“I think everyone is in shock. Rosie, you know Luke had nothing to do with this, and Luke, you know we believe you. Everyone is just upset and understandably frightened. It's not nice to think that man died in my church!”
“Someone murdered him!” Rosie screamed.
The time for tea and sympathy had passed, and what we all needed now was something a little stronger.
"I think some whiskey would help settle our nerves. I will make us all a hot toddy. That's medicinal, right?” Mum offered. “Luke, you had better clean up.”
“No Mum, I think he should wait until Dave gets here. He may wash away vital evidence.”
“Yes, Jess, you are right. Still, we can have a nightcap?” We all nodded. Luke looked up from beneath his dark fringe. My mother smiled, rubbing his curly mop. “Even you, dear. After all, you are over eighteen and you just had the biggest shock of all.”
The hot toddies warmed and comforted us all. Though they were more honey than whiskey, they were very efficacious. It's at times like this one realises how fragile life is. I had shared similar sandwiches with Norman Cheadle earlier that day, and now he was dead. I believed Luke didn't kill the eminent professor but felt that there was something he wasn't telling me. I suspected the reason was something to do with Tizzy, but I kept that thought to myself, for now. Everyone was upset enough already.
It took another hour and a half before Zuzu finally burst through the door with the news that the Baron had gone straight to the scene of the crime and would follow her up shortly. The waiting was the hardest bit. Norman Cheadle's blood was drying on Luke's skin and clothes. This must be so hard for him. But the worst part was knowing that the real killer was out there with plenty of time to clean up and remove all evidence of their involvement.
I wished my premonition had been more useful. I was in no doubt that what I had seen had been Norman’s death, but what use is such foresight if I couldn’t warn him or be able to use it to identify his killer? What a worthless gift.
“Well, I say, whilst we are waiting.” Zuzu pulled over a kitchen chair and nuzzled up to me like an over-keen puppy. “We’ll all take stock and interrogate my little sister about her big date!”
“It wasn’t a date!” I blushed. “It was a -”
“Business meeting,” they sang in unison.
Laughter is the greatest medicine, though I suspect the whiskey helped too. And whilst the tension had lifted, I was uncomfortable sharing the more intimate details of my evening in the wake of discovering a dead body in the apse. I hoped for more ‘business meetings’ with Lawrence and until then wanted to hold the sensation of his sweet kiss in my heart as a refuge from the craziness that was sure to unfold over the coming days.
“We had a very pleasant evening, thank you. The food was lovely, though overpriced if you ask me. I honestly think the Cat and Fiddle is better value.”
“But not as romantic, eh?” nudged Zuzu. She caught my simpering expression and knew there were more juicy details to extract. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, spoilsport, but I smell l’amour.”
“Oh, they kissed. Jess told me when she got in earlier.” Mum beamed. “You thought I wasn’t listening, right?”
“Where are the bloody police?” Luke put his wrists together, mimicking being in handcuffs, “I’ll hand myself in. It’s better than having to sit here and listen to this soppy nonsense!”
May Day, May Day!
The ‘bloody police’ were trampling in and out of my church. The late-night ferry had brought a full forensic team to support Inspector Lovington’s investigation. In the wee hours of the morning, Dave had finally taken Luke’s statement and collected his clothing in clear bags, suitably labelled. These plastic bags now sat in cardboard boxes on an evidence table hastily set up in the church. The SOCO team had been working throughout the night and were now taking a quick break. I used the pretext of pouring out the second round of tea to sneak back into the crime scene.
The front pews, to the left of the altar close to the excavation of the well, were cordoned off with blue and white police tape, as was the left aisle and apse. A white tarpaulin sheet covered Norman Cheadle’s body. A small group of investigators gathered at the rear of the church. In their white scene suits and overshoes, it was impossible to tell if they were male or female, fat or thin until I was very close. As they were resting, they had all either pushed their masks down below their chins or on top of their heads; it was all that differentiated them. It was a surreal sight to watch their blue gloved hands passing around plates of egg and cress sandwiches. These were obviously the least popular filling, as all the other plates were empty.
