Killer at the Cult

by Alison Golden

  “I don’t know how you animal people do it, I really don’t. The fuss she makes on the way here is beyond comprehension,” Annabelle marveled.

  “How’s things in God’s world?”

  “Oh, you know, heavenly as always,” she replied.

  “I hear you’ve been up at the big house, getting involved in that murder investigation.”

  “Just helping out where I can. Part of my chaplaincy, really.”

  “Isn’t that where Julia Snow lives? Small lady, strong, loves her animals. She’s part of that cult, isn’t she?”

  “It’s not technically a cult, but yes, she lives there. Do you know her?”

  “We vets all know one another in these parts.”

  “She’s a vet?”

  “Oh yes. It was a few years ago now. She had to stop practicing, she went off the rails, you know. It was a terrible shame.”

  “Oh?”

  “There was this horrendous equine neglect case. Julia worked for an animal charity. She had to shoot over a dozen horses. Went off her rocker and had to retire. Disappeared completely until she resurfaced in Upton St. Mary in that cult. I was so surprised to see her in the market square the other d— Wait! Reverend!”

  The door swung closed.

  The vet peered out into the hall.

  “But Reverend, what about your cat?” he called after her.

  “Philippa! Call Philippa! She’ll know what to do!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Annabelle! Philippa told me I’d find y—. Hey, are you alright?”

  Annabelle had hit her nose on Mike’s chin and deep, bone crushing pain was spreading like treacle through her head. Her eyes closed, but she nodded as she covered her face with her hand and lumbered over in the direction of her car.

  “B—big house. N—now,” she mumbled.

  “But Annabelle, wait. Slow down,” Mike said.

  “N—no time.” She reached her car and pulled open the driver’s door.

  “F—Follow m—me.” She got in, and shaking her head very carefully in order to clear it, started the engine.

  “Oh, alright.” Mike ran over to his car parked a few spaces away and set off a few yards behind her.

  As she raced around blind, hairpin bends and shot straight across crossroads, Mike stayed close to Annabelle’s bumper wondering where on earth they were going.

  “Crazy woman,” he muttered, before pulling on his handbrake in order to effect the sharp right hand turn Annabelle had just made at the last moment.

  They were on a gravel and sand path now, and Annabelle’s tires were raising dust as she bumped and banged her way along. The trees that formed the forest tunnel they were driving through opened up to reveal the frontage of a house that had once been magnificent, but which was now in a state of decrepitude.

  Up ahead, Annabelle got out of the car.

  “Sally, Sally!” She banged on the door and tried the handle. When it didn’t open, she ran around the side of the house and under an archway. Ahead of her, Sally came out from the kitchen.

  “What is it, Annabelle?”

  “Julia! Where’s Julia?”

  Mike ran up. “Annabelle, what’s going on?”

  Annabelle was panting, her head was hurting, and where her nose was, it felt like there was a pancake on her face. “Julia. Julia’s the murderer.” She gasped, and leaned over. Mike took her hand and put an arm around her.

  “But Annabelle, how do you know that?” Mike asked.

  “There’s no time to explain. We need to find her fast!”

  “She’s down at the smithy with Sc—“ Sally stopped and put her hand to her mouth. She caught Annabelle’s eye.

  “Oh!” Annabelle turned to Mike who was looking between the two women frantically, desperately hoping one of them would explain what was going on.

  “We have to get to the forge and stop her, Mike!”

  “Okay, which way?”

  “This way,” Annabelle made to retrace their steps back to the car when Sally stopped them.

  “Scott has his smithy over near the old stables down by the main road,” Sally explained to Mike. “But the quickest way to get there is that way.” She pointed across the lawn. The ground fell away in a gentle slope. There was no way to see the smithy, only the general direction in which it lay.

  Mike took off at a run, aiming across the fields. “Are you coming?” he yelled looking back at Annabelle. She wasn’t following him. She had run out of the courtyard but gone in a different direction.

  “This way, it’s quicker!” she shouted.

