‘—and make sure they all stay put,’ he interjected, with a marked change of attitude. As she had hoped and anticipated, he was quick to grasp the chance to exercise some degree of command. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘Thank you very much. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
As she emerged from the house she saw Serena and Josie, who she guessed had been in the office when they heard the screams, standing in the middle of the courtyard attempting to calm Freya, who was now alternately gasping, gagging and babbling incoherently, her eyes rolling and her hands tearing at her hair. Serena turned to Sukey and said desperately, ‘She says Xavier’s been stabbed. What shall we do?’
‘Has she told you where he is?’
‘I assume he’s in his private cell in the garden – that’s where he does his morning meditation when it’s fine.’
‘Will you show me, Serena? And Josie, will you take Freya somewhere quiet and try to calm her down.’
Josie glanced at Serena as if seeking her approval. Serena nodded. She was visibly shaken; her eyes were wide with shock and apprehension and her hands were trembling. ‘Do as she says,’ she told the girl. ‘She works for the police.’ She beckoned to Sukey. ‘This way.’ She darted across the courtyard and through the gate leading to the garden, crossed the wide central expanse of lawn and raced along the dense hedge that formed the left-hand boundary, the skirt of her voluminous, brightly coloured dress billowing about her legs. Following at her heels, Sukey noticed that, unlike the similar hedge on the right, this one appeared at first to have no access to ‘rooms’ similar to those used each day by the initiates for meditation. It was not until they had almost reached the far end of the garden that Serena pulled up short and pointed. ‘This is Xavier’s private cell,’ she said in a hoarse whisper.
Sukey looked through the gap, but all she could see was a wall of dense greenery rather than a view of the interior. A rope was strung across the entrance, suspended between two invisible supports. From it hung a small rectangle of varnished wood on which was painted the single word, ‘Private’. Serena reached out to grasp it but Sukey caught at her wrist.
‘Don’t touch it – don’t touch anything for the moment,’ she said urgently. ‘Everything must be left exactly as it is. There may be fingerprints.’
‘Don’t we have to go in there and look?’ Serena whispered. She was trembling more violently than ever and appeared appalled at the prospect.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Sukey said gently. She took the girl’s hand; it was as cold as ice. ‘I’ll go first, if you like.’
‘Please.’
‘OK, you wait here.’ Sukey was surprised at how calm she felt; previous encounters with murder in the course of her work had shaken her to the core, but this time her pulse was steady and her breathing regular. Just the same, she hesitated for a moment before stepping carefully over the painted notice and taking four short paces to the left – all that were needed to bring her into the open and in sight of Xavier’s body.
He was lying face downwards in a crouching position, as if he had been attacked while sitting cross-legged, with his back to the entrance, at the top of the shallow flight of steps leading down to the pool that formed the central feature of the enclosure. He had toppled forward on his knees with his arms folded beneath him, the upper part of his head overhanging the water and his backside in the air. A casual observer might have assumed he was contemplating the water plants – or possibly, seeing his white robes and sandals, have taken him for an oriental monk at prayer. His posture might even have struck them as slightly ridiculous – but for the dagger that someone had plunged up to the hilt in his back.
Sukey swallowed hard before stepping forward, picking her way carefully to avoid disturbing possible evidence. Her gorge rose at the sight of the reflection of the man’s face in the still water and she had to steel herself to place her fingers on his neck, knowing instinctively that it was hopeless yet harbouring the faint hope that she might find a pulse, however weak. There was none. There was blood on the white garment where the weapon had entered, but surprisingly little. Then she realised where most of it had gone. The dagger must have passed clean through the body and gravity had done the rest, sending a scarlet tide flowing over the stone rim of the pool to form a slowly spreading stain in the still water.
She stood up and made a swift survey of the scene. The space had been laid out in the style of a miniature Japanese garden, with dwarf trees in strange, convoluted shapes planted here and there among variegated stones and gravel. Her first thought was to check whether there was any other means of access to the enclosure; so far as she could see there was none.
