“Jessamy! It’s your mother. Open this door at once!”
Family council
“What on earth is wrong with you two? Jessamy, are you out of your mind? There’s a violent killer on the loose and you’re playing Nancy Drew with my grandson.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“You’re not the only one who picks up on clues. I saw your eyes light up when Dave mentioned he had commandeered the church hall. I am amazed he didn’t see it. I suspect Zuzu playing footsie under the table distracted him. Now, let’s get you both back to the vicarage before you do any more damage!”
“Mum, I promise I haven’t touched any of the evidence. I just read through some witness statements.” I knew, even before my words hit their target, that Mum was having none of it.
“Home, the pair of you!”
Luke and I sheepishly obeyed.
✽✽✽
Once we were back, Mum ushered both of us into the morning room.
“I will tell your mother you are safe. She’s been worried sick!”
A few minutes later Rosie was cradling her son’s head on her lap as he lay across the settee. No such tender loving care for me. I was being chastised by a mother and sister tag-team.
“Jessie, this nonsense has got to stop! I have to tell the Baron. You’re making me choose between my sister and the man I love. Leave this to the police.” Zuzu was angrily pacing up and down in front of the French windows. “This is insufferable! Mummy, tell her. She has to stop this.”
“I’ve tried,” Mum responded. “Jess, it’s like you have a death wish or something.” Mum was beyond angry with me. “It’s this flaming island. And it’s us. This family. Did you know there wasn’t a single suspicious death here until we returned? I warned you, Jess. I told you. You’ve stoked the viper’s nest. Opened Pandora’s Box. I think we should all leave.”
“And go where? Mum, this is our home. It’s where we belong.” I looked towards my sisters for support.
Zuzu stopped pacing. “Jessie, I agree. Mummy can move back home, and we can sell the shop, the cottage. Take our inheritance and start elsewhere. I mean, it’s been lovely getting to know Pamela and Cindy and all that. Finding out that we are all a little psychic is kind of cute too, but look what it’s doing to you? To Luke?”
Luke sat up and pushed his mother’s hands aside. “I’m not going. I have friends here. I’m not leaving Tizzy!”
“You’ll find another girl. Trust me, with those baby blues you will have girls falling at your feet!” Zuzu was on a mission. It was rare to see her side with our mother. To be honest, it was a scary combination. “Rosie, come on. This backwater is just a staging post. You can rebuild anywhere.”
We all turned to my baby sister. “I’m with Jess.” She shrugged. “Sorry. I have big plans for the cafe.” She plumped the cushion next to her. “Zuzu, move in with Dave. You know that’s what you want. You will have your own money once the will’s settled and well, he has a trust fund. You’re laughing. The man is obsessed with you.”
Lifting her head, Rosie steadied herself before turning towards our mother, “And Mum, if you don’t want to pack up everything to return here, then don’t. We’re all grown up now.” She stretched out her hand and ruffled her son’s hair, “Even this one!” she laughed.
“I want to know more about our past.” she continued, “I never felt at home really anywhere else. Always felt like an outsider. I guess I’ve been a little unsure these past few days, that murder unsettled me a bit, but I’m staying. I think it would be great if we all did, but I understand if that’s not what you want.”
“But… but, she used your son as a lookout!” Zuzu yelled in response. “Jess is like a danger magnet. Trouble finds her. Gift or no gift. I think Mum’s right. Next time, Jessie, next time…” She burst into tears and slumped onto the armchair next to where she had been standing.
It scared Zuzu that something bad was going to happen to me. Her concern was touching, but finally, it was my turn to say my piece.
“I came here because God sent me. I have to believe that he knows best. Maybe, I am the next Godmother. Maybe it’s all one and the same and, whilst I can’t get my head around it all right now, I have faith.” The best thing I could have said next was to promise that I wouldn’t play Miss Marple anymore, but I had never backed away from a puzzle. This death happened in my church. I had to solve it. Or at the very least, do everything I could to help the police with their enquiries. “I will tell Dave everything in the morning. Zuzu, you won’t need to take sides.”
