by Bowes, K T
He was aware that he was struggling to control his feelings for this unusual woman. She was in his thoughts every minute of the day. There was a vulnerability underneath all the hardness and he was aware that the veneer she had sealed over herself was a lie. He wanted to be with her so badly and yet the obstacles seemed insurmountable. Too many things were stacked up against any possible relationship. There was indeed his ‘marriage’ as Raff had so aptly called it, then there was a twelve year age gap, not to mention that Ed’s time at St Jude’s was almost at an end. Then there was the issue of his brother’s infatuation with her, not to mention the ‘other thing’ that Ed would need to explain at some point. He wandered along with his heart in his boots, praying silently that his Maker would help him out some.
Back at the office, the cops had searched Cam’s room and there had already been a huge row as they declared their intention to take his filing cabinet away completely, leaving him unable to do his job. Finding it bolted to the floor, they moved on to Jayden’s room with relish at her reappearance, having cursorily sifted through and made a terrible mess of Cam’s filing system.
Jayden watched six men go through her office fairly thoroughly. Two of them sat with gloves on, going through her counselling notes while she watched them from the comfort of her office chair. In truth, she was waiting for a reaction from them. Just one snigger at the very genuine problems experienced by the people she worked with, would be enough for her to lose her temper.
The young blonde cop came and plonked himself down opposite her. He smiled, but she didn’t return his efforts at pleasantry. “Well, we’ve managed to eliminate both you and Reverend Abbadeli from our inquiries,” he stated, looking strangely hopeful.
“That’s nice,” Jayden replied, without taking her eyes off the grey haired policeman currently reading her notes from the session with Clara. “Have you read enough yet?” she called across to him spitefully, watching his neck go slightly red with embarrassment. “I don’t see how the fifteen-year-old rape victim who came here this morning for the first time, is actually what you should be looking for!”
The policeman closed the file without looking across at her and placed it back in the cabinet in the wrong place. Jayden gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw until it hurt. Her eyes flashed as she stared at the policeman opposite her. “The people in those case files are genuinely broken people. It’s not gossip column stuff that you can all laugh about in the police canteen! Some of them have had horrific experiences that have wrecked their lives and he just stands there reading it like some trashy magazine. I’m sure if you want real gory, your colleague’s case file should have actual photographs of her injuries back at the station. I gather they were particularly unpleasant, being as she was so young and untried. Would you like me to ring your chief constable and ask for personal copies for you?”
All of the policemen seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed by her outburst. Some of it was making difficult reading, even for these seasoned officers.
“Then why don’t you give us a clue, Miss Mitchell?” the detective asked, too nicely. Jayden felt trapped and knew that she couldn’t just sit there watching them search the files of decent people with such detachment without exploding.
“Oh, hazelnut whirl off!” she said with real feeling and marched out of the room.
She sought solace in the body of the old church, slumping down in one of the pews near the back, behind one of the imposing stone pillars. They had been worn smooth by centuries of people pushing past them. Jayden leaned forward in her unforgiving seat and rested her warm forehead against its cool solidity. She closed her eyes and felt the pulse of the building, made up of the muffled clamour of the city outside; traffic, people moving around, phones ringing and voices rising and falling. Yet the church remained still and constant, an immovable force that would give an earthquake a run for its money. A bit like God really.
The pew moved as someone sat down gently next to her and Jayden opened her eyes and turned. She wasn’t surprised to see Ed sitting close to her on the wooden seat. “Sorry about before,” he whispered. “You and Raff, it’s nothing to do with me.”
He looked unbelievably sad and vulnerable; his dark brow furrowed and a lock of hair sticking out at the side where he had shoved his vicar’s dress thingy on over his head. Jayden had this sudden overwhelming urge to look up it to see if he had kept his trousers on. Perhaps it was like the mystery with Scotsmen and their kilts. She still had no idea if they wore underpants beneath them or not. Ed’s face broke into a tight smile, as though he had already guessed what she was thinking. The crow’s feet reappeared at the outer corners of his eyes and he bit his bottom lip.
