Death in Elysium

by Judith Cutler

  ‘Bloody right I am.’

  ‘By whom? Call your mum and tell her not to expect you just yet and absolutely not to touch the bikes, OK? And yes, to go to bed. She works nights,’ I said in an aside to Elaine. ‘And then you’ll have a word with Dave. He’ll know what to do.’ For all I hoped to sound positive, I knew, as I took the tray into the living room, that this could have very serious implications for Mazza.

  ‘Ah, mine hostess with the nectar I spoke of!’ Dave declared, as expansive as if he were Falstaff and I a serving wench. ‘No? Jodie, what’s the problem?’

  I told him.

  ‘Shit.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘And tenuous as it may seem, I think there’s a connection with the wires on the paths and Jodie’s slashed tyres, too.’

  ‘Tyres?’ All too clearly he didn’t know what Dave was talking about.

  ‘Ah, I was getting round to that,’ Dave said.

  ‘Enough theorizing, Dave. Mazza’s in big trouble. He’s still talking to his mum on the phone – while I go and get him, work out what he should do to get out of it.’

  By now off the phone, the poor kid was trying to escape Elaine’s interrogation. The police might be slow and overstretched, but surely wouldn’t pass up a chance to nab a whole load of stolen items and the person allegedly handling them; in fact the very pressure they were under to get good clean-up rates might make them act swiftly.

  He couldn’t have stolen those bikes – could he?

  ‘I’m sorry, Elaine. Dave needs to work on a plan for Mazza right now. His police experience should be invaluable.’ Putting an arm round Mazza’s shoulders, I propelled him towards the living room.

  Daniel was holding up a hand. ‘Hang on, Dave. All this sounds like a job for the police, not me. There’s no point in us getting involved if it’s part of a wider investigation. Our budget—’

  ‘Of course it’s your budget, isn’t it? Look, though I’m sure Jodie’s right, for the time being forget what she said. Everything. And just take yourself up there and see if you can see any more of these – these obstructions. Go on, you say yes and I’m sure she’ll give you a better cup of coffee.’

  ‘She is here,’ I said tartly, ‘and so is Mazza. Just cut the cackle, Dave, we need a plan. Now, before someone grasses Mazza up. I’ll send him back in here. Sorry, Daniel.’

  Daniel took the hint. ‘I’ll take a stroll up there this afternoon, Doctor Harcourt, and get back to you.’

  Back in the kitchen, Elaine was donning oven gloves. Offended as she might be by my behaviour, she couldn’t do an Alfred and let everything burn. It was clear she wasn’t happy with her efforts, however: half the biscuits were too pale, a quarter perfect and the last quarter clearly overcooked. I’d always had my suspicions about that oven.

  Whatever the state of the end product, however, I owed her a profound grovel. ‘I’m really sorry. I just had to get Dave on to this urgently. Or you might find you have to go to visit Mazza in gaol to get his advice,’ I added quietly.

  It was clear she was still huffed. ‘Of course, Ted Vesey always did say it was him behind the thefts. Or was it that young man who did a bit of gardening for you?’

  Happily for me, Theo chose that moment to enter via the back door. ‘As far as I know, both are entirely innocent. As I said, Elaine, at the PPC meeting, such rumours are best not repeated. Now, sweetheart, I’ve had an urgent message from Dave, so you’ll have to excuse me.’ He kissed me on the lips and, grabbing a biscuit, joined the men.

  FIFTEEN

  Though I was desperate to be party to the discussion between Dave, Mazza and Theo in the living room, I didn’t want to snub Elaine any more; despite her stupid gossip she was doing her best to help both me and, via the WI, the village as a whole. So, listening with more than half an ear for the front door – why the hell wasn’t Theo dashing down to Mazza’s house to sort things out? – I continued my initiation in biscuit making. Either Elaine was sincere in her determination to make me overcome my culinary fears or she wanted to get another glimpse of Dave, her own charms augmented by those of her Viennese whirls, their colour more or less uniform after she’d done some high-speed manoeuvring of baking trays in the oven. So at last I was inducted into the mysteries of some of the arcane equipment I’d found in rarely opened drawers. Finally, all the eggs, all the flour and all the butter were used up – and still the three men, wise as monkeys I hoped, were closeted together.

