Divine Death: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 4)

by Penelope Cress

  “Sebastian, I’m sorry this must all be so hard for you.” I ushered him into a pew. “It’s well past lunchtime, I’m sure we could all do with something to eat. The hall is off-limits, so why don’t you both come back to the vicarage with me. I’m sure I can throw something comforting together.”

  I prayed to the Big Boss that no one would be in. My family would have something to say about me bringing two murder suspects home.

  We pushed Sebastian’s luggage to the back of the choir and set off for the vicarage. I was very mindful of being spotted by Inspector Lovington as we passed by the hall. The last thing I wanted was to be arrested for making some beans on toast!

  Once safely in the kitchen, I offered my guests warm refreshments and a basic selection of culinary delights, namely the said beans on toast, or eggs on toast. I could even stretch to crushed avocado on toast. After a quick exchange about poached or scrambled, I started breaking the last batch of eggs into a bowl. Since the household had turned vegan, these were the only remaining signs of our former eating habits. With these used, the house would be cruelty-free, as long as you didn’t think too much about the leather chairs, silk wall hangings and ivory letter opener in the study. Or the piles of woollen jumpers, hats and scarves in our wardrobes. The repurposed hides, pelts, bones and tissue of hundreds of animals that made up the fabric of this building. And what about shelf upon shelf of books bound with horse glue! I bet Rosie hasn’t thought about that for her cafe!

  Eggs made and toast only marginally burnt, I set out the table. I had poured three glasses of orange juice and the kettle was boiling for a brew.

  Sebastian rallied. There is nothing a good cup of tea can’t cure. “Thank you so much, Reverend. That really hit the spot. I’m not sure I’ve eaten since…” He took a breath, “Since Friday. Not a proper meal anyway.”

  “This is hardly a proper meal. I’m sure Phil would have looked after you in the Cat and Fiddle.”

  “Ah, the twinkle-eyed proprietor. Charming fellow. Yes, he put food before me, but I hardly touched a bite.”

  “Well, that is understandable in the circumstances.”

  “Don’t fret yourself, Reverend Ward. I will see Mr DeVere has three square meals whilst he’s with me. A pub is no place to mourn. You need comforting things around you. Not to be all sentimental, you understand. Just best not to be in the public glare.”

  “Yes, and I will be eternally grateful for your hospitality, Mrs Threadgill. The police turned my room upside down on Saturday. Heavens knows what they were looking for. I had to get out. I couldn’t bear to see all my things strewn around the room without a care.” Sebastian folded the square of kitchen roll I had placed as a serviette. And unfolded it again, purposefully smoothing out the creases. “They have no finesse in their work. For all their white jumpsuits and dusting brushes.”

  “I imagine they have also been in Professor Cheadle’s room. There might be some clues there, I suppose. Like who he was planning to meet?”

  “What makes you think he was planning to meet anyone?” Isadora asked.

  “I don’t know. If he wasn’t meeting anyone, then why was he in the church? He obviously wasn’t alone.”

  “But he mentioned nothing to me at dinner,” Sebastian continued to fold and unfold the paper square. “Surely what happened was he went for an evening walk, happened by the church and disturbed some opportune thieves!”

  “Nothing was stolen. Or broken. There was no sign of a break-in or a struggle.” Jess, stop! This is interfering with police business. Isn’t it?

  “Wasn’t there?” Sebastian appeared to know nothing about the crime scene.

  “All I care is that all the Venuses were where I had left them when I arrived this morning. Maybe they were after the church silver. Those candlesticks would fetch a lot at auction, I should think.” Isadora ran her middle finger along the handle of her empty teacup. “Any more in the pot, or should I boil some more?”

  “You know,” Sebastian ventured, “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

  “Just what we need to get through the afternoon,” I answered and pulled out a jar of rich Columbian.

  Houseguests

  I spent the rest of the afternoon helping to inventory and pack up the Venuses. Tom had come over after his shift at the Cliff View end of the railway to help Isadora dismantle the cordon around the well shaft and make the area safe.