Jayden looked at him hard, desperate to feel that same contact with him that they had shared that night at her flat when he kissed her so sensuously on the mouth. She took a risk. Leaning forward so that her breasts were against his chest, she closed her eyes and kissed him, feeling the rising confusion in her chest as she felt the bristles on his skin against her cheeks and the smooth fullness of his lips. He kissed her eagerly back, his breath coming in a short hiss as he pulled her harder into him. Jayden had the fleeting thought that he had no perception of how much trust she was giving him, how much of her guard she was lowering just for him. She prayed that he wouldn’t break her heart, whilst knowing inwardly that he was going to.
A wave of embarrassment penetrated the pure unadulterated lust that had filled Jayden’s psyche and she pulled away with an anguished breath. But Ed wouldn’t let her run away from him, wrapping his arm firmly around her shoulders and cuddling her strongly into his side. “God!” Jayden moaned softly in misery and felt Ed’s soft kiss on her temple.
“Definitely,” he answered, but Jayden didn’t understand and couldn’t face asking him what he meant. “They’re pulling the vestry apart. Again,” he sighed. “That’s why I’m wandering around in here. Cam’s gone home in a temper. I guess it’s the same in your office?”
Jayden nodded her head, hearing the sound of her curly hair moving against the curate’s cotton clothing. It sounded nice. “They haven’t got a clue,” she said nastily. “They’re as thick as pig...praline.”
Ed snorted and kissed her temple again, reaching his foot up to rest against the back of the pew in front. Jayden didn’t know that he was allowed to do that. The church always seemed so sacrosanct and precious. She had seen little children on a Sunday get smacked bottoms for less. Jayden looked at Ed’s shoes. They were nice shoes, square-toed and trendy. Quite designer Italian actually. Her eyes travelled to his socks, which were black and then she spied the hem of his black trousers poking out from underneath his dress. Myth busted. Scotsmen probably wore undies too then. It was a little disappointing.
Jayden’s left arm began to ache with the constriction and she sat up slightly, shifting it so that it lay on Ed’s stomach. Then she snuggled back down into him. He released his tight hold on her and rested his right arm along the back of the pew behind Jayden, his long fingers spooling through her curls absentmindedly. They were both relaxed and it felt so right.
“Where did the vicar go splat?” Jayden asked suddenly and it sounded so inappropriate and disrespectful in the holy hush of the church.
“Over there, next to the organ,” Ed answered. “A lady came to do the flowers early and found him. There was blood everywhere.”
“Are they still looking for the thing he was hit over the head with?” Jayden persisted, not sure why such details were important. Ed yawned.
“No, they found it. There was a hammer underneath the organ with his blood all over it. That’s why they let us back into the church yesterday.
“Did you clean it up?” Jayden’s face held sympathy and horror as she poked her face out to the side to look at him. Ed smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips again, pulling away when the tempting spark between them began to flare.
“No. The police forensic people did it. They made me come in afterwards and asked me to look and
see if anything was different. That’s when I noticed the chip in the flagstones by the organ. I dropped a thing of incense the day before and spent ages clearing it up, so I knew the floor quite well. The chip was new and led them to the hammer. It had wedged itself quite tightly underneath the organ, near the back - that’s how come they missed it the first time. It must have gone under there with quite some force because it took off a lump of wood on its way in. The police think it fell from the balcony after it was used and somehow spun off under the organ, or was maybe kicked there afterwards. But they think it dropped, bounced on the stone a few times and skidded. Perhaps we’ll never know.”
Jayden was silent as her brain worked overtime. She realised that a nagging doubt had remained in her subconscious that perhaps Ed had killed the man, although the detective had implied that she and Ed had inadvertently alibied each other, despite her reluctance to mention seeing him. Why would Ed be pointing out clues to the cops if he had killed the vicar? Yet she had seen the two men arguing and then there was the issue of her front door key. The last thought sobered her up somewhat and she leaned forward in her seat, remembering the dark head and the fluro shirt disappearing up the High Street before dawn. “Where did you run this morning?” Jayden broached it, suddenly needing to know. Ed looked at her curiously.
