Evil Angels Among Them (40 page)

The little girl held her breath. ‘How?' she whispered.

Lucy hugged her tightly. ‘That's why there are policemen, and other strong people. To put the bad people in jail.'

‘But I'm only little,' Bryony whimpered. ‘I'm not strong.'

‘Then you must tell me, darling. Tell me about the horrible man.'

‘But he'll hurt me! He'll come and get me!' she wailed, terrified. ‘I can't tell you!'

Lucy tightened her arms around the little girl. ‘Don't forget the cloak,' she said softly. ‘The horrible man won't be able to find you. And God will protect you,' she added.

Tears trickled down Bryony's cheeks. ‘All right,' she whispered. ‘I'll tell you. If you'll promise that he won't get me.'

‘I promise,' Lucy breathed.

CHAPTER 28

    
The Lord careth for the strangers, he defendeth the fatherless and widow: as for the way of the ungodly, he turneth it upside down.

Psalm 146.9

Later that afternoon, after Bryony had been safely delivered home, David and Lucy had a long talk, sorting out all the anomalies that made sense at last. They walked along the footpath in the direction of Walston Hall, and were enchanted to find that the little wood was carpeted with bluebells.

‘I should have paid more attention to Karen Stimpson,' Lucy admitted, stopping amidst the bluebells and sitting on a tree stump. ‘She said the other night that Bryony might have seen something. But she linked it to the kidnapping, which was what threw me off: right after that we knew Bryony's father had taken her, so her warning seemed irrelevant.'

‘And we thought that Enid's death was suicide at that point,' David added. He leaned against a tree and looked at Lucy.

‘So it never crossed my mind that Bryony could have seen the murderer, and when she started talking about the “horrible man”, I just assumed that she meant her father.' Lucy twisted a curl round her finger. ‘And it turned out that she not only saw the murderer from across the road, she was actually in the house with him.'

‘And she got a good look at him?'

‘Oh, yes.' Lucy nodded. ‘She didn't know his name,' she admitted, ‘but her description was spot on.' She went on to repeat Bryony's story: how the girl had joined Enid Bletsoe for chocolate biscuits in spite of her mother's orders to the contrary. When the doorbell had rung, Lucy told him, the girl had been frightened that it was her mother or Lou, come looking for her, so at Enid's urging she'd run to the kitchen to hide under the table. The man had come into the kitchen: she'd seen him plainly, and had watched as he'd fixed Enid a drink, stirring the tablets into the bitter lemon. She'd waited until he'd gone before emerging from her hiding place, but when she'd returned to the lounge she'd found Enid writhing in the throes of her last agony. Bryony had fled from the house in terror, only to be snatched by her father before she could reach home. And of course there were so many reasons that she couldn't tell her mother – couldn't tell anyone – what had happened and what she'd seen.

David listened carefully, without interrupting. ‘She actually witnessed the murder, then?' he said when she'd finished.

‘Yes, the poor little thing. It's no wonder she was terrified, darling.' Lucy's voice was full of compassion.

‘And the kidnap by her father was a fluke – a real red herring,' David stated, shaking his head. ‘It's no wonder you didn't make the connection.' He chewed on his thumb nail pensively. ‘So now we know who, and we know how. But what I still don't understand, Lucy love, is
why
. What on earth was his motive?'

‘I've been thinking about it,' she said slowly. ‘And I think that the answer is power.'

‘Power?'

‘I've been thinking about something Roger Staines said,' Lucy explained. ‘That being a churchwarden is all about power. And I think that he was right about something else: Flora Newall died because she was churchwarden, and for no other reason. Not because she was a social worker, and not because she had access to people's secrets or had learned something that someone else wanted kept quiet. Because she was churchwarden.'

‘It's an extremely powerful position,' David agreed. ‘And one that people seem strangely reluctant to give up, in my experience.' He ran his fingers over the rough bark of the tree. ‘But what about Enid? Why did she have to die?'

‘To take the blame for Flora's murder, I suspect,' Lucy postulated. ‘There might have been more to it than that, of course – perhaps she
did
find something out that would threaten him. Maybe she even knew that he'd killed Flora. And don't forget what Stephen said on Sunday: that Enid had volunteered to stand for churchwarden. Maybe he couldn't cope with that.' She stood up, brushing moss from her skirt. ‘So what do we do now, darling?'

