‘Julia, is it?’ Andrea spat. ‘Found an affinity with the distant dead, have we?’
Jack judged it best not to admit that he had. Julia and Maple were almost friends.
‘It is likely a soldier or a corrupt ARP warden murdered your grandmother. There was a lot of that.’ Greenhill looked defeated.
‘Is this the medical profession looking after its own?’ Andrea said. ‘Since Shipman we all know doctors can kill.’
‘I don’t like rushing to judgement.’
‘Maple Greenhill was murdered in 1940 – hardly rushing.’
‘Someone wanted Northcote dead,’ Jack said.
‘You’re like her other man, making mystery where there is none. Haven’t you got a better way to spend your time than leading on my daughter?’ Greenhill looked at Jack with pure distaste.
‘Dad. He’s not leading me on. This is about me.’ Andrea got up. ‘I believe George Cotton and so do you. Why are you doing this?’
‘As you said, my mother has been dead a long time. It won’t help her to destroy people’s families. And their reputations.’ Greenhill looked uncomfortable. Had someone got to him?
‘Northcote killed her, we have the proof. I want her story to be told.’
‘Why did you change your name?’ Following a thought train, Jack was surprised when Greenhill answered him.
‘I grew up in the shadow of my sister’s murder. Maple was a millstone around all our necks. My parents – grandparents – were destroyed. Dad said Mum couldn’t bear him to peck her on the cheek after Maple died. They couldn’t be pleased for Vernon when his boss left him the garage or the birth of Cliff, their first grandson, second if you include me. Dad died the day he retired. Mum soon after. They’d died in spirit in December 1940.’ Greenhill spoke in a monotone. ‘Then big brother Vernon dropped the bombshell. I was Maple’s illegitimate kid and he was my uncle. They had fooled me. I changed my name to be rid of the dead.’
‘Jack’s mother was murdered when he was a boy,’ Andrea said. They had agreed she’d use it as a lever, but still Jack felt as if he’d been punched in the face.
‘Don’t fib, dear.’ Greenhill was the severe dad.
‘She was strangled next to the River Thames in 1981.’
‘Did they catch the killer?’ The doctor’s tone softened.
‘Not at the time.’ Jack’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
‘Jack and his partner identified her killer in 2012.’ Andrea was on a roll.
‘Did that bring you closure?’ Greenhill was faintly acid.
‘I wanted her killer dead, but when that happened, nothing changed. Revenge would have satisfied me briefly before it wore off. Only my mother returning would do.’ Jack hadn’t fully thought this before.
‘I’ll make tea.’ Andrea left the room.
‘If you could find your mother’s killer, would you want revenge?’ Jack asked William.
‘I don’t like to call him her killer, it creates a link that was never there in life.’
‘Maple told her brother Vernon she had a secret fiancé who was a doctor. Northcote was seen with her at the Hammersmith Palais – isn’t it likely he murdered Maple?’ Jack went for it. ‘Dr Greenhill, did you kill Roderick March because he was going to reveal you are the actual murderer of Sir Aleck Northcote?’
Chapter Fifty-Two
2019
Stella
Stella had asked Lucie to go to the Christmas rehearsal at the abbey. Amidst the turmoil of murder and Stella’s growing fear that, rather than make a pass at Jack, Andrea would try to kill him, Stella needed peace. Lucie hadn’t needed persuading, she’d zipped and buttoned herself into her Driza-Bone against the rain and was out the door. Perhaps she too needed peace. Stella’s phone buzzed.
Stock-taking for Joy. Will quiz her.
‘We should pull Bev out of there.’ Stella paused for Stanley to lift a leg against a tree trunk on the yew path.
‘Give Beverly a chance to shine, Stella. Ah, looks like Felicity was right and Joy was wrong.’ Lucie was reading a notice on the abbey door.
Due to severe weather, rehearsal postponed.
‘We have to at least check on Bev.’ Stella tried the door. It opened. ‘Besides, Joy said she’d play whatever the weather.’
They gravitated to chairs near the choir where Stella had seen March’s beanie.
‘Northcote murders Maple Greenhill to save his rep then murders Julia, because she’s going to dob him in for Maple. Sickening.’ A puddle of water from her coat had collected around Lucie’s feet. ‘Northcote in turn is bumped off, supposedly for refusing son Giles a handout. If we are to believe Rodders and Virtual Andrea, Giles went to the gallows an innocent man. Who wanted Northcote dead?’
