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In the Light of Madness

Page 10

by Madness, In The Light Of


  Reverend Olong made a coughing sound to bring everyone’s attention back to him.

  “As I was saying, how shallow society has become, that we no longer value the community spirit that once bound us together. Don’t look at your neighbour through guarded or mistrustful eyes, look at them with respect, honour, and love so we can live in harmonious peace. We need to cherish the children amongst us so they grow up knowing about the values of God and accord between brethren.”

  He paused to allow the words to filter into the congregation’s thoughts and minds, and he took that moment to look towards his wife who sat at the end of the first pew. Wednesday could not see her face, but she noticed the reverend looked strained.

  He continued with the service, and when the time came for the congregation to rise, Wednesday noticed that Greg Edwards remained seated, even though his wife was desperately tugging on his arm.

  Wednesday could also clearly see Scarlett relishing the occasion as she kept jotting down words in her notebook. Trepidation about Scarlett’s next article was rearing its ugly head.

  “I’m surprised James Dolby hasn’t accompanied his wife,” whispered Lennox.

  “I’m surprised any family member wishes to be here, it’s so depressing. I wouldn’t have thought this was helpful.”

  “Ah, but God can bring some semblance of peace to those that seek it.”

  “Are you a believer, Jacob Lennox?”

  “Maybe I am and maybe I’m not. You can’t deny that religion has lasted for thousands of years in various forms. That shows it has the ability to withstand a country full of cynics. There is some measure of meaning behind the prayers and the sermons.”

  “Religion has only created a powerful source for manipulative human beings to rule the weak of mind.” Wednesday noticed her hissing was getting louder, and some people were turning around to look at her.

  Reverend Olong mentioned in prayer the names of Tom Dolby and Claudia Edwards, who had both had their young lives cut short. He then mentioned the desire for the safe return of Darren Giles, and that was when the disquiet erupted with a low rumble from the congregation. Wednesday and Lennox watched as people whispered behind cupped hands, and turned around to look at the Wrights.

  “You people think my Darren has done something to those two kids. It would be our fault wouldn’t it, as we ain’t as good as you lot.” Judith was shaking from head to foot with her cheeks as rosy and shiny as gala apples. Des stood by her side with his arms folded across his paunch.

  The detectives observed the spectacle then Lennox decided to stand up and motion to Judith to calm down. However, her voice had become shrill and her actions theatrical, so she did not notice his request.

  In a stream of swear words, Judith fled the church, leaving a trailing stench of stale sweat and alcohol behind her. Wednesday moved to follow her out, when she saw Vera Olong stand up and make her way up the aisle. Her quickening steps echoed around the stone walls, as did the increased droning of voices from the parishioners.

  Wednesday signalled for Lennox to remain inside whilst she followed the women outside. Reverend Olong appealed for calm, and with the wave of his hand, instructed the organist to commence playing the next hymn.

  Stepping out of the dingy atmosphere, a ray of autumnal sun with remnants of warmth left in it, sliced through the clouds and touched her face. Wednesday squinted as she moved towards the pair. She could hear Judith’s erratic speech, tempered by Vera’s soothing tones. She fulfils the duty of a vicar’s wife well.

  “You’ve got a nerve, you owe me,” said Judith as she lashed out and slapped Vera across the face.

  “I owe you nothing; you live for alcohol, not for your son,” replied Vera as she put her hand to her cheek. The crumpled lines on Vera’s face erased as Wednesday caught her attention.

  “Is everything all right here, ladies?”

  “Yes, I’m trained to counsel those in emotional distress. We’re fine I can assure you,” replied Vera as she took her hand away from her face, revealing a red mark.

  “How are you getting home?” Wednesday asked Judith, conscious of her alcohol consumption.

  “With my Des of course; and no, I ain’t driving. You coppers are all the same.”

  Wednesday let the sarcasm wash over her head, preferring to observe the two women. They both shifted around on their feet due to the cold breeze whipping around them.

  “Any news on Darren’s whereabouts, Detective?” Vera asked.

  “I’m afraid not.” Her eyes flicked briefly towards Judith then back to Vera. “Could I see you and your husband after the service?”

  Vera nodded, turning to see people filing out of the church, shaking hands with the reverend as they left. Vera excused herself and went and stood at his side; she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

  Eve was about to speak to Judith when Des came marching over to where they were standing.

  “Hope you’re not bothering her,” he said in a deep voice, towering above Wednesday.

  Before she had time to reply, Des had put his arm around Judith’s shoulders and guided her away. Wednesday watched as Judith shrugged her shoulders in order to release his grip on her. As the couple disappeared out of view, Wednesday strained to check she could not hear Judith’s cries for help.

  Lennox walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Time to talk to the Olongs, Boss?”

  Wednesday turned to see Emily Dolby talking to the reverend, but as they approached, she finished her conversation quickly and walked straight past them with her head bowed low.

  Reverend Olong smiled at the detectives. “Come to the vicarage, it’s warmer than standing here. Could you take the detectives back, dear, whilst I just tidy up,” he said to Vera as he headed back inside.

