by Dawn Brookes
‘Was he also a member of your society?’ Carlos enquired.
‘Yes, he was,’ answered another man, smaller than the rest, with a shiny bald head that appeared as though it had been recently polished. ‘He was on every committee, for that matter, a member of every club and into everything, whether it concerned him or not.’
Carlos finished his tea in one gulp, trying not to retch at the amount of sugar in it. The woman serving had not asked him whether he took sugar, which he didn’t, but he hadn’t wanted to halt the conversation.
‘What about Meg?’
‘Under the thumb. Did as she was told. Too good for him by far,’ the man called Martin answered. ‘Mind you, I wish there were more women who did as they were told like that.’ Carlos watched as Martin glanced at a woman around the Milnthorpes’ age. She scowled.
‘I heard that, Martin Webb. You watch yourself,’ one of the women serving tea protested, but followed it up with a flirtatious smile, taking over from where Martin left off. ‘If you ask me, Harold Sissons was one of those male chauvinist “women should do as they’re told” types. Meg never went anywhere without him—’
‘She comes into my shop,’ another woman interrupted. She was younger than most around her, probably sixty rather than in her seventies.
‘Well that’s the only time, then,’ snapped the woman across the counter, clearly not happy at being corrected now she was in the spotlight. ‘She was totally dependent on him for everything. It wasn’t normal.’
The woman who had scowled at Martin joined in.
‘How is Meg?’ she asked Carlos
‘I’m not sure; my sister was with her this morning when the police went to tell her about the body,’ Carlos replied.
‘If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.’
‘Josie’s a nurse,’ Doreen introduced the woman. ‘That’s Clara behind the counter and this is Colonel Webb.’ She indicated to Martin.
‘Is it right he was last seen leaving here on the day he went missing? Was he with anyone in particular that day?’ Carlos asked.
‘Now you’re starting to sound like a policeman, surely there’s nothing suspicious?’ Martin was on to Carlos in an instant, seizing back control.
‘I’m not sure,’ Carlos lied. ‘I’m not a policeman, but I do work as a private investigator in the day job. Apologies, but I can’t resist asking questions.’
The tension disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and people returned to the conversations they were having previously. Perhaps they felt they had heard as much as they were going to from their visitor.
‘He did leave here a week ago yesterday. That’s the day we usually hold these meetings, but there was a memorial service this week, so we moved it to Friday.’ Barney was oblivious to the suspicion that the others had displayed a few moments earlier. ‘It was odd, as a matter of fact. He left without having tea, which was out of character. He was a rigid man, steeped in ritual and routine. Worse than a vicar in some ways,’ Barney laughed at his self-effacing joke. ‘Seemed a bit agitated, now I think about it. I’ve read that people can get like that before having a heart attack, you know.’
‘What makes you think he had a heart attack?’ asked Carlos.
‘I’m not sure, really, but he was the sort of person who was a coronary waiting to happen. Uptight and secretive. It can’t make for a happy life. He did create tension with some of the locals and my parishioners.’
‘Do you hold confessionals here, Vicar?’
‘No, that’s more Catholic. Parishioners do share secrets with men and women of the cloth, though. You’re not suggesting I share any of Harold Sissons’s secrets, I hope? I might talk, Carlos, but I hold my parish duties in high regard.’
‘I’m sure you do. No, I was just wondering whether there were any to share. I wouldn’t expect to hear what they were.’
Barney stroked his double chin before answering. ‘As a matter of fact, no. Harold Sissons, as I inferred, was a secretive man. If he did have anything hidden, it will have gone to the grave with him; sealed tight as a drum, he was. Let that be a lesson. Men should be much more open in my opinion. Women are so much better in that regard than we men.’
Carlos had to admit that, although he considered himself a modern man, he kept far too many things tucked away in the recesses of his mind. The persistent headache since his encounter with Masters the night before was a sure sign of unresolved anxiety, but would it really help to let it all out as so many seemed to do these days? He often joked about the fashion of having a mental health disorder. His army training baulked against the trend.