‘It had to be out of revenge,’ Stella said. ‘That narrows it down to anyone who cared about Maple.’
‘Or held a grudge against him. And since he seems to have been an evil genius, our net widens again.’ Lucie was flipping through the hymn book.
‘Gladys Wren had a lucky escape,’ Stella said.
‘Not if, according to Joy by Cheque, lovely Gladys murdered Northcote.’ Lucie began to hum the carol she had open in the book. Stella could see it was ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’, but didn’t recognize Lucie’s version.
‘I think Gladys’s story of faking her alibi rings true. We know that murder ensnares those with secrets of their own.’
‘Ooh, I like that.’ Fumbling in her bag Lucie scribbled the phrase in her notebook. ‘But Joy said she saw Gladys.’
‘I think she saw Northcote raping Gladys and conflated the scene with hearing he’d been murdered. She was a child, she probably only made sense of it as an adult and seems to have seen mileage in her knowledge,’ Stella said.
‘At ten she was a peeping Tom; what she saw made her older than her years.’ Lucie was swooshing water off her sleeves.
‘Dad always said start from the simple solution and work up. We’re into the very complicated.’
‘If only that was how he had conducted his personal life.’ Lucie flicked to ‘Once in Royal David’s City’; Stella hoped to goodness she wouldn’t attempt to sing it.
‘Sorry to rain on your parade, Stells, but Mrs W is steeped in motive. Northcote left her a small legacy, doubtless he told her that to get his wicked way with her. He threatened to tell her fiancé. Gladys told me Derek would have forsaken her if he’d known she wasn’t a virgin. The bounder. Northcote only had to touch his flies and she’d have to be there. During their sherry evenings Gladys understands this podcast thing Roderick’s doing will point the finger at her. Easier if you stick a knife in the back and don’t see their eyes.’
‘And Clive?’ Stella realized the abbey was silent. Joy wasn’t playing after all.
‘I’m guessing he saw her do it or Joy told him Gladys killed Northcote. Clive sounds like a weaselly old squirrel, probably saw a chance to move in on Mrs W himself. Face it, Stell, why hand over cash to Joy if she’s innocent? I’m there with Gladys. Mind, she’s the victim here. She’s also top of my suspect tree. She lied about her alibi, said she was at the Sabrina Cinema when she can’t have been since it was closed.’
‘I think that was a mistake. The police would have known the Sabrina had closed down. In her chat with you, Gladys said they were going to Evesham to see the film. I think she felt guilty, soiled. Somehow to blame. Few people would have believed her about Northcote. The only one who had seen it was Joy and she blackmailed her.’ Stella was passionate. ‘If Gladys killed Northcote she’d have been splattered with blood. Her family would have seen.’ Sticking to a hunch felt alien, but Stella felt Mrs Wren’s account of that November night fifty-six years ago was the truth. ‘Had there been no barn fire, Gladys and Derek would have watched Girl in the Headlines. No, I’m certain that after Giles and Gladys left, Northcote had another visitor.’
‘Out goes Andrea as a suspect: Roddy March stealing her story is a weak motive and, like she told you, his podcast pl
anned to expose her grandmother’s killer. It pains me, she’s a grumpy sod, but…’ Lucie deleted Andrea from a list in her notebook. ‘And you can have Gladys Wren. We’re left with Felicity, Joy and you.’ Baring her teeth, Lucie warbled the first line of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’.
‘There were barriers.’ Stella leapt up and went over to the column near the choir. ‘Workmen had been repairing this area, and until after the night Roddy was murdered, it was closed off to the public. The barriers started from that pillar. On the south ambulatory. Although it was blocked off, I went that way to avoid Joy.’
‘Ambulatory, is that rude?’
‘Roddy March must have approached the starved monk from the north side because it was where he left his beanie.’ Stella rocked Stanley in her arms.
‘Meaning?’ Leaving a trail of drips, Lucie wandered over and joined her.
‘That Roddy would have passed the Grove organ to get to the tomb and, as she was playing at the time, Joy must have seen him. She told Janet, and us, she saw no one. Maybe she expected him after the business with the chamomile tea. Maybe they had conferred.’
