by Roger Keevil
“And that was the last time you saw him?” asked Copper, turning over yet another page of his rapidly-filling notebook.
“Yes. Oh! No! I tell a lie!”
“Well, now, you wouldn’t want to lie to the police, would you, madam?”
“Of course not, sergeant. But that wasn’t the last time I saw Horace. Of course, I don’t know whether it matters …”
“You never know when this information is going to be helpful, madam,” coaxed Copper. “So when was it then?”
“It was the other day … it must have been Tuesday. I was on my way to the church, because I do the flowers every second Tuesday and every third Friday, and it was my turn, although I’m sure that if I didn’t mark it on the calendar I’d never be there at the right time. All of us in the Flower Society do our bit to help out, and the vicar is such a dear sweet man, and it must have come as an awful shock to him, finding Horace the way he did, but you know what they say, ‘In the midst of life, we are in death’, although I’m sure Mr. Pugh didn’t expect to have to take the Bible quite so literally … or is it the Book of Common Prayer …?” Amelia tailed off and looked expectantly at the detectives. “I don’t suppose you remember which, do you?”
Inspector Constable shook himself slightly. “Be that as it may, Miss Cook, I think you were going to tell us when you saw Mr. Cope.”
“Oh. Yes. Silly me. Well, it was then. Horace was walking up the lane from the church just as I arrived. I didn’t speak to him, though.”
“So that was all, was it?” The inspector was disappointed.
“Yes, I’m afraid so, inspector. I did the flowers while the bell-ringing practice was going on, and I hadn’t quite finished when it ended, and I came past the vestry door, and Lady Lawdown was in there looking through some papers.”
“With anyone else?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone, but then, most of the bell-ringers go out of the small side door at the bottom of the tower, so I wouldn’t normally see them. I expect the vicar was about somewhere, because I’d seen him earlier on, but I hadn’t really been paying much attention because I was concentrating on making the flowers nice.”
“So you didn’t actually speak to anyone at all?”
“Well, only to say ‘Evening, Your Ladyship!’ Poor Sandra, I must have taken her quite by surprise, because she jumped like a startled ferret, bundled something into her handbag, and was off like a shot! It was quite funny, really. So then I just topped up the water in all the vases and came home, by which time of course Horace was long gone. So I really do think that’s all I can tell you.”
Inspector Constable let out a long breath. “We’re very grateful, madam. I’m sure we shall find the copious notes which my sergeant has taken most enlightening.” He raised his eyebrows invitingly at Dave Copper.
“Absolutely, sir. I’m sure I’ve got everything.”
“Then we’ll leave you to get on with it, Miss Cook. Thank you once again. Come along, Copper.”
“It’s no trouble, inspector,” warbled Amelia. “If there’s anything else you want to know, please don’t hesitate to ask. You can always find me at the Copper Kettle. Oh, sergeant …” Her hand went to her mouth. “I’ve been talking on, and I never got you your piece of cake.”
“I’ll … er … I’ll have it another time, madam,” spluttered Copper, and the two detectives escaped into the corridor.
“Good lord, can she talk?” gasped Dave Copper, flexing the fingers of his writing hand.
“Quite so, sergeant,” responded Andy Constable, “which is why I shut you up on the subject of trawling through Horace Cope’s computer and safe. The last thing I want to do is to create the impression with someone who is obviously one of Dammett Worthy’s keenest gossips that we do not stick carefully to official procedures. So watch it.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Copper. “Still, you can’t beat a bit of gossip for finding out stuff about people, can you? Sounds as if Miss Laura Biding has got some sort of secret, doesn’t it?”
“Not just her, by the sound of it. What do you make of that business about Helen Highwater’s book, or Lady Lawdown fiddling about in the church? I think they’ve all got some sort of secret lurking in there. Ah well, it makes our job that much more interesting, I suppose. Right then, sergeant. Let’s see what else we can find out. Onward and upward!”
Chapter 8
Back in the hall, Dave Copper turned to Andy Constable.
“What next, then, sir?”
