“What do you think happened?”
Daniel thought over the question a little, though it was clear he had an answer ready.
“I think she ran away, to tell you the truth. Like I said, she wanted to be an actress, a singer, have adventures, and see the world. My guess is that she just left, probably to make her fortune in London or some other big city.”
“But without telling anyone? Without packing anything?”
Daniel shrugged. “Maybe she was fed up with village life, fed up of the same people. Maybe she wanted a clean break from everything. God knows I’ve wanted that myself sometimes. Lucy was a poet, an idealist. She probably thought it would be romantic to run away to London one day and see if she could make it with nothing in her pocket. The funny thing is, I’d bet that she could.”
Annabelle found Daniel’s casual manner in discussing Lucy’s disappearance slightly concerning until she reminded herself that he had no idea about the body in the woods. For him, this was a long gone incident that was dead and buried. If he had been aware of the imminent news that the affair was to be revisited, he would almost certainly not have been so open about his dismissive feelings toward Lucy or his still rather strong ones for Louisa.
After sipping the last of her cider, Annabelle placed the glass down softly and looked once again at the attractive face of the man sitting across from her.
“Would you like another?” he asked.
“No, thank you, I should get going.”
Daniel looked askance at the Reverend while a playful smile worked its way onto his face.
“Is that really all that you wanted to ask me about, Reverend?”
“Yes, though I may have more to ask you soon. Thank you for your time, Daniel.”
Daniel chuckled. “My pleasure. It’s always nice to share a pint with someone new.”
Annabelle dropped the payment for her drink and peanuts in coins on the table and left Daniel to join some friends of his. As soon as she stepped outside, a cold snap of wind and the surprisingly dark street once again reminded her of the approaching season. She pulled her cassock in around her a little more tightly and began walking.
Annabelle decided not to drive home immediately. After her cider, she needed to wait before she could get safely back behind the wheel. She had an hour to kill so she decided to amble around the village and use the time to think about what she had learned from the surprisingly forthright butcher.
She now had an idea of the time and events that had surrounded Lucy’s disappearance, though she was still grappling with wildly differing accounts. The enigmatic Louisa Montgomery was growing ever more difficult to discern. To Katie, she was an introverted shrew who lived in the shadow of her sister’s charming personality and radiant popularity. To Daniel, she was a magnetic beauty who surpassed her sister in all aspects, and for whom he would have dismissed Lucy in an instant were Louisa not bound to a dullard since youth.
And still, despite the detailed, honest reports of these two childhood friends who had been present at the time of her disappearance, Annabelle could not ascertain a motive or reason for Lucy’s murder, if indeed it was murder.
Feeling the corner of her notepad jut into her waist, Annabelle was reminded once again of her need to deliver the Sunday sermon. She decided to visit the local library. It was always a peaceful, inspiring place for such things, and there, she could focus her thoughts on something other than the mysteries that were causing her such consternation.
With the purpose of a destination in mind, she quickened her pace and took a rather discreet shortcut through a cobblestoned alleyway that always made her feel as if she had stepped back in time to the eighteenth century.
“You can’t have her!” came a faint voice from the darkness at the end of the alley. “She’s mine! She’s always been mine! Who do you think you are to take her from me!?”
Something about the voice seemed familiar to Annabelle, but the anger and aggressiveness threw all of her senses for a spin. Had she stumbled upon a physical altercation? Was somebody in danger? Annabelle flew into a stride that carried her down the short length of the alleyway in seconds, grimly determined to ensure that no harm would come to anybody, her arms raised in preparation for whatever lurked in the shadows.
“She belongs with me! And I’ll do everything in my power to keep her!”
As Annabelle drew closer, the silhouette became recognizable. She slowed down as she reached within a few yards of the wildly gesticulating, hurriedly pacing figure who was screaming into his phone.
“Just you try and stop me! She’s mine! She’s always been mine!”
