Dark Ritual

by Patricia Scott

  Alan Peterson nodded. “She led the life she wanted, and as such she had men friends, lovers. We have to accept this.” He gripped her hand tightly.

  “I can’t, Alan. I can’t.”

  “You have to come to terms with this, darling. Sandra was not our little girl anymore,” he said as Rosemary pulled out handfuls of tissues from the box beside the bed and dabbed at the tears filling up her eyes now.

  “I don’t want to hear this, Alan.”

  “I think, Chief Inspector, you had better leave.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate what you have told us. If we need to talk to you again we shall let you know.”

  “Thank you, Chief Inspector Fowler, Sergeant Peale.”

  Eighteen

  Viviane stood aside and smiled as Fowler walked in through her front door. “Sorry, Viv. A repeat performance I’m afraid. Be sure to let me know if I’m becoming a nuisance, won’t you?”

  She laughed. “I called you, remember. I hope I’m not sending you off on the wrong track.”

  He sat down in the kitchen. “Far from it. We’ve got to go into every angle here. So what’s new? You said you heard the Browns rowing. Lying perhaps about his whereabouts on Sunday night?”

  She switched on the kettle and turned to face him with a rueful look. “I don’t enjoy being a snoop, Bob. I couldn’t help overhearing though, as I’m sure anyone else in the shop would have done. Luckily it only consisted of me and Dot. Liz was determined to have it out with him. I’m pretty sure that Dot won’t be able to keep it to herself. Daisy Doughty warned me that they have marital problems. As they’re judged as newcomers she feels free to gossip about them in the library queue.

  “Dot told her that Liz has been trying for a child since they came here three years ago. This, and Liz’s suspicion of his involvement with other women seems to be the main cause of the agro between them. Strange though, isn’t it, that both army families settled here? Don’t you think?”

  “Could be a reason for that,” he said picking up a cheese biscuit from the plate placed in front of him.

  “Well, actually I mentioned that to Liz when I first met her. They arrived here shortly after I did, and the Bells were here already. I thought at first I’d put my foot in it big time when I asked Liz in the shop about Erika Bell. She froze me out for a second or so.”

  Fowler nodded and munched on the biscuit.

  “Then she informed me tersely that Erika was an officer’s lady and she was a sergeant’s wife, and they only met up in the NAAFI or on Regimental occasions when NCOs and wives were invited.”

  “So how did the Browns happen to find this place? Sounds hardly a coincidence.”

  “Liz said that the post office store details had been sent to them by an estate agency they’d consulted. She didn’t dwell on it. But I had an uncomfortable feeling that Erika was responsible for it and Liz knew this.”

  “Really now, that’s interesting.”

  “Isn’t it? Perhaps I read more into it than there was. But it seemed obvious to me that she knew something had gone on between them before Liz joined him.”

  Fowler nodded and took a mug of coffee from her. “So do you think that Erika arranged for the brochures to be sent to Liz deliberately out of spite? Perhaps she wanted to carry on with Gary from where they’d left off. That’s possible.”

  She shrugged. “Possibly. I don’t know. I never asked Liz for her confidences. Perhaps Liz felt as a newcomer I wasn’t part of the village stirrers. But she was careful after that to keep their past history with the Bells quiet. And I never enquired further.”

  “So much for the alibi she was supposed to be giving him,” Fowler commented.

  “And if needed Dot Godsell could confirm it. So Brown has something to hide about his movements on Sunday night. Bell was eager to dob him in for some reason or other and it sounds like he knew about his wife and Brown. He couldn’t have welcomed the Browns arrival there then.”

  She laughed. “Not at all. So you said that Macey’s knife’s been found.” She sat up at the kitchen table. “Is it the one that was used?”

  He nodded. “The DNA from the blood stain on it matches Sandra’s. The prints have been wiped. Save for the boy’s who found it.”

  “Sandra snatched it from Macey. Why? What made her do that, I wonder? Would she feel she needed protection from someone? Or did she take it to annoy him further?”

  He shrugged. “We don’t know. Shan’t know now. She certainly didn’t intend it to be used on her, that’s for sure.”

