‘No,’ Alex said.
‘Have you told anyone about the events at Green Friday last night?’
‘No,’ Tony and Alex said in unison.
‘I hope that’s true. We can’t have much longer before everything breaks wide open, but I’ll take any time I can get.’
So Dan had not heard about Wells’ fulsome soliloquy, either the one at the house and definitely not at the Dog. Someone ought to tell him.
They got into Dan’s dark blue Lexus and he drove the fairly short distance to the parish hall where the front door was firmly closed. But it wasn’t locked and the detective shoved it open with the usual scraping and creaking from swollen wood, and hinges in need of some oil.
‘Jesus,’ Dan said, confronted by harried activity and several officers working phones. ‘Has there been a break in the case?’
Tony touched his shoulder. ‘Just to bring you up-to-date, Dan. We thought you would have heard yourself by now. Wells Giglio went to the Black Dog – apparently while everyone thought he was on one of his bathroom jaunts – and he held forth about Laura being murdered, poisoned, he said. And someone else, I don’t know who, has started leaking that Mrs Meeker was killed, too. Also poisoned. We were coming to tell you this but you beat us to it. There were members of the press in the pub last night.’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ he said, letting his head fall back. The man was tired and things were not going his way. Alex took that as the reason for the Irish accent getting thicker. ‘Hugh knew about Mrs Meeker. I caught the end of him saying so.’
When they didn’t answer, he said, ‘You’re protecting someone. But I’ll find out who the big mouth is. And I do thank you for sharing that with me.’
Tony inclined his head. ‘Bill Lamb’s not here?’
‘He’s back at Green Friday.’ He looked around the room and raised his voice. ‘Listen up. I’ll want to see the latest from forensics as soon as it comes in. And what’s the ruckus about?’
The room fell silent before a woman said, ‘A lot of activity, guv. Tips, questions – you know how it goes.’
‘Not if there’re no bigger breaks in this case than we’ve already had.’
The female officer rose and approached carrying newspapers. ‘You’ll want to see these. And you’re to contact the chief superintendent as soon as you get in, about a press conference. He’s not expecting you in until later given you’re working a crime scene.’
‘Thanks, Miller,’ Dan said, taking the papers. ‘So much for more time to work before this lot hits.’
‘The chief super also wants to know the connection to a Dr James Harrison. The police surgeon mentioned talking to him – or a tech mentioned it.’
‘We’ll be outside in my car,’ Dan said. ‘Let me know if you need me.’
They followed him without question and got back into his car. ‘You afraid the walls have ears?’ Tony said.
Dan made a scoffing noise. ‘They bloody do. Take one of these papers.’ He gave one each to Tony and Alex. ‘Your dad and Dr Molly Lewis are pals now, hm? I wonder how that happened. Have you talked to him this morning?’
‘No.’ Now Tony did sound weary.
Alex scanned the front page of the Echo and let out a long sigh. ‘You’ve got someone feeding the press,’ she said. ‘Digoxin in a bottle by the bed, it says. It could have been suicide. Do they have any idea how many Mrs Meeker took?’
‘No,’ Dan snapped. ‘If I get my hands on the weasel who leaked all this, he’ll feel my hands around his scrawny neck.’
Alex laughed before she could stop herself.
‘I’m only a man,’ he said, looking angry.
She didn’t respond.
‘This is all about the Quillams,’ Tony said. ‘That’s what the press is after. Says there was bruising on Mrs Meeker? A bottle dropped between nightstand and bed. Crikey, what a mess. This lot could be making it up as they go along for all we know. There’s more: family and staff confined to house. The brilliant pianist, Elyan Quillam, said to be distraught and unable to play. Is that true?’ He looked up from the paper.
‘Not from what I heard last night,’ Dan said. ‘I don’t know much about classical stuff but I do know he sounded bloody marvelous. Angry, but brilliant with it. He is knocked for six by it all, but who wouldn’t be?’
‘Local publican and local vet in the eye of the storm,’ Alex said, feeling a bit sick. ‘We got sucked into this, that’s all. Why do they keep trying to make one or the other of us sound like a suspect?’