It was the Inspector, and he was shouting so viciously into his phone that Annabelle could see the spittle flying from his gnarled mouth even in the darkness. She held back, hoping the Inspector would not see her, but when he hung up with an immense amount of frustration, he spun around to walk away and was immediately confronted by the sight of the embarrassed Vicar.
“Ah… Hello Inspector?”
“What do you want? Are you listening in on my conversations now as well?”
“Absolutely not! I was just on my way to the library.”
“And you decided to stop and tell me how to do my job again, did you?”
Annabelle’s embarrassment was replaced by an assuredness that ran confidently through her in the face of the Inspector’s rudeness.
“You were shouting at the top of your lungs, Inspector. You cannot expect privacy when you choose to rant and rave in public so.”
The Inspector breathed deeply, unable to find a retort amid the muddled thoughts of his anger.
“Now,” continued Annabelle, taking this moment of confusion to assert herself, “I was simply passing when I heard you and if you’d care to calm down and talk reasonably with me, Inspector, I believe I may be able to provide some information that would be pertinent to your current case.”
At this the Inspector straightened himself and looked at Annabelle directly.
“Go on.”
Annabelle smiled at the Inspector’s receptiveness.
“This is terribly exciting, isn’t it?” she giggled. “Two people exchanging information in a dark alleyway. It’s like a scene from one of those exotic spy films, or a romantic thriller…”
“Reverend…”
“We’re almost making a habit of meeting in dark places, Inspector. If I didn’t know bett—”
“Please, Reverend. I’m not in the mood. Just tell me what you’ve found out.”
“Yes, of course,” Annabelle said, clearing her throat. “Well, I’ve learned that Lucy’s boyfriend at the time of her disappearance was Daniel Green, a local butcher.”
“Excellent,” the Inspector said sincerely, though his voice still bore the remnants of his earlier fury. “Then we have a suspect.”
Annabelle balked at the Inspector’s speedy conclusion.
“Oh no! I didn’t mean to imply… I mean, perhaps. It’s not implausible… But I was by no means saying…”
“What did he tell you?”
“Well, this is the interesting aspect, he told me he wasn’t particularly attached to Lucy at all. In fact, it was Louisa that his heart was truly set on.”
Even in the darkness Annabelle could see the Inspector’s expression settle firmly.
“You’ve just given me a suspect and a motive, Reverend. This ‘butcher’ prefers the sister to Lucy, so he offs Lucy and hopes it’ll bring him closer to the girl he wants.”
“Inspector! Surely you cannot reduce this to something so simple. I am certain there are more layers of complexity to this.”
The Inspector sighed deeply, regretting his recent outburst. “You’re right. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. It’s a possibility though. We’ve confirmed the body is Lucy’s. She died from a blow to the head, and it appears that she was being regularly beaten throughout her life.”
Annabelle gasped. “Surely not!”
“Oh, it’s for sure, all right. The
forensic anthropologist confirmed it.”
“That’s dreadful!” Annabelle said.
“These things often are.”
Annabelle cast her eyes down mournfully.
“There’s something else,” Annabelle said, raising her eyes to meet the Inspector’s, “I followed Louisa today.”
“Is that normal behavior for a Reverend?”
“Is shouting in the street normal for a detective?”
“I’m sorry. Continue.”
“Well, she did something rather strange. She visited a shed, over on the allotments at the edge of the village. I waited for half an hour, and she didn’t come back out.”
The Inspector scratched his stubble as he thought over this.
“Isn’t that what people usually do when they’re at their allotments?”
“Not really… Perhaps. I found her behavior rather strange. She went there right after her meeting with you. She wasn’t dressed for digging. Then she got her groceries. I have a peculiar feeling that there may be something worth investigating in that shed.”
The Inspector digested Annabelle’s words then shrugged.
“Maybe so, but to check it we’d need a search warrant. And to get a search warrant you need more than a ‘peculiar feeling’.”