From behind her came a horrified gasp and the sound of retching. Serena had followed her and was staring at Xavier’s body with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were glazed and her face had taken on the yellowish tinge of beeswax. Sukey put an arm round her shoulders and drew her gently away.
‘There’s nothing we can do for him now,’ she whispered. ‘We must call the police at once – and no one must leave before they arrive and take over. They’ll want statements from everyone.’ As she led the unresisting Serena back to the house, it crossed Sukey’s mind that she knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about the background of any of the so-called initiates except Jennifer – and apart from the man who had introduced himself as Dan Foster, not even their names.
Sixteen
They were halfway back to the house when Jarvis emerged through one of the gaps in the hedge on the opposite side of the garden and hurried across the lawn to intercept them, his ruddy features registering concern.
‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘I heard someone yelling – has there been an accident?’
‘No accident,’ said Sukey grimly without stopping. ‘Xavier’s been attacked in his…’ She hesitated for a moment before rejecting the word ‘cell’ that Serena had used first and opting for ‘… his private retreat. I’m about to call the police and an ambulance.’
‘Attacked? Is he badly hurt?’ Jarvis fell into a shambling trot alongside them. ‘Is there anything I can do? I learned first aid when I was a Boy Scout—’
‘I’m afraid he needs more than first aid.’
‘I could maybe do something to help until the paramedic arrive.’ Jarvis pulled up short. He was already out of breath; Sukey had not slackened her pace and Serena passively allowed herself to be led along, but it had plainly been an effort for him to keep up with them. ‘Why don’t I just go and see?’ he panted, turning on his heel with the apparent intention of going to investigate, but Sukey called him back.
‘He’s best left alone till the experts get here,’ she said sharply. ‘You’d better come with us while I contact them. No one is to go near him or touch him until they arrive and take charge.’
Jarvis swung round and glowered. ‘Who says so?’ he demanded with a hint of truculence. Then he recognised her. ‘I remember you, you came about the stolen mower—’
‘That’s right, I’m a scene of crime officer working for the police and—’
‘That doesn’t give you the right to order the likes of me about,’ he interrupted rudely.
‘Don’t argue, Jarvis, just do as she says.’ Serena’s voice was weak, but firm.
‘If you say so, miss.’ With evident reluctance he trailed after them, grumbling under his breath.
When they reached the front door, with Jarvis still trailing a few paces behind them, Sukey said in a low voice, Serena, I want to keep things as calm as possible until the police get here, so will you please leave the talking to me?’ The girl nodded dumbly, apparently still dazed with shock. ‘I’m simply going to say Xavier’s been hurt and I’m calling for help, but nothing about murder. I suggest we join the others in the meeting room,’ Sukey went on in her normal voice. ‘You too, Mr Jarvis,’ she added as the gardener hung back. After a moment’s hesitation he dropped the half-smoked cigarette he had been holding, ground it into the gravel with the heel of his boot and followed them
into the house, still muttering.
Sukey blinked as she entered the room. Someone – presumably Dan Foster, who had summarily taken charge – had evidently found the dimmer switches and turned the lights full on. He had pulled his chair to the spot where Freya and Xavier normally stood and now sat facing the group, who were sitting before him like students at a tutorial. He stood up when Sukey and her charges entered and the others turned to stare at them, their faces pale under the unfamiliar glare. A chorus of questions broke out, quickly stilled as their self-appointed leader raised a hand. Like submissive children they lapsed once more into silence, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of shock and bewilderment.
‘All present and correct – no one’s left their seats since you went out,’ he said, in the slightly smug manner of a prefect reporting to the headmaster.
‘Thank you, Mr Foster, I appreciate your help.’
‘No problem. What’s your name, by the way?’
‘Sukey Reynolds.’
‘Well, Ms Reynolds, can you tell us what’s happened? Is it true that someone’s been murdered?’