  Bemused, Mike skidded as he spun around on the grass to follow Annabelle. They were running away from the smithy. How could it be quicker?

  Annabelle rounded a corner of the house and ran over to another building set apart by a gravel driveway full of weeds. There, parked up against the brick wall of the garage were two quad bikes. Theo had shown them to her the night he had given her a tour of the house and grounds.

  “Surely not, Annabelle?” Mike said. Annabelle looked at him, her eyes ablaze now, all fogginess gone. “Silly question?”

  “Yes, very,” Annabelle replied.

  “Do they work?”

  Annabelle hoisted up her cassock’s skirts and climbed on. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine revved. A pleasant whiff of gasoline settled around her, not that she could smell it. ”Yep!” She set her shoulders, “Let’s go!”

  Mike jumped on the second quad bike and off they went, the big fat wheels flattening the grass as they bounced and bumped their way across the lawn.

  “Stand up in your seat!” Mike cried out over the noise of the engines.

  “What?”

  “Stand up in your seat as you go over the bumps! Makes for an easier ride! Oh, and lean to the opposite side when making a turn!”

  Annabelle was soon handling her bike like a pro, hanging off the side as she navigated corners and adjusting her speed to keep her wheels on the ground. But then Mike overtook her with a smart shortcut around a tree.

  “Nooooooo!” Annabelle shouted and increased her speed, regaining the lead as she jumped a bump and gracefully moved with the bike’s momentum as it flew through the air and hit the ground.

  Mike continued to snap at her wheels, but Annabelle held him off with some fancy feinting and devilish daring, pulling off some impressive moves that made him wonder whether there was something she wasn’t telling him about her youth.

  As they went over the summit of the gentle hill in front of the forge, the building came into view. As the bike’s engines slowed to a puttering, the forge appeared deserted. They clambered off their bikes and ran inside. What greeted them caused them to pull up short.

  Up against a wall was Scott, his eyes wide. In front of him, pressing a captive bolt gun to his chest, was Julia. The room was cool, the coals in the furnace black and lifeless. On the floor was a hunk of metal, hard and misshapen. Tongs lay nearby.

  Julia kept her eyes on Scott, her jaw clenched.

  “Julia. Steady now—“ Annabelle’s voice was soothing.

  “I knew you’d find me eventually.”

  “We can work this out.”

  “No, we can’t, Reverend. What’s done is done. And I don’t regret it. Theo was an evil man. Evil! He refused to let me have the animals. He refused! After he’d promised!”

  “Julia, please. It’s okay. Put the gun down.” Annabelle walked slowly up to her, stopping a few feet away.

  “You don’t understand! I love animals. I always have. When I was a child, I had more pets than friends. It didn’t matter what they were – fish, rats, guinea pigs, birds, cats, dogs. I loved them all.”

  Annabelle nodded, “They are all God’s creatures.”

  “All I ever wanted to do was work with them. I never considered anything else. And I did! For twenty years. Then… then…” Scott made a movement. Julia pressed the bolt gun into his chest harder and growled.

  “Okay, okay,” Scott said
, his voice trembling, his hands up by his ears. He stopped moving.

  “Tell me, Julia,” Annabelle said.

  “There was an animal welfare call.” Julia’s shoulders slumped, but she held the gun firmly. “I was called out to a farm where a horse dealer had neglected his animals. It was horrendous. We were able to rehabilitate and rehome many of the horses, but fifteen of them were too far gone.” Julia’s eyes were streaming with tears. She took one hand off the gun and roughly wiped at her face. “Barnaby is my therapy animal. I’ve had him since that day.” She looked down at the lop-eared rabbit in her pocket, his droopy ears clearly reflecting his owner’s downcast mood.

  “I had to shoot them all. It devastated me. I had a breakdown and couldn’t work anymore. That’s how I came to join the group. I met Theo when I was hiking one day. We got talking, he was a good listener, and I told him my troubles. He enticed me into,” Scott moved again, and Julia pressed down harder with the gun, clenching her teeth as she spoke, “the group with promises that I could work with animals again. I grew the vegetables and fruit and such, but I really wanted to help animals. I’m good at it, and so many need my help.