“Anyone for a refill?” I asked. Several cups sprang out, and I dutifully filled each one. “How much longer do you think you’re going to be?”
“That all depends on when the coroner gets here.” A familiar voice answered from behind me. It was Inspector Lovington. The white suits all stood up to attention. “Ten more minutes, guys, then back to work. Hope you don’t mind if I take the vicar away for a few questions?”
Dave took my elbow and guided me back down the centre aisle.
“I was only playing Mum!” I protested.
“I haven’t accused you of anything yet, which now makes me very suspicious that you were up to no good. This was a very violent attack, Jess. I need you to promise me you will leave the detective work to the professionals this time.”
“I wanted to get a handle on how long they’d be. We have the May Day Parade at noon.”
“And that starts at the school, right? You can lead them along Back Lane to Wesberrey Road and down to Market Square that way. No need to come anywhere near St. Bridget’s. I need to minimise traffic in the area. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, just one question.”
“I ask the questions.” He had that cheeky twinkle in his eye. The one that used to make my knees turn to jelly. I want to say it held no power over me anymore, but that would be a lie. It was, however, significantly weakened. He was my sister’s beau, and my knees had another cause to tremble.
“Yes, of course. I just wanted to check that you had dismissed Luke as a suspect. Rosie is freaking out and the poor kid has been through a lot lately.” We stopped at the front of the centre aisle at the edge of the police cordon. My eyes darted over to Norman’s body.
“Jess, you can’t get involved in police business. I will do what I can for Luke, but I can’t protect him if he’s involved.”
From nowhere, my heart quickened suddenly, and the muscles in my face and shoulders tightened. I leant in, grabbed Dave by the arm, and growled, “You want to be family. I know you do. Family protects. I know you can protect people when it suits you. So make this suit you, Baron.”
Where did that come from?
My legs buckled.
“Jess! Jess! Are you okay?”
A white blur of SOCOs moved towards me. My head, what was that? So sharp! My vision dimmed. Marble, plaster, and ancient wood spun around me. I’m going to be sick! I grabbed Dave’s arm.
✽✽✽
I woke up propped up on cushions on the sofa in the morning room of the vicarage.
“The May Day parade! What time is it?”
I tried to sit up, but Mum firmly pushed me back down.
“Dear, you have to rest. Everyone is in town and…” She glanced at the clock on the wall behind me as she readjusted my blanket. “I imagine they are dancing around the maypole right now.”
“Mum, I need to be there! I’m the master of ceremonies. Why am I here?” I must have passed out again, and for much longer than before. My mind was blank. At least there were no rivers of blood this time - at least not that I could remember. I lifted a hand to examine my head for the second time in four days.
“Dave and some of his fellow officers carried you back. He called Cindy first, asked if you needed to go to the hospital, but she said you would be fine. She’s in town but will be here later. Right now, you need t
o rest.”
Nothing Mum said made any sense. The situation was beyond confusing, but I didn’t want to rest. I was wide awake. Full of energy, in fact.
“I don’t understand. Why call Cindy? Why not you? Or Sam? Seriously, I could have needed medical assistance” I pushed myself up. I wanted to get up, but Mum was sitting on the edge of the couch. I couldn’t move unless she got up. I tried making puppy-dog eyes to win her round. “Please, Mum. I need to… go to the loo.”
She hesitated.
“Mum, I promise I’m not going anywhere. I just have to go... you know.”
“I will get you something to eat.” Mum bent over and gave me a kiss on the forehead. Then she rose and walked, deep in thought, towards the French doors overlooking the garden.
Mum had taken over the care of neglected flower beds through the early spring and her hard work was bearing fruit. “The Goddess will protect you,” she mused, “She is working through you now. I can’t imagine what you are experiencing. Only Cindy has that level of knowledge. I thought taking you away was the right thing to do. But there is no avoiding your destiny.” She hugged herself as if hit by a sudden icy blast of air.
