The Village Fate

by William Hadley

  “You seem rather keen to get rid of me. What are you up to?” asked Claudilia

  “Nothing, I was just thinking out loud and we don’t want to be late for the funeral, it’s very bad manners.”

  Claudilia left the office, and with Max by her side she went back to Bindweed Cottage to dig out a clean dress, with luck she have something that fitted and was a dark colour. She’d settle for either; both might be asking a bit much.

  There was an impressive turnout for Gus …slimy little bastard must’ve had some friends after all. The Church parking area was full to overflowing as were both pub car parks, and vehicles lined the green. Many of them were tradesman’s pickups, Claudilia could see a couple of dozen men who were obviously builders. They looked uncomfortable in a suit and tie. They had broad shoulders, big chests and not much neck. People stood around the graveyard chatting with friends or family members. There were a couple of small groups of smokers having a last cigarette before taking their seats inside.

  Amongst the mourners were Hubert and Marie. Claudilia was shocked to see they were talking to Angus. When did he get back she wondered? They stood off to one side, talking quietly beside a grave, voices low and respectful in case they woke the sleeper beneath. Claudilia crept up and snaked her arm through her brother’s elbow, then she leaned across and pecked Marie on the cheek. Marie looked fabulous in her dress, not black but a very dark green. A string of freshwater pearls enhanced her long slender neck. She carried a simple handbag, one which matched her shoes. Without trying she was everything Maggie had wanted to be.

  “When did you get home?” Claudilia asked Angus.

  “The plane dropped me off at half past eight, my friend needed to be back in his office by ten so we left early and he flew on to City airport afterward. He’ll be behind his desk and making a squillion pounds an hour by now.”

  “And Maggie, is she with you?” asked Marie.

  “No. To be truthful I’m not sure where she is.”

  I’ve got a pretty good idea, thought Claudilia.

  “Not waiting at home for you like the dutiful wife, ready to rattle your bones after forty eight hours apart?” asked Hubert giving Marie a playful squeeze.

  “No chance of that.” replied Angus. “I don’t suppose she even realises I’ve been away. She wasn’t around when I got back this morning so I guess she’s gone off with Tish somewhere and stayed the night.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the dearly departed’s family. A black Daimler funeral car pulled up noiselessly and Gus’s two sisters climbed out. They were with two men who Claudilia assumed were their husbands. A small group of children joined them from the second car and they all stood back as the limousines glided away. Next to arrive was the guest of honour. A freshly washed tipper truck from the local Travis Perkins pulled in. Strapped down amongst a display of tools, ladders and bricks was a plain coffin. There was even a delivery note pinned to its lid. Gus had obviously been a good customer and it was nice of them to show their respect. For a moment Claudilia felt sorry. But then she remembered what a nasty little tit he’d been, and that he’d deserved what had happened to him.

  After forty-five minutes the service was over. A work colleague read a prayer which mentioned the Lord as a builder and Pastor Stuart read from the Gospel of John, chapter fourteen verse two; “My father’s house has many mansions.” For a few minutes the Pastor eulogised about Gus and how perhaps the Lord had taken him because he needed help with an extension to his Kingdom, or he may be planning a heavenly loft conversion. If that’s the case he’s picked the wrong builder thought Claudilia, remembering all the wonky gates he’d hung and doors that didn’t fit their holes.

  The mourners gathered at the graveside. Green sheeting covered a nearby mound of soil; as if anyone was unsure of where it had come from, or where it wold be returning to the moment they left the car park. Claudilia was surprised to see Josie Robinson amongst the crowd. She’d not noticed the Detective in the church, she must have slipped in after everyone else had taken their seats.

  Claudilia walked around the graves and headstones to where the detective was standing. “Hello Josie, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Hi Claudilia, it’s not an official visit, I try to attend the funerals of the people I have been involved with after their death. It helps me to sign it off, closes the book so to speak.”

  “If this were a TV cop show you’d be taking photos, noting down names and looking for suspicious activity.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but real-life police work isn’t that glamorous. And anyway, the coroner decided the death was a workplace accident.” said Josie. “Unless you know something different?”

  “No. I’m just saying that on telly when the police go to the victim’s funeral they always seem to get a vital clue or some useful information.”

  Josie Robinson laughed. “We very seldom have it all tidied up in an hour, allowing for twelve minutes of advert breaks, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a graveside confession. In a murder investigation the responsible person seldom breaks down at the feet of the widow and begs forgiveness. No, I’m afraid that in modern policing, that’s short-hand for personnel cuts, we have to rely on intelligence gathered, mistakes made and good old fashioned luck.”

  “And the criminals, what do they rely on?” asked Claudilia.

  “Oh that’s simple,” replied Josie. “They think they won’t get caught because they’re too clever. They’ve thought of everything, they’ve made no mistakes.”

  “So how do you catch them?”