  I could bear it no longer. I was just about to apologize for chucking Elaine out when she glimpsed the clock – some forty centimetres across and ugly with it – that dominated the kitchen, and rushed off, squealing about being late, my genuine thanks echoing behind her.

  OK. Now for some action in the real world.

  ‘What are you all doing here? Shouldn’t you be down there supporting Carrie, Theo?’

  Though huddled in a clearly terrified knot of arms and legs on the most uncomfortable armchair, Mazza shook his head. ‘It’s not like anyone knows, is it? She’s only just found them.’

  Dave was still sofa-bound, but looked as if he’d be happier striding round the room giving orders. Theo, in his pulpit-pose, clearly thought Mazza should present himself to the police and insist that he’d had nothing to do with the bikes’ arrival.

  ‘You’re sure you’ve never even touched them? Ever?’ I asked, gaining a look of approval from Dave. ‘So your DNA or prints simply wouldn’t be on them?’

  ‘I never touched anything under that tarpaulin,’ Mazza said, a bit defensively. He added more positively, ‘I don’t recall ever handling a bike at all, actually.’

  ‘So if your prints or DNA appear on them, you’re being framed.’

  ‘You missed your vocation, Jodie,’ Dave drawled.

  Ignoring him, I said, ‘If you’re dead sure you’re in the clear, Mazza, then Theo’s probably right.’

  Mazza wasn’t happy with the idea, but interestingly from my point of view feared that if the police believed him – a big if, of course – then blame might fall on Sian or on his mother.

  ‘No one would think Carrie capable of such a thing,’ I declared forcefully. ‘She’s a good, hard-working woman.’

  Mazza nodded. ‘But Sian’s got a bit of form. Only shoplifting – lipstick and crap like that – but you know how that’ll look.’

  ‘I should imagine she wanted the lipstick, but I can’t see her on a bike. Or several bikes,’ I added, with what I hoped was a reassuring grin. And I did go and perch on his chair and give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Carrie ought to be in bed asleep, but I can’t imagine that she is. So I’m going to go down and talk to her.’ And maybe more. Why should anyone go to the trouble of dumping all those bikes if they weren’t going to tell the police where they were? ‘OK, Mazza?’

  Like a kid without his teddy, he nodded.

  I arrived at Carrie’s to find three police cars outside. Whether it was the village gossip-machine or the more dangerous person behind the tripwires and the tyre-slashing, someone had, to use the vernacular, dobbed her in. Texting Theo to tell him what was going on, I surged in, aiming, with my body language and hastily assumed mantle of village guru (wasn’t that what rectors’ wives were supposed to be?), to look authoritative. It would have been better if I’d been wearing a business suit and heels, but at least the thuggish-looking officers stopped to look at me. If I’d hoped Carrie would welcome me as a potential rescuer, I was disappointed. As I strode forward to comfort her, she muttered, ‘It was all right till he got tangled up with you.’

  But though she was taken aback and clearly unwilling, I insisted on hugging her, whispering, ‘You know he didn’t do this. Someone’s trying to frame him.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she whispered back. ‘But this lot won’t be bothered to find out who. Arrest. Guilty verdict. Result.’

  ‘Not if I have anything to do with it. Have they arrested you for having stolen goods on your property?’

  ‘Not yet, but any moment now.’

  We were pulled a
part. It was time for me to return to my dear familiar management mode. ‘Is there any reason for you to have your hands on my shoulders, Officer? Thank you.’ I refrained from dusting myself off. ‘Now, how can I help you? I’m Doctor Harcourt. The rector’s wife,’ I added for good measure. Heaven forgive me for hiding behind Theo’s cassock. ‘Mrs Burns – Carrie – is a good friend of mine,’ I continued, taking and holding her hand, ‘as is her son. How can I help?’ At this point I realized on the bottom half of my jeans there were drifts of flour where the pinny had stopped. I just hoped they wouldn’t be noticed.

  ‘We’re looking for Malcolm Burns, Doctor,’ someone with sergeant’s stripes declared, not quite truculently, but nevertheless somehow implying that I was wasting everyone’s time.

  Mistake.

