Death at Burwell Farm

by Betty Rowlands

  ‘Here, have my seat,’ said Jarvis grudgingly.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Jarvis.’ Sukey gave him a smile of appreciation, which was not returned. The gardener stood up, moved to one side and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, then put it back in response to a sharp reproof from Foster.

  ‘I’ll be outside keeping an eye on things until the police get here,’ Sukey repeated. ‘Meanwhile, no one is to touch anything on that table or on the shelves – or even go near them. Mr Foster, will you kindly see to it?’

  He sprang to attention and saluted. ‘Ay ay, skipper!’ The frivolous response evoked a tutting noise from the tearful lady and he made an apologetic gesture. ‘No offence meant,’ he said hastily.

  Feeling that she had had as much as she could handle at the moment, and praying that the action she had taken to deal with the emergency would meet with official approval, Sukey left them to it. It was a relief to be outside and away from the oppressive atmosphere indoors. Although she had no reason to expect the killer to return to the scene of the murder, she made a point of taking up a position which gave her a view of both the garden and the main entrance. From the time of Xavier’s non-appearance, followed seconds later by Freya’s screams indicating that something was seriously amiss, her professional training had taken over. Now that she had a moment to reflect – and knowing that, more than the average witness, she would be expected to give a detailed account of everyone’s movements and reactions including her own – she began a mental reconstruction of the sequence of events from that moment of anti-climax. She pictured herself taking immediate charge of the situation before going outside to investigate; saw once more the agitated group of women in the courtyard; did her best to recall the exact exchange of words before rushing down the garden in Serena’s wake.

  The police would want to know as far as possible the exact route they had taken so that they could eliminate it in their examination of footprints, but there was no paved path alongside the left-hand hedge and in any case Serena had led the way diagonally across the lawn. Studying the scene, Sukey did her best to visualise the track they had taken across the grass as they ran and mentally kicked herself at her failure because of her haste to get the distressed girl away from the murder scene as soon as possible.

  Breathing deeply of the fresh air on this pleasant but unseasonally cool July morning, Sukey detected a hint of freshly cut grass. Jarvis had mentioned on her first visit that he always carried out any task involving machinery early in the morning, ‘to avoid disturbing the folks at their meditation’. The mower would have picked up most of the cuttings, but… glancing down at her feet, she noticed scraps of green clinging to her trainers. Which meant that anyone else who had walked over the lawn that morning would probably have some on their shoes. Which meant that probably included the killer.

  Then something else occurred to her. Somewhere in Vera’s diary had been a slightly flippant reference to a ‘Sword of Truth’, which suggested that the missing dagger had played some part in one of Xavier’s rituals. Another thing to include in her report to the police.

  She had reached this stage in her deliberations when the first police car arrived.

  Seventeen

  The first to arrive was a solitary uniformed constable whose face was unfamiliar. Sukey went to meet him as he got out of his patrol car; he was young, evidently nervous and, she guessed, fairly inexperienced.

  ‘PC Douglas Irving,’ he announced. ‘I’ve had a report of an incident here – a suspicious death.’

  ‘That’s right, a man’s been stabbed. I’m pretty sure he’s dead, but we have to wait for a doctor to confirm it. The body’s in the garden.’

  He looked at her doubtfully and then glanced round at the cars parked in the yard. ‘I was told a SOCO was already at the scene; but I don’t see a van.’

  ‘That’s me – I’m Sukey Reynolds from Gloucester, but I’m not on duty, I just happened to be here at the time so I took charge and called for assistance. I’ve managed to contain everyone indoors in the same room, except the woman who found the body – she’s the victim’s wife, by the way – and another woman who works here and is looking after her. She’s pretty distressed, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Only natural.’

  ‘I assume you’ll want to take a look at the murder scene and report back.’

  ‘I suppose I’d better.’ Irving appeared far from happy at the prospect. ‘A rapid response team is on the way, along with CID and a local doctor,’ he added. ‘Should be here pretty soon.’ The hopeful glance that he cast in the direction of the main entrance suggested that he would welcome their immediate arrival, thus sparing him an unpleasant duty.

