Smile and be a Villain

by Jeanne M. Dams

  We didn’t say much as we ate our meal. There were too many thoughts we needed to sort through, conflicting ideas and emotions screaming out for dominance. I presume the food was at least acceptable, because at one point I looked down to find my plate empty. I had consumed it purely as fuel.

  Alan was of two minds about returning the car, which we probably wouldn’t need anymore, but decided to keep it for the Monday morning drive to the airport. ‘And you never know,’ he said as he dropped me off at Belle Isle and went to park it. ‘Something might come up.’

  When he got back I was waiting for him in the lounge. ‘Alan, we must go back and make sure someone’s dealt with those pictures. Tomorrow’s Sunday, and it would never do for the congregation to come in and find them lying there in the pew.’

  ‘And you didn’t want to walk over by yourself.’

  ‘No.’ I didn’t need to say more. Alan understands that I hate confrontation and avoid it whenever possible.

  ‘We may not find anyone there.’

  ‘Then we’ll put them back in the storage room. I know where the key is kept.’

  As it happened, Rebecca Smith was there, fussing about in the choir stalls.

  ‘Oh, dear, are we interrupting you?’

  ‘No. I’m just changing the anthem for tomorrow. The one I had planned needs a strong tenor section. They know this one by heart, so they can do it at the last moment. Did you need something?’ she asked. There was still some hostility in her tone. Well, I had unseated her idol and destroyed her illusions. Of course she’d still be a bit sore.

  ‘No, it’s just that I left those pictures behind, and I need to put them back.’ I looked around. The front pew was empty and clean. ‘Did you see them, by any chance? Or maybe someone else put them away.’

  ‘I put the embroidery away. It’s a lovely piece of work. Barbara’s grandmother did it, and she cherishes it. It was noble of her to donate it to the sale, and I intend to buy it, at the proper price of course, and give it back to her.’

  I thought about offering to do that myself, but quickly thought better of it. No matter that I meant it as a conciliatory gesture; it might not be seen that way. No, better just to leave this island without too many hard feelings in our wake.

  ‘As for the pictures, here they are.’ She picked them up from her music stand. ‘They ought never to have been in the sale at all; I can’t imagine who put them in, or who they thought might buy them. They’re terribly bad, as pictures, but they’re a part of the history of this church and meant to be kept. This one is a choir picnic from last summer.’ She handed it to me. ‘The only face you can recognize is Robin’s; you can’t miss that crooked smile.’

  I glanced at it, picked out Robin, and then looked more closely. ‘And who,’ I asked, my voice sounding odd even to myself, ‘is the man standing next to Robin?’

  ‘Oh, that’s his friend, the missing Mr Guillot. When he turns up again I’m going to have a few things to say to him. Our choir just isn’t big enough that tenors can come and go as they please!’

  I handed it to Alan without a word; my voice didn’t seem to want to function. He looked, then looked more closely, and stared at me.

  ‘What?’ said Rebecca, looking from one of us to the other.

  Alan cleared his throat. ‘Nothing, really. It’s just that he resembles someone we saw once.’

  ‘Hmph! Don’t see how you can tell. I think Martha’s grandson took that picture with his mobile and didn’t hold it steady. Anyway, I’ll see that the pictures get back where they belong.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I managed. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

  ‘Alan!’ I said urgently, the minute we were out of earshot. ‘The track suit.’

  ‘Yes. Unmistakable, I’d say. Once seen, never forgotten.’

  ‘Bright green stripes. That man on the Zig-Zag.’

  ‘A few minutes after Abercrombie died. And now,’ he said grimly, ‘among the missing.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Talk to Robin first, or the police?’ I asked. I didn’t want to do either.

  ‘It would be a courtesy to see Robin first. There may be some explanation we haven’t considered.’

  But we couldn’t find Robin. He didn’t answer his phone, and we didn’t know where he lived.

  ‘Derek, then,’ said Alan with a sigh. ‘I truly hate to do this, but I don’t think we have a choice.’