David grinned at her. ‘Why do I have the feeling that going to John Spring with what you've learned isn't exactly what you have in mind?'

‘You must be joking!' She rolled her eyes. ‘Apart from anything else, I don't see how we could even consider putting Bryony through any more than she's already suffered. Even if she
can
identify him. There's got to be another way.'

‘Actually,' David admitted, ‘I don't believe that her identification, or even her witnessing the murder, would hold up in court. It certainly isn't enough evidence to convict him on. And as you say, it wouldn't be fair to put her through it. But apart from what Bryony has told you, there isn't a shred of evidence against him. Nothing concrete. Nothing but supposition and guesses on our part.'

Lucy looked down the footpath towards the church. ‘We need to have a meeting,' she announced. ‘Tonight. We need to talk to Gill and Lou about it, and see if they have any ideas.'

‘Stephen and Becca as well,' David suggested.

Nodding in agreement, Lucy paused. ‘And how about Roger Staines?' she added. ‘After all, David, he was the one who came closest to the truth about the murders.'

They all gathered at Foxglove Cottage late that evening, after Bryony was in bed. Lou had already opened the wine, and David accepted a glass with gratitude.

David and Lucy hadn't warned the others of the purpose of the get-together, so there was a certain amount of curiosity as they all settled down with their wine. Deciding to get to the point quickly, David told them that they were there to talk about the murders in Walston. ‘We know who the murderer is,' he said, ‘but we need to decide what to do about it.' As they all stared at him, disbelieving, he named the man.

Lucy explained that Bryony had seen, and described, the murderer. ‘So there's no doubt about it. But there isn't any other evidence against him.'

‘No.' Gill's voice was quiet but unmistakably firm. ‘My daughter isn't to be involved in this. She's been through enough already. I'm not having the police pestering her, and she's not going into court to identify him. I won't allow it.'

‘Actually,' David confessed, ‘as I told Lucy, I don't think her identification would be enough anyway. They would discredit it as evidence.'

‘Then what can be done?' asked Stephen. ‘Surely the police, if they know who it is, will be able to prove it?'

Lou leaned forward, looking fierce. ‘The police? They won't be able to prove a bloody thing!'

David decided to play devil's advocate. ‘They might,' he said. ‘They've got surprise on their side, at any rate – he doesn't suspect that anyone knows. So if they got a search warrant they might be able to find digoxin in his possession.'

‘But that doesn't actually prove anything,' Lucy pointed out. ‘Plenty of people have digoxin quite legitimately.'

‘True,' admitted David. ‘And there really isn't any other way of connecting him to the murders.'

Stephen was frowning, baffled, as he tried to puzzle it out. ‘But why?' he interjected. ‘Why did he do it? I just can't think of a reason. Can you explain it?'

David looked at Roger Staines. ‘You know, don't you?' he suggested shrewdly. ‘So much of what you said to Lucy was true, or very near the mark.'

‘I think I do.' Roger gave a slow nod. ‘It's about power, isn't it? I should have guessed. He
has
to be important. That's the most crucial thing.'

‘Flora opposed the expansion of Ingram's, didn't she?' postulated David. ‘She voted against granting them a right-of-way through the grounds of the almshouses, I'm willing to wager.'

Stephen nodded, but still without understanding. ‘Yes, she was strongly opposed to it. We had the meeting the night before she died, I think, a meeting of the almshouses trust. The churchwardens and I are the sole trustees.' He took his diary from his pocket and checked. ‘That's right. It was that night. We had a long, acrimonious meeting. She was vegetarian, as you know, and said it was wicked even to consider such a thing. Fred tried his best to persuade her to change her mind – he really has a vested interest in the expansion of Ingram's, you know. And then . . . oh . . .' His brow cleared as comprehension dawned. ‘Oh, I see!'

‘And that must have been when the tablets were substituted,' David went on triumphantly. ‘That night, sometime during the meeting.'

