‘I’ll do it myself if I have to. Push off, that’s an order from your CO.’
The return journey was completed in half the time it had taken her to get to the pool. She couldn’t quite take it in. If Mary had been killed by a bomb, or shot by a German fighter’s machine gun, then she would be able to understand. For someone to be knocked down by a passing car and then left like a bundle of rags to lie in a ditch all night was unbearable.
There was a car parked outside. The police inspector must be there. She was pleased she’d got back in time to support Jack. There was the sound of voices coming from the drawing room and she headed that way, then hesitated and diverted to the kitchen.
The kettle was gently steaming on the range and she quickly laid up a tray for five – surely there couldn’t be more than three policemen in there with Jack? Mary had saved ration points in order to buy enough dried eggs to make a small Christmas cake. Of course, it couldn’t be iced as that was forbidden, but they had all been looking forward to a slice on Christmas Eve.
It was appropriate to have it today. As far as she was concerned Christmas was cancelled and would be like any other day. She blinked furiously as she cut five small slices and arranged them on a pretty flowered plate.
Mary would have got out the best bone china, put sugar and milk on the tray along with the teapot and then taken it to be poured in front of the guests. Ellie strained the tea into five sturdy mugs, added the sugar bowl and teaspoons and carried it through.
Jack must have heard her as he was waiting at the door. ‘I’m glad Frankie gave you the day off. Detective Inspector Gardner and his sergeant have only just arrived.’
She nodded indicating she understood why he’d warned her. Detectives were only involved in crimes and she didn’t think that traffic accidents required them. Both grim-faced men stood up as she entered, and she smiled.
‘I’ve brought tea and cake. I think we’re going to need it.’
‘Mrs Reynolds, I’m sorry to be here in such appalling circumstances. There was no need to provide tea and cake but it’s much appreciated, thank you.’ The inspector looked around thirty. His job was obviously considered a reserved occupation. His sergeant looked past retirement but had intelligent eyes and came over to collect the tea and cake for his superior.
Jack balanced his plate with the cake on top of his mug and returned to the sofa. She joined him there. The policemen were sitting opposite in comfortable armchairs and looked out of place.
No one spoke as they devoured the delicious treat and drunk the tea. She had a horrible suspicion she wouldn’t want anything further to eat after she’d heard what they’d come to tell them.
‘Mr and Mrs Reynolds, no doubt you are puzzled as to why I’m here and not uniformed policemen.’ This was a rhetorical question so neither she nor Jack answered. ‘I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs Hatfield was murdered.’
She dropped her mug and tea splashed over her feet. She ignored it. Jack moved closer. Having him beside her was a comfort. He asked the obvious question as for some reason she was incapable of speech.
‘We were told she was knocked down by a car. How did she die, exactly?’
‘I apologise for the erroneous information you were given. Initially, the local police just assumed it was a road accident. However, after a preliminary medical examination the doctor told us she died from head injuries. Until the post-mortem I can’t tell you any more than that.’
‘Couldn’t the injuries have come from being hit by a vehicle?’
‘No, sir, they couldn’t.’ He glanced at her before continuing. ‘I don’t wish to upset your wife with further details.’
Finally, she found her voice. ‘When did she die, do you know that?’
‘The doctor thinks the time of death was between four and five yesterday afternoon. She would have died instantly.’
It was some small comfort to know that Mary hadn’t been lying in the ditch injured for hours. Jack had slid his arm around Ellie’s waist and she turned her head against his shoulder.
‘Inspector Gardner, do you have any suspects in mind?’
He looked grave. ‘Ma’am, sir, unfortunately, Mrs Hatfield had several enemies because of her dabbling with the occult. Were you aware of her involvement in this?’
‘We were. We thought it a harmless hobby for a group of elderly ladies. Perhaps someone took it more seriously.’ Jack was taking this very well. She was reeling from the idea that someone would murder an old lady because they didn’t like the fact that she thought she was a witch.
‘We have already interviewed those living in the vicinity of the crime but none of them had anything to report. I’m hoping you might know where she was going yesterday.’
Jack stood up and walked to the sideboard and then removed a pretty box. He took out a document and flicked it open. ‘I think you’ll find that these were the other women involved in this, Inspector.’
The anonymous sergeant scribbled down the names and addresses of the five women as Jack read them out.
‘Thank you, Mr Reynolds. I assume that’s a copy of Mrs Hatfield’s will.’ He held out his hand.
‘No, the contents are private. I’ve given you the information you need. I see no reason for you to take the document itself.’ Jack stared down at the policemen; he really was a formidable man when he chose to be.
‘This is a murder investigation, sir, and you’re withholding evidence.’
‘Do you have a warrant?’
The atmosphere changed from respectful to acrimonious. Both policemen stood up and no longer looked friendly – especially the inspector.
‘We don’t. However, one can be applied for…’
‘Jack, let him have it. In fact, we must let them search her room and anywhere else in case there are clues as to who might have wanted to kill her.’