  “And he doesn’t know who she was seeing afterwards?”

  “Said he didn’t.”

  She shook her head. “I bet. He’d made a pass at her. She objected and fought back. It didn’t sound good between them at the time. So what did he really do afterwards? Sounds like you might have your chief suspect.”

  Fowler shook his head. “Not certain about that. He says he drank some more, then decided to go and find her. To apologize he said.”

  “Oh yeah! And did he find her?”

  “He said no. Martin Robbins turned up soon afterwards looking for Sandra. He wanted to wreak havoc when he spotted the torn shirt and scratches on Macey’s shoulder.”

  “Well, they would give Robbins the impression that she had to fight him off. I bet she enjoyed doing it too.”

  “She had his skin under her nails so it would be hard for him to deny it. Brown also has to change his story about his alibi. He told me his wife could verify that, and you’re telling me otherwise, Viv.” He shook his head. “Oh what flaky attempts to deceive, they’re bound to let they down sooner or later.”

  She nodded. “I should speak to Liz. She’s in the right frame of mind now I’d say to tell you what she suspects. She may wish to change her mind later. Gary had a fling with Erika Bell while serving in Germany, and this must make Liz suspicious still about her husband.”

  “Bell gives Erika as his alibi. I think maybe we’re going to have trouble with both men’s alibis,” Fowler mused wryly. “But with this new idea of the sacrificial motive for Sandra’s death, I can’t see either of them doing it. What about Howard Tefler, Bell’s good friend and neighbour. Have you heard if he comes into it at all?” Fowler chuckled. “Mrs. Doughty thinks he’s capable of anything.”

  Viviane frowned. “Tefler has thrown himself into the village life and made considerable fuss about the village being in the Domesday-Book. He has encouraged the crop circle enthusiasts. He’s been over generous. I think he would try for local politics but owning the Soho night club might not speak in his favour.”

  “So if he had any reason for killing Sandra he might have dug out this old custom of ritual sacrifice, Viv. He would maybe be aware of those other deaths in the village...”

  “Possibly. I went into the local micro archive in the library and took note of what the local paper had to say about it.”

  “There was little policing then.”

  “Hardly any. A local magistrate perhaps might have wished to cover it up. To start with there was the death of Nathanial Doughty, a local name if ever there was one. He was the verger’s son. And the year was 1820. Two years later in 1822 a young sixteen-year-old maiden was also killed. She was Primrose Wherrett and presumed to be a virgin.”

  He laughed. “This is where Sandra doesn’t quite fit in, I’d say. Her death wouldn’t strictly conform to the pagan ritual, would it?”

  “Primrose was also a relative of Daisy Doughty. It’s a wonder she hasn’t given her own pronouncement on Sandra’s — yet.” She giggled. “I’d hardly dare question her about it.”

  Nineteen

  “Mrs. Robbins, Mr. Robbins, can I help you?” Peale greeted Jessica Robbins as she came into the incident room with her nephew.

  “Martin says that he’d like to speak to Chief Inspector Fowler.” She seemed anxious. “It’s really most important, Sergeant Peale. Can you let Chief Inspector Fowler know that we’re here to see him, now — please?”

  Pea
le studied Martin Robbins; if anything he looked far worse than when they had seen him last time. Was he about to make a confession?

  “So what do you want to tell us, Mr. Robbins?” Peale sighed. “Does he want to confess, Mrs. Robbins?”

  Jessica Robbins coloured up. “He does not, Sergeant Peale. We want to speak to Chief Inspector Fowler immediately,” she insisted.

  Peale sighed. “If you don’t mind waiting a while longer I’ll contact Chief Inspector Fowler. If you’d like to be seated. Does Martin need a lawyer?”

  “There’s no need for that.” She shook her head. “Martin has been so worried he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer, sergeant. He has to get it off his chest. It’s making him ill.”

  Fowler walked in at this point and looked surprised to see Peale dealing with Martin Robbins and his aunt.

  “Good day to you, Mr. Robbins. Mrs. Robbins. What can we do for you?”