“At the gym. I used Raff’s car to get there. I had a seven o’clock meeting with the Dean up at the cathedral.”
“So you didn’t run past my place just after six?”
Ed shook his head. “No. I would have still been at the gym then. I hung around for Raff for a bit because he said he was going to run there, but he never showed up. I had a shower at the gym and got changed, dropped the car back and then walked over to the cathedral. Why? And why did you ask me if I had a nice run earlier? I would have noticed if you were at the gym.”
The way he said that made Jayden’s heart flutter like the wings of a baby bird. The thought that he had been looking out for her made her feel special, beautiful in some way. He looked so honest and trustworthy sitting there on the pew in his vicar’s dress-surplice-cassock-thingy. Mistrust floated around above Jayden’s head squawking at her that all men were liars, but she brushed him off easily for once, leaning in for another gentle kiss from the gorgeous man sitting next to her. She knew that she was truly smitten and that it was dangerous, but Jayden felt powerless to resist him as he kissed her back tenderly.
To her surprise he pulled away after what felt like very little time, cleared his throat and stood up. Her brow furrowed and she looked hurt, until he held out his hand to pull her up. “You’re going to drive me mad,” he whispered, running his thumb across her full lips. “I can’t give in to temptation, no matter how much I want to. We’re going to have to wait.”
He moved as though to kiss her again and then corrected himself, keeping hold of her hand as they squeezed between the pews to the aisle. Then he let go and it felt like a slap to the head. Ed turned and saw the look on Jayden’s face, turning back to speak to her and stroke her cheek. “No Jayd. Don’t think bad thoughts about me, please? I’m falling in love with you, but there are things I need to sort out first. Wait for me?”
His question held a plea which Jayden responded to with a nod, drawing a smile from Ed’s worried face. But the spectre of a wife hung suddenly over her and she felt unsavoury. She had counselled enough divorcees to know the trail of damage the process left behind it. And children. What if Ed had children? She had never asked. There seemed so much she didn’t know about him and it piled up into an insurmountable mound of jagged rock.
Ed let go of her hand in the aisle, unaware of the route her brain was taking her. He stared up at the balcony above the organ and appeared to be considering the Reverend McLean’s undignified fall. He placed his fingers over his mouth, splayed out to cover the bottom half of his face as he thought out loud. “So it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me. Cam and Sal had gone home. There was nobody here when I left, just him. So it had to have been someone who came back. Someone with a key, because I locked the front doors when I left and checked all the others. His wife couldn’t have followed him up the stairs. I agree, she’s far too crippled. The poor woman’s feet face in opposite directions and her walking frame would be too wide for the doorway up there anyway.” He turned to Jayden with a determined look on his face. “Who else is there, Jayd? Can you think of anyone else that he’s upset recently? Anything?”
“Brian, he was mean to Brian,” Jayden fumbled helplessly.
Ed shook his head. “A curate in a pub, wearing a full cassock is a pretty good alibi.” He smiled wanly at her. “You,” Jayden said, surprising him fully. “I saw you arguing. I heard McLean say, ‘How dare you?’ What was that over?”
“I’ve talked to the cops about that already,” Ed said warningly. “I will tell you, but not right now. You didn’t help your own case not corroborating that you saw me though, love.”
“Right,” Jayden replied and her tone was flat and disinterested, as though the rebuff had killed all sense of cooperation. “I should go,” she said, faking urgency. “I was meant to stay in the room while they were searching. Goodness knows what kind of a mess they’ve made.” She turned on her heel and was gone, her boots echoing over the stone floors and drowning out Ed’s impassioned plea for her to stay.
Jayden got back to her office to find her filing cabinet on its back on the reception floor, nuzzling next to Cam’s.
“We’re done here,” the blonde cop informed her. “If you could just sign to acknowledge that we’re taking these two cabinets please?”