‘Everyone knew that Flora kept artificial sweeteners in her handbag,' confirmed Stephen. ‘And we had coffee that night at the meeting. She had the container out, sitting on the table.'

‘And what about Enid?' Becca asked. ‘Why . . . ?'

Lou got up suddenly and began pacing behind the sofa. ‘All right, let's cut the crap,' she said in a decisive voice. ‘None of this matters. You can work this all out later and pat yourselves on the backs for being so clever. What we're here to talk about now is what to bloody do about it.' She stopped pacing and put her hands on her hips, surveying them all. ‘I don't give a shit about the old bag across the road. And I don't really care about Flora, to be perfectly honest – I hardly knew the woman. But I
do
care about Bryony, and I want to make sure that the bloody bastard who scared the shit out of her pays for it. I want to be damned sure that he's sorry he was born!'

David had thought about it and had an idea. ‘A confession,' he said. ‘There's no evidence, so we'll have to get him to confess.'

‘But how?' Gill asked. ‘Why would he confess?'

‘Blackmail,' David said succinctly. He outlined his plan: he would ring the murderer and tell him that he had discovered his crimes, and the price of his silence would be a sum of money, to be handed over at a specified time and place. He would meet him, with a tape recorder in his pocket, and get him to talk. The police would be nearby, as a safeguard, and could arrest the man on the spot.

‘But wouldn't that be awfully dangerous?' Lucy asked anxiously, concerned for David's safety. ‘He's killed two people already, darling. I wouldn't want you to take any chances.'

‘The police wouldn't let anything happen to me,' he assured her.

‘Stuff the bloody police!' Lou snapped, pacing again. ‘They're worse than useless. That dickhead Sergeant Spring, with his tight trousers – he's made a balls-up of everything so far. We're leaving him out of it!'

David turned to her. ‘What do you suggest, then?'

‘We'll do it ourselves – all of us. We'll deal with him, and hand him over to the police, signed, sealed and delivered.'

After that the plans came together rather quickly, with a free sharing of suggestions and ideas, although Lucy continued to have reservations, feeling that David was the one at risk. The amount of money demanded was to be modest, better to ensure compliance, and the meeting was to take place in the church on the following evening, thus allowing time for the money to be found. David would wait in the chancel, and the rest of them would be in the chapel, where, as Lucy could verify, they would be able to hear what was said, and thus be witnesses as well as being in a position to respond should there be any trouble, and prevent their quarry from escaping.

‘But someone will have to stay here at home with Bryony,' Gill pointed out. ‘Perhaps it should be Lucy.'

‘If David is in danger, I want to be there,' Lucy protested.

‘I want to go as well.' They all turned to see Bryony standing in the doorway, perfectly self-possessed and speaking with assurance. She had evidently been there for some time. ‘If you're going to catch the horrible man, I want to go.'

Gill's response was automatic and reflexive. ‘No! You're not going anywhere near that church, young lady!'

Every trace of Bryony's former fragile state had vanished. ‘But I must, Mummy,' she insisted stubbornly. ‘I'm the one who saw him, and I should be there.'

Lou nodded. ‘She's right, angelface. She ought to be there, to see it through. Don't worry about her,' she added, more gently. ‘She'll be all right. He'll never even know she's there. And I'll be there to protect her, I swear it.'

‘All right,' Gill gave in, trusting Lou's judgment as well as her ability to keep her promise.

So all that remained was for David to make the phone call. Having learned, as he remarked with an ironic smile, from Becca's experiences, he did it in a muffled voice, using a handkerchief over the receiver. ‘I know what you did to Flora and Enid,' he said in a tone that was both confident and menacing, as much like an amateurish blackmailer as he could manage, going on to demand £500 for his silence, to be brought to the church at exactly seven p.m. on the following evening and left under King John's chair.

The next morning David was up early, leaving for London on a flying trip to his office. Ignoring his secretary's glares, he avoided all the work that had piled up on his desk and spent the day researching the laws on trusts, checking with the Charity Commissioners for the specific terms of the Walston Almshouses Trust. Everything that he learned reinforced the conclusions that he and Lucy had reached concerning the motivation behind Flora Newall's murder; he digested it all as he drove back to Walston to arrive in time for his appointment in the church.