  “My nephew here wants to make a statement, Chief Inspector. He thinks it will definitely help you find Sandra’s murderer. I have come to see that he gets it right for you. And to make sure that you understand what he is telling you is correct.”

  She sat down and made Martin take a place beside her.

  The officers exchanged quick glances. Peale shrugged. Fowler made a gesture and Peale sat down beside him. Fowler smiled back encouragingly. “We’d like to hear whatever you have to say to us, Mr. Robbins.”

  Martin was signing rapidly and his aunt nodded. “He says you should investigate Captain Bell’s chicken farm. Now. Straight away.”

  “Bell’s chicken farm! Why? What for?” Peale cut in quickly.

  “Martin says that his employer Mr. Bell is mixed up with an illegal business and that Mr. Tefler is involved in it too. Martin told Sandra about it...”

  “Illegal you say? And how does it concern Sandra’s Peterson’s death, Mr. Robbins?”

  She leant forward. “She said she would help him get evidence to expose it.”

  “What actually have they been doing on the farm? And how were you involved in it, Mr. Robbins?”

  Martin who had been intently lip reading looked anxious at this and signed quickly to his aunt. Mrs. Robbins signed back and nodded. “He says you must know by now that Sandra was working on something special here as a journalist.”

  “We did, Mrs. Robbins. Is your nephew able to enlighten us further about this?”

  She glanced quickly at Martin. “Martin wrote to Sandra and asked her to come down. He needed her advice. And she was interested in getting a scoop for her newspaper.”

  “We were aware of this.” A germ of an idea was now stirring in Fowler’s mind. The lad could be right. “You think Sandra was involved that night on Bell’s farm, lad?”

  His aunt signed this to make sure he understood and he nodded.

  “So were you been involved in it, Mr. Robbins? And what about you, Mrs. Robbins? How much do you know about what was going on there?”

  Martin looked worried by this and signed quickly to his aunt. She shook her head. “I knew nothing about it,” she said quickly. “It has been a shock for me too. He got himself into something that was wrong. Something really bad. So he asked Sandra to help him get out of it. I told him he had to tell you even if it gets him into trouble. He thinks Sandra might have been killed because of it.”

  The police officers looked at each other.

  “What can Martin tell us about Bell’s farm? What exactly goes on there, Mrs. Robbins?”

  “The poor girl,” Jessica Robbins said tearfully glancing at her nephew. “Martin should never have involved Sandra. He should have told the constable. He could have her death on his hands. This is why he is so anxious for the police to deal with it now. You have to do something about it.”

  Martin was doing a rapid signing. He had picked up the gist of what was being said. He wanted to tell them what he knew before it became too much for him.

  “The Bells sacked Martin instantly when they knew he’d told Sandra. He went to the farm to find her that night.”

  Martin signed quickly. And his aunt obliged. “They thought he was safe because he was deaf and wouldn’t spill it so easily to anyone. Sandra must have gone to see them, the Bells, late on Sunday night. She said she wanted to see for herself.”

  She glanced at Martin, who was anxiously watching Fowler and Peale for their reaction.

  “Martin knew this. He tried to stop her. He said he went to the camp first to warn Sandra not to do it on her own. And then he went to the farm looking for her. He’d given her his key to the special shed. But it was too late she’d already been there and gone.”

  “What special shed?” Fowler said quietly. “I think you’d better tell us what it was they were trying to hide, Mrs. Robbins.”

  She looked at her nephew, sighed and said, “Martin says that they were hatching out and breeding rare birds from fertile eggs that were smuggled into this country.”

  Peale and Fowler exchanged startled looks.

  “Run that by me again, Mrs. Robbins.”

  “These were Parrot eggs, and such like. Very rare and valuable birds from the Amazon and Australia. You can’t buy them here from shops like budgies. They have to be specially bred.”

  Staggered by this, Fowler stared back at her and listened intently as she carried on watched intently by Martin. His face working as he saw the impact on the police officers faces.

  “You can’t bring the adult birds in, but these young women carried the fertile eggs in their padded bras and dress shoulder pads, so that they’re kept safe and warm. Martin says they’re well cared for, Tefler sees to all that.”

