So that would explain Tizzy’s desire to win.
“I’m calling it now!” exclaimed Tom. “Tizzy will dance rings around her rivals. I believe your aunt was the last Wesberrey queen. She is somewhat of a legend.”
Ernest rubbed his white moustache as if it held the magic memory genie. “Yes, I believe Pamela won in the early sixties. 1962, if my memory serves.”
“Pamela?” Beige, cardigan-wearing auntie Pam? “Surely you mean Cindy?”
“No, no, definitely Pamela Bailey. I think Cynthia Bailey was our queen a few years later, but she didn’t win the overall crown.” I didn’t expect Ernest to have such an encyclopedic knowledge of Wesberrey’s May queens.
My family was a constant source of amazement.
“It surprised me to see Sebastian at the parade though, given that his mentor had been so brutally dispatched the night before?” Tom pondered as he lifted the teapot to pour us all a second cup.
“DeVere was there?” I admit, it also shocked me.
“Well, it was all going on outside the Cat and Fiddle. I can’t imagine there was much respite inside the pub. Maybe all the festivity was a welcome distraction,” Ernest suggested.
“Perhaps, though he didn’t appear to be that cut up about things.” Tom offered a bowl of sugar cubes, which I declined. “There was another thing that puzzled me. He was wearing brown shoes.” Tom regarded us both with an expectant look, annoyingly for him we couldn’t understand the problem.
I was the first to crack. “Brown shoes?”
“With a black belt!” Tom almost exploded with frustration. “And a silver buckle! That is never a good look, ever.”
“I imagine he wasn’t thinking straight.” I have no eye for style. “As you said, it was probably a struggle for him to take part at all. Given the train of events, how important is the colour of your belt?”
“For a man like DeVere? It is everything!”
Cats and curried lentils
I spent a comfortable hour with Tom and Ernest, who proved to be in no hurry to get rid of me once we moved the conversation on from the death of Ernest’s former colleague. I didn’t want to believe that either of them could be responsible for his untimely demise, but a good detective can’t just rule out suspects because they appear to be good people. They were not just good people; they were my friends. Through my divine gifts and the help of, as Poirot would say, ‘my little grey cells’, I would help track down Norman’s assailant. Inspector Lovington was probably joining us for dinner, so I would hopefully get some more clues from him.
Turning up the path towards the vicarage, I spied a familiar figure crouched down by the sycamore tree.
“Lawrence? Is that you?”
Stretching himself back up, he half turned to greet me. A ginger cat draped itself over one arm, others were milling around his feet.
“I made some friends whilst I was waiting.” He grinned.
“You like cats, then. Funny, I thought you would be allergic.” I said. Way to go, Jess! Nothing screams ‘I fancy you’ to a man like pointing out his most unattractive habit. “The sniffing.” Stop it! “You do that a lot.” Shoot me now!
“Oh, right, yes, I do. But for dust, well actually dust mites. And horsehair. Tree pollen as well. But, for some reason, I am good with cats. And dogs. Seem to be okay with the class gerbils as well.”
“Quite the collection, then. I’m allergic. To cats, that is. I have to take antihistamines every day since Hugo adopted us. Makes it easier to look after these guys too. The one you have there, Luke named him Felix. And the white female claiming your left leg is Paloma.”
Using Felix as a shield, Lawrence drew closer. “I was waiting to see you. I had hoped that perhaps we could have grabbed some lunch earlier, but you disappeared. Barbara said you were probably visiting Tom and Ernest. I didn’t think you would be this long.”
“Sorry, you should have knocked at the vicarage, Mum would have let you in. Or sent a text?”
“It’s okay, honestly. The views from here are incredible, don’t you think?” He moved down to my right and breathed in the stunning hills, vales and bays of the western half of the island. The afternoon sun cast a temporary halo around his blond crown, which glowed like a Renaissance saint’s portrait. Then the sun disappeared behind a cloud.
“Yes, breathtaking!” I sighed.