Annabelle brushed off the Inspector’s condescension and decided she was far too cold to stay a moment longer. She would much rather go home to a hot cup of tea and a cozy blanket than be outside in the chilly evening air with the crotchety Inspector.
“Well, if I find out anything else I feel is important, I’ll let you know, Inspector.”
“Hmph.”
“Goodbye, Inspector.”
Annabelle watched the Inspector march away, stamping his shoes onto the pavement, his shoulders hunched up defensively.
“Hmph, yourself,” she muttered, “You’re never going to win me over with an attitude like that,
CHAPTER 6
WHEN ANNABELLE ARRIVED back at the church, it was already dark, and the streets had emptied of families, couples, and animated Saturday afternoon shoppers, who had earlier filled the air with chatter. Now the only people who could be seen were the men making their way to the pubs for a few pints, perhaps a game of darts, or a conversation about the day’s football results.
Annabelle was so lost among her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the white car that sat in the spot where she usually parked. Annabelle made out the shape of a man slumped over the wheel. She deftly eased her Mini beside the other vehicle and as the lights of her car flashed across him, the man spun around. Annabelle smoothly finished bringing her own car parallel to the other and locked eyes with the rather embarrassed-looking fellow inside it.
The man fidgeted with his keys before placing them in the ignition and starting his engine. He eased off his handbrake, turned his lights on, and then checked his mirrors, only to find the approaching figure of the Reverend in them.
She rapped on his window with her knuckles and leaned down to get a good look at him. He was a decent-looking chap, with wiry curls of neatly cut, brown-grey hair. With his big, brown eyes set beneath thick eyebrows and full lips, he had the air of a friendly, undemanding neighbor about him. The kind of man who would never be a hero but always remember a birthday.
When he saw the cheerful and inviting (if somewhat fatigued) smile on the Reverend’s face, his embarrassment seemed to disappear. He turned off the engine. Annabelle stepped away from the door, allowing him space to open it. With a deep sigh, he got out of the car.
“Hello!” Annabelle said, with a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“Hello,” the man replied, bowing his head slightly.
“I’m Reverend Annabelle, I take it you’ve come to see me?” Annabelle said, offering her hand.
The man took it and held it limply for a few seconds before pulling away.
“I’m Dr. Robert Brownson. I… Well… I saw the church spire and just… Sorry…”
Annabelle looked back at the church as if to check it was still there. “Yes,” she said. “It is rather noticeable, isn’t it? No matter where you are in Upton St. Mary, you can see it.”
“Yes,” Dr. Brownson said. “I saw it from the hills this morning.”
“That was you?” Annabelle remarked, pointing toward the hills beyond the cemetery. “I think I saw you make your way to the top of the hill.”
Dr. Brownson nodded.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything further, Annabelle said: “Would you like a cup of tea? My cottage is just behind you. I’d appreciate the company.”
Dr. Brownson nodded gratefully and followed the Reverend as she led the way to her warm, cozy kitchen.
“So, Dr. Brownson, have you been waiting long?” Annabelle said, as she readied the cups and tea bags.
“Not really. Perhaps. I’m not too sure.”
Annabelle frowned at her visitor’s confusion. She had had rather an eventful day herself and felt that she had little energy left for yet another mysterious problem. But such is the life of a village priest.
With the teapot full and the cups laid out, Annabelle brought over the plate of shortbread Philippa had left out and took a seat opposite the quiet stranger. The gentle sound of the cat door caught Annabelle’s attention before she could speak, and she noticed Biscuit entering the kitchen, her eyes focused on the table.
“Honestly,” Annabelle said, “I believe that cat has the ability to detect a sugary treat from the other side of the village.”
Dr. Brownson smiled awkwardly as the cat leaped onto his lap and settled herself into a comfortable position.
“May I ask what brings you to this corner of the kingdom, Dr. Brownson?”