  “It’s such a shame,” Tom muttered as he pulled up the rope. “Right decision though, Mrs Threadgill, to call it a day. I’m sure Reverend Ward will let us back in here again when this matter is cleared up.”

  Isadora affectionately stroked Tom’s arm. “You have been such great support, Mr Jennings. I will make sure we highlight your contribution in my write-up for the S.H.A.S. newsletter.”

  “I knew bringing in that man was a mistake,” Tom continued. “He would turn gold to lead. I understand one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I’m not saying anything now I wouldn’t have said to his face. In fact, I did as much on the night he died. No one can accuse me of being a hypocrite. But Ernest is right. No one deserves to die like that.”

  “Wait!” I put down the box I had in my hand and took a few steps closer to where Tom was talking, “You said you told him as much the evening he died. When? How?”

  “When he came up from Harbour Parade.” Tom barely blinked. “I was working on the railway. The youngsters rarely like to work a Friday night. Too busy getting drunk or worse. So Ernest and I fill in the empty shifts. Like just now. They start after they return from school on the mainland.”

  “So Ernest was…?”

  “At Cliff View.”

  “Making him the last person to see Professor Cheadle alive!” piped in Sebastian.

  “Other than the murderer, of course,” I added quickly. I couldn’t believe that neither churchwarden thought this was worth telling me, or the police.

  “Unless he is the murderer. They had history!” Sebastian crowed.

  Tom threw down the rope. “Mr DeVere, I hope you aren’t suggesting that my Ernest had anything to do with the death of your mentor. I’m sorry for your loss, but you should pick your friends more wisely!”

  I had to calm the situation. “Tom, no one is accusing Ernest of anything. The whole idea is impossible. But you need to tell Inspector Lovington. It will help the police create a proper timeline.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Tom’s eyes widened, “I will, I’ll get Ernest to call the Inspector tomorrow.”

  “Why not go right now?” An agitated Sebastian moved in to within a foot of my friend, squaring off in a full alpha male pose. “They’re just next door. Unless you’re afraid it was your Ernest who killed him?”

  “There is no need for that kind of talk, Sebastian. I think we’re almost done here. Reverend, if you could make sure they follow this up, I will take Sebastian back home with me. It’s been a long day.” Isadora guided her house guest back to the choir stalls. “We can swing by in the morning and finish this off. Just keep the cordon up. For safety.”

  “Yes, we wouldn’t want another tragic death on our hands!” Sebastian spat back at Tom. Then he bent down to pull out his suitcase.

  I waited with Tom until they were out of the church. “Why didn’t you mention this before?” I asked.

  “Because Ernest never mentioned it. He must have at the very least said hello to Cheadle. Not that it was newsworthy. People go up and down in those cars all day. But once he heard of Norman’s death, I thought it would come up, you know. But he hasn’t said a thing.”

  “Maybe, he’s scared. Or in shock? They worked together once. I imagine there’s a lot for him to process.”

  “Reverend, I’m worried about him. At home, he just sits at that bureau all day, looking through those papers.”

  “Do you know what they’re about?” I set about securing the cordon.

  “I never look through his stuff. The secret to a lasting relationship is to value each other’s privacy.�
� Tom took a few unsteady steps back towards the altar and sat down on the top step. His head fell into his hands. I went over and put my arm around his shoulders.

  “Let’s go to the police, eh? I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  ✽✽✽

  PC Taylor was most kind as he took down Tom’s statement. Inspector Lovington, it seemed, had gone back to my aunt’s for a shower and to get ready for dinner. Which reminded me I hadn’t invited Lawrence. With a quick mime to show that I needed to make a phone call, I left Tom briefly and walked to the end of the hall.

  “Hi, Lawrence. Sorry, it’s such short notice, but we’re invited to have dinner with my sister and the Baron. I understand if you can’t... oh, you can. Great! Right, well, I’ll see you at the Old School House. Seven-thirty for eight. By the way, he’s paying, so we can look beyond the ‘two for one’ offers.” This is a date!

  I got back to the desk, just in time to hear PC Taylor reading back Tom’s statement.

