Guilt in the Cotswolds (10 page)

‘Where’s the turning?’ she asked, as they sped along the arrow-straight A429. The road was still not entirely familiar to her, and she was decidedly hazy as to how Chedworth related to other places she knew, such as Northleach. It all looked so deceptively simple on maps, making her feel stupid when she failed to interpret the geography on the ground. The ongoing controversy concerning satnavs made it important that she save face by finding the way unassisted. ‘Oh yes – I knew, really.’

‘Not this one, but the next,’ Drew said, ignoring her bravado. ‘Left, and then a right fork into the middle of the village. Except – why are we going back into Chedworth at all? We should be heading straight for Stratford.’ They had rejigged Drew’s masterly itinerary for the day, putting Mrs Wilshire ahead of the Broad Campden visit. ‘Then we can spend all afternoon there, without any pressure,’ he’d said.

‘Dogs.’ She refused to apologise or explain, even if he was annoyed with her so-called obsessing. ‘We’ll dump them on Millie, whether she wants them or not.’

‘Assuming she’s there.’

‘We could phone her. Richard gave me the number.’

‘Did he? Isn’t that a bit odd?’

‘Not really. He gave me his mother’s, as well. People always do that when they leave me alone in a strange house. It’s automatic. They think I’ll flounder, or be scared, without them.’

‘Did he give you his own as well?’

‘Of course.’

‘Hmmm. Well, I’ve got the full set, too. It’s in my car. I brought the whole Wilshire file with me.’

‘Well done.’ She remembered that she had told Drew about Richard Wilshire being missing when she phoned him on Friday. ‘You expected we’d be doing some detective work, then?’

‘It did seem likely. Not that I’m happy about it.’ He smacked the side of the seat, beside his thigh. ‘He would
never
kill himself at this particular moment. Nobody
would. Leaving you in the house with all that stuff to deal with. He wasn’t that irresponsible.’

‘I know. Even leaving that farmer with his cows waiting to be examined was entirely out of character, according to Millie.’

‘Your Higgins chap
wants
it to be suicide,’ Drew accused. ‘Just to save the police some bother and expense.’

‘I don’t think it’s as deliberate as that. He’s thoroughly decent. And anyway, it won’t be his decision. He’s only an inspector. There are plenty of people higher than him who’ll have to authorise an investigation – or not.’

‘Well, let me brainstorm for a minute, okay? It works better if I do it out loud.’

They were entering the south-eastern corner of Chedworth. Thea recognised the farm shop, and remembered to take the next right, which would pass the primary school after a longish meandering stretch of road. ‘I’m getting the hang of this,’ she said, with a sense of relief. ‘All right, then. You’ve got a few minutes.’

‘Okay. So let’s say somebody spent all day Friday with Richard on some pretext. Maybe it was all quite amicable at first, or perhaps there was something important that he felt he had to see to … but what could be so important he couldn’t phone Millie and the farmer and make his excuses? That in itself suggests he was under the control of somebody who wanted him to keep quiet. Anyway, this person then lured Richard
to that barn probably very early yesterday, and up into the top storey through that back opening. They could easily say there was a litter of kittens or a rare bat or something up there. Richard was a vet, after all. Or maybe they forced him at gunpoint, or with a knife. Then, at that open front edge, it would be simple to push him off. A quick check to make sure he was dead, and away, leaving absolutely no evidence. He landed face down, which implies he was pushed from behind.’

‘Not the same way you’d land if you jumped. Wouldn’t you go feet first?’

‘I don’t know. You might just sort of
dive
, with your arms out. And he had broad shoulders, and a big head. Top-heavy,’ he summarised with a twist of his mouth.

‘It’s all about the physics,’ she said. ‘I used to be quite good at physics.’

He ignored her. ‘But for a determined suicide, it’s not high enough. You wouldn’t expect to die falling thirty feet. Two broken legs, yes, but nothing fatal.’

Thea sighed. This was going over old ground. ‘Yes, and the same goes for a murder. Maybe somebody just lost their temper with him and never meant to kill him.’

‘Maybe. The police seemed in no doubt that he died on that spot where we found him, but if the body was moved very soon after he died, or even just before, that would be difficult to detect. Especially when they’re not really trying.’

‘These lanes are designed to confuse people,’ she complained, as they approached a sharp junction just
below the church. ‘You have to go back on yourself here. I can’t imagine how I ever found it on Thursday evening.’

‘You should have gone up there.’ He pointed to a small single-track road ahead. ‘That’s called Church something. You’re heading for Gallows Lane. Lovely name. Anyway, it all comes to the same thing, but you’re making it more complicated for yourself.’

‘What?’ She frowned up at the barely visible church tower.

‘Never mind. We’re there now.’

They weren’t, quite, but a right turn at the top of Gallows Lane took them onto familiar territory. Fields and woods stretched ahead and above, with the village falling away southwards. ‘I can’t remember a more confusing place,’ she grumbled. ‘I generally have a pretty good sense of direction, but all these hills and valleys have me foxed.’

‘We’re not stopping – okay?’ Drew warned. ‘Gather up the dogs and off again.’