  We trudged to the police station. Derek wasn’t there. ‘He’s off duty,’ said the friendly stranger who greeted us. ‘He’s hardly had time off these two weeks, and his boy has a football match this afternoon. What can I do?’

  There was a long pause before I finally said, ‘It wasn’t important. Would you ask Derek to phone us when he gets back?’

  The man looked at us quizzically, but took down both our phone numbers. We left the station, dispirited. ‘I’m going to try Robin again,’ I said finally, as we neared Annie’s bookshop.

  ‘Wait,’ said Alan, his hand on my arm. He pointed.

  Robin was coming out of the shop with a bag full of books. He turned our way and then stopped, his face blank.

  I bit the bullet and moved toward him. ‘Robin, I’m sure we’re the last people you want to see right now, and I’m sorry to intrude, but we need to talk with you. It’s urgent.’

  He looked up the street. ‘You’ve just been to the police,’ he said.

  ‘No. Well, yes, but Derek wasn’t in, and we didn’t want to talk to anyone else. We did try to call you first, but you didn’t answer.’

  ‘No.’ His silence spoke volumes, and lasted some seconds. Then he sighed. ‘Very well, then, come with me. I live just up here.’

  Not a word was spoken as we walked to his house in a street near QE2 Street.

  He lived, as I would have expected, in a very old house. At another time I’m sure he would have wanted to point out the details of how it had been modernized for comfort without destroying the essential character of the structure. He made no attempt to show us anything, and we probably wouldn’t have had the attention to spare anyway. He gestured us to a couple of chairs and sat down in another, putting his bag of books on the floor.

  ‘Now. What is so urgent?’

  ‘We happened to see a picture of Mr Guillot,’ said Alan, going straight to the point. ‘We both recognized him at once as a man we saw on the Zig-Zag, just a few minutes before we found Abercrombie’s body.’

  Robin said nothing.

  ‘We had forgotten all about it. He was just one of several people we encountered.’

  ‘Yet you remember him now.’

  ‘It was his clothes. That track suit is unmistakable.’

  No response.

  ‘You see why we wanted to talk to you first,’ I persisted. ‘We must take this to the police, but if you know anything about this, we’d like to hear it.’

  ‘I have nothing to tell you.’

  ‘Or to tell to the police?’

  Silence.

  Alan stood. ‘Very well. We will have to act without your information, then. But if you should happen to see Mr Guillot—’ he looked hard at the bag of books – ‘you may want to tell him that we intend to go to the authorities as soon as Derek Partridge is back on duty.’

  ‘That is understood.’ He walked us to the door. ‘I will not try to prevent your doing what you think to be your duty. Nor do I bear you any ill will for doing so. I would ask you to remember, however, that things are not always what they seem.’

  After which he closed the door firmly and I thought I heard the snick of a lock.

  ‘Harold is there, isn’t he?’ I said when we had regained Victoria Street.

  ‘Two hearts that beat as one, my dear. The books were for him. He must be getting frightfully bored, shut away in there, afraid to see or talk to anyone.’

  ‘You think he killed him, then?’ I asked with a fine disregard of pronouns.

  ‘I see no reason why an innocent person should hide.’

  With
that gloomy thought, we went back to Belle Isle and had a badly needed nap.

  My phone woke me, long before I wanted it to. My eyes felt sandpapered. The phone stopped before I could reach it, but the number displayed was an Alderney one. I called back.

  ‘Mrs Martin? Derek Partridge here.’

  That woke me up. ‘Yes, Derek. Thanks for calling back. The fact is, we have something very important to tell you. Can you come here, or shall we come to you?’

  ‘I need to be here for a while, if you wouldn’t mind coming here. Important how? Will I need reinforcements?’

  ‘Possibly. I don’t like to say more on the phone.’

  ‘Right. See you soon.’

  The streets were crowded as we walked to the station. Somewhere blackbirds were singing to each other. No one we passed seemed to be paying any attention to us. My steps grew lighter.

  It didn’t take long to tell Derek the story. ‘You’re quite sure of the identification?’