She didn’t get a response.
‘The heading here is: “The Sleeping Murders. Detective Chief Inspector O’Reilly said to be flummoxed” – why would they use a silly word like that? – “and ready to call in many more locals for serious questioning. Sources who requested anonymity say police infuriated by lack of co-operation.
‘“The picturesque village of Folly-on-Weir is virtually on self-imposed lockdown as fears grow that victim count could increase. Details of cause of death are sketchy but drug overdose is suspected. They think these overdoses are being administered against the will of the victims.”’
‘There’s a note below the article,’ Alex added. ‘Watch for details of press conference later today.’
Dan leaned back in his seat, stiffening his arms against the steering wheel. ‘Whoever is doing all this anonymous talking has put himself, or herself, under my microscope. And given what I’m thinking, all the chatter wasn’t a clever move and it won’t do what it’s supposed to do.’
‘Move suspicion away from the culprit?’ Alex said.
‘I shouldn’t think out loud,’ Dan responded.
‘Didn’t you ever hear about the value of having more than one brain working on a problem?’ Tony’s voice was even, and low, but Alex decided he could just be irritated with Dan O’Reilly.
As if he’d picked up the same subtle irritation as Alex had heard in Tony’s voice, Dan shifted sideways in his seat so he could see both of them. ‘Okay. Chew on this one. Have we got one murderer, or more than one?’
TWENTY-EIGHT
Tony watched Alex, watching Hugh.
‘Can I get away with turning the TV off?’ she asked, sotto voce.
‘Not if you want to see sunset again,’ Tony murmured. ‘Harriet and Mary would be first in line to let you have it for interrupting the main news of the day.’
‘Hugh looks ready to explode. He’s tired and angry – and I can’t figure out why he’s so angry.’
Lily slid to stand beside Alex, opposite Tony across the bar. ‘I don’t like this,’ she said. ‘Did Doc tell you Dan O’Reilly put him through a tough interview?’
‘No!’ Tony said, bristling. ‘The hell he did. Inappropriate fool.’
‘Sh.’ Alex put a hand across the bar to touch him. ‘Calm down. Doc’s more than capable of dealing with something like that.’
People in the bar were turning their chairs to get better views of the TV screen. Some moved to make a higgledy-piggledy line between tables. On the screen an announcer gave a warning that the press conference was about to start.
‘Avid is the word that comes to mind,’ Tony said and raised a hand in welcome when his father walked into the bar. Doc came to join them and Lily quickly put a whisky in front of him.
‘You okay, Dad?’ Tony asked.
‘Slightly amazed but okay, thanks, son. We’ll talk later. Looks like the local crowd turned up early today. I wonder why that is? They’ll be hanging on every word. I just hope they don’t get more fodder to talk about – and that nothing’s said to really frighten them. The police should try to calm things down. The papers got them all fired up.’
‘Shh,’ went up across the room.
Dan O’Reilly, with a balding police officer with a lot of badges and braid, and the woman Tony recognized as Dr Molly Lewis, the police surgeon, appeared on the television. Seated behind a table in what had to be a studio – Tony didn’t recognize the setting – the three had papers in front of
them and looked unhappy to be there, except for the braid-covered man who they soon knew was the chief superintendent. He spoke confidently and introduced the other two.
‘My colleagues will each give a short statement, and then we’ll take questions. Dr Lewis, you go first.’
Her short, blond hair looked as if she combed it with a hand mixer. ‘In the Folly-on-Weir case, one of two recent deaths of interest has been ruled a murder. The victim died of an overdose of medication she took regularly. We believe she took the overdose accidentally – that is, it was presented to her in such a way that she simply drank it down. We are waiting for test results on the second death but have reason to believe it may have happened in the same way as the first. That’s all.’
The chief superintendent looked surprised at the doctor’s brevity but turned to Dan. ‘Detective Chief Inspector O’Reilly?’
‘I’m disappointed by the quality of reporting I’ve seen in today’s papers,’ he said, drawing a frown from his boss.
‘The man has courage,’ Doc said.
