Immaculate Deception

by Hannah Weston Price

  Reggie tipped her head in thought. “Marcus Blackwell is clearly a power-hungry narcissist, but he seems much too in control of his facilities to do something so messy.”

  “True.” A couple of different expressions shifted over his face until he seemed to come to a decision. “I suppose I should also inform you that, this case has officially become a murder investigation. I won’t go into detail but the evidence doesn’t match what would be there if she had in fact…” he cleared his throat. “Hung herself from that tree. What happened to her, happened elsewhere and she was – placed there to be found so that we would presume suicide and not investigate further.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all? No smug, words of having told me so?”

  “Detective, as if I would,” she said with a small smile. But it was hard to feel anything but sad. “Can you tell me…”

  “Elsa wasn’t pregnant,” Detective Thornton said quickly. “I’m sorry, I should have informed you of that sooner. I know that part in particular was causing you distress.”

  Reggie just nodded. “Well that’s something I suppose.”

  “It’s odd actually. In his report, Dr. Manning said that not only was Elsa not pregnant, but it was quite impossible that she could ever have been pregnant, and she’d known that for years.”

  “Dr. Manning is also the village Coroner?” Reggie asked. “That can’t be easy for him.”

  “No. But lucky for us we don’t get many deaths that require further investigation. Mostly old age and the occasional accident.”

  “So, not only was Elsa not pregnant, but she knew she couldn’t get pregnant. I suppose that explains why she was talking about miracles when I saw her that night in the church. The question is why would she think she was? I know she’d brought a test, but hadn’t taken it yet, she wanted to share the moment with…” She waved her hand to signify the mystery man. “Every new piece of information just brings more questions.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Now you let me do my job and keep your nose out of the way.”

  “My nose was never in the way. I’m not Miss Marple. I just want to do right by Elsa and this village. And I think I’ve proven that if I do happen to stumble upon any possible evidence, you’ll be the first person I come to.”

  His eyes narrowed again, and Reggie took that as her cue to leave. “Not that I’m trying to find evidence,” she said, backing towards the door.

  It wasn’t till she was back in the waiting room that Harry Thornton called out. “And you promise not to go see Marcus Blackwell either, right?”

  “I’m sorry?” She said, cupping her ear as though holding an imaginary phone and making hissing crackling sounds. “I think we have a bad connection. I’ll call you later.”

  With a saucy wink she waggled her fingers at him and glided out the station door.

  His roar followed her almost all the way to the street. She couldn’t imagine what made him so angry all the time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Back at the church, Reggie was greeted by the church cat who was still without a name.

  “Meow,” she wound about Reggie’s legs and butted her head against Reggie’s ankle.

  “You’re very affectionate for so early in the day.” Reggie said, reaching down to scratch the sleek black cat’s head. “Usually I don’t see you till it’s time to come out of the cold at night.”

  “Meow.”

  Inside the church, Reggie was startled to find a lone woman sitting near the front, hands clasped in silent prayer.

  Not wanting to disturb her, Reggie closed the door quietly and made her way to the small office at the back.

  “Reverend?” The woman looked up and Reggie saw that it was Mrs. Manning.

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t disturb you,” Reggie said in a hushed voice. “Thought I was being so stealthy.”

  Mrs. Manning laughed softly. “Actually, I came hoping I might see you. Do you have time to talk?”

  “Of course, I do,” Reggie reached out to take Mrs. Manning’s hands and squeezed slightly. “How about I make some tea and see what biscuits are hidden out back.”

  “That would be lovely, thank you, Vicar.”

  Once seated with some hot sweet tea and a packet of chocolate Hobnobs, they made small talk for a few minutes. Mrs. Manning asked her how she was settling in and Reggie shared the funny story of the detective’s aunt trying to set them up. The conversation was easy and safe, and Reggie didn’t prod but instead waited for the older woman to breach the subject of why she had come. And finally, at length, she did.

  “Oh, Vicar,” She started, her eyes shimmering as she stared hard at the table. “I’ve done something terrible.”

  Her lip quivered but she didn’t go on. After a moment, Reggie took a biscuit and pressed it into her hand. “You don’t need to eat it, just hold it,” Reggie said. “It might sound silly, but sometimes it helps.”

  Mrs. Manning frowned down at the biscuit in her hands. She turned it and circled it aimlessly between her fingers before letting out a soft laugh.

  “How strange,” she said, then after another moment she looked at Reggie. “I’m the reason Elsa thought she was pregnant.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Reggie said. “What a heavy burden you’re holding. I promise, nothing you say will ever leave this room.”

  Mrs. Manning nodded. “I know. At the time I didn’t know that Elsa couldn’t conceive. My husband of course never broke his oath, it was only after – you know – that he told me. He thought it would make me feel better about everything.”

  “I’m sure you meant well,” Reggie prompted.

  “I did! I swear I did!” Mrs. Manning twisted the biscuit some more in her fingers. “I was so worried about her. She was a lovely girl but always a little wild. I didn’t want to see her ruin her life the way…” Her eyes flicked to Reggie, then back down to her hands. “You must have heard the rumors by now. Elsa has had several relationships in her young life but never manages to stay with one man, then there was that whole situation with the teacher.”