And don’t forget Lawrence. Don’t I want to stay for him?
Mild-mannered Lawrence, who was thirty minutes late for our business meeting. I remembered that he never properly explained what held him up. Jess stop it. He was with you by half seven, and all the reports confirmed that, at that time, Norman Cheadle was chomping down on Phil’s steak and ale pie.
“And, I think this thing with Lawrence might work out. I can’t give up on that.”
Secret dossiers
“So, when are you taking Luke in to see Dave, then?” Zuzu was sitting in the carver chair at the head of the kitchen table, stroking a purring Hugo on her lap, like a reverse Blofeld.
“Straight after breakfast. I need to convince Tizzy to come in too.” I replied, scraping some marmalade onto a slice of wholemeal toast. “Do you want some?”
“No, I’m not very hungry, thanks.” Zuzu bowed her head and stroked the top of her chin on the cat’s forehead. “How’s your cheek? Not all puss-tats are as gentle as you, eh Hugo-kins.”
“He will miss you all if you move out. Hugo’s not a big fan of mine,” I said.
“Oh he loves you, he just knows he makes you ill, bless him. So, you think I should move in with the Baron? It is a bit cramped with all of us here.”
“We’ve been okay until now. I’m sorry about last night. I understand you’re all just worried about me, but I’m a big girl now. I can look after myself.”
“Jessie, no offence, but you can’t even hold your own with a ginger tom!” Zuzu laughed. “Anyway, Dave hasn’t asked me yet. I mean he’s really into me. Of course, what man wouldn’t be? I have the power,” she grinned over the top of Hugo’s head. “But I haven’t even met his children yet. Or his mother. He keeps saying he’s too busy. I’m not sure.”
“Sis, you can stay here as long as you want. I am sure Dave is working on it. He has a murder to solve.”
“There’s always another murder to solve.”
“Well, I could help him…”
“No, Jessie, no. You agreed to butt out.” Well, technically I didn’t agree. “Just tell Dave everything you know this morning and be done, Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, though I may have had my fingers crossed.
✽✽✽
“There’s really no need to tidy on my account.” I tried to assure a frantic Tizzy who was scooping up dirty cups and plates from the coffee table in her lounge.
“No, I’ve been living like a pig, whatever must you think of me? Anyway, my dad is due back from London later, and I can’t have him walk into this mess!”
I caught an appreciative smile pass from Tizzy to my nephew as he gathered up some food wrappers and other papers from the floor. I genuinely hoped, for both their sakes, that Tizzy wasn’t involved in Norman’s death. I needed to convince her that talking to the police was the best option.
“Tizzy, don’t be angry with Luke, but he told me it was actually you that found Professor Cheadle. I think you both should go to the police, but first, why don’t you talk me through it?” I shunted a pile of news articles on the sofa beside me along a few inches to get more comfortable. An interesting headline caught my eye.
‘Antiquarian’s legacy founded on lies!’
I stretched my neck over to read more. Tizzy followed my gaze. “Those are all about Professor Cheadle. I googled him. He had built quite the career out of debunking local myths and legends.”
; I lifted up the papers for a closer look. “This is fascinating.” I noticed the date stamp from the internet on the top of each page, Tizzy printed them out on Thursday, the day before Norman’s death. “Why did you do this?”
“I google everyone. See, here is what I could find about you.” Tizzy handed me a slim card folder labelled ‘The Vicar’ covered in cutesy stickers and ornate lettering. “Open it, I don’t think there’s anything bad in there. I’ve read nothing properly yet. I find something, hit print, and then file them away. I like to decorate the folders,” she added.
“So, you make a dossier on everyone you meet?” This young woman intrigued me. My folder had news about me dating back to the early nineties, including one review from The Scotsman of my performance of Emilia in my drama school’s production of ‘Othello’ at the Edinburgh Fringe.
