’d all been doing, as well as a physical description of them, and anything funny we might have discussed between us after the fact. Conversely he could remember exhibits in museums we had visited over the years and exactly which city or service station we’d eaten a particular food. We were clearly wired very differently.
Irene showed him where she wanted the imaginary conservatory while I made three cups of tea, one with milk and two sugars.
“It won’t be easy,” he was telling Irene as I came through with the mugs. “Building regs around here want 2 metre footings. It’s the clay.”
Grimsby was a massive clay area. The whole town was built on mud. Foundations on most of the old houses only went down a few feet at best, but building regulations now required a lot more. Fiona said she had experienced the same thing when her house extension was done all those years ago.
“Just for a conservatory?” Irene could have won an Oscar. She was taking on the role of “incredulous pensioner” at the moment.
“’fraid so. Thanks,” he added as I handed him the mug of tea.
“Who recommended me?” he asked.
“Fiona. Lives next door to you I think.”
“Ah. Fiona Mason. Yes. I did her conservatory ages ago. Lovely woman.”
“She’s got a grandson the same age as Lillian.” Again I was stunned how she’d created the impression we were a family unit without actually saying we were. Pete looked across at Lillian, who was busy bashing a wooden spoon on all the cupboard units, taking the pans idea Irene had shown her the other day into a whole other new concept. She’d already hit me twice just to see what sound my shins made. So far they made an “ OW !” sound.
“She said you’d had a loss recently. I’m so sorry,” Irene said.
“Yes. Our daughter,” Pete confirmed. I liked the way he said “our daughter”. Not stepdaughter, not Gill’s daughter. Clearly, like Fiona said, he’d become the father in every sense of the word. I warmed to him immediately.
“Horrible,” he said, and he put so much emotion into that one word, it was obvious it was. “There’s nothing can describe it. It was just such a shock. For everyone.”
“They have a man for it,” she said.
“Yes. Ex-husband. Apparently he was staying in the loft! The loft! It’s unbelievable! The police said he’d been staying there for a few weeks. Funny thing is, she’d been saying she thought she heard noises. We all thought… well… it doesn’t matter now.”
“In the loft?!” Irene managed to sound incredulous. “Who would do that?”
“He would, apparently. His family came to the funeral. It was nice of them. But… well… awkward to say the least.”
“I can’t believe you’re back at work so fast,” Irene said.
“Self-employed. You’ve just got to pick yourself up and crack on. There’s no government handouts for compassionate leave.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I’m trying to be home as much as I can. Sending the men out on jobs, but I’ve got to keep quotes coming through, lining work up. Lou’s home at the moment, so I’m doing as much as I can while she’s there. Other daughter,” he added, as Irene silently questioned him with her eyebrows.
“Fiona said you met while you were building her extension.”
“Yes,” Pete took a swig of his tea.
“So. Solid walls, or glass?”
“Oh, glass as much as possible surely, or it’s not a conservatory.”
“Well, you say that, but sometimes it’s the extra room people want, not the conservatory as such. We’ve built some with solid rooves too – but you need planning permission for those usually. Your typical glass conservatory thing you can do without normally. Just need building regs.”
“And two metre foundations.”
“Yes”
“I was thinking glass, so let’s go for glass.”
“Heating?”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought. Yes, I suppose so.”
“Electric or central? We might be able to tap it off - ” he looked towards Irene’s old fashion radiators. “Then again, maybe electric might be better.”
“I’m just looking for a ball park idea initially,” Irene said. “About 8 foot by 8 foot, electric heating and sockets, French doors into the garden, glass, but with a brick wall up until about,” she looked at Lillian, “small child height. Best not to have something too breakable at bashing range,” she said as Lillian continued to bash her wooden spoon on the cooker, making a metallic tink tink noise.
“Fair enough. I’ll have the quote back to you in the post early doors next week.”
“Brilliant.”
“Good cuppa,” he said, handing the mug back to me.
I smiled. I liked him. He didn’t look at all like a murder. Irene showed him to the front door, while I washed up the cups.
“I like him,” I said, as she came back.
“He was lying.”
“Lying? What about?”
“Did you see the way he put the cup between us when I asked him about meeting Gill?”
“He was drinking,” I chided. “At some point he was going to have to put it to his mouth.”
“Yes. But he changed the subject as well directly after I asked about when he met Gill.”
“You had asked him to come and quote for a conservatory.”
“Yes… but if you ask me they didn’t meet during Fiona’s extension.”
“Whether he did or didn’t, does it matter?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But what if they’d been having an affair?”
“With two young children in the house?” I asked incredulously.
“It’s not beyond the bounds,” she said.
And I thought about Lucus out at work all day, just as Geoff would have been. And me at home having not met Irene, bored out of my brains, looking for a distraction. We had visitors to the house. The postman… the courier… a neighbour. There were possibilities if I had been so inclined. But what would I have done with Lillian while we were… well… for want of a better word: at it? She didn’t sleep in the day. If she was a little older maybe I could have accommodated a physical relationship a little easier, left her in front of CBeebies or with Helen. But by then she’d have been talking. That would have made things more difficult. I couldn’t see it. But then… people did… I
knew they did.
Maybe they had met before. Pete had built the other neighbour’s extension too. A romance could have blossomed just as easily over the other fence, away from Fiona’s prying eyes. There were opportunities. I could concede that much at least.
“Ok… so, assuming they had met before, that doesn’t mean anything does it? He doesn’t look like a murderer. Doesn’t sound like a murderer.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Irene scolded me.
“Yes… but we took Russ at face value.”
“That’s different.”
“How, exactly?”
“We had Jean as a character reference.”
“We have Fiona as a character reference for Pete,” I reminded her. “I don’t think it’s him.”
“What about the husband?”
“What about him?”
“What if he killed her first husband?”
“I don’t see it.” I flipped the switch on the kettle again.
“I saw Lou and her boyfriend in the cemetery earlier,” I said as Irene lapsed into contemplative silence.
“He was away at uni at the time Lesley was killed. So like Lou, an alibi.” I rinsed through Pete’s mug and tipped out the dregs in Irene’s. She always left a little bit in the bottom. Said it made for easier washing up. It seemed to. Her cups weren’t as tea-stained in the base as my own were, but why that little dreg made the difference I didn’t know.
Irene looked up. “Any idea who he was?”
“Joe she called him. Student I’d say, going by his clothes.”
Irene took a pen to a post it note and added it to the eliminated board with a “x”. We now knew the whereabouts of her sister and her sister’s boyfriend, and both were ruled out.
“I think we’re stalled,” I said, looking at the board over her shoulder while the kettle boiled. “We don’t know who killed Geoff, or even if he is dead, we don’t know who was with Lesley when she was murdered. We don’t know about the money, or even if there is any missing from the business. We don’t know anything. Maybe the police will just release Russ?”