by Rebecca Tope
Drew pulled a reluctant face. ‘What if we need to get out quickly? Things like that always make me nervous – as if we’re barricading ourselves in, rather than keeping intruders out. We’d be sure to lose the key in any emergency.’
Maggs tutted impatiently. ‘Well, it’s silly to leave it all so vulnerable to outsiders, after what’s gone on. And if something does happen, the locals are going to be onto it right away. They’re obviously building it up into some kind of village scandal as it is. We really don’t need that, you know.’
‘I know,’ he said submissively. ‘And I will do something, I promise. After we’ve had supper, I’ll tie the gate up, and make sure there are no obvious breaches in our so-called security. OK?’
‘It’ll have to be, I suppose,’ she accepted ungraciously. ‘Now, I’m going home for my tea, and then I’ll scoot over to the Slaters’ house. And you ought to phone the Regent Palace hotel – see if they were really there when they said.’
‘I was going to,’ he said with dignity. ‘Don’t stay long, will you? People with new babies don’t like visitors getting in the way.’
‘She asked you to visit, remember? Things can’t be in too much of a state if she can manage to do that.’ Tell her I miss her, said Drew silently.
At the Slaters’ house, Maggs was causing a subdued disturbance. Willard had let her in, the puzzled frown on his face provoked by her attempt at explaining who she was. He led her into the lounge where Genevieve sat in an armchair with the baby lying along her thighs, wrapped in something that looked like an old cardigan. There was a strong unpleasant smell in the room, which Maggs quickly located as coming from the sofa. It was generously stained and looked wet. ‘Somebody to see you,’ Willard mumbled to his wife. ‘Must be some sort of health visitor.’
Genevieve glanced at her with no sign of recognition. ‘I’m not doing anything wrong, as far as I can see,’ she said defensively. ‘She’s still alive anyway.’
‘No, I’m not the health visitor,’ Maggs said, stifling a giggle. ‘I probably know as little about babies as you do. Don’t you remember me? I’m Drew Slocombe’s partner. Business partner, I mean. He couldn’t come, so he sent me instead.’
‘Cheeky little bastard,’ Genevieve said carelessly. Maggs did giggle at that, despite the shock she felt at hearing the majestic Genevieve stoop to such language. Genevieve gave her a closer look. ‘Yes, I remember you now. The girl who didn’t want to play nursemaid. I’m beginning to understand how you feel.’
Maggs chose to ignore this. ‘He’s told me about your mother,’ she said briskly. ‘We work closely together, you see – he couldn’t really keep it secret. I’m interested, anyway.’ She realised she was trying to convince Genevieve of her detective credentials. It didn’t seem to be working very well.
‘I’m not,’ said the woman wearily. ‘Not any more. You’ll have to put the whole thing down to pre-baby panic. I was completely terrified, you know. It must have sent me a bit loopy. I wish now I’d left it alone. Let the dead bury the dead – isn’t that what they say? If my mother’s off my back, who am I to complain? She’s never been any use to me anyway, not after all this time.’
Maggs thought of her own mother and felt a flash of sadness at how wickedly some people could waste these most precious relationships. ‘But Drew’s in too deep to stop now,’ she persisted. ‘He wants to follow it all through to the end – so he can get things straight with the police if need be.’
‘I’m not stopping him,’ Genevieve said. ‘He knows that. It’s just that I don’t really care very much any more. I admit I got myself in a bit of a state about it, but I’m all right now. So – what do you think of her?’
Maggs gave the baby a brief glance. ‘Looks fine to me,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m not really into babies.’
‘They’re nothing like as complicated as people tell you. She seems to know what to do without much input from me. Stuart does the mucky bit, bless him. Not that there’s been much of that yet. He tells me it all starts tomorrow, with oceans of ghastly yellow stuff. Willard’s pretending nothing’s happened – stays out as much as he can, and then sits in front of the computer when he’s here. I don’t know when he last had anything to eat. Stuart does a bit of cooking, luckily, or we’d probably starve. I don’t seem to have worked out how to put this little thing down.’ She closed her eyes and leant carefully back in the chair. Maggs hovered uncomfortably, having found nowhere to sit. The smell from the sofa was still causing her to take shallow disgusted breaths. ‘So,’ she said firmly, ‘Drew’s going to carry on with his investigation. He doesn’t really feel he’s earned the money you gave him yet.’
