‘A girl from Lower Benbury has been found dead, drowned in the brook.’
‘How dreadful. Who found her?’
‘My new next-door neighbour came across her body while he was out bird-watching, but I happened along a few moments later which was just as well because he was running around like a headless chicken without a clue what to do. Luckily, I had my mobile with me and was able to contact the police right away.’
‘Your new next-door neighbour—does that mean Iris has sold Elder Cottage?’
‘No, she’s rented it for six months to a man called Graham Shipley. He’s a teacher from somewhere in the Midlands and he’s starting next term at a local school. I imagine he’ll look for a permanent home once he’s settled. I do feel sorry for him; he’s just been through a marriage breakdown and now this …’
‘Poor chap.’ There was a faintly abstracted note in Bruce’s voice, as if his mind had momentarily wandered elsewhere. ‘Whereabouts in the Midlands is he from?’
‘The Birmingham area, I believe. Why do you ask?’
‘No particular reason.’
He sounded evasive, but she knew from experience there was no point in probing. ‘You haven’t told me yet why you’re phoning,’ she reminded him.
‘Oh sorry, I was forgetting. It’s Kirsty’s birthday tomorrow and Penny and I wondered if you’d like to come to her tea-party. My mother and father will be there—’ He did not add, ‘but as you know, Penny’s parents are both dead and she’s got no one else’, but Melissa was quick to grasp the thought that had prompted the invitation.
‘I’d simply love to come, thank you for asking me. You haven’t given me much time to buy Kirsty a present, though.’
‘Give her an autographed copy of your latest book. We’ll keep it for her as an investment,’ Bruce chuckled. ‘About half past three, then?’
‘I’ll look forward to it. Bruce …’
‘Yes?’
‘You won’t let any of your news-hounds go pestering Graham for an interview, will you? He’s pretty upset.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see how our editor decides to handle the story after the briefing tomorrow. I can’t make any promises, I’m afraid.’
‘No, of course not. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
Melissa’s feelings as she replaced the receiver were mixed. She would enjoy a game with Kirsty and a chat with the others, but she was troubled on Graham’s behalf. It wasn’t just the effect on his already shaky morale of having journalists knocking at his door and asking how he felt when he found the girl’s body. There had been something in Bruce’s tone to suggest that he was interested in her new neighbour for some other reason—one he was not prepared to divulge.
Eight
When Melissa arrived at the village shop the following morning to collect the Sunday papers she found it crowded with people who had come on a similar errand and stayed to talk over with their neighbours what little was known about the previous day’s tragedy. Like a group of journalists chasing a story, they pounced on her as soon as she entered.
‘I heard you found the body,’ said Mrs Foster. She was plainly distressed; her voice quavered and her face was pink and crumpled. ‘That must have been dreadful for you.’
‘I heard she’d been attacked and, er, interfered with,’ Alice Hamley said hesitantly. ‘Is it true?’
‘Wherever did you get that idea?’ Melissa asked, frowning.
‘Mrs Daniels said her Billy was there with his friends and saw the body being taken away and they thought that must have been what happened—’
‘I never saw them—they must have turned up after I left. I suppose they saw all the police activity, put two and two together and made five. No one knows yet exactly what happened and it’s very naughty of them to go spreading tales like that.’
‘So it was you who found her,’ said Mrs Foster. ‘I just can’t believe it. She was so happy when she went off yesterday with her pay packet, in those new yellow shoes she was so proud of …’ The postmistress pulled out a handkerchief and wiped reddened eyes. ‘Such a lovely girl.’
‘It was actually Mr Shipley who found her,’ Melissa explained. ‘I was at the bottom of the hill by the bridge when he came running out of the woods and told me he’d found a dead girl. I went with him to look—it was an awful shock for both of us.’
‘But you don’t think she’d been, you know, what the lads suggested?’ The speaker was Gideon Lane, who was wedged in a corner behind the door with his copy of the Observer and looking as if he would like to get away but was unable to do so without pushing past everyone else.