  ‘Quite sure. The photo’s terribly fuzzy, but there’s no mistaking those bright green stripes. And Rebecca Smith identified the wearer as Guillot.’

  ‘You didn’t mention this chap in your earlier report of finding the body.’

  ‘I’d forgotten all about it. It seemed of no importance at the time. Everything else about that day was wiped out by what came later.’

  ‘Right.’ He sighed and stood up. ‘We need to find the chap and bring him in.’

  ‘We think we know where he is,’ I said, somewhat reluctantly. ‘We talked to Robin Whicker about this. They’re friends, you know. And we believe Harold is hiding in Robin’s house.’

  ‘Or at least,’ said Alan, ‘he was.’

  The look Derek gave us was not particularly friendly. ‘And you waited how long to tell us this, sir?’

  ‘We wanted to tell you personally,’ I said. ‘And how did your son do in his soccer match?’

  ‘His team lost. Badly. Now if you’ll excuse me?’

  ‘He’s right, you know,’ said Alan as we left, more-or-less with our tails between our legs. ‘We should have reported it at once, to the other man on duty.’

  ‘But if we had reported it before we talked to Robin, we wouldn’t have known Guillot was there. Which in fact he may not have been. We’re just speculating.’

  ‘On the basis of some pretty good evidence, especially that locked door. Nobody, as we’ve been told before, locks doors on Alderney. And even granting that point, there was no excuse at all for us not to have gone right back to the station and reported what we believed.’

  I linked my arm through his. ‘No excuse, except that we’re both confused about what the right thing is in this case. I refuse to feel guilty. What will be, will be.’

  Alan muttered something.

  ‘My dearest love, we have only one more day on this lovely island. And it is still lovely, no matter what. The actions of one man, no matter how dreadful, can’t affect this place for very long. It’s been here for many millennia, with people living here, they think, for at least the past five. We’ve been here for two weeks. A heartbeat in the history here. Less than a heartbeat. Yes, bad things have happened and yes, we have played a part in some of them. Parts were pretty awful, and some of our memories of this place will be dark. There are some people living here who will be glad to see us go. But there are other memories, too. Let’s try to put it all behind us and enjoy our last proper evening.’

  ‘You’ve suddenly become frightfully philosophical. A few hours ago you were wringing your hands over this whole tangle; now you’re ready to put it behind us. What changed?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think it was when Robin forgave us. You remember, he said he had no ill will. And then there were the blackbirds. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just getting the whole thing off our shoulders, or knowing that it’s almost over, or that the ones hurt the worst are beginning to deal with it all. Anyway, I’d like to have a drink at the Georgian House and then a really good dinner somewhere, and then I’d like to drive out to the golf course and see if we can’t find some hedgehogs.’

  ‘You’re sure you want to risk the Georgian House? It’s pretty popular.’

  ‘You’re saying there will be people there who know us. I just don’t care anymore. It’s over, Alan. We’ll be fine.’

  The pub was crowded on a Saturday night, but a couple of people made room for us, and we had our drink in peace. No one made any reference to the troubled proceedings of the morning, which made me grateful again for the innate courtesy of the islanders.

  I did tense up a bit when Derek walked in and saw us, but he simply shook his head and shrugged. ‘He was gone,’ I murmured to Alan.

  ‘As we expected,’ he said, and finished his pint.

  As we left in search of dinner, Suzi the hedgehog (and train) lady walked in the door. ‘You know, I still feel badly that you didn’t get to see any of our most famous critters.’

  ‘We’re going to drive out to the golf course tonight to see if we have better luck. I hope we can find some; we’re leaving Monday morning so it’s almost our last chance.’

  ‘Oh, look, I have a better idea. Why don’t I pick you up in my car and drive you around? I know most of the best spots to find them. I don’t want you to leave Alderney without seeing them. They really are sweet.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you. Are you sure? You must have better things to do with a Saturday night.’

  ‘I love hedgehogs, you see. I love to show them off. You’re staying at Belle Isle, aren’t you? I’ll stop for you at about ten, if that’s not too late. It’ll hardly be dark enough any earlier.’