‘He saved me a fortune yesterday,’ Genevieve said. ‘I thought I was going to have to summon a private midwife – but he did it all instead.’
‘If you had someone booked, you’ll probably have to pay her anyway,’ Maggs told her.
Genevieve shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I hadn’t even got as far as that.’
‘You must be mad,’ said Maggs with feeling. The older woman looked at the girl with eyes full of a sudden naked pain. ‘You could say that, I suppose,’ she whispered. ‘If a bone-deep phobia can be called madness. There is no way I could ever step inside a hospital. They’d have to give me a general anaesthetic first, and keep me under the whole time I was there. I couldn’t even go for an abortion. So I didn’t have any choice. I’ve never had my own doctor, in case he ever insisted I go to hospital for something. So being pregnant had to be a completely non-medical event for me. I’m sure I’ve broken any number of laws, in the process.’
Maggs tilted her head sideways, considering the dilemma. Clear-sighted as always, she made an obvious connection. ‘It’s like your mother’s death,’ she said. ‘All handled unofficially – outside the law? I shouldn’t wonder if you buried her in that field.’ She looked at the baby again. ‘Birth and death – you’re equally careless about both. You think you can do everything in your own sweet way.’
Genevieve gave a throaty laugh, humourless and harsh. ‘I didn’t bury my mother in your field. If I had, why would I have then asked Drew to investigate it?’
‘Conscience? Double bluff?’ Maggs suggested. ‘Keeping your husband from guessing what you’d done? Loads of reasons.’
‘I didn’t, though. I absolutely swear to you.’
Maggs could think of nothing more to say. The brief certainty that she’d resolved the whole matter quickly evaporated. Apart from the sincerity of Genevieve’s denial, there appeared to be a more than adequate alibi, if Drew got confirmation from the Regent Palace Hotel. But she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she couldn’t prove Genevieve guilty immediately.
The smell and frustration were both urging her to make an early departure. ‘I’ll go now,’ she said. ‘Is there anything you want me to tell Drew?’
‘Tell him he doesn’t owe me anything. There is a bit more to the story than I’ve told him, but it doesn’t really add anything important. Tell him I’m sorry to have involved him in my madhouse.’
The stirring of the baby, and Genevieve’s instant tense reaction, drove Maggs quickly out of the room. ‘I’ll let myself out,’ she muttered to the oblivious woman. But as she reached the front door, she heard a key turning in the lock from outside and it opened towards her.
She recognised the nephew, Stuart, with some gratification. ‘I thought you were going to be out till late,’ she said, with a familiarity which seemed to take him aback.
‘What?’ he said, staring at her. ‘Who might you be, then?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘I hear you’re holding everything together here. Quite a hero, from the sound of it.’
He closed the door behind him, and stood close to Maggs in the small hallway. ‘Are you one of the neighbours?’ he asked.
‘No, and I’m not a health visitor either,’ she grinned. ‘I’m from Peaceful Repose Funerals, if that means anything to you.’ She watched his startled reaction close
ly, not knowing how much of the story he’d been told. She decided to venture further. ‘Where your grandmother’s buried.’
Her gratification intensified, as he gripped her arm, and brought his face within an inch of hers. ‘What do you know about my grandmother?’ he hissed, glancing up the stairs and towards the lounge door, as if afraid of being overheard. ‘Look – we can’t talk here. Give me a minute and I’ll take you for a drink.’
‘OK,’ she said nonchalently, wondering if he could see the way her heart was thumping. ‘I’ll wait outside for you, shall I?’
* * *
They walked to a nearby pub, which turned out to be so upmarket that anyone wanting nothing more than a beer was regarded as peculiar. There was nowhere to sit other than nasty little tables arranged much too close together. Maggs eyed it with distaste. ‘Call this a pub!’ she grumbled.
