Out Comes the Evil

by Stella Cameron

She had to hold him and she did. Tucked her arms around his neck and pulled his face down onto her shoulder. ‘Tony, this wasn’t your fault. I‘ve never met a man as decent as you are. I’m not surprised you’re beating yourself up, but I won’t allow you not to see that you’re incredibly decent. Just believe what I say and let me help you through this.’

  He didn’t say anything but neither did he lift his face from the niche between her neck and shoulder.

  Neither of them needed her to cry. ‘Please come in with me. I don’t want you going off on your own. And we want to get the questions out of the way as quickly as we can anyway. We need to be here when the police come.’

  ‘OK.’ He straightened up, walked her to the door and pushed it open for her. ‘Thank you. I hope it doesn’t scare you to hear it, but you’re the best friend I ever had – the best I ever hope to have.’

  She smiled at him, holding back those wretched tears. ‘That goes for me, too.’

  Tony held her tightly by her upper arms. ‘Let’s hope they come quickly. But not till we’ve had that brandy.’

  When they walked in, Lily was seating the latest patrons. She saw Alex and Tony and she hurried over, her smile dissolving instantly. The restaurant was almost full and the sounds of laughter, conversation, clinking glass and dishes jarred Alex.

  ‘Did you find out anything?’ Lily asked.

  Alex winced but Tony said, ‘Yes, unfortunately,’ in a flat voice. ‘The Ebring Manor hill is crawling with plods, dogs and every species of police you can think up. We should probably wait until friends O’Reilly and Lamb finish with us before we say too much.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Lily said. She took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. ‘Are they coming here? Tonight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lily bowed her head. ‘Pamela is dead?’

  ‘Yeah. You want to take off your gilet, Alex?’ He held out a hand.

  She gave him the gilet, aware that more than a few eyes were trained in their direction and the noise level had faded.

  Lily didn’t raise her face. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  ‘Hang in with us here, we’d like to sit in the bar with a brandy,’ Tony said, taking off his own coat. ‘We’ve got to think our way through as much as we can.’ The place glowed with good cheer and heat, body and fire heat.

  Lily wiped her face and threaded a hand through one of each of their arms and turned them all away from the room. ‘It’s packed in there. Most standing so there’s some tables. There’s only one topic.’ She sighed. ‘And we’ve got reporters already.’

  ‘That explains the lousy parking job,’ Alex said. ‘You know they sit around listening to emergency transmissions, don’t you?’

  Lily nodded. ‘But they don’t seem to know there’s been a murder yet.’

  ‘Let’s hope we can keep it that way for a bit,’ Tony said. ‘When the detectives get here, could we use the snug? I don’t want to be too isolated with those two.’

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ Lily said. ‘I should warn you that the women’s group has been here for some time. When the speaker fell through they took over the up-room and pushed tables together. I’d stay away from them. They’re laughing a lot but it’s pretty intense.’ The up-room was what locals called a one-step-up from the main level, an area beside the bar where people frequently chose to eat a pub meal. The trestle tables and high-backed banquets were popular.

  ‘We need to be normal, Mum,’ Alex said. She didn’t feel normal. Her skin prickled and her muscles made small, involuntary twitches. ‘Can I mention about you thinking you saw Pamela or do you want to wait for them to ask.’

  ‘Tell them,’ Lily said. ‘I’d appreciate it even if they do ask again.’

  ‘Your mum saw Pamela?’ Tony put a hand at her back and walked her into the bar where the interest they raised was palpable.

  ‘Thinks she did,’ Alex said, sliding into one of two barrel chairs at an ancient little table tucked into a bay window. She waved at the sisters Burke who gave pleasant nods and studiously made sure they didn’t appear to be watching Tony and Alex.

  Tony didn’t ask anymore about when and where Lily had seen Pamela Gibbon. ‘I’ll get those brandies. And some snacks. We haven’t eaten for a long time.’

  Watching Tony’s loose-limbed walk and the way he swung his shoulders to thread through a crowd was always a pleasure. Just looking at him doing anything was a pleasure. Alex realized he really was the closest friend she’d ever had, but how long could they continue as they were?

  That was as much up to her as to Tony.