‘Indecently assaulted, you mean? I saw nothing at all to suggest that,’ Melissa assured him. ‘She certainly had a nasty bruise on her forehead, but my first impression was that she had drowned, perhaps after tumbling into the brook and knocking herself out on a stone.’
‘Poor little girl,’ said Gideon with a sorrowful shake of the head.
‘We shan’t know for certain until after the post mortem. If only someone had come along sooner—’ She broke off, recalling that Graham had begun to say something beginning with ‘If only’, but had for some reason left the remark unfinished.
‘What I don’t understand is, what she was doing in the woods in the first place. It’s right out of her way,’ said Miss Brightwell, a slightly acid-tongued spinster who lived in a cottage behind the church. Her tone held a note of disapproval, as if to suggest that a girl who went wandering into woods on her own might well have been up to no good.
Mrs Foster was quick to refute the unspoken slur. ‘She was doing an errand for me,’ she said firmly. ‘Mr Judd left his eggs behind and she offered to drop them in to him. Oh dear, I shouldn’t have let her, but how was I to know?’ she faltered and her eyes filled again.
‘Maybe old Tommy heard something?’ someone suggested. ‘I wonder if the police have interviewed him.’
‘I can confirm that they did, or intend to,’ said Melissa.
‘I doubt if he’ll have heard anything,’ Alice observed. ‘He’s pretty deaf.’
‘That’s true, but he might have seen something,’ Melissa pointed out. ‘Of course, we don’t know yet whether she ever got as far as his cottage. I do hope someone’s looking after Jean Wilcox,’ she added. ‘The poor woman must be in a terrible state.’
‘She’s staying with a neighbour,’ volunteered Mrs Yates, who lived in Lower Benbury. ‘She’s dreadfully cut up, poor love, but everyone’s rallying round with support and the Reverend Hamley’s been to see her,’ she added, casting an appreciative glance in Alice’s direction. ‘You know,’ she went on, ‘it’s odd you should mention those boys, Mrs Hamley, because almost the first thing Jean said to me when I popped in to see her was something like, “I knew I should never have let her spend the whole evening with that Tanner boy”.’
‘You aren’t suggesting that Gary Tanner had anything to do with her death, surely?’ said Melissa in astonishment.
‘I’m not suggesting anything, I’m only telling you what Jean said. But if she was on her way home, what was she doing down by the brook? Even if she had been to Mr Judd’s cottage, there’s no short cut that way. D’you think she might have been running away from someone?’
There was a brief silence while everyone considered the question—one that Melissa had already asked herself a number of times during the previous night’s wakeful hours without being able to think of a satisfactory answer. Cissie had been so proud of her new shoes and yet it appeared that she had for some reason left a comparatively firm, even path and gone scrambling down a steep, muddy, overgrown bank where they were almost certain to be damaged. ‘Perhaps we should wait until we hear the result of the police enquiry,’ she suggested. There were nods and murmurs of agreement, but she knew full well that nothing would stop the speculation, the exchange of theories, the pointing of fingers in this or that direction as the news spread further and further afield, losing nothing in the telling.
Mrs
Yates began edging towards the door clutching an armful of papers. ‘I must be getting back, everyone’ll be waiting for these.’ The tinkling of the bell as she opened the door to leave echoed round the shop and triggered a general exodus.
For a moment, Melissa found herself the only customer remaining. ‘I’ll take Mr Shipley’s Independent as well,’ she said.
A gleam appeared in Mrs Foster’s pale, pink-rimmed eyes. ‘Funny he should be the one to find her, don’t you think?’ she remarked as she handed over the papers.
‘What makes you say that? Someone had to.’ For the second time, Melissa found herself repeating Graham’s own words.
‘Well, we’re agreed there’s something odd about him, aren’t we?’ Mrs Foster’s manner was almost conspiratorial.
‘Are we?’
‘Well, he’s not very forthcoming about himself, is he? Living next door to you and not even letting on he’s a schoolteacher …’
Knowing at least part of the reason for Graham’s reticence and having no intention of betraying his confidence, Melissa said, ‘It’s probably because he’s a bit shy.’