“Who rather than what, I think, sergeant. We’re overdue for a chat with the vicar, if he’s back in the land of the living. So let’s find out where they’ve put him.” He knocked on the door of the drawing room and led the way in. Six faces turned to him expectantly.
Lady Lawdown rose and crossed the room briskly towards the detectives. “Dear inspector, I do hope you aren’t going to keep us penned up in here all day. Have you managed to sort out this horrible business yet?”
Andy Constable smiled. “I’m sorry, your ladyship, but I’m afraid these things take a little longer than that. But I think we’re making progress. In the meantime, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask everyone to stay put for a little longer, if you don’t mind. I know Miss Cook has managed to keep you supplied with provisions, and I’m sure you’re not too uncomfortable in here. At least it’s a lot cosier than the police station.”
Lady Lawdown looked shocked. “The police station?” she echoed. “Do you mean … Are you seriously telling me that we are suspects? For heaven’s sake, man, look at us!”
Five pairs of eyes declined to meet the inspector’s.
“I’m saying exactly that, I’m afraid, your ladyship, unless and until I have better information which rules some or all of you out.”
“But that’s ludicrous!” retorted Lady Lawdown. “Why on earth would any of us have the slightest reason to murder Horace Cope? It’s far more likely to have been some hooligan from one of the other villages. I have them up in front of me all the time in the magistrates court. That’s it – it’s some sort of mugging or robbery, and someone’s got carried away.”
“That, I think, is one motive we can rule out,” replied Constable. “As for others … well, we shall just have to continue to investigate. Which leads me to my next question – can you tell me where the Vicar is? I need to find out what he can tell us.”
Lady Lawdown seemed to calm down a little. “Of course, inspector. Poor dear man, I hope he’s feeling up to speaking to you.”
“You worry too much, Sandra,” interposed Seymour Cummings. “The old boy’s been in the village for donkey’s years. I should think there isn’t much he hasn’t seen. He’s a tough old bird, inspector. I think you’ll be surprised.”
Lady Lawdown looked unconvinced. “If you say so, Seymour. Laura, I think he’s in the Chinese Bedroom, isn’t he, darling. Show the gentlemen the way, would you. It seems the rest of us had better stay here, as the inspector insists. I think I need to make a telephone call.”
“If you’d just lead on, miss,” said Constable, standing aside for Laura. He paused at the door. “By the way, your ladyship, if it’s not too much of an inconvenience, I’d be glad if you didn’t make any telephone calls just for the moment.” He turned to Dave Copper and muttered under his breath as they left the room, “Especially not to the Chief Constable.” The door closed behind them.
At the head of the stairs, Laura Biding turned left and led the way along a short corridor. She tapped on a door and put her head around it. “Only me, Mr. Pugh. How are you feeling?” she asked, and in response to the murmured reply, stood back to let the officers into the room. “I’ll be downstairs, inspector, with the others,” she said, and disappeared towards the hall.
The curtains to the Chinese Bedroom were partially drawn, lending the room an atmosphere of gloom. In the twilight, exotic richly-coloured birds flew among groves of bamboo overlooking a distant river disappearing into a go
rge between misty blue mountains, while in the undergrowth, golden pheasants strutted with a haughty air. Around the room, spindly bamboo chairs alternated with heavily-lacquered elaborately carved cabinets in sombre shades of red and gold. Fretted black wooden screens partially concealed a huge bed draped in heavily-embroidered silk curtains. And, small and huddled into insignificance in the centre of the bed, the grey-suited figure of the Reverend Ivor Pugh. The vicar struggled into a sitting position and turned his pale face towards the detectives. A faint aroma of whisky surrounded him.
“I’m really sorry to have to disturb you, sir.” Inspector Constable was at his most soothing.
“No, no, please do come in … inspector, did Laura say?”
“That’s right, sir. I’m Detective Inspector Constable, and this is Sergeant Copper. I know you’ve had something of an unsettling experience, but I’m afraid we do need to find out what you can tell us about Mr. Cope’s death.”