“Please, call me Robert,” he said, as he tentatively leaned forward over the cat, careful not to disturb her, and measured out half a teaspoon of sugar before dropping it into his cup with great care. “I am a forensic anthropologist. I was called here on business.”
Annabelle felt her tiredness evaporate. “The body in the woods?” she blurted out eagerly, before remembering that she had promised the Inspector she would keep it a secret.
“Why yes,” Robert said, surprised.
“That’s strange,” Annabelle said, pursing her lips. “We already have someone who does that kind of thing around here, Dr. Harper Jones.”
Robert’s expression flickered through a number of emotions before he sighed slowly and abjectly. “Harper is a pathologist.”
“Ah yes, of course she is,” Annabelle said, emphatically pretending she knew the difference.
They sipped their hot teas, each passing the time by taking a shortbread. Robert slowly stroked the cat in his lap, though Biscuit, seeing that no treats were about to be offered, promptly decided she had had quite enough of their company and leaped down to the floor. In silence, they watched her make her way to the living room where she would no doubt enjoy the luxury of choosing the perfect sleeping spot, the better to be refreshed for her nightly excursion around the village that was just a few hours away. After a minute’s silence, Robert’s shoulders slumped, and he resolutely placed his teacup down.
“Actually, Harper is the reason that…”
Annabelle waited for an end to the sentence, but the man across the table seemed incapable of concluding any of his thoughts, either in his head or out loud. Annabelle realized that something was troubling him, and that he would need some assistance in discussing it. She placed her own teacup down and leaned forward sympathetically.
“If there is anything troubling you, Robert, you’re welcome to talk about it with me, whether it’s spiritual or not.”
As if realizing how close he was to spilling out his thoughts, Dr. Brownson immediately sat up rigid as a post, an innocuous smile forcefully stretched across his face.
“Ah! It’s nothing! A silly notion that will be gone by tomorrow morning.”
Annabelle glared at the doctor, unconvinced.
“Hmm. It often takes mor
e than a ‘silly notion’ to draw people to the spire of the church. People tend only to notice it when they look to the sky for help, having found none elsewhere.”
“Really, Reverend…”
“Okay,” Annabelle said, shrugging lightly, “I remain unconvinced, however. And if you’re unable to convince me that it’s not worth talking about, I doubt you’ll convince yourself, Robert.”
Robert glanced only for a moment at Annabelle, but it was enough to see the sincerity and openness in the Reverend’s eyes. He sighed once more and smiled.
“You’re sharp, Reverend. I suppose talking couldn’t hurt.”
“Of course.”
Robert nodded, staring at his teacup as he galvanized himself to say things that he had not told anyone.
“It’s Harper Jones.”
“What about her?” Annabelle said quickly, her tone full of worry.
“Oh, no… Nothing like that,” assured Robert when he saw the fear in Annabelle’s eyes. “It’s just that… she’s married.”
Robert looked up, deep pain written across his face. Annabelle searched it for some clue as to what exactly the problem was and shook her head when she couldn’t find one.
“I’m sorry, Robert. What’s the problem?”
Robert sighed again. “I’ve never been very good at explaining these kinds of things.”
“It’s fine. Just take a deep breath, and start from the beginning.”
Robert did as he was told before speaking again.
“We met just under thirty years ago. I was doing a Ph.D. in biological anthropology at the time. Harper was an undergraduate studying medicine. I remember I had visited the library in search of a specific book, and it wasn’t on the shelves. I looked around, and there she was, angelic, yet magnificent. Her skin was almost luminescent, and the determined, penetrating manner in which she read her book was so striking. She had the very book I intended to read.
“Well, over the coming weeks, in the library, this happened again, and again, and again! Sometimes she would seek a certain book that I had already taken from the shelves and had begun to work from. Other times I would arrive at the library and find her using the very one I had come for. We’d exchange knowing nods and patiently wait for the other to finish. Sometimes we would talk, and each time we did we discovered we shared more than a few interests and ideas. It was no coincidence. It was fate!
Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 8