  “Eventually someone notices something and tells us. The guilty person is acting out of character, they have more cash than usual, they upset someone further down the criminal food chain, a smaller fish who talks to us. That sort of thing is more common than you’d think, or they just try to sell the proceeds of a robbery too soon. You’d be surprised how dumb some people are. They’ll wait a week or two, and think we’ve lost interest. Then an engraved Rolex appears on eBay. But we’re watching for that sort of thing, they’ll get a visit and a criminal record.” She went on, in her stride now. “Then there’s the un-taxed car caught on an ANPR camera. It’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and someone’s suspicion is tweaked. The driver could be a person of interest with a bit of history, we pop the boot and it’s full of brand new power tools or boxed up iPhones; not a receipt in sight. Often one offence is a sign post to others.”

  DS Robinson looked disappointed for a moment “There are some who get lucky of course, they commit the perfect crime, a one off offence by someone with no record and never to be repeated. They’re the most likely to get away with it.”

  “Around here we don’t have many cameras, how’s it work for rural policing?” asked Claudilia.

  “People behaving out of character or just being caught out by chance. For instance, I saw you late on Saturday afternoon riding your bike past that pub.” Josie Robinson gestured towards the Belcher’s Arms. “I was there with Peter and the kids. If I were to ask where you’d been at that time. and you wanted to hide your whereabouts you might have told me you were shopping in Warwick on Saturday afternoon. But I’d have known different. Even if it was just luck that I saw you and was able to place you in the village at that time.”

  “Well, I can tell you I wasn’t shopping in Warwick,” she said with a forced laugh. “I was here in Wimplebridge.” Claudilia tried not to look flustered. “I went to see Mrs Macintosh at the Manor. When I got there, she was…” Claudilia hesitated, looking for the right word, “busy, and wouldn’t have wanted to be disturbed. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you though, I’d like to have met your husband.”

  “No, it’s fine, we just came out for a drive and bite to eat. The food’s very good in that pub you know, and the kids liked the play area. It was just co-incidence that I saw you. Is Mrs Mackintosh here by the way? I don’t think I’ve met her?”

  “She hasn’t come.” Said Claud
ilia. “But her husband, Angus, is over there with my brother, Hubert.” Claudilia gestured to where the two men were stood talking.

  The coffin was lowered into the ground. A handful of soil was dropped in by the Pastor and each of the family, then the assembled crowd started to move away from the grave. Some would be going to the wake at the Bridge Inn, others would make their way back to work. In all it had been a good turn out for a valued member of the community. Gus would be missed. Claudilia wouldn’t miss him, but she did wondered who’d do the carpentry jobs at the fete build on Thursday.

  At the Bridge in the sandwiches were a bit curly and the tea was weak. Claudilia took one sip and went to the bar for something stronger. After twenty minutes, which seemed long enough, she and Hubert repeated their condolences and air-kissed the sisters. Hubert went back to the office and Claudilia walked home to Bindweed Cottage. She wanted to get out of her dress and into something more comfortable, something more suitable for charging around the countryside on horseback.

  In the garden Claudilia pushed over the incinerator, hot ashes spilled out and glowed red, amongst them were still a few pieces of metal. She spent half an hour shaking the ash through a sieve and looking carefully for signs of unburned evidence. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had been shaken by the appearance of DS Robinson at the funeral. She needed to be sure there was nothing left in her garden which could link her to Maggie.

  When she’d finished there was just a handful of recognisable material. A few bits of a key, some buckled plastic and the remains of a glass perfume bottle. She scooped it all into a small bag and stored it on a shelf in the shed. The ash went onto the compost heap and she mixed it in with a fork. She and Max would walk beside the river and feed the ducks that evening. As well as bread for the birds, who never seemed satisfied with what she’d brought, she would take the unburned material, and throw the bits into the water as they went along the path.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Day Fifteen. Tuesday

  On Tuesday morning Hubert and Claudilia went back to Macintosh Energy. The skip was empty and had been washed out …good thing too, it would really stink if it was still full of chicken bones and vegetable peelings. The chipper was also clean, it had been washed with a pressure hose and was hitched onto the tractor. The machine was ready to go back to work at the farm. It would spend the next few days crunching down more traditional material. With each branch, twig and leaf that scraped it’s way through, there’d be a little less of Maggie remaining to be found.

  Brother and sister walked across the yard to the office. The door was open and Hamish sat on the step watching the world go by, a clear indication that Angus was in residence. The dog’s master could be seen behind his desk talking on the phone, they waited in the outer office with Cindy so as not to listen in on his conversation. When Angus put the phone down he got up from his desk and ushered them in.

  “What’s up Angus? You look worried” asked Hubert.

  “It’s Maggie. She wasn’t here when I got back yesterday. There’s nothing odd about that, she often goes off for the day or spends the weekend shopping with a girlfriend. But she didn’t leave a note and she still hasn’t been in touch, not a text or a phone call, nothing.” Angus sat back in his office chair and swivelled anxiously. “I’ve called all her friends I can think of, even that terrible woman Tish, but she’s no help. Her purse, handbag, and keys are gone, and her passport, which she keeps in her desk, that isn’t there either.”

  “Last week you said she was talking about visiting her brother in New York,” said Claudilia. “Could she have gone there without you?”