  Sukey, who was already feeling the strain of the past half-hour, was in no mood to make allowances. ‘It’s this way – and let’s not hang about,’ she said briskly. She set off with Irving at her heels. ‘We’ll need to mark out an access route before the mob gets here and starts tramping all over the place, so please take exactly the same path as I do. It won’t be as accurate as I’d like, but…’ Glancing back over her shoulder she noticed that the young officer had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing beads of sweat from his forehead and upper lip. She felt a pang of sympathy and said, ‘Not dealt with many murders, have you?’

  He shook his head, looking slightly shamefaced. ‘This is my first. I only joined the force a year ago and there isn’t much in the way of violence round here apart from domestics and punch-ups after the pubs close. I suppose everyone feels a bit groggy the first time.’

  ‘Not just the first time.’ She made an effort to sound encouraging. ‘I don’t think any of us ever quite gets used to it – except the forensic pathologist, of course. I think he quite enjoys it. This one isn’t as messy as some I’ve encountered.’

  While she was speaking they had reached the entrance to Xavier’s private retreat. Sukey pointed to the notice strung across the gap in the hedge. ‘He’s in there – and whatever you do, avoid coming into contact with that board. Ready?’

  Irving licked his lips and nodded. ‘Might as well get it over with,’ he said shakily.

  ‘Good lad.’ She gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. ‘I find deep breathing helps. There’s no need to approach him too closely. Just walk to the end of this hedge and take a good look, but please don’t go tramping around. The less disturbance before the SOCOs arrive and begin their examination of the scene, the better.’

  ‘Won’t you be dealing with it?’

  Sukey grinned. ‘Not me – I’m a witness. In fact, you could say a possible suspect.’

  Irving managed a weak smile in return before moving forward and disappearing from view behind the enclosing hedge. When he returned a couple of minutes later he had turned a sickly green and was holding the handkerchief to his mouth. ‘Come on now, some good deep breaths and you’ll be fine,’ Sukey encouraged him. ‘Well done, you managed without actually puking,’ she went on as he complied with a series of shuddering gasps.

  ‘Not a pretty sight, is he?’ Irving said shakily. ‘What was he doing there – some kind of yoga? Is he a monk or something? What sort of place is this anyway?’

  ‘I suppose you could call it a kind of healing centre, but there’s no time to go into that now. It’s run by a trio of oddballs – at least, there were three of them until…’ She gave a meaningful glance over her shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s get busy on that access route.’ They worked fast to mark out a corridor across the lawn and seal the entrance to the murder scene with lengths of blue-and-white tape. When they had finished, Sukey felt able to relax for the first time since the drama began. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the hum of bees and the twittering of birds as Nature went about her business, indifferent to human tragedy.

  Moments later the peace was shattered by the sound of wailing sirens and the courtyard became a confusion of cars and flashing blue lights as the first of the rapid response teams arrived and figures in blue uniforms tumbl
ed out. Irving hurried across to report to the sergeant in charge, leaving Sukey standing alone beside the entrance to the garden. She became aware of a strange sensation, as if the earth was tilting beneath her feet, and she grabbed at the gate for support. Someone took her by the arm and half led, half carried her into the office, lowered her on to a seat and gently pressed her head towards her knees. A familiar voice said, ‘It’s OK, you’ll be fine in a moment.’ She looked up; through a blur of totally unexpected tears, she saw the concerned face of DS Andy Radcliffe.

  ‘I can’t believe it… I can’t believe it.’ Edith Burrell had cast off her robe and was lying prone on a couch in the family’s private sitting room, mopping her swollen eyes with a handful of pulpy paper tissues while Serena massaged her back and shoulders. ‘Who would want to kill Percy?’ she moaned. ‘He’s never harmed anyone… he spent his whole life helping other people… he didn’t have an enemy in the world.’