Now, Jess, now. I reached out to take his cat-free hand. “Lawrence?” I positioned myself downhill to maximise the doleful look I used to draw men in with, in my younger days. “I’m touched that you waited. It’s very sweet.” I added, coyly looking up, and trying to ignore the rim of my glasses blocking his direct gaze. Flutter eyelashes.
A pause.
A smile.
I bit my lower lip.
Kiss me.
His head tilted towards me.
A scratch.
A cry.
Darn cat!
Ouch! Felix’s claws dragged out my flesh and drew blood. Lawrence dropped him to the ground.
“Jess, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Here, give me your arm. I’ll get you inside. We need to get that cleaned up straight away.”
✽✽✽
“This is going to sting…” Mum dabbed some antiseptic cream on her little finger and gently dabbed my wounded cheek. “Good thing you wear glasses or that creature would have had your eye out!”
Lawrence was extremely apologetic. I was terribly disappointed. Ow, that smarts!
Mum loved playing nursemaid. “Mr Pixley, you must’ve had quite the fright yourself. Would you like to stay for supper? I have cooked enough to feed the five thousand. Zuzu said that Dave will join us in a while. The police are just finishing up at the church. Packing up in time for the last ferry. Nasty business, eh Mr Pixley?”
“Yes, Mrs Ward. Terrible. And, please call me Lawrence. As for supper, I would be honoured, if you’re sure you have enough. Is there somewhere I can clean up?”
Once Lawrence was safely out of earshot, Mum began her interrogation. “I wonder how long he was waiting? Good thing you came straight back. Poor thing. Think he really likes you, Puddin’.”
I winced. “Shh, Mum, don’t call me that. He might hear!” My cheeks were on fire. Given my age, there was relief it was from embarrassment and not ‘The Change’. I enjoyed the sensation. It was as if there was a permanent giggle in my chest, waiting to break free. And unlike my recent crush on the Inspector, I was certain Lawrence reciprocated. My only negative thought was why did it take me so long to realise? Give yourself a break, Jess. You have only known him for four months!
✽✽✽
To honour our guests, we ate in the dining room and used the good china, namely a set of floral and green ‘Georgian’ gilt-edged crockery that looks authentic to the period of the vicarage but was actually mid-twentieth century. Vintage, not antique, but still very fancy. Dinner was a wonderful lentil curry dhal with moreish side dishes of sag aloo, naan bread and mushroom rice pilaf, and Mum had cooked enough to feed an army.
To even out the gender mix, Mum and Rosie sat at opposite ends of the dining table, whilst Zuzu and I sat diagonally opposite each other facing our respective partners.
“So, Dave.” I was curious. Normally when the inspector has to stay overnight on an investigation, he stays at the Cat and Fiddle. “Are you sleeping at the pub?”
“Er, no Jess, given that the murder victim and Sebastian DeVere have rooms there, I thought that would be problematic, so I’m actually staying in your aunt’s spare room.” Dave dipped the edge of his naan bread into his curry sauce, “Cynthia has been very kind to give me a place to rest my head. Though being honest, I’ve hardly been back there. What with dealing with the forensics team and interviews.” He brought the bread to his lips and then had another thought, “By the way, Phil kindly agreed that I could set up an incident room in the hall, so PC Taylor has been busy setting that up all afternoon. At least you can have the main church back now, we have processed all the evidence.”
>
“Of course. That’s an efficient solution.” And very handy… “Poor PC Taylor, another murder on his normally quiet patch. I hope he gets some sleep tonight, or do you have him posted on sentry duty in the hall overnight?”
Dave had to finish chewing before answering me. “We locked the place up and you have an alarm system. Phil showed me. I am sure everything will be safe till morning. This is delicious, Beverley. You’re all really embracing this vegan thing.”
“Wouldn’t want to be hypocrites,” Rosie answered on my mother’s behalf. “I’m feeling so much healthier without milk and dairy and Mum, have you noticed Luke’s acne seems to have cleared?”