‘Schoolteachers aren’t usually that shy,’ said Mrs Foster with a sniff.
‘I hope you’re not suggesting he had anything to do with Cissie’s death—’ Melissa began and the postmistress hastily back-tracked.
‘Oh no, I meant nothing like that. I just thought … after what we were saying on Friday evening …’
You mean after what you were saying, Melissa thought to herself. Aloud, she said, ‘I think perhaps we shouldn’t mention that to anyone else. A lot of damage can be done to perfectly innocent people—’
‘Oh, I’m not one to gossip.’ Mrs Foster sounded slightly offended, as if she thought Melissa was about to accuse her of spreading rumours. ‘It’s just, well, it seemed funny, after what we were saying. It wouldn’t surprise me if other people have noticed it as well.’
‘I think we’d better forget all about it,’ said Melissa firmly as she paid for the papers. ‘No doubt we’ll learn exactly what happened once the police have completed their enquiries.’ Without waiting for a response, she left the shop and set off for home.
As she was about to push the newspaper through the letter-box of Elder Cottage, Graham opened the door. He was wearing a sweat shirt, rumpled chinos and an old pair of trainers but no socks and she suspected that he had not long been out of bed. His face was pale and unshaven and his manner, though polite, was unsmiling.
‘Thank you, Melissa. I’ll fetch yours tomorrow,’ he said as he took the paper and handed over the money.
‘Fine.’ She was on the point of asking him how he had slept, but before she had the chance to say a word he stepped back and closed the door. It occurred to her as she let herself into her own house that he must have been at the window, watching for her return.
‘You took your time,’ said Esther as Gideon entered the kitchen where his sisters were preparing breakfast. He gave an apologetic smile as he sat down, unfolded the paper and began scanning the headlines. Judith, busy with coffee-pot and toaster, shot her sister a reproachful glance but said nothing.
‘There were a lot of people in the shop,’ Gideon explained. ‘I was at the back of the queue.’
‘All talking about what happened to poor little Cissie, I suppose.’ Esther’s features, sharp and colourless beneath a carefully arranged mound of iron-grey hair, registered a mixture of sadness and disapproval. ‘Anything like that seems to bring out the worst in people,’ she complained. ‘They rake it all over and make up the wildest stories, and then have the cheek to complain about the lurid things that appear in the papers …’ She gave a little gasp and put a hand to her mouth as she uttered the final words. ‘Oh my goodness, we were all too shocked when we got the news to think of anything except looking after poor Jean … it never occurred to us … all this is sure to be in the papers, there’ll be reporters asking questions—’
‘There’s no reason why they should be interested in talking to us, is there?’ said Gideon, laying the paper aside and helping himself to toast.
‘That depends,’ said Judith uneasily. ‘Giddy, you haven’t told us where you went yesterday afternoon. You didn’t go anywhere near, you know, where it happened, did you?’
‘What are you suggesting?’ her brother demanded.
‘I’m not suggesting anything.’ Judith’s soft, rosy features, which contrasted sharply with her sister’s, registered acute concern. ‘It’s just, well, the police are sure to ask anyone who was in the area at the time to come forward—you know how they do—in case they saw anything that could help them with their enquiries. I mean …’ Judith broke off in confusion at the sight of the anger and resentment in Gideon’s face.
‘Yes, what exactly do you mean?’ he asked.
‘She means that if you were anywhere near and anyone saw you, your name would quite likely get into the papers.’ Esther’s expression was stony, her greenish eyes hard and accusatory. ‘And we know what that might lead to, don’t we?’
Gideon shifted uncomfortably under the combined gaze of his sisters. ‘I never saw Cissie, if that’s what you’re getting at,’ he muttered.
‘But you were there?’ Esther persisted and he gave a reluctant nod. ‘Why?’
‘If you must know, I was going to see old Mr Judd.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Just for a chat. He gets lonely, living alone, and I thought I’d—’
Esther stared at him in astonishment. ‘What in the world have you and he got to chat about? You don’t even know him.’