‘✰✰✰✰✰ Heaven save us from these pretentious student renderings of the Bard! The only honest portrayal was that of Emilia, who appeared to be as bored with the monotone ramblings of Desdemona as we were.’
Ouch! I had blocked that out of my memory.
“Yes, I find people fascinating. I want to be a writer someday.”
“Don’t you think googling strangers is a little, I don’t know, dangerous? You might find out…” A thought occurred to me, within these papers might be a clue to who wanted Norman Cheadle dead. “And you have read none of them yet?”
“No, I have to do the folders first. I decorate them all with artwork and stickers that reflect my first impression. You know that gut feeling you get about someone. I think that’s important,” Tizzy was proving to be a young lady with many layers, “See yours is quite regal. When I first met you, I thought purple and golds. But then there also needed to be warm, fluffy elements, so I chose clouds and cherubs. Shades of lilac and rose. And here,” Tizzy pulled out a yellow folder from a magazine rack at the side of the chair she had adapted into a makeshift filing cabinet. “This is Mrs Threadgill’s, more earthy, but still authoritative, so I chose like sienna, terracotta, with a rich royal blue. Her stickers have a more Edwardian vibe. See?”
“May I look inside?”
The folders fascinated me, and all thoughts of hurrying along to the police evaporated from my mind. The answer to the puzzle was probably within these pages.
Tizzy hesitated.
“You know, Reverend Ward, you’re right we should go to the police.” She stuffed Isadora’s folder back into the magazine rack. “You’re a busy woman. This silliness can wait. I’ll just get my jacket.” She stood up. Like well-trained meerkats, Luke and I got up with her. “Let me just tidy that away,” she said, taking my file and the other papers from the chair. “Just in case Dad comes back whilst we are out.”
She put everything in the rack and took it with her as she went upstairs.
Stay calm and carry on
“Thanks for bringing them in. We can take it from here if you need to get going. You know, doing vicary things and all that.” Dave shook my hand and stood to indicate that it was time for me to leave. He clicked his fingers to summon PC Taylor. “Take their statements, will you? One at a time.” He buttoned his jacket as he walked around from the other side of his desk. “Reverend, just a word, over here, please… I was talking to Zuzu.”
“Dave, look whatever my sister has told you, I didn’t touch anything. I only read through some of the statements and Luke didn’t see a thing. I promise.” I could tell from the bemused look on his face that Zuzu hadn’t told him anything.
His eye started twitching. The trademark pencil-thin moustache almost vanished in the angry folds above his lips as he tried to contain his frustration. “Right, well, I was only going to suggest dinner tonight at the Old School House. My treat. And ask you to invite the schoolteacher to join us. Like a double date.” He surveyed the floor. “Jess, I thought we had an understanding?”
I tried to get him to look at me. “Dave…”
“I’d prefer it if you call me Inspector Lovington when I am on duty.” Oh, we are back here again, not a good sign. “You broke in here last night after I left, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t break in. I have a set of keys, remember.”
“Reverend Ward, I should arrest you for obstructing a police investigation and tampering with evidence. But as you coldly pointed out before, I want to be part of this crazy family of yours.”
“That wasn’t me! I mean… I wasn’t feeling well when I said that before.”
“And you weren’t well last night when you broke in? I cannot let such disrespect slide. This is my final warning, Jess. If I catch you interfering with my investigation again, I will arrest you. Do you understand?”
“Yup, reading you loud and clear.” I figured the only way to walk away from this with any dignity was to brazen it out. “Dinner tonight. What time shall I tell Lawrence?”
✽✽✽
I had a hundred and one ‘vicary things’ to do, but first things first. I realised from Tizzy’s dossiers that I knew next to nothing about the two prime suspects in this case, both of whom were probably cataloguing Wesberrey Venuses next door. It was still my church, my well, my excavation.