  “So what happened?” Annabelle asked gently.

  “Before I joined the Brotherhood, Theo promised me that if I pulled my weight and showed my commitment to the group, I could set up an animal sanctuary for injured, neglected, and old animals, ones that couldn’t find a home. So at every place we stayed, I devoted myself to the group, went out and made friends with the locals, soliciting donations, selling our produce. I did everything asked of me, and we were very successful, but my dream was to start a donkey sanctuary. They often have nowhere to go when their working lives end and live in terrible conditions, sick, and neglected. But every time I talked to Theo about it, he kept making excuses that we hadn’t enough room, or we hadn’t enough money, or we were moving too often.

  “When we moved here, with all this space, I could see my dream turning into reality. I had more than contributed to the Brotherhood, so I drew up a business plan. I envisaged the donkeys being shipped here from the continent or Ireland or other places around the country and cared for until the end of their natural lives, safely and peacefully. We could offer open days, an adopt-a-donkey scheme, and school trips. I did so much work to prepare, to get him to agree, and he’d promised me! And finally, he said no. Wouldn’t even consider it. He laughed. Every time he passed me he would make donkey sounds. I just flipped. I had had it.” She pushed the bolt gun harder into Scott’s chest as though he were Theo. “Theo was a nasty, mean cad who cared about no one but himself. The legend of St. Petrie and Lord Darthamort? Pah! He couldn’t care less about being a good person. He was just out for himself.”

  “So you killed him?”

  “It was easy. The hardest part of the plan was to make myself a Darthamort costume. It made me sick to do it, all that fur and teeth, but I did it for the donkeys. Once the fireside ceremony was done, I changed into it so I could move around without being noticed. With us all running everywhere, you couldn’t tell there was an extra Darthamort. Besides, no one paid any attention to me. They were all busy chasing or escaping.”

  “Theo was too lazy to wear the full costume. He was easy to spot. I’d saved my bolt gun from my days as a vet. It was the one I used on the horses, but this time I used it on Theo. Seemed fitting, justice. Very Lord Darthamort-like, punishing evil.”

  “And Thomas?” asked Annabelle softly.

  Julia closed her eyes. She rocked back on her heels. Her head dropped. Slowly she released her pressure on Scott’s chest and her hand fell. She staggered over to a chair by the cold forge and sat down. Scott sank to the ground. They all watched as Julia dropped the gun to the floor and put her head in her hands.

  Annabelle leaned over and quietly picked up the weapon. Mike relaxed and stifled a yawn in the background. Annabelle had the situation in hand. He knew all he had to do was wait. He was only needed for the arrest.

  “Thomas. Poor, stupid, silly Thomas. He got caught up in this by accident. I didn’t want to kill him, but I had no choice. He caught me on film. I couldn’t see well with my Darthamort head on. I had to take it off to deliver the kill. After Theo was dead, I saw Thomas snapping away and suspected that he’d got a shot of me. He didn’t realize at first, but later when he was inspecting his photos, he saw he’d captured me in the background of one of them. I went to his darkroom, and he told me he knew what I had done. I destroyed the photo after Thomas was dead. He didn’t even put up a fight.

  “I thought that would be it, but then I found out about this piece of—” Julia stomped furiously over to Scott who put his hands over his head, cowering. “You betrayed me too!”

  That was Mike’s cue. He quickly slipped over and took Julia’s wrists.

  “Julia Snow, I am arresting you for the murders of Theodore Westmoreland and Thomas Reisman. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  Julia nodded sadly, all her fight gone now. “Aren’t you going to cuff me?”

  “I don’t think there’s any need for that. I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

  Julia looked up at Annabelle. “But how did you know it was me?”