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But is it always a good thing?’
‘You pay for it if you don’t, you know.’ Barney’s voice drew Carlos in as if he could see inside him. Rachel would say it was divine intervention or guidance, but Carlos wasn’t convinced.
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He noticed Barney fixing him in his gaze. It felt uncomfortable all of a sudden.
I’m not here to get counselling, I’m here to investigate the death of Harold Sissons, he told himself. Why was his heart pounding? The headache throbbed and he felt an overwhelming desire to run. What the heck was happening to him?
‘As I expect you gathered, Harold wasn’t all that popular.’ Barney was now back on safer ground and Carlos listened while reining his heart rate in to a normal rhythm. ‘Doreen felt sorry for Meg. Clara was right. He did appear to rule the woman.’
‘Do you think he was abusive?’
‘If you’re asking if I think he was violent towards her, no, I don’t believe he was, but abuse can come in many forms. Doreen says he was controlling, both at home and in general.’
‘Hence his being on every committee and part of every club?’ Carlos suggested.
‘Yes. That sort of thing. He could be quite difficult if he didn’t get his own way. In fact, Colonel Webb would go so far as to say Harold occasionally resorted to bribes.’
‘Really? What makes the colonel think that?’
‘Votes would change at the last minute. Take this club, for instance. The colonel wanted to invite some of his old pals from the army to speak. He also has contacts in the wider community, extending as far as Chatsworth. The committee was open to it, keen in fact, but as soon as it went to the vote the following week, it was voted down. Word was that Harold had met with members at other meetings during the week and somehow persuaded them to veto any change. He and Colonel Webb didn’t get on at all. They didn’t speak to each other much, which could make things awkward.’
‘Do you think Harold Sissons was capable of bribes?’
‘If I was pushed into a corner on the matter, I would have to admit it wouldn’t be hard to believe.’
‘And Colonel Webb and Harold Sissons didn’t speak to each other. For how long?’
Barney stroked his chin again and shook his head as if remembering something significant. ‘They rarely did, as a rule, for years, but that last Thursday, they spoke. I noticed them having a hushed disagreement just before I introduced the speaker. The talk was a most interesting one: Missing Peak District Children, or something like that.’
‘Any idea what they were arguing about?’
‘None at all, I’m afraid. Petty rivalry, I expect.’
‘Barney, time to close,’ Doreen tugged Barney’s shirt sleeve.
‘As you can see, I’m not the controlling one in my marriage,’ Barney laughed as he moved to shepherd people from the building.
Carlos had much to consider, not least his own personal response and the unpleasant reaction that the earlier comment by Barney had triggered. Could it have been a panic attack?
9
Carlos took Lady for a long run to clear his head. Memories assaulted his senses, resurfacing uninvited, causing his headache to pound with every step. He ran faster and faster, up and down hills, until he found himself high above the Peak District landscape. He could see for miles around; Peaks Hollow was just visible in th
e distance.
Lady sat next to him, panting. Thankfully, he always carried his rucksack when running, and included within was a foldable dog bowl. He poured water into the bowl from his flask and drank the rest.
‘I think we must have run around six miles.’ He looked at the distance measure on his watch. ‘Okay, 5.8 to be exact.’ He collapsed down on a carpet of heather as dusk formed and allowed himself to take in what was left of the stunning views from the hill, realising now why Sophie and Gary appreciated their new life away from London. The verdant greens were exceptional, and although a cold north wind blew, the sky had been clear most of the way up. But it would be dark soon, so he packed up his rucksack and reluctantly started a slow jog downhill, putting on his head torch.
‘Lead the way, girl.’
Lady ran ahead, stopping every so often to make sure he was still with her. As darkness gathered, so did the chill. He paused to pull a tracksuit top out of his bag, took two paracetamol for the headache and started after his dog again, taking it more slowly as the ground underfoot was still damp from the rains the day before. Now the sun had disappeared, it was more slippery.