“Mum, why didn’t Dave call Sam? Why back here and not the hospital? Wasn’t he worried?”
I stood beside her, to join in her surveillance of the garden. She kept her arms wrapped around herself and stared ahead.
“Cindy asked him to keep a watch over you. She saw, -”
“She knew I was going to faint? Mum! Don’t be ridiculous. Are you telling me she had a premonition of me having a premonition or some such nonsense? And she didn’t tell me but told a police inspector?”
“Yes, I guess. She called me too, to prepare. She will be here soon. She will explain everything to you then.” A deep breath followed. “Right, that tea isn’t going to brew itself. I thought you needed the toilet?”
When she finally turned to me, I could see tears clinging to her lower lashes. Her furrowed brow at odds with the smile she forced from her lips. I knew there was to be no more discussion. There were no words. Just tea. Just cake. Just comfort. It was all she could offer.
The silence continued over lunch.
My mother was a practical person. A doer. She fixed things. She wasn’t a dreamer; she said little, but when she spoke, she commanded your attention. She had great love in her heart. So much love for the three of us. It was easy to forget that she virtually raised us on her own. We felt no loss. She sacrificed for our happiness on a daily basis. A trait my sisters and I had shamelessly taken for granted. She was slow to anger, resistant to hate, but when you hurt her, she carried the pain with her always. This pain would manifest in the odd barbed comment, but mostly it caused her to turn in more on herself. Her silent thoughts ruminating on how she couldn’t ‘fix’ this, whatever this was. I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay, but Mum would push away any offer of comfort. She always did. That rebuff in its turn added to the many layers of guilt she was already feeling. It was best to accept the tea and stay quiet, for now.
The many questions whizzing around my head were only going to be answered when everyone returned from the May Day festivities. The clock ticked by and gave me plenty of time with my own thoughts. What had happened to me? What had I experienced? Was it connected to the murder of Norman Cheadle? And if so, why? Was it because it happened in my church? Was that my connection, or was that the connection to this goddess thing I couldn’t explain or truly understand? I had to assume that Norman was murdered over the discovery in the well. Were the figures cursed? That was a crazy thought. I don’t believe in curses. It was far more likely he was killed at the hand of someone who wanted either to stop him doing or saying something.
What are the main motives for murder? Money, love, revenge? Or ambition? Cheadle was clearly excited by the find, as was his assistant Sebastian DeVere. Isadora Threadgill had made the discovery. Perhaps she felt Norman was going to take all the credit. And my own sweet Tom hadn’t been shy in stating his dislike of the man and his hatred of what he had done to Ernest.
I couldn’t think about Tom being so violent, but who knows what any of us are capable of when provoked. Tom loved Ernest very much. Or maybe it was Ernest, himself. Perhaps turning the other cheek proved just too hard and when the opportunity presented itself... wham!
But none of these theories explained what Norman was doing in St. Bridget’s late at night. There was no way that Phil would have allowed them to stay behind after his usual rounds to secure the building. Unless it was Phil? Though why would Phil kill Norman Cheadle? I couldn’t think of any motive.
There was the side door. Perhaps it wasn’t as big a secret as we thought. Maybe Norman and an accomplice snuck back in after Phil locked up and his accomplice hit him over the head. But why?
Was anything taken? I had no answers. My dramatic fainting spell made sure of that. I knew nothing. Unless my aunt was going to explain who killed Norman Cheadle later, I was going to have to find out myself.
The Queen of the May
The sun was snuggling up under the cloudy duvet of the night sky when Cindy and the others returned from the town centre. I had slipped off to my study. As Mum wasn’t in a mood to give me any answers, I might find some elsewhere. Cindy found me curled up in the armchair with a copy of Fortescue’s island history.
“Ah, there you are, darling! Good to see you looking so well. I imagine you have a lot of questions for me.” There was hardly anything particularly psychic about that insight! I needed to check my attitude if I was going to find out the truth.