  Bogie had muscled in front of the fire where he was always comfortable to be with the sisters. He lay side-by-side with Katie and Alex frowned, wondering how she’d appeared at the Dog.

  Picking out the two reporters didn’t take much effort, one in a saggy gray raincoat, leaning on the bar, elbow-to-elbow with Kev Winslet from the Derwinter estate. Kev knew everything, even if he didn’t really know a thing. And he loved a rapt audience. A female reporter with long dark hair had gone for the ruffled and ready-for-sex look. She had several men hanging on her every word.

  In the up-room, banquets pushed together shielded the women sitting there but they didn’t mute the volume.

  A brandy in each hand, Tony returned. ‘Hugh’s putting together some bits he knows we’ll like.’ He smiled. ‘That man was a find, one of a kind. His sidekick isn’t so bad, either. A bit reserved but sharp.’

  ‘And too good looking for his own good.’ Alex grinned broadly and took a healthy swallow of her brandy. She coughed and thumped between her collar bones. ‘I shouldn’t say this but he’s good for a certain type of business. The girls just stare. A name like Juste Vidal doesn’t hurt. Adds to his mystery.’

  Juste was a student at a divinity college in Cheltenham and managed to work at the pub three nights a week.

  ‘Katie’s here,’ Alex said. ‘I’m surprised she’s not all over you.’

  ‘Radhika must have brought her. She was going to look after her until I got back.’

  ‘And the fire is more magnetic than you.’ Alex smiled. ‘Radhika’s probably with the women’s group. She doesn’t drink, in fact I’ve never known her to come here before.’

  ‘We’re avoiding what’s on our minds.’ As if he’d channeled that the conversation had included him, Juste delivered two large plates of goodies to them and Alex sat back, waiting for him to leave.

  Twenty-four years old, Juste looked at the world through steel-framed glasses that somehow managed to make his green eyes even more show-stopping. Reddish brown hair waved to the top of his collar around a sharply boned face. Alex could understand how he appealed to the female sex, especially if they liked to daydream stories about the man’s life.

  ‘Bite-sized pastry puffs filled with asparagus and camembert,’ he said, his accent distinctly French, then cast up his eyes when he added, ‘and steak and kidney pielets. Blinis with salmon and cream cheese. Baked eggs in corned beef cups. Enough to tickle your pallets.’ He grinned, perfectly aware that these lovely little things had been whipped up in the main kitchen especially for the boss and her friend.

  ‘Look at this,’ Alex said, glancing at Juste walking away. ‘And that man’s voice could have the same effect on a woman as dark chocolate. He’ll increase the congregation and the contributions in any church where he preaches.’

  Tony nodded and slipped a baked egg into his mouth. ‘Concentrate, hussy. We’ve likely got a murderer among us,’ he said, chewing. ‘Pamela lived here for ten years. What don’t we know about her? There has to be something we could never even have guessed at. Something that caused this.’

  With her elbows on the table, Alex held her snifter with both hands and concentrated on the taste and the fiery spread through her veins.

  ‘Or could it have been an accident after all?’

  ‘And after she was hanging from the rim of the shaft she moved the grill back into place herself?’ Alex stared at him. ‘She’s �
� was possibly strong enough to move the grill, but you don’t get your fingers cut off and not yell. That’s supposing someone came along, saw the open grill, and moved it back into place. Pamela would have screamed and—’

  ‘I’m sure she did. Nasty thought that she could have been heard and ignored while she took that fall. Or even when she was at the bottom of that shaft. It’s all about motive, love. Let’s see what kind of questions the police ask. We’ll get a feeling for what they’re thinking. What if she pulled the lid closed from below and didn’t get her hand out of the way until too late.’ He held a plate out to her until she took a pastry puff.

  Shaking her head slowly, Alex said, ‘I want to know exactly what her relationship was with Harry, and whether they were deeper in than we know. And more than that, who else was involved. There had to be someone – there is someone who knows why this happened.’

  Katie loped over to Tony who gave her a good rub with both hands. ‘All the gear in that tower must have been there for a reason. If it belonged to Pamela and someone she met up there, they didn’t need it to play Monopoly.’

  A gust of cold wind came in with the next customer.