“I have, dear. By the way, where is Luke this evening?” The formality of her conversation matched the environment. It was like dining on the set of ‘Above Stairs’. ‘I believe the young master is unavoidably detained at his club, M’lady’. Master Luke was probably still celebrating with Tizzy.
Rosie bristled. “I have no idea, Mother. Perhaps the inspector can enlighten us?”
“I was expecting him to be here. I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday morning. He was heading off to the parade.” Dave replied, washing down his last mouthful of bread with some wine.
“Yes, he arrived at the school around midday.” Lawrence finally found a way into the conversation, “He was hanging out with that young lady who was crowned queen and a few other teenagers from the new estate.” Spotting my sister’s mood darkening, he added. “They appeared to be in good spirits.”
“Don’t worry, Rosie, I can speak to him about his statement tomorrow,” Dave said reassuringly.
“I wasn’t worried about that!” Rosie snapped. “As long as he doesn’t get her pregnant.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the Queen of the May got knocked up…” Mum muttered into her pilaf.
Pamela?
“Mum, I didn’t know that Aunt Pam was once Queen of the May. Cindy, too. Did you ever enter?” I asked.
Zuzu’s eyes darted from their near-permanent observation of her man to our mother and cooed in anticipation of some juicy family tidbit. “Jessie, what are you saying? Pamela! Mum? Did she get pregnant?” The possibility that Zuzu wasn’t the first ‘fallen woman’ in our history was a family secret my sister wasn’t about to let go of easily. “I mean, we all know, family goddess legend and all that, that Cindy has never been pregnant, so unless it was you.”
“I never flaunted myself in that stupid parade.” Mum scowled.
Lawrence leaned in and whispered to me, “Goddess legend?”
“I’ll explain later.” I mouthed back, putting my finger on my lips. Any school teacher would recognise the universal signal to stop talking. Lawrence obediently retreated into his chair.
I didn’t have time for family secrets. As soon as dinner was over, I was going to take a peek inside the evidence room.
Arise, Sir Luke!
The gentle night air wrapped around me as I waved Lawrence off into the night. A pleasurable evening ended with a tender kiss and the warm promise of an actual date next time. I lingered in the doorway just long enough to ensure that he was safely out of sight before lifting my coat and hat off the hook in the hallway. I grabbed a torch from the cabinet and closed the door behind me.
I had thought about asking Lawrence or one of my sisters to join me, but Zuzu was so loved up with the inspector I wasn’t sure if I trusted her not to tell him. Rosie was obviously too stressed, and I wasn’t confident enough in my new relationship with Lawrence. No, this was something I had to do by myself. And that was the plan right up to the moment I spotted Luke trying to sneak back into the vicarage through the back gate.
“Master Luke returns from his adventures, I see.” I joked as I snuck up behind my nephew.
His eyes stared back at me, as wide as the moon. “Aunt Jess, what are you doing out this late?” Glancing at the back door, he added, “I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Though your mother may have something to say in the morning. You didn’t come home last night, did you?”
“I am eighteen!” He stomped. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
I paused. Given that on the last two occasions I was in the church I fainted, perhaps it would be sensible to have an accomplice. This was a genuine test of familial loyalty. If I truly believed that my nephew had nothing to do with this ghastly murder, then why not tell him of my plans? Trust your intuition.
“Luke, can I trust you?” I took his hands and closed my eyes. If he had something to do with this, surely, I would sense it, somehow.
“Aunt Jess, what are you doing? Of course, you can trust me.”
I took a deep breath and quietened my mind. Listen to your heart. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and the warmest of feelings stirred in my chest. There was no evil here, but there was an element of anxiety, some fear which was understandable given the events of the past few days. The overriding feeling was one of joy. Cindy’s words echoed through my thoughts. You are a channel for the divine. I’m having a conversation with the almighty, nothing more.
I could trust him. “I am going to sneak into the church hall to look at the evidence the police have gathered so far. I shouldn’t be doing this alone. Would you stand as a lookout for me?”
Luke pulled his hand back. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Last time I…”
“Last time you what?” There was something in his tone that worried me. Had I misread the signs?
