Sitting at his desk in his dimly lit office, he picked up his mobile and made a call. A softly spoken voice answered at the other end.
“I know it’s late, but I wondered if I could call in on my way home?”
“You know you can stay, don’t you?”
Lennox smiled before closing down his computer.
Chapter Twenty
Lennox pulled up outside the house and threw his cigarette butt through the crack in the window.
Scarlett answered the door promptly, dressed in an oversized jumper and faded jeans, with her fiery hair cascading down her back. She smiled as he walked in and brushed passed her.
“I’m glad you’re here. I’m feeling rather defenceless with all that’s going on.”
“Defenceless is not a term I’d use to describe you.”
He followed her into the kitchen where she poured the Bordeaux into two long-stemmed glasses.
“My research is throwing up all kinds of scenarios that could be happening round here.” She gestured for him to sit opposite her before she offered him a cigarette.
She talked about an underlying section of Christians who still believed in exorcism, and if they felt someone had the devil residing within, they had a duty to rid that person of the infliction.
She blew grey smoke towards the ceiling. “Do you think the reverend could be a fanatical freak? He comes across as a quiet and reflective man. Just the type we should be looking out for, according to the web.”
The candle light danced in her eyes as she spoke in her animated fashion, hypnotising Lennox.
“Where does the research say this goes on?”
“Well, so far, it’s mainly found in the USA . . .”
Lennox interrupted her by making a loud snorting noise as he rocked back in his chair. “These crimes took place in a quaint English village. I don’t think we’re overrun with zealous clergymen casting the devil out of un-pure teenagers.”
The wine bottle made a heavy clunking noise as she slammed it down on the table after refilling her glass. “You police are so quick to dismiss anything you haven’t found out yourselves.”
She inhaled then blew smoke in his direction. He refrained from quipping, preferring to maintain a dignified silence. Something he could do when not in a meaningful relationship.
“Okay, Miss Marple, what do you suggest we do? Round up the rev and all the church goers and tell them to leave the devil well alone.” His face was glowing with the combination of wine and mirth at his own brand of humour.
“I didn’t think you wanted to come over to make me look foolish. I thought there was more to you than that.”
Lennox apologised with a smile and told her that they were not closing their minds to any scenario.
“With that in mind then, would it be okay if I shadowed you for a few days. Make my reports more cutting edge, so to speak.”
Lennox suddenly felt a fool for thinking his inimitable charm was the reason she wanted his company. “Why don’t you ask Eva?”
“Because there is such a thing as sibling rivalry. She’s always been jealous of my allure and effervescence. She sees herself as the career woman, and she won’t help me up the ladder for fear that I will be better at that too.”
Lennox sucked in the air so it whistled over his bottom teeth.
“Doesn’t sound like the Eva I know. Anyway, if you shadowed me, you’d be shadowing her too, and I’m sure that would piss her off.”
He was glad he had only had a small glass of wine, as all he wanted to do now was go home and unwind to the sports channel whilst eating the fish and chips he would buy on the way.
As he rose to leave, he thought he saw panic flash across her eyes.
“Please don’t leave me. I’m worried they will get me because of my articles.”
“Eva told me you weren’t taking the threats seriously. Why the sudden change?”
“There are a couple of steaks in the fridge. Why don’t I cook them up for us?” She topped up his glass, and before he knew it, the air was filled with the aromatic smell of steak and black pepper.
Wednesday tipped the crisp packet into her mouth to get the remaining crumbs. She blushed as she caught Oliver watching her.
“Sorry, I’m starving,” she said as she screwed the packet up and put it on the coffee table, where it began to noisily expand and pop.
“I could rustle you up something. Soup and a bread roll perhaps.”
“Please don’t worry. It’s already late, I should be getting home.”
Oliver hoped that if food could not keep her, then gossip may. He was desperate for some adult company that did not involve measuring moods.
“A mutual acquaintance bought another vase from me today. Nina Prince.”
Wednesday frowned. She knew the name but that was all.
“The receptionist at Markham Hall. You’re down there a lot by all accounts.” Whilst he spoke, he took a variety of cheeses and pickles from the fridge, and placed them on the table with a crusty loaf. Wednesday was hooked.
“She’s quite the gossip about what goes on at that school, and she told me a lot. Not realising that we’re related. Certain students seem to rule there, by her reckoning.”
Wednesday was eyeing the food on the table, rather than paying attention to what he was saying. “What were you saying about the students?” she asked, cutting the bread into thick slices.
“There’s an elitist element led by the boys of local businessmen,” he began before cutting off a piece of brie. “She mentioned some names, so as soon as she’d gone, I wrote them down. I thought they might be useful to you.”
He got up and opened a drawer in the welsh dresser, and pulled out an envelope on which he had scrawled the names.
“Ralph Sanders is the son of the golf course owner. James Almond’s father owns the five star hotel and restaurant just outside Cambridge, and Tony Pennymore’s father owns The Crow pub.”
“I didn’t know Dick Pennymore had a son. He seems an unlikely mix with the other two boys,” she said, suddenly sitting upright in her chair.