  ‘Holy hell,’ Alex murmured. ‘Take a glance behind you. I don’t believe it, Tony.’

  He did take a look, and sat very still, his hands still on Katie. ‘That, I didn’t expect.’ He emphasized each word. ‘Either he’s stupid, or he’s in the dark about everything, or this is bravado – chutzpah.’

  Harry Stroud had walked in.

  SEVEN

  Every word spoken had to be considered first. There were enemies and potential enemies here. The rest made no difference – not now and not unless they pushed their noses where they didn’t belong.

  With care, the one who was finally going to pay a long overdue bill would quickly come under suspicion and there would be no need for anyone else to be touched by a necessary crime. But the past had already shown that there were those in Folly-on-Weir who saw themselves as the descendants of Sherlock Holmes combined with some ultimate angel of justice, and their passionate efforts could prove the harbinger of an unjust outcome – at least in this case. But that wouldn’t be allowed to happen.

  Everything had been meticulously worked out. Nothing had been rushed or done in an irrational rage, the kind of rage that inevitably led to disastrous mistakes.

  Perhaps the past was now only a motive and a controlled memory of deep wrong which must serve to keep the mind sharp and directed. Was this the moment when justice would start its slow clawing out of darkness; was this the real beginning of the end of the story? Surely taking revenge and then walking away from chaos was the prize.

  Yes, the ultimate prize and if any member of the Sherlock brigade got in the way … well, then …

  ‘You’re sure you should go over there?’ Tony said. ‘I’d rather you didn’t if I can’t come with you.’

  ‘It’s a women’s club,’ Alex told him with an amused little grin. ‘Anyway, I’ll have company. Look who’s joining the party.’ She stood and waved at Mary and Harriet who were getting to their feet. ‘Let me know if the dynamic duo from Gloucester get here before we’re finished. And make sure you get O’Reilly’s rank right.’

  He grinned and caught her hand. ‘OK, but be careful. Could we have a brandy together when this evening is over? We never got to finish this one. I’d like to take you to my place, if you’ll come.’

  It was late and his invitation didn’t sound like one of their casual get-togethers.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘We need some relaxed time.’ Although she felt anything but relaxed.

  ‘Yes.’ Tony’s smile was pleased but intense. ‘Here come the ladies.’

  ‘Do you know who’s up there?’ Alex asked the Burke sisters when they joined her.

  Harriet kept her voice down while they all smiled around. ‘I don’t know if I missed anyone. Winifred George from the bakery is there.’

  ‘Sibyl Davis, the interim vicar’s wife,’ Mary added quickly. ‘And Heather Derwinter, if you can believe that.’

  Alex could believe that their local self-appointed lady of the manor wasn’t likely to miss a chance to hear women from Folly discussing … whatever it was these people discussed. Svelte, pretty, with an enviable body, young Mrs Derwinter considered her opinion important in all things.

  ‘Valery Perkins from the wool shop,’ Harriet cut in. ‘And her grandmother who’s supposedly deaf as a post. Fay Winslet – that lug of a husband of hers, Kev, he’s in the bar. Vivian Seabrook, of course. I don’t like her, although Heather seems to. I suppose they have horses in common. They’d be bound to go in for animals – they don’t talk back.’

  With Harriet keeping up with her, Bogie bustling ahead to see what was going on, and Mary making good enough time with her walker, Alex threaded her way to the up-room, arriving on the other side of the banquet barricade before Harry had talked himself into a seat. From his reception, she wondered if he would be staying long. He stood to one side of the tables looking sheepish.

  ‘Life in the city is like this,’ he said in a pleading tone. ‘The only thing you can count on is someone throwing a spanner in the works and messing up other people’s plans. Quite a schmo we had today, I can tell you, although I can’t really tell you. I could not get away any earlier.’

  Carafes of house wine, red and white stood on the table and each woman, except for Fay Winslet and Radhika, nursed a glass. Radhika and Fay had coffee. Bowls of popcorn were mostly empty.

  Waves greeted Alex, Mary and Harriet. Bogie snuffled at Radhika’s glorious orange and lime green silk skirt and she hauled him onto her lap.