  ‘I’m sure if you’d simply asked Carrie, she could have told you that he’s at the rectory. He’s helping another friend of mine – who used to be a DCI down here, so you may know him – with a problem they encountered when they were out walking together yesterday. DCI Dave Harcourt,’ I added, with such a serene smile that no one would ever guess that he was an only half-welcome guest whom I’d had to bollock for his incontinent behaviour. I corrected myself – it was best to get the lingo right: ‘An incident. I’m sure he’d like to talk to you about it.’

  ‘Until we have an official complaint, Doctor, there’s no action we can take.’ He sounded unpleasantly delighted. Or was he simply relieved? ‘So you’re telling us we can find our suspect at the vicarage.’

  ‘Suspect? My young friend is at the rectory.’

  Another, possibly brighter, officer grinned sarcastically: ‘I suppose he’s asking for asylum or something. Or would that just be in the church?’

  ‘I’ll have to ask my legal team to check cannon law. But this is nonsense: he’s neither hiding nor seeking asylum.’

  ‘In any case, this is all very theoretical,’ said the sergeant. ‘Very well, Carrie, you’re coming with us.’

  ‘Are you arresting Mrs Burns?’

  He tried to look down his nose at me but remembered I was a good inch taller. ‘Just a few questions – not that it’s any business of yours. Doctor.’

  ‘Everything in this parish is my husband’s business – and of course, that of his Boss.’

  ‘He’ll be the one that confirmed my cousin,’ hissed a youngish man with the blue hatband of a community support officer. ‘A bishop!’

  Close, but no banana – or perhaps I should have said, no episcopal crook.

  The sergeant shifted his feet, as if disconcerted by personal connections, which of course I hadn’t meant anyway. ‘I don’t think there’ll be any need for God-botherers to involve themselves,’ he said, as much to the community support man as to me. ‘Very well, Carrie, time to be off.’ He grabbed her upper arm; Carrie clutched my hand like a frightened child.

  ‘There’s no need for physical violence,’ I said. ‘Carrie, would you like me to come with you? No? Very well, officer, just let me know where you’re taking her and I can arrange for my solicitor to be in attendance. Maidstone? Very well.’

  Carrie straightened her shoulders and swallowed hard before relinquishing her hold on my hand. ‘Just look after Mazza for me,’ she whispered.

  I hugged her again. ‘I will, I promise.’ And so would the fanciest solicitor money could buy. ‘Just remember not to say anything till your lawyer arrives.’

  Her eyes rolled. ‘Can’t afford … well, Legal Aid, I suppose.’

  ‘I can,’ I assured her, overriding all objections. ‘And I will.’ I whipped round to the sergeant. ‘And what do your colleagues think they’re doing with those bikes?’

  ‘What do you think? They’re evidence.’

  ‘In that case they go in bags. I don’t want them corrupted in any way. Bags, Sergeant.’

  He was inclined to bluster, but his underlings were already obeying me. I suspected, however, that I’d won a skirmish but not the whole battle. I could do with Marshal Blücher and his forces turning up on the horizon. I got a white van.

  ‘And who the bloody hell is this? The damned Archbishop?’ the sergeant demanded.

  ‘Do you really think he’d travel in a vehicle like that?’ I asked in the most dulcet of tones, even though I was as puzzled as he was when a tall, angular woman not much younger than me emerged, white overall already in her hands.

  ‘I’m Doctor Rosemary McVicar,’ she declared.

  The sergeant rolled his eyes. I could quite understand why.

  McVicar, clearly used to this sort of situation, continued, ‘Forensic scientist. Who’s in charge here?’

  The sergeant stepped forward. Then he asked, not unreasonably, ‘And why might you be here? It’s not like we’ve got a body on our hands.’

  ‘As if you have a body on your hands, I think you’ll find. I’m just here to see there’s no DNA contamination, accidental or deliberate,’ she said. ‘You must be Jodie Welsh. I understand it’s you I’m to bill,’ she added with a slightly ironic curl to the sentence.

  I could hardly respond with advice to be less vocal during the night, so I returned nod for nod. ‘Of course,’ I said smoothly. ‘How clever of Dave to arrange it all. I’ve had the bikes bagged up.’

  She grinned. ‘Well done you.’

  Almost despite myself I returned the smile. Then I turned to the police officers. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I have legal matters to attend to.’ And with luck I’d get back to the rectory before they did. ‘I could do with your name, Sergeant, couldn’t I? OK, Sergeant Masters, I look forward to all this being sorted out soon.’ What a pity I’d made an enemy for life.