  ‘That’s what we’ve always thought, but there must be someone. Maybe someone who’s never managed to shake off their internal shackles has been nursing a grudge against him. We’ve had the occasional drop-out, as you know.’

  ‘But not for a long time – and as far as we know none of them blamed Percy. Can you think of anyone?’

  ‘Not offhand.’

  ‘Do you suppose it was one of this week’s new initiates?’

  ‘Mum, I simply don’t know.’

  ‘I remember once or twice catching that Susan Reynolds casting furtive looks at the others when she should have been giving Percy – Xavier, I mean – all her attention.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘I kept an eye on her because you warned me about her. It was only the first day – I haven’t noticed anything since. You said she works for the police… maybe they suspected something was going to happen.’ Edith’s voice rose in a hysterical wail. ‘Why didn’t they warn us?’

  ‘Hush! Lie still now – we’ll talk about it later.’

  Little by little, under her daughter’s skilled hands, Edith grew quieter. ‘We know so little about the initiates,’ she said after a while. ‘That’s Percy’s doing, of course – he always insisted on not asking them a lot of questions.’ She blew her nose, discarded the sodden mass of paper and reached for a fresh supply from a box on a low table beside the couch. ‘He said they were here to discover in secret their true nature and the hidden strengths that lie within them, not shout their weaknesses to the house-tops like drunks at a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.’

  ‘Well, they’ll have to be a bit more forthcoming when the police get here and start asking them questions.’

  This further reference to the police induced a fresh gush of tears as the consequences of her husband’s murder began to dawn on Edith. ‘Oh God, they’ll want to question us as well.’ Her voice rose to an even higher pitch. ‘They’ll say I did it, they always think it’s the wife.’

  ‘Now you’re talking nonsense.’

  ‘But that’s what they always say – I’ve read it in the papers. They might even say we planned it together. Serena, what can we do?’ Edith flung off the ministering hands, sat upon the edge of the couch and grabbed her daughter’s wrists. ‘They’ll put us in prison! We’re ruined!’

  ‘Hush! Come and sit over here while I give you some OCH.’ After an initial resistance, Edith allowed herself to be settled in a low-backed chair where Serena began massaging fragrant oil over her forehead, neck and temples. ‘Just be still, be still.’ She adopted the vibrant, hypnotic tones that she used when giving treatments to the initiates. ‘We’ll manage, you’ll see—’

  Once more, the gentle but purposeful movements had the desired effect. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful, dear,’ Edith said dreamily. ‘You have a natural gift. Percy was always so proud of you.’ Speaking the name sent the tears flowing afresh and she reached for more tissues. ‘What in the world are we going to do without him? We can’t possibly carry on—’

  ‘Yes we can – we must. He’d want us to. His spirit will live on and be our guide.’

  Edith paused in the act of wiping her eyes, sat up and looked at her daughter in astonishment. ‘What are you talking about?’ she exclaimed. ‘You don’t really believe in all that?’

  Serena gave a sly smile. ‘I’m a disciple, remember – one of his earliest converts. Think about it, Mum. We can do it between us – I know your spiel backwards, you know his and everything else is set out in detail in his books.’

  Edith shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Are you suggesting I can step into his shoes – become the leader?’

  ‘Of course you can, if I back you up. In time, we’ll recruit someone else to join the team. That man who grasped the Inner Wheel this morning for example; from the way he reacted he could be very promising material, but if not there’ll be others.’ Serena broke off to pour a fresh supply of oil into her palm. ‘After all,’ she went on as she resumed her task, ‘we’ve managed to fool Percy all this time, so all we have to do is persuade the punters that we’ve inherited his powers. We have to or the business will fold and we’ll lose everything.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Edith felt some of the tension beginning to ease under the combined influence of her daughter’s ministrations and harsh, inescapable reality. ‘This morning’s a write-off, but perhaps there’ll be a chance to have a word with the group before they leave and give them some words of encouragement, tell them Xavier’s power is reaching out to them through the cosmos and the sacred wells of energy are still there within them, waiting to be tapped.’