The run cleared his focus and the exhilaration from the adrenaline rush felt good. He mulled over what he had discovered from the people in the community centre. Not much, really, other than Harold Sissons was generally unpopular. A man who abused his wife, and others, psychologically. Would either of those things cause someone to want him dead? There was the argument between the dead man and Colonel Webb, witnessed by the vicar, Barney Milnthorpe. What was that all about?
He arrived back just as Sophie’s car was pulling up on the drive. She waved before getting out and opening the boot to reveal half a dozen bags from various High Street stores.
‘Do you need a hand?’
‘No thanks, I can’t remember what’s in what bag. Anyway, it looks like you need a shower.’
He grinned and saluted. ‘Right, Sis.’
The rich coffee aroma reached his nostrils as he headed towards the kitchen half an hour later.
‘Mm, that smells good.’
Sophie pushed a mug towards him. ‘Your phone’s not stopped vibrating since I got here.’
He picked up the phone and saw sixteen missed calls and five messages, all from Fiona, saying he should call her urgently.
‘What’s up?’ asked Sophie.
‘I’m not sure. They’re from Fiona Cook – she’s the DS you met this morning.’
‘Oh yes. Nice woman. How does she know your number?’
‘We go back a while. I saw her briefly this afternoon. Sorry to tell you, but she was heading next door to let your neighbour know it was her husband they found.’
Sophie’s jaw dropped and her eyes threatened tears. ‘It had to be, I suppose, but I still held a shred of hope that it might be someone else. What does the DS want?’
‘Not sure, but I bet it’s not good news. I saw Masters pulling up next door with a stony face before I went out after lunch. I’ll call her first, and then we can fill each other in on our day.’
His phone vibrated again, only this time he picked up.
‘Hi, Fiona, what’s going on?’
‘You’ve given me one hell of a day. Look, why don’t you meet me for dinner and we’ll discuss it?’
He watched Sophie pulling meat out of the fridge. ‘If you haven’t cooked already, Sophie, Fiona wants me to meet her for dinner.’
‘No problem. I’m just getting started.’
He turned his attention back to the phone. ‘Okay, where?’
Fiona gave him directions to a pub The Miners Arms in Eyam.
‘Small world. I was just hearing about the history of that place today. I went to the community centre.’
‘Thought you might go nosing around there. Give me an hour to get away; I’m still at the station.’
‘Right, see you in ninety minutes.’
‘Be careful when you get there, the pub’s reputedly haunted by all those plague victims.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’ After putting the phone down, he shrugged apologetically at Sophie, fed and watered Lady and joined his sister at the breakfast bar.
‘Where’s Gary?’
‘He’s got a meeting tonight; that’s why I shopped today, so I can get everything hidden before he gets back. Now I don’t have to cook, I think I’ll settle for a chippy. Our fish & chip shop is the best in the village.’
‘You mean the only one in the village.’
Sophie chuckled. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I still love everything that’s bad for me.’
Carlos knew better than to say she was beautiful as she was. Rachel had warned him it was one of the worst things he could say to a woman who was weight conscious, so he kissed her on her head instead.
‘We all need comfort food occasionally.’
She smirked. ‘There’s always the New Year.’
‘When I went to the community centre next to the church this afternoon, the vicar’s wife told me she expects to see you at the carol service Sunday night. Nice woman.’
Sophie groaned. ‘And what if I have plans for Sunday night?’
‘Do you?’
‘No, but I’m still Jewish, despite being married to a Christian.’
‘Sophie, you’re Jewish by birth, same as me. We haven’t been near a synagogue in decades. Unless there’s one in this village you haven’t told me about.’
She thumped his arm. ‘That’s not the point. These things run deep.’
‘You’re telling me! Nevertheless, I think we should all go.’