  “I’ve thought of that. Her internet history shows she’s been looking at flights, prices and times, …I could have told you that, but I can’t see any sign of her booking one. She could have done it on her iPad I guess, but that’s missing too, along with her phone and all her cards.”

  Cindy came in with coffee, and to Claudilia’s delight a selection of biscuits. “Have you told the police, because you don’t have to wait twenty-four hours you know, that’s just a myth.”

  “I wasn’t going to; she might just be drunk at some friend’s house in London. In that case involving the cops would really piss her off, but Tish said that if I don’t tell them she will, and I don’t want that busybody cow getting involved. She spends far too much time here anyway, drinking my booze and turning Maggie against me. So I’ve just talked to the cops in Warwick. They asked a lot of questions of course; How is our marriage? Do we have money troubles? Do I suspect there might be another man, or woman for that matter? What had she taken with her? Anyway, I answered what I could, they said they would “put her on the system,” whatever that means, and someone’s coming around to see me later today.”

  “Do you think there might be another man?” asked Hubert.

  “Hubert,” snapped Claudilia. “You can’t ask Angus if he thinks his wife is having an affair. Have some manners for God’s sake.” Then turning to Angus. “But, now that he’s mentioned it, do you have any suspicions Angus? Has she been acting strangely?”

  “With Maggie it’s hard to tell when she’s acting strange,” Said Angus with a smile. “That’s another thing Tish is responsible for. When we first met she was just a bit flaky about food and stuff, now she’s aggressively vegan.”

  “What’s aggressively vegan mean?” asked Hubert, wondering if Claudilia would know, but his sister looked blank.

  “It has to be organic and vegan. She only drinks water that comes in glass bottles, no single use plastics anywhere. She measures the food miles of everything she eats as well as counting the calories. Then she makes a donation to some new-age hippy charity. They claim to offset your food’s carbon footprint by purchasing areas of rainforest. It’s a brilliant scam really, I wish I’d thought of it. She even gets a photo of a few trees each time she makes a payment.

  “So what happens now?” asked Claudilia.

  “I guess I’ll talk to the cops when they come, I assume they’ll want to look around, just to see if she’s floating in the pool or if I’ve put her under the patio. But I expect she’ll turn up in a few days.” He sighed. “She’ll call in the middle of the night from some club in New York. She’ll have been on a massive bender with her brother, and given my cards a dammed good thumping on Park Avenue.”

  “But Angus, do you think there could be another man?” asked Claudilia in the most tactful way she could.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I suspect it wouldn’t be the first time, and I have my suspicions about that gardener. He seems to be here a lot. I know she likes younger men and he’s fit, tanned, and available. If I were being honest I’d say Maggie gets what Maggie wants. If she wants the gardener then she’s probably had him.” Angus looked crestfallen.

  “Well don’t worry,” said Hubert. “I’m sure she’ll turn up soon. And she’ll have a perfectly good explanation for not having called. She lost her phone down a loo being sick, or got so drunk with friends she’s been having her stomach pumped, something like that.”

  Claudilia glared at her brother. “Hubert, do you really think that’s helping. You great oaf. Let’s just hope she comes home safe, the whys and wherefores we can worry about later. I just hope she turns up all in one bit.” …There’s no real chance of that, but you have to say it don’t you.

  Hubert shuffled in his seat and looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Okay, down to business, how do you think the test with the chipper and the food waste went Angus?”

  “Well, it seems to have coped pretty well with the material and it’s convinced me we can use the smaller machine. The gas results are quite good too, but I think there must have been something up with the stuff we gave Daisy.”

  Henry and Claudilia looked quizzically at Angus. “Who’s Daisy?”

  “The AD plant, that’s what I call her, because the process is just like what goes on in a cow’s stomach. I think over the weekend she got an upset tummy. There was a blip in gas produced b
ut it’s settled down again now.” Angus held up a printout which showed a graph with a line going across. “This is an hour by hour report of gas produced, you can see it is pretty stable till Sunday evening, then it drops a little but soon recovers. Probably nothing, but we should monitor the ratio of waste to silage, and maybe fine tune it a bit.”

  “I wonder what she didn’t like?” asked Hubert. “then again I often have a touch of indigestion after Sunday lunch, maybe she just needed to sleep it off.”

  “Do I assume you two boys have decided to go ahead with this scheme then?” asked Claudilia. “ ’Cos you’re talking as if you have, and if that’s the case we need to formalise the arrangement. I mean Angus, I love you to bits but I can’t just give you a bundle of cash because you’re cute.”

  Angus smiled. “I don’t see why not, but what do you suggest?”

  “Well,” said Claudilia, quite aware she was making it up as she went along. “I suggest we form a new company with two shareholders, that’s you and us. We put up the cash and you match it with a proportion of Macintosh Energy. The new company buys the equipment and leases it to the AD plant. If all goes well we’ll get our money back in a few years with a touch of interest, and there’s some profit for everyone along the way. How does that sound?”

  “It makes sense to have a commercial structure.” Said Angus. “Let’s check it out with the accountants, and if they’re happy we’ll get the ball rolling.”