  “Mr. Peterson?”

  “That’s the one. I don’t know the specifics but apparently he spent a lot of time tutoring her, more than was decent, I hear.” She suddenly covered her mouth and shut her eyes. “Listen to me, I’m doing it again. Forgive me, Vicar. You were completely right in your sermon on Sunday. Gossip and rumors are poison.”

  “It’s okay,” Reggie soothed. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was just so worried about her, she’d been so tired all week, then I noticed she was feeling ill and I wondered if perhaps…” A tear streaked down her cheek. “I thought she might be pregnant, so when we were in the bathroom, I told her that I recognized the signs and I told her that she was definitely pregnant. I’m a doctor’s wife, so of course she believed me.”

  “But you really thought she might be?”

  “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. I just thought, even if I was wrong, maybe a pregnancy scare would make her more responsible.” She made a face and shook her head. “I can’t believe I just said that. Listen to me. I sound like one of those judgmental old biddies that used to look down on me when I was a girl. Who the hell am I to manipulate a sweet girl like that.” Suddenly she covered her mouth. “Oh! Sorry Vicar.”

  Reggie waved off the word. “As long as there are no children around, feel free to swear like a sailor if you need to. Believe me, I’ve heard it all.”

  Mrs. Manning smiled but it dissolved as her mouth crumpled and more tears fell. “It’s just…” She hiccupped and pressed her lips together before continuing. “If I’d just minded my own business. None of this would have happened and that poor girl—”

  “You stop that!” Reggie interrupted in a hushed tone. “Yes, what you did was misguided. But I know you meant well.” She gripped Mrs. Manning’s hands tight and looked into her eyes. “You are not responsible for what happened to Elsa.”

>   “How can you be so sure?” Mrs. Manning said. “She was so happy when I said she was probably pregnant. What if when she discovered that she wasn’t, it sent her into some kind of deep depression or something and…”

  Reggie had no answer. She remembered how genuinely joyful the girl had seemed that last night.

  It’s a miracle … I didn’t think I would ever have a child of my own.

  Reggie stared down at her hands. She wished she had the words to comfort this woman. She felt so helpless, so useless. A better vicar would have found the words to ease Mrs. Manning’s conscience. But Reggie could only sit silently, holding the woman’s hands.

  “Charlotte,” Reggie started after another moment. “What you did was wrong.”

  The older woman sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes going wide. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I was judgmental and arrogant.”

  “Yes, you were.” Reggie kept her voice flat, her eyes holding those of Mrs. Manning captive.

  It was like something had taken over, was speaking through her.

  “Charlotte,” Reggie said after another minute of silence. “I forgive you.”

  Mrs. Manning exhaled sharply, and it was as though something held tight within her snapped. One moment she was sitting with her back straight, breath held, the next her arms were around Reggie and she was sobbing loudly against the vicar’s shoulder.

  Reggie couldn’t explain it, but she could feel the relief in that outpouring of emotion, and rather than try to comfort the woman with empty phrases, she simply wrapped her own arms around the woman and held on tight, letting her cry, lending her strength.

  “Meow.”

  The two women were both wiping their eyes when they looked up to see the church cat slinking in.

  “Oh! I didn’t know you had a cat,” Mrs. Manning said, her voice lighter, she even managed a smile. “Does she have a name?”

  Reggie eyed the cat then looked up at the image of Mary Magdalene she’d been brooding over that first night when she’d both met the cat and Elsa.

  “Magdalene,” Reggie said. “Maggie for short.”

  She’d expected a hiss or a dismissing look, but Maggie meowed and purred softly as she butted her head against Reggie’s outstretched hand.

  “Maggie,” Mrs. Manning repeated and reached down to scratch the cat behind the ears. “She’s very affectionate.”

  “Meow.” Maggie wove in and out of their legs, making the women laugh.

  “She has her moments.”

  Just then Sarah poked entered through a side door and smiled. “Can I get you ladies some more tea?”

  “No,” Mrs. Manning said, dabbing at her eyes and nose with another tissue. “I should be going. My husband will be wondering where I got to.”

  Mrs. Manning stood and gathered up her bag, patted her hair, then reached out to take Reggie’s hand. “Thank you, Vicar.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Reggie replied and meant it. “Came talk to me any time.”

  Sarah and Reggie watched as the older woman let herself out and disappeared.

  “How about you then,” Sarah said, turning on Reggie. “Have you eaten?”

  “I had some tea and biscuits.”

  “That’s not a proper meal.” Sarah took the vicar’s arm and lead her towards the door. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

  “I’m not a horse,” Reggie protested. “Or a child.”

  “Of course not, Vicar. But we all need taking care of from time to time.”

  “Can we have jelly after?”

  “Only if you eat all your hay.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reggie would admit that she did feel a little bad for going against Detective Thornton’s wishes. But it wasn’t like she was doing anything wrong.