  ‘Argh,’ Alex said. ‘Don’t let him slobber on that. It’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Bogie does not slobber,’ Radhika said in her mellifluous voice. ‘He is a most well behaved fellow.’

  In addition to Radhika, the sisters had missed Charlotte Restrick, wife of the permanent vicar of St Aldwyn’s who was recovering from a serious accident. Sibyl Davis sat next to Charlotte.

  Several of the women shifted to make room for the newcomers, but there still wasn’t enough room so they captured some chairs from the bar and set them at each end of the tables. Three chairs.

  Alex wanted to be sure Harry didn’t leave, and offered him her seat while she squished in beside Fay Winslet, small, fair, with tiny bones and pointy features that made her brown eyes look huge. It was a mystery to them all that she had married big, mouthy Kev Winslet, the Derwinters’ gamekeeper, but he treated his wife with something close to reverence and used a soft voice with her that brought some people close to guffawing.

  Harry slid into the spare chair and busily pulled a notebook from the inner pocket of his jacket.

  ‘I really thought Pamela would come,’ Vivian Seabrook said. She cast anxious blue eyes toward the door and looked worried. ‘Has anyone heard from her? I’ve been told all the rubbish about her taking off yesterday, or whatever, but that just wouldn’t be like her. Hasn’t she contacted someone?’ A tall, rangy woman, Vivian was a dark blond and good looking. A dramatic, sharp-featured face with eyebrows several shades darker than her hair made sure she didn’t go anywhere without drawing a lot of interest. Tonight she seemed close to tears. Her right cheek was bruised and scraped and she sat awkwardly.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Alex asked her.

  Vivian showed more deep, fresh scratches on her wrists and palms. ‘Bloody mare kicked a door into me. Knocked me on my arse among other things. My back’s a mess. But I’ve had worse done to me.’ She sniffed and felt her cheek. ‘Back to Pamela.’

  Harry rested his elbows on the table and scrubbed at his face. He seemed tense, upset even.

  ‘Has anyone called her?’ Fay Winslet said, her voice anxious and high.

  ‘She knew when the meeting was,’ Vivian said through the tissue she held to her nose. ‘I keep hearing gossip about her going missing but I don’t believe it. Why would she leave?’

  ‘Let’s
calm down,’ Winifred George said. ‘She’s still grieving. Perhaps she isn’t ready for this sort of thing.’

  ‘It’s been eons since her husband died,’ Vivian snapped. ‘She’s over it.’

  ‘I believe she loved Charles a great deal,’ Harriet said. ‘Despite the difference in their ages. We can’t put a one-size-fits-all on emotions. What about other relatives? Anyone know about that?’

  ‘Never heard her mention any,’ Harry said. He covered his mouth as if he wished he hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Mrs Stroud isn’t here either.’ Vivian looked at Harry as if that must be his fault. ‘This would have been her first visit to our club. She doesn’t seem to go anywhere in the village but she promised she’d come.’

  He gave a humorless laugh and said, ‘Probably heard I’d be talking and decided to knit instead.’

  ‘Your mother’s a wonderful knitter.’ Valery Perkins from the wool shop wagged a finger at him. ‘Now there’s someone we should get to give us a demonstration. She could give a whole class.’

  Pulling her shoulder-length blond hair back and slipping on a band to make a ponytail, Heather Derwinter said, ‘What are we discussing this evening, Harry?’

  ‘How are men adjusting to women’s equality?’ Vivian said in clear, ringing tones. Tears stood in her eyes but she spoke with no sign of being upset.

  Harry turned pages in his notebook. ‘That’s not what I was told. I prepared some insights into women managing their money. Certainly a very suitable subject.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ Vivian said. ‘But when you didn’t come on time we had to improvise. The new topic seems appropriate and you can certainly be appropriate on this, Harry.’

  Color rose over his already ruddy cheeks. ‘Really. Why?’ Harry’s dark hair curled quite close to his head and he had distinctly arched eyebrows. His looks were appealing in an English gentlemanly way – a man of the upper country class – but more muscular and fit looking than many. He was slim, his belly flat beneath his finely tailored striped shirt. Grey eyes failed to be arresting, despite thick, curly lashes.