by Leo McNeir
“Hold it there,” he said. “I wouldn’t come any closer.”
“What is it?” Ralph asked.
Donovan made no reply. He looked back to the canal, shining his torch down. There was a sizeable gap in the ice at the water’s edge. At first no-one could tell what he meant. Then, one by one, they realised they were staring down at a face a few inches below the surface. It was the colour of ice, both eyes closed, the lips slightly parted.
Marnie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said in a muffled voice.
Beside her, Anne gasped. Ralph was silent. On the bank Ben was examining his hands. In the shadow, his palms appeared to be black. Another absurd thought for Marnie. She found herself thinking, I’m dreaming of a black Christmas.
Ralph directed his torch directly at Ben. In the beam of light they could see the boy’s hands were covered in blood.
Chapter 25
Mr Meadows
“It was Mr Meadows.”
On Friday Marnie was sitting at the desk in Ralph’s study on Thyrsis, using her mobile while he was in the shower. He had given up on his morning walk; the police had cordoned off the towpath where the body had been found, and access to the accommodation bridge was barred.
“Mr Meadows?” Beth repeated. “Have we met him? Did he live in the village?”
“No. He was Ben’s teacher.”
Marnie had phoned her sister first thing so that she had the news direct before hearing it on the radio.
“So why was he down by the canal?”
“Good question. We’ve all been wondering about that.”
“Hey, wait a minute.” Beth paused. “Why are you phoning me, Marnie?”
“Why am I …? Beth, you know why I’m phoning you. To tell you about –”
“The police are treating this as a suspicious death, aren’t they?”
“Of course not. It’s just an accident.”
“You think it’s murder, don’t you? Is that what the police think? Is that why you phoned?”
“Beth –”
“Do I take it you’re entertaining Inspector Wotsisname again and Sergeant Thingummy?”
Marnie sighed. “No. We’ve just had uniformed officers here. Bartlett and Marriner are CID.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Marnie. You seem to attract this kind of trouble like a magnet.”
“Beth, it’s hardly –”
“Oh no, don’t tell me. You’re not being treated as a suspect, are you?”
“No. Of course not. Technically we’re –”
“I know: you’re just helping the police with their enquiries. Do you know if they have a suspect?”
“There’s no question of anyone being a suspect, Beth. And since when did the police tell me – or anyone else – anything?”
“I thought you got on all right with that sergeant guy.”
“DS Marriner?”
“That’s the one. I thought you usually got things from him, straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
Beth found herself listening to silence. Marnie’s thoughts had drifted away. The horse’s mouth, she thought. What could Poppy tell us if she could speak? Marnie’s last sight of the horse while crossing the bridge back to Glebe Farm was of Ben and Poppy standing together on the towpath, surrounded by police officers. One of them was drawing attention to hoof-prints in the bloody snow at the canal’s edge. Another was examining the horse’s hooves.
“Marnie? You still there?”
“Sure. Er, look, Beth, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got work to do before my day gets taken over by the police crawling all over Glebe Farm.”
“Try not to get arrested.”
“I’ve told you, it’s not that kind of situation. It’s a routine matter, an unfortunate accident.”
“If you say so.”
“Beth, just take my word for it. When the likes of Bartlett and Marriner arrive on the scene, then we’ll know we’ve got trouble, okay?”
*
Detective Sergeant Marriner of the county CID knocked on the half-open door of the school secretary’s office and walked in, followed by Detective Constable Cathy Lamb. The secretary looked up from typing a letter and studied them over the top of her glasses: Marriner, middle-aged and burly, Lamb younger with shoulder-length fair hair.
“Good morning, Mrs Paxton. We’d like to see the head teacher, please.”
The secretary remained motionless for several seconds before speaking.
“What name shall I give?”
“I think you know who we are, Mrs Paxton.”
“Aren’t you supposed to produce identification?” Her tone was cold.
Marriner held her gaze for some time, then reached into his pocket and took out a warrant card. Cathy Lamb quickly followed suit.
“Detective Sergeant Marriner, Detective Constable Lamb, to see Mrs Giles.”
Valerie Paxton stood up and walked slowly towards the head’s office door.
“Wait here. I’ll see if she’s available.”
“This is an important matter,” Marriner said quietly. “We wish to see her now.”
“As I said, I’ll see if –”
“Now,” Marriner repeated.
Before Valerie took another step the door opened and Margaret Giles appeared.
“I thought I heard voices. Good morning. It’s Sergeant Marriner, isn’t it, and Miss Lamb? Please come in.” She and stood aside in the doorway. “Has Valerie offered you coffee?”
“No, thank you, Mrs Giles. This is just a brief call. We need to go over a few points relating to the incident involving your colleague.”
“Incident,” said Valerie Paxton. “I’m sure it was no accident.”
“Valerie!” said Mrs Giles. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, what do you mean?” said Marriner. “Did you witness what happened?”
“Well, no. I’m only saying it’s strange that Mr Meadows went to see that boy and his mother and ended up –”
“I think you’ve said enough, Valerie.” Mrs Giles turned to the detectives. “I think we’re all feeling rather distraught at what’s happened, sergeant. Shall we go into my office?”