  “I regret to say that my last words to Professor Cheadle were ‘there’s a special circle in hell for people like you. I’m sure the devil is keeping your spot warm!’ Is that correct, Mr Jennings?”

  “It is.” Tom pulled himself upright in his seat. “Yes, it sounds horrid, but I meant every word.”

  “Right, well. If you could just read through and sign here. I think we can call it a night.”

  Tom fished out his spectacles from the breast pocket of his jacket and took the pen and paper. After a few minutes, he clicked the pen and signed. “There. Done. When will you want to speak to Ernest?”

  PC Taylor flicked his right wrist forward and pulled up his sleeve at the cuff, just enough to reveal his watch. “The wife will have my tea on, so I’ll come over in the morning.” He patted his stomach. “I trust Mr Woodward has no plans to leave the country?”

  “Of course not. I’ll have the kettle on, Constable,” Tom replied.

  Before the dawn

  Despite the earlier stern warning, Dave was splendid company at dinner. He and Lawrence found they had a lot to talk about, which was a surprise. So deep in conversation were they at one point I doubt they noticed Zuzu and I slipping out to the toilet together, as ladies are wont to do, to discuss our men.

  Zuzu produced a lipstick from her bag and was trying to find the best light to apply the next layer of war-paint. “Do you want some? This one has a plumping agent. Makes your lips tingle a bit but it’s very effective.”

  “I’m good thanks, I have some Chapstick here somewhere.”

  “Jessie, you are hysterical sometimes.” We regarded each other in the mirror and smiled. “Lawrence is rather good looking. You’ve done well, little Sis.”

  Self-conscious that my face flushed at the mention of his name, I couldn’t contain the smile twitching at the corner of my mouth. “Thank you, he has a certain appeal.”

  Zuzu looked at my reflection and grinned. “I was wondering where she’d got to.”

  “Who?”

  “Fun Jessie. This frocked up, dog-collared version is very serious, you know.” She ran the lipstick along her bottom lip.

  “I have been a priest for years now. This is who I am.”

  “No, it’s who you think you should be. You need to smile more.” Zuzu marked out her cupid’s bow with two brave strokes. “There. Perfection!” She stepped back and adjusted her cleavage. “One thing I can say about your schoolteacher, every other man in that restaurant has been eying ‘the girls’ all evening, but Lawrence only has eyes for you.” She pulled ‘the girls’ back together. “Time to get to work, ladies!”

  I laughed. “Ready then?”

  “Ready!”

  ✽✽✽

  Lawrence and I held back after dinner to let my sister and ‘the girls’ send Dave off into the night. I was grateful for us to have some alone time.

  “The Inspector is a nice guy. I was wary after our last encounter.” Lawrence’s hand gently landed tantalisingly close to mine.

  “What, when he briefly suspected you of murder? I suppose that’s fair.” I pulled said hand away to reach for my wineglass. The silly flirtatious gestures enjoyed by a couple across a table. I chased the condensation up the glass with my finger and semi-consciously put the resulting droplet on my bottom lip.

  Lawrence took my hand and kissed my fingertips.

  I think I might explode!

  Instead. I suggested that as it was getting late; it was a school night and all. Perhaps he could get my coat.

  He held my eyes briefly, before pressing his lips, one final time, against my hand. “Your wish is my command, Reverend Ward.”

  Ooh, headmaster!

  ✽✽✽

  I lay in my bed thinking about Lawrence and how quickly my feelings had developed. Maybe it was the Green Man. Spring was in the air and, to paraphrase the words of John Paul Young, love was too.

  My eyes traced the moulding of the ceiling rose above my head. My thoughts drifted to how the evening had gone for Isadora and Sebastian. Maybe Sebastian needed a quiet night watching television and drinking Horlicks. Maybe they were watching reruns of ‘Time Team’. That would be something to bond over.

  I could hear Rosie in the kitchen on the phone to her son, telling him to come home straight away. A short time ago, she worried he was spending too much time on the computer. Endless conversations urging him to get out and do what young people do. Now that he was, she wasn’t too happy with that either.

