She parked next to Oliver’s mud-spattered Landrover and tossed her cigarette stub out the window. She wound the window back up to shut out the chilled air, then proceeded to get out. Lennox obediently remained seated whilst staring at her.
“Oh give up with the puppy-dog eyes, come on in with me. But I warn you, what goes on in here remains between us. Understand?”
He nodded and refrained from asking any questions.
Wednesday blustered in without knocking, and called out to Oliver. Lennox followed her into a cluttered, narrow hallway that had muddy boots strewn all over the floor. An umbrella stand in the shape of a giant chimney pot stood at the foot of the staircase, filled with a variety of walking sticks and tatty-looking umbrellas.
“Excuse the mess,” she said as she stepped over a laundry basket piled with damp clothes.
“Rather than mess, I see accidental beauty,” he replied.
Wednesday raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes.
They found Oliver in the kitchen standing over the sink, and Wednesday’s mother, Joan, sitting at the table. She looked up as they entered.
“Who’s he? Has he come to take me away?” she said, looking at Lennox with wide eyes.
“No Mum, this is Jacob Lennox, a colleague from work.”
“Is he your boyfriend? I don’t want you to be single anymore. You’re getting too old to be alone.”
“No Mum.” Wednesday moved closer to her. “Lennox is a detective like me. We work together.” She bent down to kiss her on the cheek.
“How are you?” she said, turning her attention to Oliver. She noticed his angular face looked pallid and drawn, and the light behind his green eyes had faded.
“Just about coping, but I’m worried,” he whispered. He gestured with a movement of his head for her to get nearer to him.
“I’m worried I won’t be able to stave off calling her doctor.”
“You have to do what’s best for her.”
“She didn’t sleep a wink last night, and as you can hear,” he pointed, “she’s speaking incoherently; no rational thinking.”
Wednesday nodded and patted his arm lightly. She filled the kettle and put it on to boil. Leaning back against the work top, she surveyed the scene and felt a lump in her throat. The child within her wanted to cry for the mother she had lost to mental illness, but that child in her had to be suppressed.
Lennox was continually brushing his hand over the top of his head which grabbed Wednesday’s attention.
“You can smoke in here if you want,” she told him with a half smile, noticing how uncomfortable he looked. “I’m having one once I’ve made the tea.” She threw him her packet in a token gesture of their new and fragile friendship.
“Your boyfriend smokes?” asked Joan as she eyed Lennox wearily.
“Mum, he’s not my boyfriend he’s . . .”
She realised her words were futile. Her mother was not really lucid enough to absorb the complexity of life. She heaved a sigh as she distributed the drinks, before sitting down next to Joan and placing her hand on top of hers, giving it a gentle pat.
“Mum, I want to call Dr Noble to come and see you. We’re worried about you.”
“I’m safe in here, but I can’t go out there. Scarlett warned me. Where is she, is she safe?”
“She’s safe, we’re all safe. Scarlett’s story is just that, a story.”
Joan looked agitated as she shuffled around in her chair, biting the skin around her fingernails. She then picked up her teacup and smelt it.
“What have you put in my tea?” snapped Joan as she tossed the cup onto the table, sending hot liquid spewing across the pine surface.
Oliver rushed over with a cloth, and Joan began screeching as though she was under attack. Wednesday called the doctor.
She could hardly hear the receptionist over the racket in the kitchen. She could see Oliver was beginning to lose control of his emotions. She witnessed Lennox take it upon himself to intervene in the most appropriate manner he could think of. Joan screamed louder as Lennox approached her, so he backed away, looking towards Wednesday for assistance.
“Mum, the doctor’s on his way, it’s going to be okay.” Wednesday sat down next to her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.
Ten minutes later, the doctor was at the door and twenty minutes after that, Joan was being escorted to the psychiatric hospital in Cambridge. Oliver followed in his Landrover, and Wednesday and Lennox returned to work, with Wednesday promising to visit that evening.
They drove back to the station in a reflective and sombre mood. Dense smog of noxious fumes swirled around their heads and clung to their hair. Lennox cleared his throat before speaking.
“I’m sorry about your mum. How long has she . . . ?”
“Since I was eleven. Generally she is stable, but periodically she is triggered by stress or anxiety, and we go through this.” She took a deep drag on her cigarette. “By the way, I don’t want my private life dissected at work, so please refrain from conversing with the others about what you’ve seen.”
“Hey, I’m not like that. We watch each other’s backs. Is Hunter aware?”
“No he’s not and I don’t want him to be, either.”
“What if you need time off?”
“I’ll manage. I just don’t want my frame of mind or bad temper to be deliberated behind my back. And I don’t want bets being laid as to when I’ll enter the funny farm.”
“You have a distorted view of your colleagues.”
Wednesday smiled before checking her makeup in the mirror. As she got out of the car, cold air smacked her face giving her a hint of colour her cheeks naturally lacked.
The Incident Room was noisy with ringing telephones, and officers moving between desks with bundles of files and photographs. Hunter appeared from his office demanding a briefing in five minutes. Wednesday grabbed a coffee and headed for her office without glancing in Lennox’s direction.