  She was the parish vicar and Marcus Blackwell was the local Member of parliament. Surely, they should have at least a friendly working relationship.

  And if he could help with donation to the new Vicar Minicab service she’d somehow been roped into, all the better.

  She nibbled at her lip as she continued up the drive. The walk to his estate hadn’t been quite as long as the walk up the drive way. It was more like a private road, and she wondered if she was in fact just walking into the middle of nowhere.

  But just as she considered turning back, she rounded a corner and stopped.

  Marcus Blackwell’s manor had looked big enough from the village, but she had to take a step back as she found herself staring up at the sprawling estate.

  “What could one man possible do with so much space?”

  Most of the house was painted in shades of cream and grey with edgings of midnight blue and deep crimson panels.

  The lawns around the manor were immaculate and the gardens flowering with exotic plants and what looked like a few scenic walking paths.

  “Impressive isn’t it?”

  The voice came so suddenly that Reggie spun on her heel with a cry and nearly tripped over her own feet.

  Another squeak escaped as she felt herself going down.

  But an arm around her waist kept her up and dangerously close to something large and warm and hard.

  She was still wheezing when she looked up at the amused face of Marcus Blackwell.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking anything but. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t expecting to find our new vicar lurking in the woods.”

  She pulled away, slapping at his hands as he tried to steady her on her feet.

  “I wasn’t lurking,” she managed, smoothing her hair, adjusting her glasses, and fingering her collar. “I was coming to see you.”

  “A visit from the new vicar.” His mouth curled into a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Still slightly out of breath, Reggie pulled away to a safe distance and looked up at the imposing man.

  “Would you mind if we sat down to chat?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice. As a good Christian man, it would be rude of me to turn away a servant of God.”

  His sardonic tone made Reggie want to return with something cutting, but she stifled her response and settled on a polite smile.

  As they approached the manor, the front door opened and an older woman with thick grey hair, pulled into a tight bun, greeted them with a nod. Though Reggie recognized her as attending service, they hadn’t met.

  “You’re back, sir,” she said with a tight smile, but her expression softened when she focused on Reggie. “Vicar, it’s very nice to see you.”

  Before Reggie could reply, Marcus said, “Reverend Watson and I will be needing tea in my office, perhaps some sandwiches too.”

  With a wordless nod, the housekeeper let them in and took Reggie’s coat.

  “I’m sorry,” Reggie said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “This is my housekeeper Mrs. Bates,” Marcus answered for the woman. “Follow me, I’m afraid I won’t have much time today.”

  With that he turned and lead the way to a door on the right.

  “You should stay a little after services on Sunday. We could have tea,” Reggie said to the woman.

  “That would be lovely,” Mrs. Bates replied.

  “Come along, Vicar,” Marcus called, and Reggie followed with a parting wink at the older woman.

  Marcus Blackwell’s office was sparsely decorated but striking nonetheless. A heavy black desk sat in the middle fronted by two equally dark chairs in front and his own larger, more comfortable chair behind. The pristine white walls were bare but for a single surprisingly childlike watercolor behind his seat.

  “You know,” Reggie said once they were seated. “You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their staff.”

  His brows rose. “Are you always so confrontational when visiting your parishioners?”

  “Oh yes,” she replied with a smile. “But today I’m on my best behavior.”

  “Well, let me assure you. Mrs. Bates has been with my family for decades. She is perf
ectly content and well treated. Now I’m a busy man, Reverend. How can I help you today?”

  Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Reggie never liked asking for donations unless absolutely necessary, she told him about the van makeover and the scheme to help elderly parishioners do their shopping and perhaps take a day trip once in a while.

  “Surely those good people have family who can help with such things?” Marcus said frowning down at the small stack of papers on his desk.

  “This would be for those without family in the village, and those who don’t like to be a bother. People are proud, Mr. Blackwell, surely you understand that.”

  He pursed his lips. “What sort of donation are we talking about?”

  “A few hundred dollars would cover it and of course I would gladly place little banner offering thanks to the very generous MP who made the donation.”

  “A few hundred dollars, for a bumper sticker?”

  “Correction,” Reggie replied. “A few hundred dollars to help your elderly constituents get out of the house once a week.”

  Mr. Blackwell thought about that for a moment before meeting Reggie’s eyes. “Reverend Watson, you must understand, it’s not that I don’t care about the elderly of this village but that is a lot of money. Perhaps a better plan would be to instigate some kind of local taxi service or a bus route.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Reggie concurred. “How long would something like that take to set up?”

  Leaning back with an air of importance be began explaining the process of gaining council approval for the scheme. Only the sight of the Vicar’s dramatic eyeroll stopped his lecture.

  “Am I boring you, Reverend?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Blackwell. It just sounded like your plan was to make a bunch of promises that you have no intension of keeping.”

  The two were still locked in a silent battle of wills when the door opened, and Mrs. Bates entered with a tray of tea. She paused long enough to look from one to the other before simply setting down each cup and taking her leave.

  It was another minute before Mr. Blackwell spoke again. “Reverend, I believe that you have something to say to me, something that has nothing to do with your little van scheme.”