‘As it happens, I do. I got talking to him one day in a newsagent in Stowbridge. He’d come in on the bus, but you’d lent me the car that day so I gave him a lift home. And I resent being cross-examined like this,’ Gideon went on with a sudden show of indignation. ‘I do an act of Christian kindness—’
‘—and I’m sure Mr Judd was very appreciative,’ said Judith, who had listened to the acrimonious exchanges between her brother and sister with growing distress. ‘Don’t be hard on him, Essie … I think it was very kind of him.’ She gave Gideon an encouraging smile and offered him another slice of toast.
Esther appeared unimpressed by her brother’s claim to altruistic motives. ‘What time was this?’ she asked.
‘About half past one, I suppose. I was out for my usual stroll after lunch and I thought I’d drop in for a chat with Tommy.’ There was a hint of bluster in his voice as he went on, ‘Look, what are you accusing me of?’
‘No one’s accusing you of anything, but we want the truth,’ said Esther sternly. ‘Don’t think we didn’t notice the way you were eyeing that poor girl on Friday, or how you managed to sit next to her in the back of the car after making that excuse about having drunk too much so that Judith would have to drive home.’
He dropped his eyes, his face sullen, and took a bite of toast. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said with his mouth full.
‘Gideon, look at me!’ Esther commanded. Reluctantly, he obeyed. ‘Will you swear on the Bible that you did nothing that might have given that girl cause to fear you?’
‘Esther!’ Judith’s voice was full of gentle reproach. ‘Of course he didn’t, how could he? We were all in the car together.’ Her brother shot her a grateful glance as she went on, ‘But it is important that you remember everything that happened round about the time the police think Cissie died. You say you never saw her, but did you see anyone else as you were walking along?’
Gideon thought for a moment. ‘One or two cars passed, but I didn’t recognise the drivers—oh, except that fellow who delivers the frozen food. His van passed just as I reached the lane.’
‘What was Colin doing there, I wonder?’ said Judith. ‘He doesn’t usually come on a Saturday.’
‘He was probably making a special delivery,’ said Esther. ‘He does, now and again. Did he see you, do you think?’
‘I suppose he must have done, but I doubt if he recogn
ised me. He’s only called once since I came to live here.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ said Judith fervently.
It seemed to be dawning on Gideon that he could be in serious trouble. He thought again and said, ‘I do remember hearing a squeal of brakes just after he drove past, as if he’d had to stop suddenly. He’d gone out of sight round a bend, so I didn’t see what happened.’
‘He probably met another vehicle. People drive much too fast along that lane,’ Judith observed.
‘I don’t remember seeing another car just then. Perhaps there was an animal in the road.’
‘Or another person.’
There was a short silence as the three of them considered the possible implications should it become known that Gideon had at the crucial time been near the spot where the girl met her death. At last Judith said, ‘The police told Jean they think Cissie might have been running away from someone and she’s got this fixation about Gary Tanner because of all the time he spent dancing with Cissie on Friday night.’
‘Well, we know how protective Jean has always been towards Cissie, but I can’t believe that of Gary,’ said Esther. ‘He’s a decent lad and I don’t think for a moment he’d do anything to frighten her. No, unless I’m very much mistaken, they’ll be looking for an older person.’ Her expression as she looked her brother full in the face was grim. ‘They’ll be looking for an older man.’
Nine
It was Melissa’s first visit to Bruce and Penny Ingram since they moved into their new house shortly after their marriage, and the first time she had seen either of them for several months. She was immediately struck by a subtle change in Bruce; while losing nothing of his lively personality and boyish charm, the exuberance which had on occasions led her to compare him with an eager terrier had given way to a mature, responsible air which went well with his new position as householder and family man. The change in Penny was even more striking; she had blossomed from a harassed, struggling single mother with neither the time nor the money to spare for herself into a well-groomed and confident young woman. Kirsty, whom Melissa had last seen as a baby not yet able to talk, was now a lively, chattering toddler, plainly doted on by her adoptive grandparents.
Murder at Benbury Brook: An absolutely gripping English cozy mystery (A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 9) Page 6