Closing the door so the racket became background noise, Wednesday slumped into her chair and put her head in her hands. The torment of the past few hours charged around her mind, making her head spin. She found it almost impossible to recall the morning’s interviews; her mind only seemed focused on her mother. She knew she should have gone to the hospital with them. She was sick of always feeling guilty.
Maria Jones tapped on Wednesday’s door, beckoning her out for the briefing. Hunter was already standing by the white board.
“Right, I want us to focus on the list of possible suspects. Let’s consider Reverend Olong; he appears to show a lot of interest in the local kids. There’s already a history of him allegedly being involved with a choir boy in the last parish, any updates on that, Arlow?”
“The boy was interviewed with his mother present, but he refused to talk about it. The church moved Olong here to give him a fresh start, as the rumours amongst the parishioners were too rife for him to stay there.”
“Right, nothing particularly useful there,” he said before taking a sip of water.
“Stewart Cleveland runs the school all the kids attended. And there seems to be an undercurrent of hostility with Dick Pennymore from The Crow. Tenuous links, but there all the same.”
As Hunter paced the front of the room, the clicking of his heels added an unwanted distraction from his speech.
“Then we have Des Wright, whom DI Wednesday believes could be a perpetrator of domestic violence, and a possible bully towards his stepson. One thought could be that he had something to do with Tom’s death, Darren witnessed it and was consequently disposed of.”
Hunter was interrupted by someone’s mobile phone which was hastily switched off, but not before Hunter threw an angry look in the culprit’s direction.
“Lastly, we come to Colin Pollock, who is also linked via the school to the victims. Rumour has it he’s not liked much by the parents, as he’s not from their social stratosphere. But he’s liked by the students. Not much to go on, but I want thoughts. Throw
them out at me now, come on.”
Some officers eyed one another, whilst others tapped pencils on the desks and looked at their shoes.
“Perhaps we should get all four in for questioning and ruffle their feathers. Make them sweat and see what they cough up.”
“Okay Damlish, let’s work that way as nothing else is working wonders. What about the vicarage; anything else turn up there?”
“No Guv, just the exercise book. The trail went cold for the dogs from the garden boundary,” replied Arlow, flicking through his notebook.
“That could mean he was either taken away from there in some sort of transport, or he never left the vicarage.” Hunter rubbed his chin, his eyes flicking from side to side whilst deep in thought.
“Wednesday and Lennox, I want you to return to the vicarage tomorrow and have another look around. Make them uncomfortable, my money’s on the reverend for some misdemeanour or two. Take a warrant to look for a travel blanket; they’re bound to have at least one.”
“Them and half the population around here,” whispered Wednesday under her breath. Hunter caught her eye and she blushed.
“True, so get a warrant to search all the possible suspects’ properties whilst you’re at it.”
“This is just in from Alex Green,” said Arlow, brandishing a piece of paper. “The plaster cast of the footprint from the crime scene of Claudia Edwards has been identified as a wellington boot size seven. The make is Hunter.”
The information sent a buzz around the room, as any advance in a case did.
“Okay, add wellington boots to the search along with the travel blanket. And remember a size seven could be a woman’s.”
Hunter wanted everyone to recommence in the morning with refreshed and alert minds, so he ordered them to go home, leaving the night shift to hold the fort.
“Are you going to manage to get some rest this evening?” asked Lennox, poking his head around Wednesday’s office door.
“Hopefully,” she replied. She had her back to the door whilst packing her work bag. “Lennox . . . Thanks for today.”
“No worries. See you tomorrow.”
She watched him through the window as he crossed the car park, his face briefly illuminated as he lit a cigarette. After watching him pull out onto the main road, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. Her hair was barely contained in its chignon, and her mascara and eyeliner had converged under her lower lashes and in the corners of her eyes. With a resigned sigh, she switched off her office light and bit into a chocolate bar as she headed for her car. She checked her mobile for any messages before starting her engine.
Heading towards the hospital with the melancholic tones of Joni Mitchell drifting in and out of her mind, she wondered what kind of state her mother would be in. Mercifully sedated was her hope. It was probably Oliver who would need the proverbial shoulder.
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday’s head throbbed through lack of sleep, and her skin lacked the lustre of youth, taking on the patina of someone older than her thirty-seven years. She clanged the kettle onto the Aga and rattled the cutlery drawer, before turning up the radio.
“Good god, sis, you could wake the bloody dead,” Scarlett said, tossing her matted auburn locks over her shoulder. She opened the fridge and took out the carton of orange juice, spilling a few drops as she sloshed it into a tumbler.
“Where were you last night?” asked Wednesday.
“I was at the office, putting the finishing touches to my article. Why, where were you?”
“At the hospital being the dutiful daughter to our mother.”
“Good for you, how is she?”
“How do you think? She’s sedated due to her high state of paranoia and anxiety. She was asking after you in her more lucid moments.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said you’d been caught up at work, but you’d visit her as soon as you could.”
“Cool.”
Downing the last few drops of coffee, Wednesday was about to throw Scarlett a curt comment, when the doorbell rang, and Scarlett escaped to answer it.
“Can’t keep away from me, eh Jacob Lennox?” she said on opening the door.