“I bet it’s got more to do with the kind of business his father has. Alcohol on tap, if you see what I mean.”
“I wonder what goes on with this so-called elite group.” Wednesday said, spraying a few bread crumbs on the table, which she brushed off with her hand.
“I’m not sure; Miss Prince didn’t specify that deeply. But she thinks even the headmaster is afraid of them.”
Wednesday pondered his statement as she opened the jar of pickled onions. “Perhaps we should all be wary of them. Who knows what they can and have done, if the group does truly exist.”
She finished her last piece of cheese and pickle then pushed back her chair to get up.
“Can’t I persuade you to stay a little longer?” he said as he moved to put the kettle on.
“I’m sorry, I’m working all weekend and I need some sleep.” She looked at her watch and saw that it was nearly eleven o’clock. Part of her wanted to stay as she could see he was starved of company. But she wanted to be alert at work. She did not want to give Hunter any reason to say she was not up to the job.
The headlights picked up the droplets of drizzle as they merged on the windscreen, before being erased by the wipers. The noise of the wipers acted like a metronome causing Wednesday to fight the urge to sleep.
Approaching her house, she recognised Lennox’s car parked outside. With a heavy sigh, she pulled up on her drive and switched off the engine.
The house was in almost total darkness, except for a soft glow emerging from the kitchen. She followed the light and found the source; the candles in the centre of the table. She was angry to find them unattended. She then saw the remains of a steak meal on two plates. Tempted as she was to storm upstairs to confront the thoughtless pair, the last thing she needed to see was Lennox in a state of undress.
She felt in need of some comfort, so she put a pan of milk on the Aga to make a hot chocolate, and put some Mahler
on the music system. She felt her shoulders relax but her thoughts still remained sharp and focused—she knew they had the answers to the cases right in front of them, they just could not see them.
The chinking of the teaspoon against the sides of the mug masked the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Wednesday had just lit a cigarette when Scarlett appeared at the door.
“Oh, didn’t hear you come in,” she said as she walked over to the fridge.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Wednesday replied as she caught sight of Lennox out of the corner of her eye.
He looked unkempt and slightly embarrassed to see her.
“Did you have a good evening,” he asked, avoiding direct eye contact.
“Not really, but I can see you did,” she replied before stubbing out the barely smoked cigarette. “I’m off to bed,” she announced as she blew out the candles and picked up the mug.
Scarlett and Lennox watched her disappear, leaving a trail of extinguished candle smoke behind her. Scarlett turned to Lennox and rolled her eyes.
Vera Olong tiptoed down the stairs to get a glass of water; it was past midnight and she did not want to wake her husband sleeping in the adjacent bedroom.
Walking towards the kitchen, she saw a light coming from underneath his study door. It was unlike him to be awake at such a late hour, so she tapped lightly and pressed her ear to the door. She thought she heard him mutter a reply, so she opened the door slowly to see him hunched over his desk.
“Are you all right, George?”
“Not really,” he sighed. “Life is troubling me and God doesn’t seem to have the answers I seek.” He buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “Man must plough his own furrow, and plant his seeds of destiny as seen fit in the eyes of the Lord.”
“I hate it when you talk like that,” she replied, moving towards the chair in front of his desk.
“In what other way should I talk?”
“Like a man. Not always like a reverend.” Her face was flushed as she spoke, and her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to take a sip of water from his glass. Swallowing the liquid, a look of surprise covered her face.
“Are you drinking gin again?”
He nodded taking back the glass and staring into the clear liquid. The occasional bubble from the tonic water rose to the surface. His gaze returned to the photographs of the choirs he had led over the years.
“I know no other way of speaking or thinking. I am a reverend through and through.”
“I think that is where the problems lies, George. You used to be so much more.”
Vera stood up and headed for the door. Reaching it, she turned around. “I hope we’re not going to be moved from here, too,” she said before vanishing into the darken hallway.
George remained, shifting through the memories splayed out on his desk. Life was easier when he was the choir master. He had all the answers then. He downed his drink in one large gulp, before switching off the desk lamp. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed dark and menacing, and the various shades of black and grey played tricks with his tired eyes. Paranoia closed in on his mind, telling him that he was being watched, and that not only God knew his dark thoughts and deeds.
Upstairs, Vera stood by the window watching sheets of rain cascade against the pane. She could see the anticipation in her face in her reflection as she rubbed her stomach in slow circular motions.
The following morning, a low hum resonated around the Incident Room as the officers gathered around the desks, hugging their mugs of cheap instant coffee.
“What’s this weak piss they’re giving us?” said Lennox as he sidled up to Wednesday.
She sat up but avoided any eye contact and informed him that it was to do with the budget cuts. Filter coffee was now considered a luxury. Lennox shrugged his shoulders and perched on the table next to her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday could see two female officers gazing longingly at him before giving her an envious look. She wanted to shake her head at them and tell them he was sleeping with her Scarlett, so their longing was pointless. No one could compete with her.