His eyes narrowed and she thought he was going to refuse, but then he nodded. ‘I don’t like the idea of you pawing through her personal possessions but my wife is correct.’ He gestured to the box. ‘There are personal letters from her dead husband in there – I don’t think you need to read those. I certainly didn’t. There’s another document I haven’t looked at. Do you mind if I read it first?’
‘No, go ahead. I understand your reluctance, Mr Reynolds. This must be very difficult for both of you.’
*
Jack opened the other piece of paper. It was a birth certificate for a boy born in 1917. The name said the baby had been called Jonathan David Hatfield. Why did it say that the father was unknown? Mary had never mentioned having a child – had he died or had they just lost touch? Ellie was now beside him and he handed the paper to her. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t have a chance to see any of this first, but I just didn’t have the opportunity to tell you.’
She folded the certificate and put it back in the box and then handed this to the waiting inspector. ‘Do I have your permission for Sergeant Atkins to search Mrs Hatfield’s bedroom?’
‘You take him up, Ellie, and stay there whilst he does it. I want to talk to the inspector.’
He shouldn’t have told her what to do but asked her if she would mind – but too late to worry about that. He would smooth things over when they were alone.
The guy was scanning the will and the certificate and then quickly rifled through the other things without getting any of them out. ‘Mrs Hatfield was found a hundred yards from one of these addresses. I’ll start my enquiries there. Would you like me to contact the executors and set things in motion?’
‘Do that, thank you. I can’t believe that one of the husbands of these friends would be prepared to kill to prevent his wife participating in a coven. Although she didn’t have a lot, these friends of hers will receive around a hundred pounds each. Could any of the men stop them accepting it?’
‘Absolutely not. It’s not Victorian times, thank God. I notice in the will that Mrs Hatfield said you can have all of her possessions in this house. Would you mind telling me what these ite
ms might be?’
He decided at that moment not to mention the various trunks and boxes stored in the attic, or the large, locked shed which he hadn’t even been in. He couldn’t see that any of these things could possibly further the investigation. ‘All the furniture and so on still belong – belonged to her. There might be some other things in her room but I expect that your officer will find them.’
‘Do you intend to put an announcement in the paper?’
‘No. I’m sure the local rags will pick up on the story. I don’t suppose you have many murders around here. As she has no relatives, and doesn’t want a funeral, I’ll leave it to the solicitors to deal with anything that crops up.’
There were heavy feet on the stairs. The search of the bedroom was obviously complete. ‘Can I ask you to let me know of any developments, Inspector Gardner?’
‘Of course. If you find anything you think might be pertinent, please contact me.’ He withdrew a silver case, flicked it open and handed Jack his card.
‘Yes, I’ll do that. I doubt that there will be anything new to add on our part. I only moved here in September and my wife joined me a month ago. We don’t go to church and barely know anyone in the village as we both work every day and don’t get home until after dark.’
They shook hands and the two policemen departed.
‘Should we take the decorations down again? I don’t feel very festive anymore.’
‘No, Mary wouldn’t want us to, Ellie. What I think we’ve got to do is look in the attic and in the shed and see if there’s anything in either of them that we don’t want the police to find.’
Thirteen
The search of the attics revealed nothing more exciting than boxes of old clothes, discarded furniture and the detritus of a long life. Ellie didn’t want to look in the locked shed – not today.
‘I keep thinking about the baby, and the fact that he’s not mentioned in her will. Also why didn’t it have her husband’s name on it? If he had died surely there would have been a death certificate too?’
‘I was thinking that as well. She would have been quite old when she had the baby – it must have been a bit of a shock especially as her husband was dead.’ He banged his forehead with his hand. ‘There were no certificates apart from the birth. Don’t you think that odd?’
‘Of course, this means that she was never married. The baby was illegitimate and she must have been forced to have him adopted?’
‘I can’t think of any other explanation. I expect the detectives will work that out for themselves. I can’t remember if she said she’d been living here for long time. Maybe she moved here after she had the baby.’
This was too much information to process after the shock. ‘I’m going to have a bath and put more than five inches of water in it. If we get in together then we can put ten inches, can’t we?’
‘As nobody can possibly know how much we’ve used, I don’t think it matters. If you run it, I’ll shut up the birds as it’ll be dark soon.’
Nobody had called to offer their condolences – did this mean that the news of Mary’s murder hadn’t spread or that she was so cordially disliked nobody was prepared to pretend to be upset? The five other women who belonged to her circle must know by now as the police would have been banging on doors and taking statements all day.
It didn’t seem possible that one apparently harmless old lady could have aroused so much hate in the neighbourhood. The bath was filling up nicely, the room already steam filled, so she went to fetch their nightclothes and dressing gowns. They could have supper wearing those as there was nobody else to disapprove.
Goodness! She would have to telephone her mother and tell her what had happened. The family hadn’t met Mary or visited The Rookery so maybe it would be better not to say anything, especially as Fiona was due to have another baby in the New Year.
Jack arrived in the bedroom. ‘All done, and another egg. Is the bath ready?’
‘It is. I’ve turned off the taps and am just collecting our night things.’