‘It’s a bit previous to talk about murder, but it’s true that Xavier has been attacked and he appears quite seriously wounded. I’m afraid I can’t give you any more details at this stage,’ she added in response to the questions that everyone began firing at her simultaneously. The woman who had earlier collapsed in tears once again began sobbing hysterically. Jennifer, who had moved across and was kneeling on the floor beside her, put a comforting arm round her shoulders.
‘Shouldn’t we send for a doctor?’ said Foster.
‘That’s exactly what I’m about to do.’ While she was speaking, Sukey had taken her mobile phone from her shoulder bag which was still lying on the floor beside her seat. She began punching buttons. ‘I have to notify the police as well and ask them to send an officer here as soon as possible,’ she went on. ‘Meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if you’d all sit tight a little longer. Yes, hang on a second,’ she said as her call was answered by an officer in the control centre. To ensure that she was not overheard, she left the room to make her report, adding at the end, ‘Please make sure that DI Castle is informed immediately.’
On her return she almost bumped into Jarvis who had apparently made up his mind to be uncooperative and was about to leave. Foster marched across and took him by the arm.
‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ he said angrily.
Jarvis rounded on him and jerked his arm away. ‘Don’t you lay hands on me!’ he snarled. ‘I can’t waste time hanging around here, I’ve got work to do.’
‘That will have to wait. You heard what the lady said – we all stay here.’
In an attempt to avert what threatened to be an ugly confrontation, Sukey patted the back of her own empty chair and, said coaxingly, ‘Why don’t you just sit here and relax for a few minutes, Mr Jarvis? It’ll make things so much easier for the police to do their job if we all remain together until they arrive.’ His scowl indicated that he had no interest in easing the lot of the police, but after a moment’s hesitation he complied.
‘Is it all right if I go and see how Freya is?’ asked Serena.
Sukey gave her an appraising glance, noting that her colour was returning to normal and her breathing becoming steadier, although her hands were still trembling. ‘Yes, of course – and perhaps you’d like to stay with her while Josie joins us here. And by the way, will you give me the number of Freya’s GP? She must be pretty shaken up and she could probably do with a sedative.’
Serena shook her head. ‘She won’t take drugs – none of us does, it’s against our beliefs. Leave her to me – I’ll make her a calming herbal infusion if she needs one.’ She disappeared through the curtained alcove.
‘I reckon we could all do with a calming infusion, but my choice wouldn’t be one of her concoctions,’ muttered one of the men.
‘Maybe Josie could organise some coffee,’ said Sukey. From the bark of sardonic laughter that greeted the suggestion, it was evident that the speaker had something stronger in mind.
‘It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes or so for the emergency services to get here,’ said Sukey. ‘I’m afraid I have to ask you not to leave this room until they arrive and take charge. Till then, I’ll be outside in the courtyard keeping an eye open for them.’
‘Suppose we refuse?’ The man who had expressed the need for a drink stood up. He was short and heavily built with a hard look about him; his attitude held a trace of belligerence. Like Foster, he appeared to have shaken off to some extent the state of shock and confusion still plainly affecting the others. ‘You can’t force us to stay if we insist on leaving. My name’s Loveridge,’ he added as if this somehow gave him the right to challenge her. ‘I’m a very busy man and I have an important appointment later on. If it’s going to mean overstaying our time here—’
‘It’s only half-past ten and we’re normally here until twelve,’ Sukey reminded him. ‘Of course, I have no power to detain you, but the police will want to take statements from everyone sooner or later.’
‘What use can I be? What use can any of us be?’ He glanced round the room as if inviting support for his show of defiance, but no one spoke. Foster merely shrugged. Jennifer was staring at him with her mouth open, as if aghast at his effrontery. The weeping woman had fallen silent and was sitting back in her seat with her eyes closed, as was the third man in the group, who had not uttered a word since his ecstatic claim to have come within reach of the Inner Wheel. ‘We’ve all been in here together since we arrived,’ Loveridge went on, ‘so it can’t possibly be one of us who attacked Xavier.’