He grinned at her. ‘It’s terrible, isn’t it. But I can’t go far – Genevieve’s going to need me in a bit.’
‘How come you’re so good with babies?’ she asked, as they stood together at the bar.
‘Eldest of five,’ he shrugged. ‘It just seems to come natural to me.’ Carrying both glasses, he led the way to the remotest table he could find, and arranged himself and Maggs so they both had their back to the rest of the customers. ‘Now,’ said Stuart firmly, ‘tell me what you know about my gran.’
Maggs said carefully, ‘Your aunt approached my boss, wanting him to help her find out what became of your gran. It looks very likely that an unidentified body that was buried in our field is actually her.’
She watched him closely for a reaction. ‘Your field?’ he repeated, apparently bewildered.
She explained briefly about Peaceful Repose.
‘And has your boss come up with anything?’ the boy asked. ‘What about the police?’
Good question, thought Maggs. ‘They decided not to go to the police until there’s something more definite to tell them,’ she said. ‘At the moment it’s all guesswork and supposition.’
Stuart blew out his cheeks, and shook his head wonderingly. ‘Wait till my mum hears all this!’ he said. ‘She thinks gran’s still overseas somewhere – mind you, she was beginning to get worried. That’s one reason she wanted me to come down here. To see if Genevieve knew where she was. She’d asked Gen on the phone, but always got fobbed off.’
‘And what did Genevieve say when you asked her?’
‘She said she didn’t think there was any cause to worry, and why didn’t I stay with them for a bit. Give myself a change of scene, get a little job. It’s a strange sort of set-up they’ve got here. Willard not here most of the time, and I’m beginning to think my aunt’s not right in the head. She never bought a thing for that baby, you know. I had to go and get nappies, and some woman from the clinic brought a bag of clothes this morning. The old doctor chap must have fixed that up. And do you know what she wants to call it?’
Maggs shrugged.
‘Apricot!’ he burst out with profound scorn. ‘What kind of a name is that for a baby?’
‘Could be worse,’ said Maggs feelingly.
‘Why? What’s your real name, then?’
‘Mind your own business,’ said the girl whose official name was Marigold Beacon. ‘What about your gran? Can you think of anyone who might have killed her and buried her in our field? Last summer, it was. There’s a witness who says it was on the twelfth of August. Your aunt and uncle say there were in London that night, at a play and then a hotel. We can find out whether that’s true, of course.’
Stuart widened his eyes. ‘You’re not suggesting Aunt Gen did it, are you?’
Damn thought Maggs. I was going to keep quiet about that part.
‘We’re keeping an open mind,’ she said quickly. ‘When did you last see your gran?’
‘I last saw my gran six years ago, when I was thirteen,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t one for family visits. According to my mum, she was never really right after my uncle Nathan died. I expect you know all about that.’
‘Not right – in what way?’ she enquired.
‘It must have been the grief, I suppose. She just went crazy, rushing off to foreign countries, and never telling anybody where she was. She sent postcards now and then, but never told us where we could find her.’
‘I see,’ Maggs tried to sound encouraging, but her companion had just caught sight of the clock above the bar. ‘Did you ever meet Nathan?’
‘Oh yes!’ he said readily. ‘He was in a thing called PHAB – Physically Handicapped and Able-Bodied. We had a junior group at our school, and there was a sort of exchange once – like with French schools. I wasn’t really involved – I’m needed on the farm too much in the summer – but I did go out once or twice with them. Nathan had a girlfriend who’d come along with us.’
‘Was she handicapped as well?’
‘Sarah? No, no, not at all. She was very healthy. Pushed his wheelchair for him. Funny couple, but she obviously really loved him. Must have been devastated when he died. Though I never heard anything about her again.’
Sarah? Maggs mused, Now where does a Sarah fit in? ‘So – what was Nathan like?’ she said aloud.
He thought for a moment. ‘He never took much notice of me. I thought he was a bit self-obsessed to be honest. But he must have been different with Sarah. She was mad about him – at least that’s how it looked to me at the time. He was quite good-looking. Big grey eyes with long lashes.’
‘How old would he have been then?’