I slipped back around to the main door and walked in. There was no sign of Sebastian. Isadora was taking photos of the boxes.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Good, all things considered, I suppose. I can’t get the image of Professor Cheadle lying there out of my head. Terrible business.” Isadora took my interruption as an opportunity to take a rest on a chair at the end of the trestle table. “Fortunately, though, whoever did it didn’t damage these precious beauties. Not a single one.”
Stay calm and carry on. Isadora Threadgill was a walking advertisement for the British stiff upper lip. “Every cloud, I suppose” I glanced over to where only a few days prior Norman Cheadle’s body had lain, pooling blood covering the surrounding flagstones, “They’ve done a good job with the cleanup. You would never know.”
“No, just as well, really. I hope you’re feeling better, Reverend. I hear you had another fainting spell on Saturday and missed all the fun in town. Delighted to hear that young girl won the crown. She is very sweet.”
“Yes, Tizzy is an amazing young woman. Did you watch the parade then, Isadora?”
“Oh, no. Not my thing at all and to be honest, I felt it rather bad form considering what had happened to the professor. It’s important to show your respect. Feels a tad off being here today, but life goes on and all that. These precious little things aren’t going to catalogue themselves now, are they?” With that, Isadora used her free hand to help lift herself off of her chair and resumed her photography.
“I expected to see Sebastian here. Do you know where he is?”
“I imagine checking out of the pub. He was complaining earlier about how it felt like living in a goldfish bowl. You know what people are like here. The poor chap isn’t allowed to leave Wesberrey until the police have finished their investigation. So I offered him a room at my place. It’ll be nice to have the company.”
“But, Isadora, is that wise? He could be the murderer?”
“Yes, Reverend. And with the same logic, so could I. Sometimes you just have to trust, don’t you? Whatever will be, will be.”
✽✽✽
I offered to help Isadora with labelling the finds. I was curious about her impending new domestic situation with Sebastian. On the surface, it’s the Christian thing to do, but given the circumstances, I felt it was foolhardy. Isadora, though, appeared trouble-free as she danced around the table taking photos and writing notes. Every so often she would shout across something to write on a chit of paper to place in a box, which I did without question. It was fascinating.
Through careful study, Isadora was identifying slight differences between the figures from the ratio between their hips and thighs to changes in the patterning on their torsos, though for most of the figures there were no engravings at all. They were simple, rustic, probably formed by
hand using local clay. There were two wax forms, which Isadora told me that Norman had suggested were later than the rest.
“By hundreds, even thousands of years he said. The wax forms are indicators of more organised religion, rather than superstitious beliefs. He was most intrigued by the bronze figure. Very rare.”
I carefully edged the latest chit into one of the boxes. I was wary of touching any of the figures again. The bronze figure hadn’t been there when I first looked. “It’s all rather intriguing how they can date these small objects. When did the bronze come up? It wasn’t here on Wednesday.”
“No, well remembered. Sebastian insisted on jumping down the shaft himself that afternoon. Had a mini metal detector gizmo with him. We might not have found it otherwise. It was in a lump of thick black clay, impossible to see in the dark.”
The mysterious bronze had a more elongated shape than the earlier Venuses and was more ornately decorated with spiralling lines and circles. On this figure, it was possible to discern three heads or faces, to be more accurate. All bore slightly different expressions and they looked to have their own themed headdresses, though I could not guess at the symbolism of each one. The three faces of the goddess, perhaps. Or the different stages of womanhood - maiden, mother, crone. Crone is such an ugly word.
“I imagine this would have been quite a high-status object. Clay and wax offerings would have been relatively cheap, but bronze would have required copper and tin and someone to smelt it,”
“Very well observed, Vicar!” The voice of Sebastian DeVere rolled around the apse. “I was saying just that very thing to poor old Norman at dinner… I’m sorry, forgive me.”
I turned in the voice's direction but had to double-take. Where was the elegant form I had met only a few days ago? Sebastian’s suit appeared as crumpled as he did. There was no cravat or tie. Just an open pink shirt that appeared to have traces of breakfast around the top buttons. The extended handle of his suitcase was his only means of support.
Divine Death: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 4) Page 8