As I had had many hours to ponder what was happening, I knew exactly what my first question was going to be.
Cindy made herself comfortable in the matching chair by the unlit fire and waited. She oozed with a serenity and wisdom that can only come from the complete confidence of knowing. Knowing what was right, knowing your place in the world... I used to have that, well I thought I did. It’s why I became a vicar.
“Well, fire away!” Her silky clear complexion reflected the dusky hues of the evening light of the rising moon. The moon was her satellite. Was I really supposed to take over from her? Cindy’s spirit animal was clearly a snowy owl or an arctic fox. Mine was more likely to be a chinchilla or a wombat.
“You’re right, I have a thousand questions and we will get to them, don’t worry. All I ask is for no more of these mystical half-truths and riddles. Whatever is happening to me is happening fast, and I’m scared. So, do you promise to be honest and open, not to hold anything back anymore?”
“I do.”
“Okay, well my first question is, just before I passed out, I wasn’t very nice to Dave. I spoke to him with hate. My words were spiteful. They came from somewhere, or should I say someone else. Why?”
“Because it was someone else.”
I sat waiting for more, but that was it. I could feel my ire rising again.
“Aunt, you promised no more riddles! Who was it?”
“I imagine it was the late Professor Cheadle. The recently murdered do tend to have a bit of an attitude problem I find.” She beamed in response.
“So, you are trying to tell me I was, what? Channelling his spirit somehow, and he was using me and my thoughts to have a dig at the police inspector?”
“Something like that. What exactly did you say?”
“You mean you didn’t see that in your premonition? And why not warn me? Eh?”
“Because one has to be extremely careful not to change the future. Would you, perhaps, have avoided the church if you knew?”
I thought carefully before I answered. The honest response was that I couldn’t know. I wanted to go to the parade. I wanted to see the dancing and the floats, and I wanted to be there to see Tizzy crowned Queen of the May.
“Was she?” I asked.
“Darling, was who what?”
“Tizzy, was she made Queen of the May?”
“Of course she was. She’s exquisite. She rem
inds me of myself when I was younger. It is so wonderful to witness a young lady so confident in her charms. Luke is smitten, and rightly so.”
“Where is she now?” I wanted to congratulate her.
“Oh, celebrating with the other young people, as is right and fitting. This is their time.”
“And Luke?”
“Is with her, of course. He is very protective. Good to see there is so little of his father in him.” Cindy ran a hand through her silvery hair and smiled. “Now, I am sure you have many more questions.”
“Was it Norman’s death I saw before? When we talked the other day, you said it could have been any number of things, that blood doesn’t have to mean death, but it did. What is the point of these visions if I can’t understand them? And, are you saying I can’t or shouldn’t warn people?”
“Did you know who to warn? No. Jess, your powers are growing. To intervene would be to interfere with that process. I sympathise, it's hard to understand, but I had to stand back. I could sense that something bad was coming and I could connect it to the excavation. I saw you faint into the inspector’s arms, but I knew no more than that. So, I asked Dave to call me when it happened. Which he did. In the past, you have seen shadows or heard disassociated voices. Sometimes we have only breadcrumbs. They can help us, but you will never have a complete picture.”
“And that’s the other thing. Why does the Baron do your bidding so unquestionably? I get you helped him to understand his wife’s suicide, but it’s all a bit convenient, isn’t it? And him and Zuzu, you thought he would be attracted to me! You were wrong!”
Cindy reached out from her chair and rested her hand on my knee. “I can’t tell you any more about Dave’s wife. It’s not my place. He thought me a total loon when we first met. People are very sceptical, and your bunch are largely to blame for that.”
“My bunch?”
“The Church! This isn’t a war, you know. We are all accessing the divine. But your Church has preached that those of us who have, say, more of a direct line, are in league with the devil. We are not. You are proof of that. You’re a good Christian woman and here you are channelling angry dead men. There is no devil. Only good and evil. Good happens when we are closer to the divine. God works through us. Evil happens when we turn away.”
Divine Death: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 4) Page 5