  Mum had fallen asleep in front of the television with a half-drunk cup of cocoa on the table beside her. I had put a blanket over her when I got in. At some point, she would wake up and go up to her room.

  I hadn’t heard Zuzu return. Maybe she was spending the night at my aunt’s. I was sure it would delight Cindy to entertain the Baron and his muse. As I cradled my pillow, a part of me longed for the freedom to cast caution to the wind, to snuggle up to Lawrence’s warm chest instead of a square of memory foam. But that has never been my way.

  How were Tom and Ernest sleeping tonight?

  I prayed for the shadow of suspicion to move on. In the words of Julian of Norwich:

  “All shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.”

  ✽✽✽

  The warm glow of the night before sustained me through a breakfast of crisp golden cornflakes and ice-cold almond milk. An appointment-free diary presented the possibility of a morning filled with the joys of admin. First, on my to-do list, I needed to confirm my visit to St Mildred’s for lunch on the following day. I had pencilled in the date several weeks ago, and I knew Reverend Cattermole would want to hear first-hand all the latest about the excavation and the drama that followed. It was, after all, he that put me in touch with S.H.A.S. to begin with.

  I opened my emails. The life of an Anglican vicar is full of diversity; rituals and community activities, compassionate visits and endless rounds of tea and biscuits, but at its core, as with most jobs, there was a lot of routine paperwork and tedious correspondence. Still, nothing was going to temper my mood.

  Though the sun had been up for several hours, the dawn chorus outside the vicarage was still in fine voice. In particular, there was one stunning hawthorn tree in the garden, whose dainty white blooms danced merrily to the tune of the starlings flying to and from their nests. I could see its thorny branches from the study window. Soon the blossoms would fall to join last winter’s berries on the ground, replaced by fresh green leaves, and the plump brown fledglings would leave the nest. Such is the order of things. The natural rhythm of life.

  The strongest desire to offer a prayer of gratitude bubbled in my heart. Life was good, and it was time to thank the Bossman for all his bounty. I reclined in my office chair and closed my eyes. The bird song provided back-up vocals to my humble thoughts. Love is a marvellous gift.

  A thunderous pounding of the vicarage door shattered my serenity.

  “Reverend Ward! Come quick. They’ve arrested Ernest!”

  You cannot be seri
ous!

  The bearer of such incredible tidings was a breathless mass of peroxide hair and ‘Liquorice Allsorts’ jewellery. Barbara had run from the White House with the news.

  “It’s true! I was waiting at Cliff View station for Tom or Ernest to open up and when they didn’t arrive, I went around to their house to check they were okay. It turns out that Inspector Lovington and PC Taylor got there around nine-thirty to take a statement from Ernest. I don’t really know what happened next. Tom was beside himself. He was babbling nonsense about how he pushed him too far, how he should have kept his big mouth shut, that whatever he did, he still loved him. I couldn’t get any sense out of the man. All he would tell me is Ernest is being interrogated in the church hall, and you need to come now.”

  I motioned to Barbara to lead the way and grabbed my coat from the stand. There was no time for shoes. My mauve bunny slippers slid across the path. It must have rained a little in the night, the tarmac was still wet. This had to be a mistake. What was Dave thinking? Ernest Woodward!

  Backed by the full weight of my parish secretary, I readied myself to knock on the door and demand my churchwarden’s immediate release. I raised my fist level with my head and was seconds away from bringing it down with the full force of the righteous when the door opened. Ernest himself stood on the other side.

  A familiar voice called out from inside. “Come on in, Reverend Ward. The more the merrier.”

  Ernest stood back. Barbara and I walked nervously into the hall.

  Inspector Lovington pulled out a chair and waved at me to take a seat. “Jess, I thought I told you to keep your nose out of police matters?”

  “Er, yes, you did.” I anxiously took the offered chair and fixed a defiant glare on my accuser. “And I haven’t. I brought Tom here yesterday to give his statement. I have no other intel to report. I heard you’d arrested Ernest, which you must know is ridiculous.”