‘Speculation, information gathered from sources not prepared to be identified. Deliberate sensationalism intended not to help reveal any truths, but to sell copies and even to put the village of Folly-on-Weir on alert and to frighten the citizens. But I have news worth spreading. The people who live in Folly-on-Weir are made of sterner stuff. They aren’t easily frightened, especially by half-truths or outright lies.
‘Until the second batch of test results come back, the ones Dr Lewis referred to, I can’t add to the physical case details, but I do have something to tell you and it gives me a lot of pleasure.’
‘I think I feel sick,’ Alex muttered.
This time Tony patted her hand.
‘Right now, as I talk to you, a person of interest is being questioned.’
TWENTY-NINE
Dan O’Reilly and Bill Lamb hadn’t arrived back at the inn. The buzz in the bar went on, not as loudly as before, but insistently. With Doc, Tony, the Burke sisters and Lily, Alex hovered in the snug, unable to stay in a chair. Max the cat sat on Mary’s lap and Bogie lay quiet, Katie sitting beside her, on the tartan blanket Lily brought from in front of the fireplace.
‘We’re all so quiet,’ Alex said. They’d been there almost two hours.
‘When do you think they’ll get back?’ Mary asked, her eyes drooping a little behind the very thick lenses of her glasses. ‘O’Reilly and Lamb, I mean.’
‘We know who you mean,’ Harriet snapped. ‘If they’ve arrested someone, they’ll be questioning them, won’t they? I’ve seen it on the telly. It can take hours. Who do you think will be the good cop?’
That brought a burst of laughter and Harriet joined in.
‘I was being facetious. But, I broke the ice, didn’t I? And for all you know it’s O’Reilly who plays the mean one best.’
Hugh stuck his head through the hatch to the bar. ‘What I want to know is who they’ve arrested. How can we find out?’
‘We’ll know soon enough,’ Doc said. ‘I think people really appreciated what Dan said about Folly.’
‘He’s a good man,’ Alex said. ‘I think he’s come to care about all of us.’
Tony couldn’t squelch a sliver of jealousy but then, as that policeman had said, he was only human and so was Tony.
‘Anything I can get you?’ Hugh asked.
‘Wouldn’t say no to a Harvey’s Bristol,’ Mary said and set off a round of ordering.
Talking to his father and finding out what Dan thought was important enough to question him about was uppermost in Tony’s mind but that couldn’t happen in front of a crowd.
‘I’ve been trying to work out why anyone would want you to get hurt on the hill,’ Doc said to Alex.
She shrugged. ‘If it was deliberate there’s only one possible reason. They wanted to unsettle me enough to stop me involving myself in what’s happened here. This is my place, the only place I want to be. I’ll never back away from doing something useful, if I can. And neither will Tony.’
For better or worse. Tony nodded, yes and made sure he looked enthusiastic. This case was getting creepier by the day.
Hugh returned with drinks and said, ‘Alex? A word, please.’
She passed the drinks to the table and stuck her head through the hatch. ‘What is it?’
‘Surprise, surprise. Our prodigy is asking if he can use our piano. He says he has to practice because his father says so but he refuses to stay at Green Friday. No problem with that, is there?’
She thought about it. ‘We should be honored. Let’s hope we don’t get Ride of the Valkyries. Nothing like a little Wagner to bring down a mood – in this setting, anyway. Yes, tell him that would be lovely. Not that he’ll think our old piano is lovely.’
Back at the table, Alex pulled a chair closer among the others. ‘Elyan Quillam is going to play. Getting away from the house and good old Father. The piano at the church is evidently in better tune, Sybil tells me. He ought to go there.’
Tony squeezed her elbow until she looked at him, at his quizzical expression. ‘Darn, I’m stupid. Of course he wouldn’t want to go where his sister died. Poor boy.’
They heard the sound of the piano’s wheels scraping across the wooden floor in the up-room.
‘That’ll be good for the tuning,’ Doc said. He locked his hands behind his neck, closed his eyes and began to smile. ‘I’d listen to him on comb and paper.’
The bar had fallen silent which made all those in the snug smile at one another.