  We found an excellent meal at a little French restaurant we hadn’t tried before, and dawdled over it until after nine. Then we went back to our room and changed into warm clothes for the chilly night, along with hiking boots. Taking our sticks, we went downstairs to wait for Suzi.

  Walking through dark fields and along remote roads, keeping an eye out for rabbit holes and the natural hazards left by grazing animals, may not sound like a riotous way to spend a Saturday night. In fact, we had a wonderful time. The countryside was full of the sounds and scents of summer, and the sky was full of stars, more stars than we could ever see at home, what with city lights. The evening wasn’t so very dark, though, once our eyes got used to it; midsummer twilight lasts all night in these climes.

  Suzi led us confidently through parts of the island I don’t think we’d visited before, though in the confusing dimness it was a little hard to tell. She shone her flashlight under hedges (a good place for the animals, as one might expect). We were quiet, not wanting to frighten them away, though she said they weren’t easily frightened. And after about twenty minutes of wandering …

  ‘There! And there’s another!’

  They stopped as if transfixed by the light of her torch. They were smaller than I’d expected, and sure enough, their fur was a lovely pale blonde. Suzi picked one up; it didn’t try to get away, though it did tuck its nose and tail under defensively. ‘Would you like to hold it?’

  I took it in gingerly fashion, expecting a prickly handful. But the fur on its belly was soft; it had quills only on top, and they weren’t so very harsh. I was enchanted. The little animal lay quietly in my hand. Alan picked up the other one, and I could see his face well enough to see the same doting expression I could feel on mine.

  ‘And remember, they have no fleas, so you don’t need to worry. Aren’t they sweet?’

  It was a delightful way to round out what had been meant as a holiday.

  TWENTY-NINE

  We planned to attend church at eight o’clock, when the congregation would be smaller and we would see fewer people we knew. I was still a little nervous about a possible backlash. Yesterday had gone far better than I had feared, but sometimes people change their reactions after they’ve had time to think.

  However, we got to bed late Saturday night and slept, after a stressful day, like a couple of rocks. I woke only when the bell
began to chime for the early service.

  ‘Oops,’ I said to Alan, who yawned and turned over.

  He was awake by the time I’d showered and dressed, and we went down to breakfast and ate a huge meal. ‘It’s our last chance,’ I said in justification. ‘We’re leaving too early tomorrow.’

  Our waitress heard me. ‘We can arrange an early breakfast for you,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘No, it’s all right. It’s just a short flight to Southampton, and then we’ll be home soon.’

  ‘At least take some fruit with you. I’ll set it out a bit early. You can’t travel on an empty stomach!’

  I thought that if the Trislander encountered any rough air, I might be better off with an empty stomach, but I simply thanked her and asked for another cup of coffee.

  Alan paid our bill, since we weren’t sure if anyone would be about when we left in the morning, and then we walked to church. It was another of Alderney’s perfect days, sunny and crisp. It almost made me wish we could stay longer.

  Almost.

  Our reception at St Anne’s could best be described as mixed. There were smiles as we walked in; there were also heads turned aside, to avoid our eyes. We chose a pew on the Gospel side, far enough forward that we might not have anyone beside us. (I’ve never known a congregation, in any variety of church from Roman Catholic to African-American Gospel Baptist, that didn’t fill up the back of the church first.)

  I was stunned, then, when a couple came up the aisle and stopped at our pew. Alice Small slowly pushed her walker; Phil Cooper assisted her into the pew.

  There was no time for more than an exchange of glances before the organist launched into a prelude, we all stood and the procession started up the aisle.

  The service proceeded in its usual order until the time came for the homily. Mr Lewison asked us to be seated for a moment.

  ‘First, I want you all to welcome back your vicar. He is still officially on holiday, but he returned to Alderney late yesterday, and I’m sure we’re all happy to have him here. He has kindly allowed me to preside for this, my last Sunday with you all, but he asked to say a few words. His remarks will serve in lieu of a homily this morning. Mr Venables.’