He’d become adept at dressing and undressing and was down to his underpants before she’d removed her blouse and cardigan. When he stepped out of these her eyes widened. They wouldn’t be taking a bath for a while.
*
A considerable time later they were luxuriating in the deep, rose-scented water; he bravely sat at the tap end with a folded towel behind his neck, allowing her to have the more comfortable position.
‘I’m not sure the guys will appreciate me smelling of roses, sweetheart. Did you have to put the last of your bath salts in?’
His knees were above the water whereas hers were straight, but the room was so warm it didn’t matter.
‘Smelling of roses is supposed to be a good thing. There’s a saying about exactly that, isn’t there?’
‘I suppose it’s marginally better than smelling of engine oil and sweat.’ He hooked a foot under her arm and pulled her towards him. She slid along the bottom, sending a cascade of water out onto the floor.
‘Idiot – now look what you’ve done?’ She peered over the edge and the mat had been soaked by the deluge as had his pyjamas and her nightdress. ‘It’s a good thing our dressing gowns are hanging on the back of the door or we’d have nothing to put on.’
‘We don’t need anything. I’ve never made love in a bath. Care to give it a try?’
‘No, I certainly wouldn’t. There’d be a flood and it would go through the ceiling. I’m getting out so don’t try and stop me.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of doing so. You’re the little wifey and I shall laze about in here whilst you prepare me a delicious supper.’
She stepped out carefully, making sure she didn’t create a tidal wave, and once she was out of his arm’s reach, she leant over and turned on the cold tap. She snatched up a towel and her dressing gown but didn’t stay in the room to put them on, knowing him he would toss her back into the water as a punishment.
Her laughter faded. How could they be enjoying themselves when Mary had been murdered a few hours ago? They should be mourning her, not messing about like this. They were being disrespectful to someone who deserved better from them.
She was dried and dressed in a clean nightie and dressing gown and on her way downstairs before he emerged. ‘Supper will be in half an hour, Jack.’
‘I’m just having a shave, might as well do it now so I don’t have to do it in the morning.’
The house was different, empty somehow, and she shivered. There was a tin of sardines in the pantry and the remains of a loaf so they could have scrambled eggs on one piece and grilled sardines on the other. Mary had made their bread – what would they do about food and so on now?
He was more subdued when he came in and put his arms around her as she did the eggs. ‘Doesn’t seem right without her, does it? If I find the bastard who did this before the cops do…’
‘Then I hope that you don’t. I know exactly how you feel but you’d end up dangling on the end of a rope instead of him.’ Her stomach clenched. ‘There’s more than enough death at the moment so I hope whoever did it isn’t hung. It would be far worse for him to spend the rest of his life in prison.’
‘I suppose you’re right. I think that hanging someone’s more punishment for the family than the person. It’s supposed to be a deterrent to others – but I think being locked up for decades would be far worse.’
‘Let’s not talk about something so morbid anymore. Would you make the toast? This will be ready in a minute.’
There was no butter and they both disliked the margarine they were supposed to use instead. The smell of freshly made toast usually made her hungry but she picked at her food, finding it difficult to swallow.
He reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Try and eat it, darling, we didn’t have any lunch remember.’
She managed the scrambled eggs and one slice of toast but he finished his and polished off her sardines as well. ‘There’s no milk so there won’t be any cocoa and tea
will have to be drunk black. I wonder why the milkman didn’t come this morning?’
Jack jumped to his feet sending his chair flying. ‘I bet it’s somewhere outside. I’ve never brought it in, Mary always does it. Do you know where he leaves it?’
‘In the front porch, surely we would have seen it when we opened the door for the police?’
‘I’ll go and check. We had other things on our minds than a bottle of milk.’
The thought of being able to have a mug of cocoa was immensely cheering. She heard his yell of triumph echo through the house and she went to the pantry to fetch the precious tin of cocoa. This wasn’t in its normal place but at the back of the shelf. The vegetable boxes were in the way and she pushed them aside with her foot. Her hand froze halfway to the shelf. Why had she never noticed this before?’
*
He grabbed the bottle and returned inside before the sliver of light could be seen by a vigilant warden. What they both needed was a cup of cocoa – it would be even better if he had some whiskey to tip into it.
‘Honey, where are you?’ The kitchen was empty but he could hear movement in the pantry.
‘In here, Jack.’ Her voice sounded odd; he dumped the milk on the central table and rushed in to see what was bothering her.
‘What’s that on the floor? It looks like a handle.’
‘It is. Those veg boxes have been covering it.’ He dropped down and gave it an experimental tug. It didn’t shift. ‘There must be steps into the cellar under that trapdoor. Give me a hand and we’ll see if we can lift it.’
‘I’m not sure I want to investigate right now. The fact that Mary kept the trapdoor secret must mean she didn’t want us to look down there. Do you mind awfully if we leave it for a few days?’
He gripped the side of the dresser to steady himself as he stood up. ‘Better push the boxes back in case they come back for another snoop.’
They took their cocoa into the drawing room. He poked the fire into life, threw on a couple of logs, and joined her on the sofa.
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