“No, inspector, I quite understand,” replied the vicar, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and visibly appearing to concentrate his mind. “One has to do one’s duty, and you must ask your questions, and I’ll do my best to answer them. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to speak to you sooner, but it was …well, you know, the shock. Finding Horace like that. I suppose when you’ve lived in the world as long as I have, you should be used to all sorts of things, but when you see something like that …” His voice tailed off, and his gaze became unfocussed.
“We have seen Mr. Cope’s body, Mr. Pugh, so we can appreciate that it would have been deeply unpleasant when you discovered him, so we’ll cover that as quickly as we can. How did it come about exactly?”
Ivor Pugh took a deep breath. “I’d arrived to open the fete as arranged with Lady Lawdown,” he said, “and I think I was one of the first to arrive. Oh no – I believe Helen was here before me.” He turned to Dave Copper who had seated himself gingerly on one of the bamboo chairs to the side of the bed. “That’s Helen Highwater, sergeant.”
“That’s perfectly alright, sir,” replied Copper. “We have met the others, so we know who everyone is. Do carry on.”
“Lady Lawdown had arranged a little drinks party beforehand as she usually does, but I expect you know that already,” resumed the vicar. “Twelve o’clock, she said, because I was due to open the fete at one. It’s all in aid of the church roof, you know. Well, I say all, but of course Lady Lawdown and I have an arrangement to share the proceeds. I honestly couldn’t tell you whose roof is more in need of repair, you know – hers or mine! But that’s all by the by – I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered by such matters. Laura was here already, of course – I could see her as I was coming up the drive, still organising things. That girl is an absolute blessing to her mother, inspector. Anyway, Mr. Cope and his cousin arrived just after I did.”
“Did you notice whether Mr. Cope seemed nervous or upset in any way?” interrupted Constable.
“Oh, quite the reverse, inspector. He was quite bubbling over with good humour. He was full of smiles and winks, almost as if he was enjoying some huge private joke. I remember, he made a sort of announcement of how perfect everyone looked sitting there, but to me, it all sounded a little false.”
“Can you remember exactly what he said, sir?” enquired Copper.
Ivor Pugh frowned in recollection. “Not really, sergeant. It was all about Laura being so pretty, and her mother being the perfect lady, and how useful Albert was, and something about Helen’s books, and then he made some rather acid remarks about Robin and Seymour, but of course they weren’t there to hear them, so I suppose he felt free to let the cloven hoof show through a little. Oh heavens, what on earth am I saying?” He turned to Andy Constable. “Do please disregard that, inspector. That was quite unforgivable.”
“De mortuis nil nisi bonum, vicar, is that it?” quoted Constable to Dave Copper’s evident surprise. “I’m afraid in our line of work, speaking ill of the dead is sometimes the only way to reach the truth. So anyway, Mr. Cope made these remarks …?”
“For which I couldn’t see any particular point, inspector, except that they served to make everyone feel a little uncomfortable. It was rather like a bad stage performance. Anyway, Mr. Cope went out to his tent very soon after that, and Albert went out after him a few minutes later. But I can’t tell you much about anyone else, because I had to pop out to see Brown Owl. The Brownies, sergeant,” he added in response to Dave Copper’s quizzical look. “And by the time I came back into the drawing room, Robin Allday and Seymour Cummings were there with the others. And then it was coming up to one o’clock, and Laura said she had forgotten to unlock the gate for people to come through and see Mr. Cope, and Sandra asked me if I would do it, so of course I said yes.”
“So it was Lady Lawdown who sent you out to the Secret Garden?” enquired Constable. “Any particular reason, did she say?”
“Oh, only to save Laura the bother, inspector,” replied the vicar hastily. “I really don’t think you should read anything into it. Besides, she particularly asked me to pop in to see Mr. Cope to make sure that he was all ready.”
Andy Constable smiled ruefully. “Sorry, reverend. You’ll have to forgive my suspicious nature. I’m afraid it’s part of the job. So what happened when you went outside?”