Elyan started to play. Tony expected jazz but Elyan had other things in mind. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Nessun Dorma!’ Doc’s eyes snapped open and he said in a whisper, ‘On the piano only.’ His eyes closed again.
Elyan’s fingers seemed impossible to believe. Alex wanted to go into the bar but wouldn’t risk making a noise.
He played the piece she had heard Pavarotti sing in a televised showing of The Three Tenors, and it was beautiful. Each time it seemed it must come to a close, he carried on, playing variations, she thought, although she didn’t know for certain.
Harriet and Mary smiled over their sherry and Doc appeared transported elsewhere.
At the hatch, Alex could see that Hugh still stood there, absolutely immobile. She went close to look at his face and almost wished she hadn’t. His eyes were also closed, but tears had escaped.
Carefully, Alex backed away. There were so many things you never learned about some of the people you thought you knew well.
The piano became silent.
There was a long pause, then applause broke out and cheers.
‘Ah,’ said Doc, ‘we’re a highbrow bunch in this village. I hope he plays more.’
Shortly, after a tap on the snug door, Elyan walked in with Annie who smiled widely, like a proud and happy parent.
‘That was so beautiful,’ Alex said. ‘What have we done to deserve this?’
‘I’m the one who should thank you.’ A second table was pulled to join the first and more chairs added. ‘I know I’m saying too much but I needed to get away from that house – and some of the people. My sister was murdered and all they talk about is getting me ready for the tour. The tour, the tour. Sometimes it gets hard being the breadwinner for people who want everything. I – I’m sorry. Bad form.’
He looked at Annie who smiled gently and held his hand. ‘He plays Nessun Dorma for me. I don’t think it counts as real practice, though.’ The pair leaned together and giggled.
Alex suddenly wished the two of them were alone in this moment.
Yet again the door opened, this time to admit Reverend Ivor Davis. ‘Knock, knock,’ he said. Never socially adroit, he rarely came to the pub and gave the impression he might be a ‘not quite grown-up’ and still gangly red-haired student. His black cassock flapped around him, reminiscent of the gowns that flew behind students on bicycles at Oxford, or Cambridge.
Tony already had a chair ready for him. ‘What will you have,
Ivor?’
‘Nothing right now, thank you. I got home this afternoon and heard all these terrible things that have been going on.’
It was inevitable that Alex wondered how the man could not have heard already.
‘Such a shock, my boy,’ he said to Elyan. ‘Your poor family, and your dear sister. Such a tragedy. I’d like to go to Green Friday, if you think it would be appropriate. I never want to make people uncomfortable or, perish the thought, angry.’
Elyan shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’d like to sound them out first. No offence, Reverend.’
‘Well,’ Ivor said, ‘I’ve been quite busy since I got home. My wife said you’d asked to use the choir piano but it’s, well, you know where it is. And the police still have everything taped off and officers keeping a look out. So I had someone help me move it to the other side of the altar, the other ambulatory where … well, you, know, it puts distance between you and what happened. If you feel you’d like to use it, the acoustics in St Aldwyn’s are quite remarkable.’
‘Yes,’ Elyan said, ‘I already noticed that. May I think about it?’ Without waiting for a response he hurried out into the bar again and they soon heard the strains of I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate.
Annie had followed him out and she started to sing the lyrics in a surprisingly rich and sultry voice.
Tony said, ‘Wait till Dan hears the piano’s been moved. You can bet Ivor didn’t think to ask if it was all right.’
THIRTY
In the room kept for her use at the Black Dog, Alex did her best to sleep. Some hope. The bed was comfortable but her brain wouldn’t slip into neutral. Bogie had stayed with her and slept on a fat heap of blankets on the floor.
Tony had gone up the hill to check out her house and his own and they decided it was best for him to stay there tonight.
When Bogie got restless, Alex put on a cotton dressing gown and carried him downstairs and outside. He made a good job of hopping around on three legs but he made no attempt to explore very far.
At the bottom of the stairs, he balked but when she went to pick him up, he did his hobble, hobble, shuffle toward the kitchen and got a drink from his bowl. Afterward he sat looking from her to his empty food dish, a hopeful look in his black eyes.
Melody of Murder Page 20