  “I learned from Dr. Whitefield that you had been a vet and had had a breakdown, and that you knew how to use a bolt gun. Obviously, you had had a disagreement with Theo. I realized that you must have disguised yourself in a Lord Darthamort costume to shoot him. But what really clued me in was a photo I saw in Thomas’ darkroom. There was a picture of an owl stalking a rabbit. But it was no ordinary field rabbit. It was Barnaby. I could tell by his ears. You couldn’t carry Barnaby while wearing the Darthmort costume, so I figured you must have left him on the ground while you killed Theo and gone back for your rabbit later.”

  Julia nodded. “Clever. I could tell you were smart. You care about animals, in your own way. What will happen to me now?”

  “You will be held until your trial and then jailed for the duration of your sentence. In time and with luck, you will go to an open prison where you’ll be able to work outside. You might even be able to work with animals. That’s probably the best you can hope for,” Mike said.

  Fifteen minutes later, a police car arrived, and Julia was dispatched to the station in Truro. There was an argument when the accompanying police officer refused to take Barnaby into custody along with Julia. After a standoff, Scott offered to take care of him, and Julia acquiesced.

  “Aren’t you going too?” Annabelle asked Mike.

  “In a bit. But first we have something to do.

  “What?”

  “We have to return the quad bikes!”

  “Oh yes!” Annabelle’s eyes widened. She started to run. “Race you!”

  Mike clambered on to his bike and roared off, closely followed by Annabelle.

  Scott came out of his smithy, cradling Barnaby and watched the scene, the two of them on their bikes, retreating in the distance, their hands wide as they gripped the handlebars, their bodies hunched over, and Annabelle’s cassock flowing out behind her.

  “How about that? A vicar on a quad bike. That’s not a sight you see every day is it, Barnaby?”

  EPILOGUE

  “Annabelle!”

  Annabelle was dashing down the corridor in the village hall. There was just half an hour to go to the performance. The children’s excitement had been building all day and was only topped by the near hysteria felt by Annabelle and the legion of parents who had volunteered to help.

  In the toilets that were tonight acting as the boys’ and girls’ dressing rooms, girls were giggling and twirling in their costumes while boys were good-naturedly tolerating the ministrations of their mothers who were scrubbing stage makeup onto their faces. The makeup team was led by Barbara, who had taken on the leadership role with relish and who had needed absolutely no traini
ng whatsoever in the application of thick, bright, overstated cosmetics.

  In the kitchen, Joan Pettigrew, the pianist was warming up by fingering her scales on the window ledge, while the boys on electric guitar and drums, Nathan Mead and Sammy Burke, were tuning and loosening up. The low sounds of a bass guitar and the occasional crash of cymbals rose above the cacophony of sound that resulted from forty children who were about to deliver the results of two months hard work and sing at the top of their voices and from the bottom of their hearts.

  Annabelle turned to see Mike coming toward her. He smiled.

  “You’re back! You’re here!”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ve come to see the performance?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I know how hard you’ve worked on it. I can’t wait. I’m sure it’s going to be magnificent and heartwarming and that everyone in the audience will absolutely love it.”

  “I do hope so.”

  “I also wanted to tell you about the pony rustling, but perhaps now isn’t a good time?”

  “I’d love to hear it, but later. I can’t think about anything but the show right now.”

  “I brought you these. A sort of good luck gift.” Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

  Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she took the box from him. Haltingly, she opened it. Inside was a tiny pair of rose gold cross earrings embellished with shimmering blue diamonds.

  “Ohhhhh, you bought these for me? They’re beautiful! Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek. He smelled of pine. "I shall put them on right away and wear them for the performance. My lucky charm,” she beamed. They stood there staring at one another, their eyes shining.

  “Well, good luck then.” Mike swung his arms, not sure quite what to do with them. “Break a leg.” He took a couple of steps backward and gave a small fist pump before turning and walking into the performance hall. Annabelle watched him walk away, clutching the small box, an idea forming as she wondered whether she had the time, or the nerve, to pull it off.