*
Ralph accompanied a uniformed police sergeant to the bridge. He was surprised that Donovan had chosen to go with him and even more surprised at Donovan’s choice of clothing. Instead of the habitual black and dark grey, he was wearing a red ski-jacket and white jeans, topped off with a woolly hat in bright yellow.
“You said that a group of you came out here together, sir,” the officer began. “Why was that?”
“The horse was missing from her stable,” said Ralph. “We were concerned about her.”
“How many of you were involved?”
“In addition to myself there was Marnie Walker, my partner, her associate Anne Price and …” Ralph turned to indicate Donovan.
“Nikolaus,” said Donovan. ‘… Smith. I’m a friend, visiting.”
“You don’t live in the area, sir?”
“No. I arrived the day before yesterday from Germany.”
“You live in Germany?”
“Partly. I’m studying in London.”
He pulled two cards from his pocket and offered them to the policeman. One was a British student union card, the other a German ID card. To Ralph it seemed a singularly German action, handing over his papers to an official. The sergeant took them and examined them briefly before handing them back. His expression was quizzical.
“Smith?”
Donovan smiled. “I’m English on my father’s side, German on my mother’s.”
“His father and I were colleagues at Oxford some years ago,” Ralph explained. “I’ve known Nikolaus since he was six years old.”
“And did you know Mr Meadows?” the sergeant asked Donovan.
Donovan shook his head. “I’d never heard of him until last night.”
“Nor I,” said Ralph. “Or rather, I had heard of him as Ben’s class teacher, but we’d
never met.”
“You were in no doubt that the body was that of Mr Meadows when you discovered him?”
“Ben recognised him,” Ralph said.
“Even though he was under the water and it was dark?”
“We shone torches into the canal. You could see the face quite clearly.”
“Ben was already kneeling by the canal when you arrived, is that correct, sir?”
“Yes.”
The sergeant looked at Donovan, who nodded. The officer continued his questions.
“Did the boy seem surprised to find his teacher in the water?”
“Surprised?” said Ralph. “He looked shocked.”
Donovan agreed. “Stunned.”
“I want you to think carefully before answering my next question.” The officer looked from Ralph to Donovan. “At what point did you notice he had blood on his hands?”
Ralph frowned. The questions were leading in a direction he found disturbing.
*
It had troubled Margaret Giles that DS Marriner had asked Valerie Paxton to join them in her office. She wanted to warn the detectives that her secretary was prone to ill-considered outbursts more rooted in prejudice than in facts. Now, that opportunity had passed. They remained standing while Marriner spoke.
“Can you tell me why Mr Meadows went to the canal yesterday evening?”
“He went at my request,” said Margaret. “He was going to discuss Ben’s future with his mother.”
“Isn’t it more usual for a parent to come up to the school for that kind of discussion? Wouldn’t it be easier for her to pop in when collecting her son at the end of the day?”
Margaret hesitated for a moment before replying and Valerie jumped in.
“He wasn’t at the school. He’d left.”
“Then couldn’t she have come in the next day?” Marriner asked.
“He wasn’t a pupil here any more,” Valerie said quickly. “He’d left the school for good.”
Marriner frowned. “I don’t understand.” He turned to Margaret. “I thought you said Mr Meadows had gone to discuss Ben’s future.”
“After the incident at the gate, the boy –”
“Valerie!” Margaret held up a hand. “Please. This isn’t helping.”
“What incident?” Marriner asked.
In the background, Cathy Lamb had begun scribbling in a notebook.
“A few days ago,” said Margaret, “Ben’s mother came to meet him with their horse. There was some shuffling about by the gate and Mr Meadows led Willow away by the arm. Ben became upset at this. It was all very unfortunate.”
“Willow?” said Marriner.
“Their name is Haycroft,” Margaret explained, “but she likes to be known as Willow.”
“She’s a hippy,” Valerie interjected. “An itinerant.”
“They live on a canal boat,” said Margaret, exasperated.
“Pulled along by a horse, like gypsies.” Valerie’s eyes were blazing. “That’s no way to bring up a child.”
“The boy was upset?” Marriner asked. “With Mr Meadows?”
“Unfortunately, he took Willow rather firmly by the arm and, well, you could say he manhandled her away.”
“You witnessed this, Mrs Giles?”
“Yes.”
“And what did Ben do?”
“He threatened Mr Meadows.” Valerie blurted out. “Warned him never to touch her again.”
“As I told you, sergeant, he was upset.”
“But he did threaten Mr Meadows,” Valerie insisted.
Margaret sighed. “He’s a boy of ten. You can’t judge him as you would an adult. Children say things when under stress.”
Valerie persisted. “And there’s that horse, great lump of a thing. It had already almost knocked people over, had no right to be on the pavement at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if –”
Margaret took hold of the secretary’s arm. “Valerie, you’re letting your imagination run away with you and – if you’ll forgive me saying this – your prejudices. Mr Marriner is interested in establishing the facts. We need to help him do so. Unfounded opinions based on speculation only confuse matters.”