“Just get lost,” Jayden retorted, inwardly astounded at her own rudeness. Lily McGowan giggled wickedly inside her, making her lips round with the smallest smirk. Left alone to grow up, Lily would have possessed all of her father’s dry wit and her mother’s forthright manner. Jayden snatched her coat from the closet where she had stowed it and grabbed her handbag from a hook behind the door.
The cops had been in the closet but clearly decided not to wrestle the huge fake tree down from the top shelf. It was heavy and took three strong congregation males to manhandle it each December. It was as though Christmas hadn’t officially started until some poor sucker had got back pain. Stuffing it back in was usually worse than getting it out because gravity was definitely working against them. “Lock up when you leave. Please.” Jayden commented bitingly, glancing at her precious, confiscated office keys on the wooden desk and swished out of the building and into the afternoon. Poor Sal had been forced to cancel everyone’s appointments and had gone home with stress. Hardly surprising.
At the end of the crazy paved walk, on the last turn before the church yard, Jayden literally ran into a tall elderly man. He caught her as she tumbled, accidentally yanking on her broken arm in his efforts to prevent her sprawling on the ground. She cried out in agony and was met with heartfelt apologies. “Cecil,” she said, trying to keep the painful catch out of her voice as she fought the ache in her elbow. “How are you?”
“I wanted to see young Campion if I may,” he said, removing his tweed cap and twisting it relentlessly in his hands. “I’m not really coping see, not with my Beryl gone. I thought he might be able to help me.”
Jayden rested her good hand gently on the man’s forearm. Poor Cecil. A memory came to her again, the faithful church organist, gaily and dutifully stroking the organ keys throughout the dreadful cancer that had begun in her lymph nodes and eaten at her body without relenting. Sporting a pretty pink headscarf, thoughtfully bought for her by the church ladies’ group to cover her embarrassment at her bald head, Beryl had issued sweet music for the services even up until the week before she had gone to meet her Lord. There was little wonder that Cecil Macdonald was bereft, just a few short months on. He was like an odd shoe, lonesome and useless without its mate. The grief process was a three-year cycle and there were no shortcuts, despite man’s attempts to manufacture many different cures.
“The police are all over the chu
rch, Cecil,” Jayden said gently, not sure if the man was even aware of what day it was, let alone that the vicar had plunged to his death over his favourite balcony. “I can get Cam to ring you tomorrow, or if you can’t wait, the curate is in the church. Do you want me to come back with you and...”
“Nay,” Cecil said dismissively. He was old school. A real Lincolnshire gentleman but his tone was uncharacteristically rough. “I don’t want to talk to that idiot!”
Jayden was startled until she realised that he was probably referring to McLean’s sidekick. Brian hadn’t been seen around much since his superior’s demise, but it was clear that his alibi had been thoroughly scrutinised. “Cecil,” Jayden called to him as he turned away from her, “do you still have a church key?” She felt mean asking, as though she was driving home some kind of final rejection, but the man shook his head slowly and answered,
“Nay lass. Vicar came t’ospital and took it off our Beryl. Two days afore she died. It was the only visit he paid my poor lass. Bastard!” The broken man clamped his cap down hard over his head, yanking it until it touched his ears. He waved a disconsolate hand over his shoulder at her, not even giving her a chance to explain that Ed was better than the ‘idiot.’ She contemplated going back in and getting Ed to go after the poor man, but shied away from the feelings she got when she was near him. It felt overwhelming. He had said that he was falling in love with her...but...
Don’t they always! Cynicism screeched at her from overhead. Her subconscious registered the half-truth as fact and with a shrug, Jayden set off home.
A nagging thought played on her mind all the way up the High Street, not seeming to want to go away. Why on earth would Brian go to the pub in his full rig out and make a loud and raucous scene for himself. Unless he was deliberately looking for an alibi. The pub he favoured was literally down the street, about five hundred metres to the south. It was a big Irish bar with sawdust on the floor and regular fights. He would often spend his lunch hour there and stagger back more than a little worse for wear, sleeping the afternoon away on a pew. He had gotten worse lately. The Reverend McLean had taken enormous delight in waking him up sharply in all manner of unkind ways, including cups of tea poured over him from the balcony.