‘Suppose his killer met him there and, like you, moved the barrier. You said March was chucked out fifteen minutes before everyone. He had time to be installed with the hungry monk before Joyful got going on her organ.’
‘Roddy might not have come straight to the abbey.’ Stella buried her face in Stanley’s damp fur. ‘Roddy is following a lead of his own. Something at the Death Café gave him a hint. He’s heading to their house because he knows that at that moment it’s empty. He gets a text from his killer asking to meet at the abbey. He sits for a bit, that’s when I saw his shadow on the wall, then he goes to the starved monk, via the other way. Follow me.’
Stella crept down the north ambulatory and, keeping close to the cases of second-hand books, edged past the panelling that housed the organ. There was no one there.
‘Looks like Joy bailed out after all that talk of braving the floods to play.’ Lucie snorted.
‘Stanley’s coat is wet.’ Stella was clutching Stanley.
‘Funny that.’
‘Roddy’s hair was wet, I assumed it was blood, but he was stabbed in the back. It must have been water, Roddy was caught in the rain.’
‘Does it ever stop raining here?’
‘It wasn’t raining when Roddy left the Death Café,’ Stella said. ‘Andrea muttered that it was a shame, he wouldn’t get soaked. Joy said it would be his fault if he was. Felicity said she felt bad ejecting him, but must abide by Death Café rules. Since everyone except Felicity and me appears to have disliked Roddy, him going can’t have mattered. To have got wet, Roddy must have gone somewhere before the abbey.’
‘Have you heard from Jackanory?’ Lucie suddenly said.
‘No.’ Jack was on a motorway at night. He’d be all right, he was a confident driver. He’d been sure Andrea was innocent and, with his thing about spotting True Hosts, Jack would know. Stella told herself.
‘Hang on, look.’ Lucie was pointing at a spotlight on a gantry high up above the nave. ‘The shadow of that pillar is slanting across the wall as it would have that night. If March was in that chair in front, his shadow would be there too. Stay where you are.’ Lucie went and sat in the chair. ‘Can you see my shadow from there?’
‘Yes.’
‘When Joy was cantering on her Wurlitzer, she would have seen the shadow.’
‘That means…’
‘It means we have our murderer.’
‘Beverly is stock-taking.’ Stella pulled Lucie behind the pillar.
I’ll quiz her.
The same thought occurred to Stella and Lucie. Beverly had a tendency to jump more than one gun. Jack had found her in Andrea’s house in London and since Gladys had said Joy was blackmailing her, Beverly’s money was on Joy.
Seeing light spilling out of the gift shop, Stella felt dread. If Jackie were on the spot she’d have watched out for Beverly. Stella had taken her eye off the ball.
The shop was shut. Stella let herself breathe. Then she got a text. Disappointment that it wasn’t Jack was mitigated by Bev Mob.
At Mrs Wrens. Joy on way, will trap her. I’m on it! B.
‘We have to stop her.’ Stella spun around. ‘Is this the chance to shine you meant?’
‘Bev on her own with two likely killers? No, hot damn.’ Grim-faced, Lucie voiced what Stella couldn’t bear to think.
Another text.
‘Felicity knows who attacked her,’ Stella said. ‘She’s asked to meet me at our flat and go with her to the police.’
‘Tell her to come here. Find out who it is then text me. We’re not handing this to Janet on a plate. I’ll go and rescue Bev.’
‘Take Stanley, his bark is scary.’
Flinging up the hood of her Driza-Bone Lucie zipped it up to her neck and, like a giant bat, flew along the north ambulatory. Stella heard the door slam.
She was alone.
She stared through the grille into the gift shop. Through the bars, a carousel of fabric hens might be in prison. Bev had warned her that Jack had bought her one, so she could arrange her face when he gave it to her. No need, she’d happily accept the lot. Bev said Joy got easily upset.
Bev might be the youngest in the team, the least experienced and terrible at filing, but she was sharp and brave. Too brave. Stella WhatsApped her.
Don’t do ANYTHING. Lucie coming, me too soon. Be NICE to Joy, DO NOT make her upset.
Listening out for Felicity, Stella pressed send.
