Folly (9 page)

‘We'll cut up the gallery stairs,' he said quietly in her ear and took hold of her elbow. ‘But they won't say your name. And it's probably only fairly local stuff.'

Her low boots scuffed on the stone stairs to the gallery. ‘The whole village knows I found the body. Anyone might talk about it if they were asked.'

She had a point.

‘Good thing we aren't the only ones up here,' he whispered. ‘We'd really be obvious if we were alone. I should have thought of that before we came up.'

As it was they sat immediately behind George from the bakery and his wife. The couple seemed half asleep and didn't turn around. Bakers probably got up long before dawn, Tony thought. They had a right to nod off in the middle of the day.

‘We should have made sure Harriet and Mary knew,' Tony said. ‘Doesn't look as if anyone else did.'

Alex smiled at him. ‘They probably wouldn't come anyway. They avoid meetings. Mary knows they'll learn anything they want to know soon enough.'

‘And we wouldn't change them, would we?' He liked being with Alex, liked it a lot. Why hadn't he taken notice of her before she met Michael Bailey-Jones?
Because she'd made such a good friend and then you thought you'd already met the love of your life.

‘More people keep coming,' Alex said. ‘Funny to see the mayor chin-wagging with the police.'

Joan Gimblet, Mayor of Folly-on-Weir, stood at the far end of the lower room with O'Reilly, Lamb and Constable Frye. Her mayoral chain glistened on her considerable bosom and her blonde hair looked freshly gussied up.

‘They'd have sent some honcho or other if this was really newsy stuff,' he whispered to Alex. ‘O'Reilly's boss, or his boss.'

She made a grumpy sound and said, ‘It's a sad testimony to the state of things when murder isn't newsy.'

Of course, she was right, but that discussion could wait for another time.

Dan O'Reilly walked to stand in front of the rows of chairs carrying the ancient microphone. ‘Good afternoon. I'm Detective Inspector O'Reilly and this is Detective Sergeant Lamb. Your own Constable Frye is here and you all know Madam Mayor.'

While a murmur of agreement went through the small throng, Tony saw Heather Derwinter take a seat near the front. Either Leonard was parking the car or she'd come alone. Tony would have expected her to take it easy for the rest of the day, but evidently she felt she couldn't stay away when it had been she who'd raised the alarm with the police.

‘You all know a man met his death in the woods on the hill.' With a nod, O'Reilly indicated the direction of the hill. ‘We felt there were a few things you should know and some safety issues to address.'

‘Did someone else get murdered?' a male voice shouted. Tony couldn't see who had spoken but assumed it was a reporter at work.

‘I'll have a few minutes for questions when I'm finished,' O'Reilly said neutrally. Apparently he wasn't a novice at this sort of thing. ‘I'd like to ask anyone who thinks or knows they've seen someone who seemed out of place to contact Constable Frye or come directly to us. Please don't hesitate to let us know even the smallest thing. If it isn't relevant, you will still have done a service.'

‘He sounds so … I don't know. In charge, I suppose.'

Tony noticed how intently she watched the detective, as if he really interested her. He shouldn't find that remarkable, or get an uncomfortably sinking feeling.

‘I don't want to alarm you, but basic safety precautions are important. You know what they are but village life is friendly and quiet and sometimes people forget that it's wise to make sure all windows and doors are locked. Don't go alone into isolated areas or be out after dark if you don't have to be. We're fully engaged in this investigation and we'll make sure you're kept informed. Don't forget, if something concerns you, pick up the phone.'

‘He isn't going to give any details,' Alex said, and sounded relieved.

Another stranger's voice rang out: ‘You said you'd tell us about someone else being murdered.'

His face calm, O'Reilly said, ‘There hasn't been another death.'

‘Why are you avoiding talking about murder?'

‘I answered your question,' O'Reilly said.

‘Is it true the dead man was a priest?' A woman this time.

‘No.' O'Reilly didn't elaborate.

‘He's being cagey,' Tony said. ‘Not that I blame him.'

Alex kept watching the detective. ‘I hope he stays cagey,' she mumbled.