  ‘What about Sian?’ Carrie called over her shoulder. ‘Will they march into school and arrest her too?’

  ‘I’ll make sure they don’t,’ I said tersely, reaching for my phone again. ‘In any case, I’ll be there at three thirty or whenever it is she leaves.’

  Back at the rectory, Mazza was jittery with fear, but managed to hear my news about his mother, not to mention the legal support I’d organized, without breaking down. This was possibly because he and Dave were involved in what looked like a pretty violent computer game. I hoped this was evidence that Dave was distracting him from any problems, rather than that Mazza didn’t care. There was no sign of Theo, but I deduced, rightly, that he was in his study.

  ‘One of us should go with him as a responsible adult,’ Theo said, without preamble. ‘He knows you best – trusts you.’

  ‘But I promised Carrie I’d be at school to pick up Sian. And, like a Double Diamond, a dog-collar works wonders.’

  ‘Dave’s already called the police to say Mazza will be coming in to make a voluntary statement.’

  ‘Good. I’ll get a solicitor for him too. I’ve already fixed one for Carrie, and there’ll be someone—’

  ‘Carrie? Why should she need a lawyer?’

  ‘Dragged in for questioning. Well, stolen goods on her property. No arguing with that. The only question is who put the bikes there.’ I ran my hands through my hair, well overdue for a cut and colour. ‘If only the village bristled with as many CCTV cameras as London, we’d have a very good idea who delivered them.’

  ‘Assuming it wasn’t Mazza.’

  I shook my head. ‘I believe him. He’s a car man. And he runs. Cyclists aren’t runners.’

  ‘My darling, no one would steal bikes to use, would they? Unlike Sian and her lipstick. You’re very pale: you need to eat before you set out to Maidstone. We’ve all had a few biscuits,’ he said apologetically, pushing me gently into the kitchen. ‘There are some left, but they might be a bit rich for you.’

  Chin set, I rounded up what were left and crammed them into a plastic box which I stowed carefully at the back of the freezer. ‘Heart attack fodder,’ I said, pointing accusingly at his chest. ‘We eat properly in this household.’ I reached for the bread crock for wholemeal bread to make sandwiches. It was empty. ‘Bloody Dave again, I suppose!’ I banged it down so hard
it broke too badly for even a superglue repair. ‘Oh dear. I’m so sorry.’ I’d always loathed it, because it was chipped and ugly, but since it had come with the territory I’d said nothing. And now it was gone, and all because of my bad temper. I stood with the two main shards in my hands and choked back a sob.

  ‘There’s some bread in the freezer,’ Theo said mildly, wrapping the crock in yesterday’s Guardian and throwing it in the bin. ‘I took the precaution of getting a spare loaf from Violet’s. But this is the second time in as many days you’ve been in tears or near to it. Are you so very unhappy?’ At last he enveloped me in a big soothing hug. Back home in London he was as tactile a lover as any woman could ever wish; here he seemed to have adopted a no touching regime well before Dave’s arrival on the marital scene.

  Could I tell him I was just lost? I didn’t know where I was. I was still trying to lead someone else’s life, and I didn’t know how to make it mine. Especially not when Elaine had to show me how to make biscuits using Merry’s equipment. I owed him some sort of answer, and what I said was true at least. ‘Do you know, when I wanted to cow the police a bit, I announced I was the rector’s wife? I’ve never had to hide behind someone else’s authority before. Mind you,’ I added sheepishly, attempting a grin, ‘I’ve never been out with flour all over my jeans before.’

  ‘But you’ve probably saved the day for three people, with or without flour,’ he said, releasing me. ‘For two at least.’ He burrowed in the freezer and popped the loaf in the microwave to defrost. ‘I’m not having you drive on an empty stomach …’

  We set off at the same time, leaving Dave happily awaiting the arrival of Dr McVicar. At least, that was what we deduced from his smug demeanour, though as Theo gestured him towards the front door, Mazza declared that Dave had cheated in order to win, so there might have been another explanation.

  ‘After all those years in the police, are you surprised if he cheats?’ Theo muttered. ‘Not that you can quote me on that. Ever. And especially this afternoon,’ he added, as he put a comforting but authoritative hand on the poor kid’s shoulder.