“I’ve come for Eva actually.” He waited to be invited in out of the pelting rain.
“She’s in the kitchen.”
He followed her through the hallway, noticing that she was wearing silky blue pyjama bottoms, a faded denim-coloured sweatshirt, and silver satin ballet pumps.
Wednesday checked her watch when she saw him, thinking she must be running late for him to be there.
“I thought you might be tired after yesterday, so I thought I’d drive.” Raindrops glistened on his navy coat.
“What a courteous colleague you have,” Scarlett said in a child-like sing-song voice, fluttering her lashes at him.
Wednesday clamped her lips together as they left. Climbing into Lennox’s car, her mobile rang.
“We’re on our way. Domestic at the Wrights’ house,” she informed Lennox as he started up the engine.
“Nothing like a quiet start to the day,” he replied with a wry smile.
Screeching to a halt outside the Wrights’ residence, Wednesday noticed the net curtains moving in the neighbour’s windows; the ones who had undoubtedly decided to finally call it in.
Striding up the front path, they heard raised voices coming from inside the house; doors slamming and crockery shattering.
Lennox found the front door locked, so he hammered on it with his fist and shouted through the letterbox. After a few minutes, the commotion subsided, and Judith’s voice travelled through the door, informing them that everything was okay.
Wednesday looked at Lennox before insisting to Judith that they were let in. Muffled sounds were heard from the other side before the lock was slowly turned and Judith’s crimson face peered from behind it.
“Can we come in please?” asked Wednesday, determined to shame Des for his cowardly behaviour. “We have a warrant to search your property.”
Reluctantly, Judith opened the door but focused on the floor. Lennox followed Wednesday into the hallway.
“Where’s Des?” Wednesday asked, looking over Judith’s shoulder.
Judith pointed towards the kitchen then let the pair brush past her. Entering the kitchen they found Des standing by the sink, rolling a cigarette. He had dried blood streaks around his mouth and nose, and a couple of missing buttons on his shirt which was hanging out of his trousers. He looked towards them with darkness in his eyes.
Wednesday surveyed the kitchen and noticed the debris of broken crockery scattered across the floor. Coffee and wine stains dribbled down the walls.
“I’m going to ask your wife if she wants to press charges,” said Wednesday.
Des laughed and then lit his roll-up. He inhaled deeply before blowing smoke into her face.
“You can ask her all you want, but I know she’ll say no.”
“Why, have you threatened her if she dares betray you?”
Des continued to stare out the window, smoking his cigarette. He saw his wife enter the kitchen in the reflection in the window.
“What’s the warrant for,” she asked.
It was as she spoke that Wednesday noticed the smell of alcohol on her breath. Perhaps it was the domestic violence that drove her to drink, she thought to herself.
“We need to search your property for wellington boots and a travel blanket.”
Judith gave her a blank look, then walked over to the table and picked up a mug. “You can look where you want. We ain’t got nothing to hide.”
Wednesday and Lennox wasted no time and began searching from room to room. The rooms were already in disarray, making the search more arduous. They came across numerous overflowing ashtrays and empty bottles and cans, but no travel blanket or boots. Lennox climbed into the loft, but only found a few boxes containing old records and tatty Christmas decorations.
“We’ve got nothing of interest
here and no evidence of Darren hiding back here either. Do you want to try Judith Wright again to see if she wants to make a statement against her husband?” asked Lennox as he dusted cobwebs from his hair.
“I suspect she’ll decline the offer. Come on, let’s go to the vicarage, we might have more success there.”
The Wrights hardly acknowledged the detective’s departure; and when they had gone, the detectives imagined the drinking and brawling would soon recommence.
They arrived at the vicarage in time to see Reverend Olong heading for his car.
“Good morning, Reverend. I’m sorry but we need to speak with you inside,” said Lennox as he stood between the reverend and his car.
“I was just on my way to a pastoral meeting, could it possibly wait? Vera’s inside. Perhaps she can help you?”
“I’m sorry, Reverend; we need to speak to both of you.”
Olong exhaled before returning slowly to the front door.
Vera jumped slightly as the three of them entered the kitchen. “Heavens, I thought you’d gone to your meeting. Hello Detectives.”
In his perfunctory manner, Lennox explained what they were looking for, and requested they search the house, garage, and cars. He also explained that afterwards they would be taking the reverend to the station for questioning.
“This is outrageous. I’m a patient man, but you are indeed trying my resolve. I have nothing to hide and nothing to fear.”
“Good, then you have no problem with our requests,” said Wednesday, scanning the kitchen. Her eyes fell upon a rather troubled-looking Vera.
“Shall I take you to the garage, DI Wednesday?” Vera asked.
Wednesday could see she needed to talk, so she left Lennox with the reverend and departed with Vera.
“This is all rather like déjà vu, Detective. All this is causing me great concern. I’m worried for George.”
“He’s not been charged with anything.”
“That’s true, but mud sticks and I’m not sure George could take much more. This parish is perfect for us both. It offers the tranquillity we both desire.”
“Your husband claims he has nothing to fear, but you seem troubled. Is there something you want to tell me?”
In the Light of Madness Page 12