Luke shrugged. “Okay, I wasn’t on my own on Friday evening. Tizzy spotted the door was open, not me. She went in whilst I stood guard. She thought it would be a laugh to hide the Venuses or something. That’s all, I promise. We just thought it would be funny.”
“And she found Norman’s body.” He nodded. “Why didn’t she tell the police?” I asked.
“We were trespassing, weren’t we? She didn’t do it. She had been with me all evening. I figured I’m your nephew. People would understand if I felt the need to check an open door. No need to say we planned to play a prank or anything.”
“Luke, you have to tell Dave the truth and get Tizzy to make a statement too. She might have some vital clue and not even know it.”
“I don’t think she saw anything. She was only in there a few seconds. I heard her scream and ran in after her. She didn’t go anywhere near the body.”
“Okay, I understand, but… do you want me to talk to her?” I took the slight tilt of his head as a yes. “We can both have a chat in the morning. Right now, let’s snoop!”
*****
As we walked the few yards to the hall, Luke admitted he had wanted to be a hero. Save the princess, that sort of thing. Sir Luke defending the distressed damsel from the fire-breathing questions of PC Taylor. It was sweet. Stupid, but sweet.
Not that I was in a position to talk about being stupid. I unlocked the village hall and turned off the alarm.
“Okay, you stand by the window and let me know if anyone comes. Try not to move the blind, as they will see my torchlight. And don’t touch anything.”
This, I told myself, was real investigating. Just like all those murder mysteries and crime shows on television. I always wondered why they used a torch when they could just turn on the light. This was much more exciting!
There were a couple of portable notice boards lined along the far wall and a few makeshift desks with computer monitors in the middle of the room, attached to the wall by rather hazardous electrical extension cords. I stepped over to the boards and shone my torch across the list of suspects. Yellow index cards had names written in thick black marker and around these were other coloured cards, Post-It notes and the odd photograph.
From what I could make out, Inspector Lovington’s investigation so far had centred on Sebastian DeVere and Isadora Threadgill. There were cards with both Tom's and Ernest’s names on them, but no other information. Luke’s card had a couple of notes. One s
imply read ‘Discovered body’ and the other ‘No motive’.
There were probably statements from Isadora and Sebastian somewhere, if I could find them. One small table had a wire tray containing several cardboard files. The picture of teenage twins beside it told me this was Dave’s desk. I pulled out his chair and after balancing the torch on the edge of the computer keyboard, worked my way through the pile of papers.
According to DeVere, he had dined with Professor Cheadle around seven, before having an early night. The notes read that witnesses at the Cat and Fiddle corroborated his story, but no one could vouch for his movements after eight-thirty. Isadora’s alibi was pretty flimsy too. She had declined an offer to join the academics for dinner. She had, instead, returned home to catch a Channel 4 documentary on Cornish smugglers of the eighteenth century. With nothing more for companionship than a Bird’s Eye roast chicken dinner ready meal and a cup of Ovaltine.
What about Professor Cheadle himself? What did he do after dining with Sebastian? None of the pub witness statements mentioned seeing him afterwards either, but clearly, at some point, he had left the Cat and Fiddle. Why did he return to St. Bridget’s? Was he planning to meet someone there? Whether or not he planned to, someone else was also in the church that night. Did the professor know his killer? I had felt anger. Frustration. If I had been channelling the late Norman Cheadle, then I suspect he wasn’t in St Bridget’s on a whim. He went to meet someone. A someone with whom he had a difficult history, a fraught relationship, a past.
“Aunt Jess, someone’s coming up the path!”
“Get down!” I switched off my torch and dived under the desk. In the sliver of moonlight shining through the blinds, I could just make out the crouched figure of my nephew under the window. “Don’t make a sound, it’s probably just someone taking a shortcut across the graveyard,” I whispered.
Luke was right, someone was approaching. Gravel crunched underfoot as they got closer. Then it stopped. The door to the hall rattled.
Divine Death: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 4) Page 7