‘Is that Rachel rubbing off on you or do you have an ulterior motive? What were you doing at the community centre anyway?’
‘Ah, that would be telling. As for my reasons, a bit of both, if you must know. I met a few people who knew Harold, including Barney Milnthorpe, the vicar, and his wife Doreen.’
‘I see her occasionally. Meg told me she visits her once a week when Harold’s at a meeting.’
‘Then there’s a Colonel Webb. Sharp man who didn’t like your neighbour Harold at all – the two men argued on the day he disappeared.’
‘Interesting,’ said Sophie.
‘There were two women – one was flirting with the colonel and the other – a nurse – seemed to snub him.’
‘You probably got to know more people in a few hours than I have in six months. We’ve been so busy decorating and working we haven’t got out and about. Gary’s been to the church a couple of times. I’m only just realising, after being with Meg this morning, we don’t know our neighbours very well at all. I met your Masters fellow.’
Carlos’s face hardened as he checked his watch. ‘Tell me about it tomorrow. I’d better get going or I’ll be late. Are you happy to—?’
‘Look after Lady? Yes. You go and leave us girls to our chippy.’
‘She’ll love you forever. Bye.’ He kissed Sophie on the cheek and headed out with Fiona’s directions in his head.
Arriving in Eyam ten minutes early, Carlos went straight inside the pub and ordered a pint of draught bitter. It would have to last, because he was driving, so he sipped it slowly.
There was a handful of people at the bar with more sitting around tables eating. The atmosphere was genial; he supposed the lack of interest shown to him as a stranger was due to the village’s notoriety as a place of historical interest. He wondered why Fiona had chosen Eyam rather than somewhere nearer to Sophie’s, then guessed she didn’t want anyone knowing about their meeting.
He was sitting at the bar, compiling a list of persons of interest from his meeting at the community centre, when he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned to see a big grin, but the wide eyes told him his friend was worried.
He hugged her. Once she’d ordered a pint of lager, they moved away from the bar and found a quiet table where they wouldn’t be overheard.
‘What’s going on, Fiona?’
She took off her mac and gulped back a mouthful of lager while he
waited.
‘The investigation’s up in the air. Masters is furious and you’re persona non grata.’
‘Why? What have I done? I only went to the community centre to chat to a few people who might have seen Harold Masters on the day he disappeared.’
‘It’s not that. You can tell me what you found out in a minute, but that isn’t why he’s so annoyed. By the way, I retrieved the wallet.’ She tapped her handbag. ‘I haven’t dared mention it yet. The problem for DCI Masters is that Caroline Winslow turns out to be some high-powered civil servant working for the Scottish government. She’s coming down here tomorrow, by the way.’
‘But what’s that got to do with me?’
‘Well, it turns out, Mrs Winslow phoned her mother before I got there this afternoon. When her mum informed her that her father was dead and how Masters had dismissed her concerns when he went missing, telling her he’d left her – which he did suggest, by the way – Mrs Winslow was livid. Took it all the way to the Chief Super. A formal complaint’s gone in and Masters was dispatched to give Mrs Sissons a personal apology, along with his reassurance that the death of her husband would be investigated thoroughly with no stone unturned. He was also told to release the thug he’d arrested, as the man had a perfectly adequate alibi.’
Carlos laughed loudly. ‘Now both of those things I would have loved to see.’
Fiona giggled. ‘I have to admit, I enjoyed witnessing the attempted apology. It was sort of coughed out. But the best part – or worst, depending how you look at it – is yet to come.’
Carlos took a gulp of bitter. For the first time since his reintroduction to Masters last night, he felt some sense of glee. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.
‘I’m only sorry I missed it. So, you said there’s more?’
‘When he got to the part about how we would be investigating thoroughly, Mrs Sissons replied in a hushed but controlled voice – almost rehearsed – that she wouldn’t be able to trust him to do his job properly.’