‘He was twenty, and she was more or less the same. They were in the senior section. She’s probably married with kids by now. Forgotten all about him.’
‘Probably,’ Maggs agreed carelessly. ‘Do you want another drink?’
‘No, thanks – I can’t stay any longer,’ he said. ‘I told Auntie Gen I’d only be half an hour. I’ll see you again, maybe?’
‘Maybe,’ she shrugged, delightedly aware that he was reluctant to tear himself away. ‘Give you a break from babycare.’
‘Yeah,’ he grinned. ‘I’m no saint, you know. Caring’s all very well for a while, but I’ve got my own life to live.’
Maggs sighed with relief. ‘You don’t know how glad I am to hear that,’ she told him.
‘I’ll be going then,’ he said again ‘You’ve told me quite a story.’ He scratched his head distractedly. ‘I need to have a proper think about it all. If someone has murdered my gran, then we’ll want to see justice done. It’s no good Genevieve thinking we can just carry on without telling anyone. She’s not the only person in this family.’
Next morning, Maggs was early at the office, eager to bring Drew up to date on her encounter with Stuart. But Drew was there even more punctually, with other matters on his mind.
He and Jeffrey were standing awkwardly beside the desk when Maggs walked in. The atmosphere was full of tension, both men wearing solemn expressions. ‘What happened?’ she demanded. ‘Where’s Stephanie?’
Drew looked at her without speaking, and she could see he was wondering how much to tell her.
‘You may as well give it her,’ Jeffrey mumbled. ‘Don’t hold back on my account.’
‘I caught Jeffrey putting up another of those – things,’ Drew said. ‘Only this time it had a bat and two rabbits attached to it. Stephanie’s gone to Sally Harris’s this morning, by the way. The woman in the village with the twins.’
Maggs blinked. ‘Bats are protected,’ she said foolishly. ‘You’re not allowed to kill them.’
‘Bugger that,’ snarled the gravedigger. ‘I find bats in my roof, I’m goin’ to kill ’em, protected or otherwise.’
‘But why?’ Drew pleaded, clearly not for the first time. ‘You’re not some sort of Satanist, are you?’
Maggs guffawed at that. ‘Course he isn’t,’ she said scornfully. ‘I bet you someone put him up to it. He’d never have thought of it on his own.’
Drew frowned. ‘I suppose only an insider would know the best times to do it �
� and the places you can get in without coming through the gate. I chained it shut, like we said,’ he told her.
‘Why do you always feel guilty when something bad happens?’ Maggs asked impatiently. ‘Come to that,’ she added, as a thought struck her, ‘it was probably me that gave him the idea. Remember I told you we’d been talking about voodoo, weeks ago now?’
Drew shrugged his shoulders helplessly and she turned to Jeffrey. ‘How much did they pay you to mess things up for us with this rubbish?’ she demanded.
The man stared at her stonily, and said nothing.
‘We thought you were part of our team,’ said Drew reproachfully.
Maggs chewed her lip. ‘I know who it must have been,’ she announced. ‘There’s only one person who’d want to put us out of business before we get too popular.’
Drew seemed to come to life. He might be a bit feeble at times, Maggs thought, but he was never stupid. ‘You mean Daphne Plant, don’t you?’ he said quietly. Keeping his eyes on the gravedigger, he repeated, ‘Daphne Plant. That’s right, isn’t it, Jeffrey?’
‘Might be,’ the man mumbled. ‘You’ll never prove it, though.’
Maggs felt a surge of rage. ‘Oh yes we will!’ she said. ‘We’ll give the whole story to the papers. It’ll be a challenge to Daphne to sue us for libel. And she won’t dare do that, because the story’ll be true.’ She laughed shrilly. ‘How about it, Drew? Isn’t that what we should do?’
‘It’s a nice idea,’ he agreed, slowly. ‘But the papers would never cooperate. They’d want evidence first. And we couldn’t do that until we’d been to the police and made a complaint. Better just to go to Daphne direct, I should think.’
‘And the letters!’ Maggs remembered. ‘Who sent those letters?’
Jeffrey looked genuinely confused. ‘Don’t know about no letters,’ he asserted.