Marriner said, “Thank you, Mrs Giles. I couldn’t have put it –”
At that moment there came a knock on the door and a man looked in. Margaret let out a small gasp.
“Oh, sorry,” the man said. “There was no-one in the outer office. I didn’t realise you had visitors. I’ll wait outside.”
“It’s Mr Meadows,” Valerie said in a hushed voice.
Chapter 26
Identification
There were no hangovers on Sally Ann on Saturday morning. The headaches came later. There had been no further snowfall overnight and, looking out from the galley while preparing breakfast, Marnie sincerely hoped there would be no more that day, that month, that winter.
Marnie bent down to give Dolly a bowl of fresh water, and when she straightened up, she saw Anne coming towards the boat. She was walking alone from the direction of the stable barn.
The atmosphere in the cabin was subdued. The thought that Mr Meadows had died just a few yards from their mooring hung over the group like a shroud. Ralph began pouring coffee.
“Poppy okay?” said Marnie.
Anne nodded. “She’s fine. Quite calm now.”
“No Donovan?”
Marnie and Ralph looked at Anne, who shrugged.
“I haven’t seen him this morning.”
“Did you notice if any lights were on in the cottage?” Marnie asked.
“Yes, I think there were.”
“It’s kind of eerie, isn’t it?” said Marnie.
“Oh, I expect he’ll be along when he’s ready.” Ralph took his seat at the table. “He knows where to come for breakfast.”
“No, I meant it’s strange there’s no sign of the police at all.”
“They may not have established the cause of death yet,” said Ralph. “It could’ve been accidental.”
“I suppose so.”
Anne put a basket of warm rolls on the table. “Here’s Donovan now,” she said.
Marnie looked out to see the red ski-jacket emerging from the spinney. “It’s odd. I can’t get used to him wearing such colourful clothes. It’s just not his style.”
Anne lowered her voice. “I think that’s the idea, Marnie. If he’s going to be seen by the police, he doesn’t want them thinking of the young man in black who was around at the time of the Brandon trouble.”
Over breakfast Donovan announced that he needed to get back to London. He had finished tidying the cottage and only had to pack his belongings in the car. Anne offered to help and would ride with him up to the post office to collect the mail.
While on his second cup of coffee, Donovan said to Marnie, “Is everything all right with you?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
“You keep looking out of the window, as if you were expecting something.”
“I suppose I’m wondering about the police, whether – or more likely when – they’ll be coming back.”
Donovan drained his cup and stood up. “My cue to leave, I think.”
Clearing the table, Marnie watched Anne and Donovan heading into the spinney.
“D’you think he’s doing the right thing, Ralph?”
“Hard to tell. He certainly needs to get back to his course, so returning to London shouldn’t seem out of the ordinary for a student.”
“Yes, he’s obviously trying to behave as normally as possible.”
“Normally,” Ralph repeated. “Yes, but then, what is normal behaviour for the day after finding a dead body virtually on your doorstep?”
*
Ronny Cope took his usual short cut through the churchyard on his way to the shop. As he walked, he muttered to himself about the unreliability of younger brothers. His brother Tim had been supposed to bring home some groceries when he finished his paper round that morning. Had he remembered? No. Could he go b
ack and fetch them? No. He had a swimming club session to attend and he had a lift from one of the other parents, so he was pressed for time.
Crunching along the path between the graves, Ronny paused at the church gate to dislodge encrusted snow from his boots. As he kicked against the stone wall, he looked absentmindedly along the high street and on a reflex drew back out of sight. Thirty yards away he saw Anne standing beside a black VW parked opposite the shop. Kneeling beside her was Donovan, fiddling with one of the car’s wheels.
When Ronny looked out again, Donovan was standing talking to Anne, rolling up what seemed to be a small rope ladder. He went round to the front of the car and tucked the object into the luggage compartment, which he lowered with a clang.
Ronny squirmed when Donovan kissed Anne before climbing into the car. Raging internally, Ronny vowed there and then never to see her again. He watched Anne wave Donovan off before she crossed the road and entered the shop. Bending down, he gathered a handful of snow, compressed it into a ball and threw it as high and hard as he could at the church tower.
At that moment, Angela Hemingway, the vicar of St John’s church, drove up and parked her car close to the gate. Getting out, she saw Ronny throw his snowball and smiled to herself at youthful high spirits. By the time she had locked the car door and crossed the pavement, Ronny had vanished.
*
Marnie was sitting at her desk in the office barn, reading through the to-do list, when the phone rang. She was surprised to hear Margaret Giles’s voice on the line.
“Are you in the office today, Marnie?”
“Yes.”
A pause. “Are you very busy?”
“What d’you have in mind?”
“I was wondering if you’d be able to come for coffee.”
“Where?”
“In school.”
“You’re in on a Saturday?”
“Actually, I’m trying to catch up with paperwork. You’ve no idea how much there is nowadays. Also, I’ve come to see Valerie.”
“You’re both at the school today?”
“No. It’s complicated. I’ll explain when I see you.”
*
Anne pulled off her boots in the entrance when she returned to the office and banged the snow off against the outside wall before setting them down on newspaper inside the door. Marnie looked up.