Reverend Pugh took a deep breath. “I’d taken Lady Lawdown’s key to the gate, so I was on my way to unlock it, and as I passed the tent I called out ‘Are you all ready, Mr Cope?’ But he didn’t answer. So I thought I’d better make sure he was there, because there wouldn’t be much point in letting people in if he’d gone off somewhere, would there? So I put my head in through the flap of the tent, and there he was.”
“So what did you do, sir?” put in Dave Copper.
“I really didn’t know what to do, sergeant,” answered the vicar. “I went a little closer, but I could see that it was clear that he was dead. I didn’t touch anything, though,” he added anxiously. “But there was obviously nothing I could do for the poor man, so my first thought was to get back to the others and tell them. If you can call it a thought. I think I may have been a little muddled by then. I’d probably had a little more whisky than I ought to have done.” He smiled weakly and made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I’m sorry, inspector – I don’t suppose that helps you at all, does it?”
“Every little helps, vicar,” replied Constable. “It all builds up the picture. But there’s one thing which I’ve noticed. Everyone else refers to the dead man as Horace. You call him Mr. Cope. I don’t wish to be impertinent, but were you not on good terms with the gentleman?”
The vicar shifted evasively. “Please don’t think that, inspector. It wasn’t a personal feeling at all. I hope that I know my Christian duty – we are commanded to love all our flock. But no – I’m afraid that I couldn’t approve of the way Mr. Cope earned his living.”
Dave Copper looked up from his notebook. His eyebrows rose. “Really, sir? How do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean the supernatural, sergeant. I always said all this modern mania for meddling about with occult powers would come to no good. All these television programmes about vampires and the like, and people talking about alternative moralities, and all these so-called magic shops selling tarot cards and spells and … what are they called … dream-catchers. I don’t believe in fortune-telling.”
Dave Copper was taken aback at the vicar’s sudden vehemence. “But this business that Mr. Cope was supposed to do at the fete today – surely that was just a bit of harmless fun, sir?”
Reverend Pugh looked highly sceptic. “Hmmm. You may think it harmless, sergeant, but there are some very malign forces at work in this village. Yes, you may well look surprised, but it all goes back to pagan times. I can tell you all about it if you like.”
“But I thought …” Dave Copper was puzzled.
“Not that I have a personal interest, of course,” explained the vicar. “But in my sort of job, it p
ays to know your enemy, if you see what I mean.”
“Quite so, sir,” commented Andy Constable. “But you mentioned malign forces. So what sort of things would these be?”
“There’s the Dammett Well, for instance.”
“What, the village pub’s a malign force?” grinned Dave Copper. “That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it, vicar?”
“No, sergeant,” said the vicar with a touch of asperity. “Not the pub – that was named after the well. I mean the Well itself.”
“Sorry, sir – I’m not with you.”
Reverend Pugh took a deep breath. “The Dammett Well, sergeant, is a spring in the churchyard, just behind the Lady Chapel. I’m told it’s prehistoric – it’s believed to have been some sort of Druid fertility shrine.”
“I imagine that would be something of an embarrassment to the Church, reverend, having a pagan shrine on church premises,” commented Andy Constable.
“Oh, not at all, inspector,” replied the vicar. “Quite the reverse, in fact. The early Christians were always re-using pagan religious sites when they built their first churches, you know. It meant they came with a ready-made congregation. Of course, there’s no activity of that kind going on these days – although sometimes when the local girls get married, they like to leave their bridal bouquets at the well after they’ve done the photographs in the churchyard.”
“And they do that because …” Dave Copper’s pencil was poised.
The vicar grew slightly pink. “As I say, sergeant, it was a fertility shrine, so you must draw your own conclusions. I try not to think too hard about their reasons. Particularly as half of them seem to have their own children acting as attendants during the wedding.” Reverend Pugh cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m rather old-fashioned in some ways – I really would prefer to have the weddings come before the christenings, but we all have to move with the times, I suppose. I’m grateful that the young people want to come to church at all.”