‘Was he shot?'

‘I can't discuss those details,' O'Reilly said.

‘That isn't something you normally keep mum about.'

‘This time it is.' Now O'Reilly shifted as if he was getting ready to cut off questions.

But the woman wasn't to be silenced. ‘So what's the identity of the victim?'

‘The next of kin will be the first to hear that.'

A
lex had insisted on walking back alone from the meeting at the parish hall. It would be too easy to become reliant on Tony and she didn't think he wanted that. Maybe she needed – and wanted – his friendship but there were always potential hang-ups when a man and woman tried to have a platonic relationship.

She and Tony had parted with a wave. He insisted she keep his gilet until she had something else. He'd pick it up from the pub later, which reminded her that she needed to get more clothes and other supplies from Lime Tree Lodge for her stay in the village.
Bloody nuisance.

When she left Tony, they'd both started walking away, only to turn back and frown at one another. Alex was the first to shrug and leave again. They didn't know what to make of O'Reilly's parting comment at the hall.

‘
The next of kin will be the first to hear that.'

The afternoon dragged on, but only until both regulars and villagers who rarely stopped by began trickling into the bar.

Within an hour the place was filling up. ‘You've brought this place up to what it was at its best,' Reverend Restrick said, surprising Alex, who hadn't seen him come in. ‘It's warm and inviting. A comfortable place to be. It's important for a community to have safe gathering places.'

‘Thanks,' Alex said, smiling at the big, florid man who asked for his usual, a whiskey neat.

The vicar moved along the bar to join Doctor James Harrison and Lily. Alex's mum rarely spent her own time in the pub but she and Doc James occasionally had a drink together.

So the vicar thought her place was warm, inviting and safe. Until a few days ago it had felt that way to Alex, too. Not any more. She felt as if a layer of glass sat between her and everyone else, cutting her off from interaction but not from watching and waiting for something horrible to happen again, perhaps to one of them.

Or to herself.

Tony came in with Katie sticking close to his legs. He beckoned to Alex and moved to the end of the bar closest to the door.

‘What?' she said, hurrying to lean toward him. She closed her eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. ‘Sorry. I'm snapping before I can stop myself.'

‘Forget it. You're strung out. Why wouldn't you be? I've never played darts.'

‘What?' She heard her voice biting out again and shook her head. ‘I've got to get my cool, collected face back on.'

‘Not your fault. I didn't make any sense. I had a thought and wanted to ask you about it. Are there three darts in one of those boxes they have?'

‘Tony … don't tell me you don't know a player throws three darts.'

‘I never noticed. I wasn't interested. Anyway, that wouldn't have to mean there weren't more than three in a box. Maybe there's a spare. Or two sets in one box.'

For the first time all day she felt like laughing. All she allowed herself was a grin. ‘No spares. One set.'

Leaning even closer to her, he said, ‘So all three darts are accounted for – for now.' He made a wry face. ‘At least from one box. I say we hope only one set went missing.'

‘I'd like to believe we don't have anything else to worry about,' Alex said. ‘Maybe we don't. But there are plenty more darts around.' Unwillingly, she wondered how she would feel if the dart artist suddenly stopped. If that happened, he or she could be trying to lull them all into thinking the danger was over.

‘Listen, I think you should be more positive about this. Whoever our maniac is, he wanted to tie the crime to this pub. Otherwise why use darts easily traceable …' He whistled softly. ‘Maybe there's a good reason I'm not a detective. Doesn't mean anything, does it? Not without more information. That'll teach me to get carried away by the first cheerful thought I've had in days.'

‘It could be significant,' Alex told him. ‘I just wish we had a record of how many we had to begin with. But something will break soon.'

They looked solemnly at each other.

‘Do you think O'Reilly slipped up this morning?' Tony asked. ‘I've thought about it all afternoon.'

‘In other words, have they identified the dead man? We couldn't decide then and I don't have any more insights now. But if he didn't slip up I think he may have been throwing out an ambiguous comment to see if it stirs something up.'