  They followed Vera back and soon found themselves in a large farmhouse kitchen heated by a range. The walls were painted pea green with a mismatch of crockery displayed on a shabby welsh dresser. Vera made a pot of tea and put an assortment of plain biscuits on a chipped plate.

  “This had taken its toll on George. He’s never experienced such shocking acts of violence within a community. He’s dealt with natural deaths within families, even of children, but never something like this.” She shook her head slowly whilst she poured the tea and then placed the teacups in front of everyone.

  Reverend Olong blustered into the kitchen, blowing warm air into his cupped hands.

  “Did you notice anything unusual at the service, Reverend?” asked Wednesday.

  George looked up at the ceiling. “I was very sorry to see Emily Dolby alone; I think James may be suffering a lapse in his faith. They’re normally regular church goers. I was, however, surprised to see the Wrights as they rarely attend. Stress can make people behave in uncharacteristic ways, so I believe.”

  “We’ve received an anonymous tip that Darren Giles has been spotted around the church,” began Wednesday before taking a sip of the overly milky tea.

  “Really?” replied Reverend Olong.

  “Yes, and in light of this, would you allow us to search the grounds and the church again, including the vicarage?”

  Reverend Olong turned to his wife then back at Wednesday. “Will it cause much disruption?”

  “We’ll try and keep it to a minimum.”

  Reverend Olong nodded then turned away to look out the window. “Then I can only agree.”

  He excused himself as he had a sermon to write and felt Vera was more than capable of dealing with police matters.

  Vera watched her husband amble out of the kitchen before turning to them.

  “I do hope we’re not going to experience the trouble we had in the last parish,” she said quietly as she offered them more tea.

  “What trouble would that be?” replied Lennox, declining a refill.

  “It was nothing but malicious gossip, and although unfounded, the damage was done so we had to leave.”

  Lennox took out his notebook whi
lst Wednesday coaxed Vera to continue.

  “George used to teach the choirboys in church, and one day a boy made an allegation about him. It caused quite a stir, as you can probably imagine. But when no proof was found, they moved us here. That’s why I now run the choral sessions, so as not to leave us open to a repeat scenario.”

  Wednesday and Lennox looked at one another.

  “I’m telling you this in confidence, mind, he gets really upset when he’s reminded of that period.”

  “Where was your last parish?” Wednesday asked.

  “Bethnal Green in London.”

  Wednesday excused herself and called the station, requesting sniffer dogs for the grounds. Whilst waiting for the support, the detectives decided to make a start, so they requested that Vera accompany them around the rambling vicarage.

  The space inside was deceptive, with a large damp cellar providing pockets of rooms leading off from the main area, which housed boxes of church paraphernalia. The kitchen itself had a walk-in larder, with shelves full of tinned foods and homemade pickles and jam. There were nooks and crannies all over the house suitable for hiding purposes, although the spaces were generally crammed full of junk and books.

  They moved to the upper floor and became privy to the night habits of the couple. Wednesday noticed that two of the four bedrooms appeared to be in use.

  “Do you and the reverend sleep separately?” asked Wednesday.

  “I’m not sure that is pertinent to the investigation, but yes we do. George sleeps facing the church and my room overlooks the garden.”

  The only place left to search was the loft. Wednesday followed Lennox up the ladder and was surprised by the sizable space they found themselves in. She could hear Vera climbing up the ladder behind her.

  “Can you smell chips,” Lennox said quietly, as he dusted a cobweb off his shoulder.

  “Faintly. Perhaps you’re feeling hungry and you’re having an olfactory hallucination.”

  Lennox frowned and pressed forward through the large trunks and boxes. They weaved about in the loft, until suddenly they came across a disturbed pile of blankets and quilts. Wednesday bent down and moved the blankets using her pen. She prodded something hard, and when she pulled the blanket back, she saw a notebook. She picked it up and noticed Darren Giles’s name scrawled across the cover.

  “Take a look at this,” she said, passing it to Lennox.

  He flicked through the pages of mainly legible writing, with a scattering of crosses in red pen and the occasional tick. It was a history exercise book. Lennox turned towards Vera and showed her the book; her face showed no emotion.

  “Any idea how this got here, Mrs Olong?”

  “I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

  Wednesday told her whilst continuing to poke around the area to see if anything else belonged to the missing boy.

  “This doesn’t look good for you,” said Wednesday. “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time.”

  “I have nothing to say. I never come up here.”

  “Are you implying that your husband may know something?”

  “I’m implying nothing of the sort. I’m merely saying that I have nothing to say as I know nothing.”

  Nothing else was found. No evidence of food or drink and importantly, no blood that was visible to the naked eye. Wednesday phoned the station to request SOCO come and sweep the attic.

  They descended the ladder and went to find Reverend Olong. Vera tapped on the study door then opened it slightly to request access. They found him hunched over the computer with his reading glasses settled halfway down his nose.

  “Reverend Olong, we found a school book belonging to Darren Giles in your attic. Do you know how it got there?”

  He swivelled round in his chair and removed his glasses that were sliding off his nose.

  “A book you say. Why would that be up there?”

  “We were hoping you could answer that. It looks like he may have been hiding up there. Do you think it would be possible for him to hide up there without either of you knowing?”