“We’ve just received a call from the hospital. Stewart Cleveland was brought in after being found in a bunker on the golf course. He’s suffered quite a beating,” Jones said, handing over a fax of the hospital report.
“Hunter wants you to go and interview him now, if he’s fit enough. Then interview the owner of the golf course, Mr Sanders.”
Lennox jangled his keys and indicated with his head for Wednesday to follow him. Sitting in the passenger seat, she read the report aloud.
“He’s suffered a broken arm, two fractured ribs, and a dislocated jaw. He was found by Ralph Sanders, the owner’s son.”
“Is that the same Ralph we saw at Markham school after Claudia’s death?”
Wednesday realised she had not recounted the information supplied by Oliver last evening. She briefly relayed the news about the possible elite group of boys, who all had rich fathers.
“Could mean something and nothing. I imagine that secretary loves a good gossip.”
They found Cleveland lying in a bed in a side room, having his intravenous drip tended to by a male nurse. When he saw them standing in the doorway, he let out a low moan which made the nurse turn to look in their direction.
“DI Wednesday and DS Lennox,” Wednesday said, addressing the nurse. “We’d like to ask Mr Cleveland a few questions.”
“Make it short, detectives, he’s in quite a bit of discomfort, and will tire easily.”
They pulled up two chairs next to the bed and waited for the nurse to leave.
“You’ve taken quite a beating, Mr Cleveland,” said Wednesday unbuttoning her coat. “Do you know who did this to you?”
Cleveland slowly parted his cracked lips and winced. He moved his eyes from side to side.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said.
“How many were there?”
Cleveland whispered that he did not know and that he was tired.
“We want to catch who did this to you. Is it connected to the money you owe Dick Pennymore?” persisted Lennox.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. “But I told you I was in danger.” He closed his eyes and made no further effort to answer their questions, or even acknowledge their presence. They watched his chest rise and fall in slow rhythmic movements.
As they rose to leave, Cleveland made a feeble whistling sound and then lifted two fingers. “I think there were two,” he rasped, his eyes firmly closed.
“Thank you. We’ll come back when you’re stronger,” replied Wednesday in a hushed tone.
“What do you make of all that, then?” asked Lennox, eyeing a nurse bending over the reception desk.
“The nurse or Cleveland?”
“Oh, ha-ha. The nurse is rather tempting, though.”
Wednesday play slapped him on the forearm before picking up the pace.
Arriving back at the station, they saw the reverend walking towards them.
“Just the people I wanted to see,” he said as they drew level to him. He fished around in his waterproof coat pocket and brought out a crumpled piece of paper.
“This came through the door this morning, and I thought you should see it.” He handed the note to Wednesday and waited for her to read it.
“WE KNOW IT’S YOU. GET OUT NOW OR DIE.”
“Succinct and to the point,” said Lennox, peering over her shoulder.
“Did it come in an envelope, and have you still got it?”
The reverend rummaged around in his pocket again and retrieved a dog-eared envelope that had his name on the front, using cut out letters, just like the note.
“I’ll get this to the forensics lab. Would you mind coming in to make a statement, Reverend?”
He made a guttural sound and followed the pair inside. He refused a cup of tea as he sat in the interview room, anxious to move thin
gs along so he could get back to work.
“I don’t want Vera to find out about this, she’d only fret. I’m sure I’ve nothing to be afraid of.”
“You may not be able to keep it quiet for long if the threats increase,” replied Lennox.
“You think I might get more?”
“It’s a possibility. Now has anything unusual happened lately, people treating you differently, things like that?”
George sifted through his thoughts and activities over the past few days, but nothing stood out to him. He repeated his request to go home as he still had a sermon to write.
The detectives watched him trundle down the corridor before returning to the Incident Room, where they found Arlow waiting.
“The guv wants you to interview Des Wright about the attack on Cleveland, then onto the golf club to view any CCTV that may be available.”
Lennox scowled until Arlow said he and Damlish were occupied with the Tom Dolby case.
Wednesday drove to the Wright’s home where they found a barely sober Judith all alone. She leant against the door frame and refused to let them in.
“If it’s Des you’re wanting he ain’t here. He’s working on the pub garden.”
“The Crow?” Wednesday asked.
Judith nodded in a jerky fashion before stepping back inside and shutting the door in their faces.
They drew up and parked next to a filthy pale blue van with visible rust displayed on the wheel arches. They heard the sound of a chainsaw whirring coming from behind the pub, and walking around the side, they saw Des cutting back the perimeter hedge. He was unaware of their presence.
With caution, they put themselves in his eye line to indicate they needed to talk with him.
“What now?” he yelled after switching off the machine. He kept his visor down and the chainsaw brandished in front of him.
“We’d like to know where you were last night,” Lennox asked.
“At home, pissed, with the old woman. Why?”
“Stewart Cleveland was assaulted last night . . .”
“So every time something goes bad around here, I’m to expect a call from you guys, am I?” He straightened his back and rolled back his shoulders, staring directly at Lennox.
In the Light of Madness Page 18