  ‘That’s the idea.’

  ‘And the Inner and Outer Wheels and the Unlimited?’ Edith’s enthusiasm waxed more strongly as the idea took hold of her mind. ‘I know it all by heart and I have Percy’s writings to refer to if I need fresh inspiration. I’d better start reading them again.’ As if anxious to get down to work without delay, she stood up: and reached for her clothes. ‘You’re absolutely right, dear – we aren’t going to let Percy’s death destroy our business, are we?’

  ‘Not on your life.’

  There was a timid knock on the door. ‘Who is it?’ Edith called.

  ‘It’s Josie. The police are here and they want to know if Mrs Burrell is feeling up to answering a few questions.’

  ‘Tell them I’ll be ready in ten minutes.’ Edith slipped back into the midnight blue dress and studied herself critically in the mirror. ‘God, what a fright I look! I’ll have to put on a bit of make-up before I face them.’

  ‘I wouldn’t – you’re a grieving widow, don’t forget. Just bathe your eyes in some cold water and tidy your hair and you’ll be perfect.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right. Should I put on a different dress? Maybe this one’s a bit too gaudy with all these shiny bits?’

  Serena considered for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t have said so. It’s got a bit rumpled and damp with your tears, which all adds to the effect. I think I’d better put on something a bit more subdued, though,’ she added, glancing down at her own flamboyant outfit. ‘Something dark and sombre would be more the thing. I’ll slip upstairs and change.’

  ‘Well done Sukey, you did a great job in a very difficult situation and I’ll make sure it gets known in the right quarters,’ said Radcliffe.

  ‘Thanks, Sarge. It looked like getting tricky once or twice. Jarvis, the gardener, and one of the punters, who calls himself Loveridge, started to get stroppy, but a chap named Dan Foster was very supportive and helped to maintain order.’

  Radcliffe made a note of the names. ‘You say one of them “calls himself” Loveridge? Why d’you say that?’

  ‘Because I’ve a feeling it might not be his real name.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Just a thought. We know that Jennifer Newlyn is really Jennifer Drew – she told me quite openly that she didn’t want it to be known that she had any connection with someone who’d killed himself after attending courses here.’

  ‘Because her motive in enrolling was to
uncover what she’d convinced herself was some sort of scam? Yes, I take your point. You’re suggesting that at least one other member of the group had an ulterior motive as well.’

  ‘I think it’s a strong possibility. It doesn’t have to be an intention to murder, of course, but—’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, that’s something to bear in mind. Look, Sukey, as soon as you feel up to it, I’d like you to give me a detailed account of everything that happened this morning from the moment you arrived, and any observations about the others’ behaviour that might occur to you.’

  ‘I feel up to it now, if you’re ready.’

  ‘Good girl. No need to write anything down – we’ll tape it. If you’d just be giving it some thought while I go and organise things in the house.’ Radcliffe, who had been seated at Josie’s desk in the office after helping Sukey to a chair, stood up and went to the door. ‘By the way, the SOCOs are here – they might want a word with you – and the doctor’s been and declared the victim dead—’

  Sukey put a hand to her forehead. ‘The SOCOs! That reminds me, I’m supposed to be on duty at two.’

  ‘We should be through in time, but…’ Radcliffe gave her a keen glance, noticing her pallor and the signs of strain round her eyes. ‘Would you like me to call George Barnes and say you’re not up to it?’

  Sukey shook her head. ‘He’s short-handed already, what with one being on holiday and Mandy still at her mother’s bedside. It might be an idea to let him know I might be late signing on, but I’ll be OK, honest, Sarge.’

  ‘If you say so. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  He returned ten minutes later carrying two steaming mugs on a tray. ‘I asked a girl called Josie if there was any chance of some coffee and she produced this. It looks a bit weak, but at least it’s hot.’