‘We’ve no idea at the moment what time the attack took place,’ Sukey pointed out. ‘Until that has been established, none of us can be eliminated.’
He began to bluster. ‘Here, what are you suggesting?’ he demanded. ‘What possible motive—?’
‘I’m not suggesting anything, it’s simply a matter of the way these things are handled.’
‘You mean, we’re all suspects?’ His nostrils flared in indignation, as if he had suffered a personal insult. ‘That’s a positively outrageous—’
‘Oh, sit down, man!’ Foster interrupted impatiently. ‘Can’t you see, she’s doing her best to deal with a ghastly situation.’
‘Thank you.’ Sukey gave her champion a grateful glance as Loveridge, his face sullen, resumed his seat. There was a movement behind her; the curtains parted and Josie appeared. ‘How’s Freya?’
‘She’s calmed down a bit, but she’s obviously still very distressed. Serena’s given her some herbal tea and she’s going to stay with her until the police arrive.’ The girl put a hand to her forehead. ‘It’s terrible, terrible. Xavier was such a good person… almost saint-like… who would want to hurt a wonderful man like him?’ Her voice cracked and her eyes filled.
‘Try not to upset yourself,’ said Sukey gently. She glanced round the room. ‘Let’s see if we can find you a chair.’
‘This will do.’ Josie crossed the room and stooped to pick up a three-legged stool which stood beside the table with its assortment of bric-a-brac. As she straightened up, she froze and uttered a faint gasp that was almost a sob.
Sukey moved quickly to her side and saw that she was staring fixedly at the display cabinet on the wall, her eyes dilated with fear. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s gone,’ Josie said in a shaky whisper. ‘The knife… it’s gone.’ The colour had drained from her face.
‘What knife?’
Josie pointed to a tooled leather sheath lying on the bottom shelf. ‘It was in there. Do you suppose… ?’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Are you saying that sheath contained a knife… a dagger?’
‘Yes.’
‘Rum sort of thing for a peaceful chap like Xavier to have lying around,’ observed Foster, who had crossed the room to have a closer look. He reached out as if to pick up the sheath to examine it.
‘Don’
t touch it!’ said Sukey sharply and he hastily withdrew his hand.
‘Sorry, should have known better,’ he mumbled, looking slightly foolish. ‘Fingerprints and all that.’
‘Xavier brought it back from his travels in the East,’ Josie explained. Her tone was slightly defensive as if she resented the criticism implied in Foster’s comment. ‘He calls it the Sword of Truth.’
‘When did you last see it?’ Sukey asked.
Josie shook her head in bewilderment. Her blue eyes were awash with tears. ‘Last Friday afternoon Serena asked me to help the initiates choose books and things – she normally does it herself when she isn’t giving a treatment.’
‘And the knife was in its sheath then?’
‘I can’t say I noticed it particularly, but I’m sure I would have done if it wasn’t.’
‘Just a minute,’ Foster interposed. ‘Are you saying that whoever attacked Xavier used a knife… that knife?’
Sukey shook her head. ‘I’m not saying anything of the kind, but nothing can be ruled out at this stage. You’ll have to wait until the police and the doctor get here and carry out their examination. They’ll be in a better position than I am to answer your questions.’
‘I wish they’d get a move on,’ said Loveridge impatiently.
‘Perhaps you could put the waiting time to good use,’ Sukey suggested. She fished her notebook from her bag, tore out half a dozen sheets and passed them round. ‘If you’d all write down your full name and address and a phone number where you can be contacted, it will help to speed things up when the police get here.’
‘Won’t that information be available in the office?’ asked Foster.
Josie, who had been standing as if transfixed during the discussion with the stool in her hands, put it back in its place saying, ‘Of course it is – I’ll go and get it.’
‘Sorry, the office is out of bounds as well for the time being,’ said Sukey. ‘Josie, if there aren’t any more comfortable chairs I’m afraid you’ll have to sit on that stool for the time being… unless one of the gentlemen—’
Death at Burwell Farm Page 14