Tony lowered his voice even further. ‘Do we still think the man was wearing a ring at some point?'

‘I don't know, but I intend to find out.' She hadn't meant to admit that. ‘And I don't see anything positive in telling O'Reilly we noticed the damaged finger. Not when we don't know if there really was a ring.'

‘Right,' Tony said, giving her a long look. ‘Call if you need me. I've got to check a couple of patients at the clinic. See you later.' He headed for the exit from the inn and restaurant on the far end of the bar, giving his dad a slap on the back and a salute as he passed.

Alex felt watched as she moved about the bar, and wished she could leave. She had to stay at least until the dart match was underway. Perhaps she needed to be down here for the whole evening, just to put on a good face and help make customers feel all was well. She had tried to make a call to O'Reilly, left a message to ask for a brief talk in the morning. Alex hoped she wouldn't regret the move. If he would take her seriously, maybe she had some ideas worth thinking about – and maybe she could get something useful out of him, like whether or not they knew the dead man's identity.

Kev Winslet from the Derwinter estate held court, his voice booming loudly enough for snatches of what he said to make it past the din.

Cathy Cummings was back at work and looked settled again. She had a definite soft spot for Bogie, who already had his own blue tartan blanket folded up on the hearth. Cathy took treats to the dog and he gave her doggy smiles, but it was to Alex he went regularly to make sure she hadn't forgotten him.

‘Al reckons what happened up there was an accident,' Cathy said, standing behind the bar with her hands on her hips. At least the color was back in her cheeks. ‘He could be right. Who would want to kill a man like that?'

Alex pulled some pints of Guinness and slid them across the bar. She didn't feel talkative but she didn't have much option. ‘I wish we were sure it either was or wasn't one of our darts that killed him.'

‘Did they ask you how many boxes we keep in the cupboard?'

Alex nodded. ‘Yes. But I couldn't tell them anyway. Never counted them. Did you?'

‘Never had a need,' Cathy said.

Kev Winslet had a rapt audience in front of the fire where he stood with the back of his jacket flapped up, warming his corduroy-clad rear. There had to be twenty people gathered around him. ‘You know what coppers are like,' he said. ‘Like to make themselves important. I reckon this lot's stringing the whole thing along, making more of it than needs be.'

‘I doubt they've time to do that, Kev,' Reverend Restrick said. ‘It must take patience to pick up all the little puzzle pieces and turn them into a picture.'

‘What about those boys Frye had to deal with for knocking down gates and putting soap powder in the pond? They may have behaved themselves for months – at least, I haven't heard they've been up to anything else – but that doesn't mean the little buggers didn't get bored again.'

‘And start killing strangers?' Lily said. ‘Oh, Kev, no.'

A dark frown pulled down Kev's bushy brows. ‘Ah, well now, sometimes things go wrong. Or they could have decided to tag on behind the death thinking no one would think other things could be them – like Mrs Derwinter's—'

‘Kev,' Alex said quickly. ‘Let me buy you a drink.'

Tony's dad, Doc James, turned and hooked his elbows on the bar behind him. He resembled Tony but his hair was almost entirely white. ‘Listen to the vicar, Kev,' he said. ‘The victim wouldn't think the police are making too much out of what happened – and there's nothing to suggest a prank gone wrong as far as I know.'

Normally good-natured, Kev did have a temper and he scowled, his face turning a deeper shade of red. He didn't like to be contradicted.

‘Best let the police do their job, Kev,' the reverend said quietly. He was a man who considered what he said and Alex could tell he was concerned about so much speculation. She slid a fresh pint of Trooper ale in front of Kev.

Will pulled Alex aside. ‘Just got a call from Fred at the Horse and Hounds. They're forfeiting tonight's match. He said they've got a bug going around and they can't get a team together.'

‘You think they're not coming because … well, because of what's happened?' Alex turned her back to the room. ‘Can't be. Fred came in himself yesterday.'

‘Too true, he did,' Will said. ‘Maybe he thinks he can help turn everyone off us and he was sizing up how many extra customers he might get.'