  “Tefler! He’s in on it, is he?” Peale intervened.

  “Yes, he is, Sergeant. Tefler’s got these connections see with Australia and South America. He knows the people personally who collect and sell the eggs.”

  Everyone around they in the room it seemed had ceased working and were listening to what was said now.

  “Martin said when he got there Sunday night Captain Bell and his wife were waiting for him. And Bell took hold of him, threatened him gave him the sack on the spot. They made what they thought about him pretty clear. He thought that they had done something bad to Sandra. And he’s been torturing himself about it ever since.

  “They knew that he wanted to know what had happened to Sandra. He asked them where she was and they threw him out. Didn’t they, Martin?” she said and signed to him quickly. He was visibly agitated.

  Fowler nodded. “You can bet then that those birds won’t be there now. And Martin’s words against them won’t stand up without evidence in court. Tefler will have a bloody good lawyer.” He looked at Peale, who nodded. “They would have cleared the decks as soon as possible on Sunday night, Mrs. Robbins. But we shall look into it obviously.”

  She shook her head and put her arm around Martin’s shaking shoulders. “I tried to tell him that.”

  “I suppose they employed you, Martin, because you kept birds and knew what you were doing.” Martin nodded. “But why did you get involved in this traffic? When you knew it was wrong to do so?”

  His answer was to bury his head in his hands again.

  “The boy did it for the best, Sergeant Peale.” His aunt intervened. “He needed the good wages to pay for his mother’s care and special needs in the convalescent home. It’s expensive. Poor Amy, she is prematurely senile. So young too. She has Alzheimer’s.

  “Her lad has been under so much strain lately. And now this on top of it all, he says he lost his one and only friend when he lost Sandra.

  “Martin...” His aunt shook him gently on the shoulder and made him lip read what was being said. “Listen carefully and we’ll get it sorted, won’t we, Chief Inspector?”

  “I certainly hope so, Mrs. Robbins.”

  “So when did you first let Sandra on to what the Bells were doing, Martin?”

  “Two days before she came down to see him, Martin wrote a letter to Sandra and asked for her help. S
aid he couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore. And she came down right away and promised him she’d deal with it. She’d keep him out of it if she could. It was lucky that those protesters were starting up just then too. So she allowed everyone to think that’s why she came down to Lower Milton...”

  “Would this have given the Bells a reason to kill her?” Fowler said in an aside to Peale quietly. “Or Tefler? I bet he doesn’t like it. The customs will be sniffing around down here even if the Bells have covered themselves and cleared the birds out. What do you reckon, Peale?”

  “We ought to call on him straight away.”

  So that’s why Sandra’s camera was empty and badly damaged. Had she left the chicken farm alive though? Was she knocked out cold? And when they realized she knew too much, then Tefler perhaps brought up the idea of a ritual killing to cover the real motive for her death. He would be the one to get the Bells out of trouble.

  Fowler shook his head. It didn’t really gel. “Thank you for giving me this information, Martin. I only wish you’d let us know before this though. And thank you, Mrs. Robbins. You will have to answer more questions, Martin, I’m afraid, when the Customs and Excise are brought in on it.’

  She signed to Martin quickly and he stood up and signed back.

  “Martin is grateful. We both are. Thank you for being so understanding, Inspector Fowler.”

  Fowler leant back in his chair and watched the aunt and nephew walk slowly out of the door.

  “Can we make it stick, Peale? It’s certainly been most enlightening. Our Captain Bell is a slippery customer. I suppose she was in on it, from the beginning, his wife. She might have suggested it to Tefler. Or did he bring it to Bell?”

  “A mutual partnership perhaps. Hard to say.” Peale shook his head. “Bell must have been wondering how long it might take before Martin Robbins decided to tell us all, Bob. He’s played a waiting game since Sandra’s death put them under scrutiny.

  “But was she followed to the chicken farm? Stalked perhaps by someone from the protester’s camp? Sandra was an attractive young woman. Quite a temptation if she was out so late on her own. Macey said he ended up in Maddocks’ barn during the storm. But did he? Did Martin finally catch up with her? Perhaps he blamed her for getting the sack?”