Through the grille, Stella saw a light on the counter. She heard a buzz. Glimpsing two Yuletide candles Stella supposed they were electric. She looked at her phone. One grey tick against her message to Beverly. Two grey ticks signalled that the other device had got the text. Two blue ticks told you the recipient had read it. Beverly had not read it. Thinking to attract her attention, Stella resent the text. Another buzz. Another light on the counter, not the Yuletide candles. Propelled by the buzzing, a pink object juddered past one of the candles and stopped by a cluster of Mary and Josephs, like the couple Stella had bought. Her mind raced.
Beverly had texted from Gladys Wren’s lodging house on the High Street. Yet her phone was here.
‘There you are, Stella.’ Felicity’s cheeks were reddened from the cold. She swung a black umbrella that explained why she was perfectly dry.
‘We have to go.’ Stella turned to go up the north aisle. ‘Bev texted that Joy is going to Gladys’s lodging house, Beverly believes Joy killed Roddy March the podcaster and… she’s right.’ Why hadn’t she listened to Beverly?
‘Go where?’ Felicity was peering through the gift shop grille.
‘To the lodging house.’ Felicity wasn’t getting it. Stella felt screaming frustration.
‘We’d be better calling the police.’ Felicity sounded reasonable. ‘Better yet, let’s tell them when we go to the station.’
‘There’s no time.’ Stella knew fear for herself, but fear for someone else was another thing. Her teeth started to chatter.
‘Stella, it looks like Joy tricked you like she tried to trick me.’ Felicity gave a grim smile.
‘Tricked, how?’ Stella couldn’t speak properly, her mouth was dry, her breathing fast. ‘I’m being dense. Beverly couldn’t have texted from Mrs Wren’s, her phone is in there.’ Beverly had never left the gift shop.
‘Beverly,’ Stella shouted. She wrenched on the grille as if she could yank it from the thick wooden door into which it was fixed. ‘Bev is in there, injured or…’
‘Stop. Joy is here in the abbey. She told me she was going ahead with the rehearsal with or without the choir. You were there, you remember. I wanted to see you at your flat to avoid her, but when you said you were at the abbey, I had to come. We have to get out now.’ Felicity tottered, as if telling Stella had brought it home. She clutched the umbrella like a spear. ‘Joy wanted me to come, not to sing or to hear her play, but to kill me.’
‘Why
you?’ Stella was picking up on Felicity’s nerves.
‘Not just me. She will murder you too. She knows March told you his killer’s name. Clive knew, that’s why he’s dead. Joy thinks you told me too.’ Felicity was scouring the abbey. ‘She’s here. Listening to every word.’
They heard a click then a grinding sound. The sound of stone rolling on stone. In the cavernous abbey they couldn’t tell where it came from.
‘It was Joy who attacked me. I saw her. She attacked you at the weir and left you for dead.’
‘What’s that noise?’ Stella whispered to Felicity. There were too many chapels, too many pillars and dark corners.
‘That way, from the Wakeman Cenotaph, the bitch, she’s teasing us.’ Fear had made Felicity look somehow younger. Pale and waxen.
‘Roddy March didn’t tell me his killer’s name.’ Stella raised her voice for Joy to hear.
‘Joy won’t believe you.’ Felicity got the ruse. ‘She has outplayed me.’
‘She’s got Beverly.’ Joy had outplayed them all.
‘Sshhh.’ Felicity gripped her shoulder, ‘It’s a double bluff. Beverly will be at Mrs Wren’s. Joy’s not interested in her, it’s me and you she wants.’
‘I’ll call Janet… I mean the police.’ Stella’s limbs were jelly. Bravery is a quality attributed by others in retrospect, terror consumes in real time. Why hadn’t she made Janet listen, sent her the spreadsheet? Because, as Andrea had said, Stella wanted to play detectives.
‘It’s too late for the police.’ Felicity put a finger to her lips. ‘Come with me. Stay close. Joy is dangerous.’
They had moved only a few feet when Stella spotted the source of the noise. A large glass marble lay in the middle of the ambulatory.
‘She threw it to distract us,’ Felicity breathed. ‘Make us think she is nearer than she is. Mind games.’
At that moment the lights went out.
‘Don’t move,’ Felicity breathed in her ear.
It wasn’t properly dark. The sconces had dimmed. Stella made out the myriad arches, chapels shrouded in gloom. Shafts of moonlight drifted through the stained-glass windows.
The Distant Dead Page 31