  “I’m not sure, but this is a rambling old house that possesses many creaks and groans of its own. To be honest, I spend a lot of my time on parish work in here, which is the furthest away from the attic.”

  Vera stood quietly by her husband with her hand planted on his shoulder. “Detectives, we have nothing to hide. If young Darren chose to hide here, perhaps it was because he felt safe.”

  “If that was the case, Mrs Olong, then where is he now?”

  Wednesday explained that forensic evidence would be gathered shortly and that they may be required to attend the station for an interview.

  “Surely that wouldn’t be necessary. You know gossip could do damage to my husband. We’re happy in this village and we want to stay here.”

  “We’ll be as discreet as possible, Mrs Olong.”

  The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of SOCO. Vera Olong went to open the door, leaving her troubled husband with the detectives.

  “I am truly unaware of how the book got here. There must be a logical explanation.”

  “Time is of the essence, Reverend, we need to find Darren. So I’ll ask you again, do you know where he is?”

  Reverend Olong shook his head and spread his hands out, palms up.

  “We’d like you to remain here, and not venture to other villages, until further investigations have been carried out. If you do think of anything, please contact me,” Wednesday said as she handed him her card.

  The sound of sniffer dogs echoed from outside. With everything underway, they decided to go and look at the rambling club hut, to see whether there were any signs of Darren having been there.

  “What do you make of our finding?” asked Lennox.

  “It’s a step closer to knowing that Darren hasn’t gone far. We need to delve into the reverend’s background now to see what that drags up.”

  The weak sun sliced through the semi-naked tree tops, dappling droplets of gold onto the mossy ground. Dogs barked in the distance intermingled with the occasional human shout.

  Wednesday loved the sound of the red and orange leaves crunching under foot and it amused her to see Lennox kicking and scattering them around.

  “There’s still a child in you,” she said with a little laugh.

  “There’s a child in everyone, only some people have disabled themso they are no longer fun.”

  They arrived at the hut, and took a look around the outside first, to look for any signs of disturbance.

  “No signs of forced entry, let’s take a look inside,” said Lennox as he used the key the reverend had given him, having chosen to lock it following the crimes.

  Inside looked the same as before and still smelt of newly sawn wood. The chairs looked as though they had been moved and so possibly used since their last visit.

  “We need to check with the rev to see if his rambling group is underway,” Lennox said. “Apart from that, I can’t see anything else here, can you?”

  Wednesday shook her head. “I can’t help feeling that our answer lies in the vicarage. Perhaps the forensic guys will come up with something.”

  They walked back a different way towards the vicarage and found themselves at an arched gate set in a large evergreen hedge. The gate led into the back garden of the vicarage. Wandering in, they looked around when they saw Alex Green walking toward them.

  “I’ve bagged samples to test for evidence, we should be able to get some skin cells or latent prints from the blankets and book. Have you guys found anything else?”

  Although shaking their heads, they sensed they were getting closer to Darren Giles. They hoped he had the answer to the link between the two deaths. Wednesday willed the boy to sense they were getting closer to him. To save him or to save others.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday morning had the same inevitable lacklustre atmosphere like most Monday mornings, and the lack of major progress in the three cases was not
helping the mood in the Major Crime Unit.

  Wednesday was sketching a mind map after their visit to the vicarage yesterday, when her mobile rang. It was Scarlett.

  “I couldn’t wait until this evening to talk to you, sis. I received this bizarre letter this morning saying there are evil spirits in this village that are working their dark magic. What do think about that?”

  Wednesday could hear Scarlett’s voice buzzing with excitement, which was a worry in itself, never mind the anonymous letter.

  “Scarlett, this is probably someone’s idea of a joke. However, could you bring the letter and envelope to the station, and try not to handle it too much.”

  Scarlett mumbled something then put the receiver down, leaving Wednesday knowing that she was not happy with her lack of enthusiasm or intrigue about the matter.

  There was a tap at her door before Alex Green poked his head around.

  “Got some findings for you,” he said, entering her office without waiting for her to speak.

  “I found some small fragments of gravel at the dead girl’s crime scene that I’ve managed to link to the school grounds. It could be the link you’re looking for.”

  “Or it could just be from Claudia’s shoes that she picked up whilst she was in school,” she said as she looked at his youthful features and waited for him to look crestfallen.

  “True, but she wasn’t wearing school shoes and I couldn’t find any trace evidence lodged in the soles of the shoes she was wearing, but I take your point.”

  “However, Cleveland doesn’t have to know the full picture. Thanks Alex,” she said, picking up the phone and dialling Lennox’s number. “We need to visit Markham Hall to speak to Cleveland again.”

  They could detect a note of glee in the voice of the receptionist, Nina Prince, as she told them they had had a wasted journey, as Mr Cleveland had phoned in sick that morning. Undeterred, they decided to visit him at home.

  The Victorian building converted into flats looked less ostentatious from the outside than Wednesday had expected. She ran her finger down the residents’ names until she found Cleveland. She rang three times but there was no answer, so Lennox tried a new tactic and just leant on the buzzer without releasing it.

 

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