‘No problem. But you have to get that file from your car, don’t forget. We should try to phone Millie now. What if she’s not there?’

‘We find the nearest dog rescue and give them two fine sheepdogs to look after.’

‘We most definitely do not do that,’ she said, with no notion of what they might do instead. ‘Maybe Mrs Wilshire’s home would have them for a bit? They are sort of hers, after all. Some homes are okay with dogs these days.’

Drew made no reply, heading for his car. Thea was left to collect the animals, who all greeted her joyfully. ‘Poor things,’ she crooned over them. ‘What an awful mess this is. What’s to become of you?’

Hepzie nudged forward for her share of blandishments, the sheepdogs politely giving way to her. They were such benign, innocent creatures, Thea thought. Always doing their best to please, striving to understand what was required of them. Did they remember that their master was dead? Did they have concerns about their own future? They were probably well known in the farming community, and might be lucky enough to find a new home amongst sheep and other livestock, where they would be fully utilised as their natures intended. But would they be kept together? And were they really such goody-goodies? Not if Norah Cookham could be believed. Higgins had confirmed that they really had attacked her cat.

Drew came back, his hands full. Not just the folder, but his trusty TomTom and a jacket he’d left in the car all night. ‘Might turn cold,’ he said.

‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘Let’s see what happens next.’

‘We could have stopped for coffee,’ Thea grumbled, halfway to Stratford. It was eleven o’clock and she was thirsty. Millie Wilshire had not answered the phone, so the three dogs were still on the back seat.

‘We’ll get some somewhere,’ he promised vaguely. He was still fiddling with his gadget, trying to make it stick to the dashboard where they could both see it.

‘Carl would be horrified,’ said Thea. ‘I think it might be his fault that I’m so slow to accept technology. He always insisted on having everything as natural as possible.’

‘I’m with him, as a general approach to life,’ said Drew. ‘But in this instance, I’ve joined the rest of humanity quite cheerfully.’ References to Thea’s dead husband caused him no discernible discomfort, just as Thea remained quite relaxed when Karen was mentioned. ‘I’m definitely going to teach my kids how to read a map, just so they can have the fun of getting lost once in a while.’

‘I should hope so too.’

They found the care home with almost magical ease. A handsome red-brick building, three storeys high with discreet annexes set on either side, much lower. A freshly painted noticeboard gave its name, with a reassuringly straightforward account of itself. ‘Residential Home for the Elderly’ it said, with no hint of shame. In recent times there had been so much shocking publicity for such places that Thea had half expected them to be shy about announcing themselves. ‘It looks gorgeous,’ she said. ‘I’m going to sign up for a place now.’

‘Very funny. You might mention it to your mother, though.’

‘Too far from everything she knows. And about ten years too soon for her, as well, the way she’s going.’

‘It’ll be lunchtime soon,’ he observed with a grimace. ‘They won’t want visitors then.’

‘Would they give us some coffee, do you think? And we’ll have to give the dogs a bit of a run. We haven’t really made any progress at all today, have we?’ All their plans marched past her inner eye – the visit to Drew’s house in Broad Campden was receding fast, and yet he remained determined to fit it in.

‘If only dratted Millie Wilshire would show herself, it would be a lot easier.’

And then, by a further piece of magic, the girl herself came into view, emerging from a door at one side of the building. Walking slowly, head bent forward, she was a picture of misery. ‘That’s her,’ said Thea in amazement.

‘Stay there,’ Drew ordered, apparently addressing Thea and the dogs together.

He got out of the car and trotted up to Millie. ‘We’ve been looking for you,’ he called. Thea opened her window electronically, on the second attempt since the ignition was turned off, hoping to catch everything that was said. One of the sheepdogs pressed urgently over her shoulder, snout against her ear, with the same intention.

Millie looked at him in bewilderment. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

‘Drew Slocombe. I know your grandmother. I knew your father. I am so sorry about what’s happened. How’s Mrs Wilshire coping?’

She frowned. ‘Slocombe? You found my dad, then? Is that right? You and her.’ She indicated Thea with her chin, showing no sign of pleasure. ‘God knows what you thought you were doing there at the barn.’

‘That’s right, but—’

‘And the
dogs
. You’ve got his bloody dogs.’ She slumped bonelessly, looking liable to land in a heap on the ground.

Drew moved to support her. ‘Hey! Steady on,’ he encouraged her. ‘Let’s go to that seat for a minute.’ There was a wooden bench under a large cedar tree, the other side of a lawn. It was where he had been sitting a month before, with Mrs Wilshire and her son, arranging her funeral.

Thea got out of the car. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

Millie took a few shallow breaths. ‘I’m not coping too well, I admit,’ she said, with a weak smile. ‘And the last thing I need is those beasts. What am I supposed to do with them?’

‘They’ll have to go to a rescue place if you don’t want them,’ said Drew. ‘We can’t have them any longer.’

‘As if they
mattered
,’ said Millie savagely. ‘They’re only dogs.’

‘Would your father think that?’ Thea demanded. ‘He was a vet – he spent his whole life giving animals as healthy and happy a life as he could.’

‘Rubbish! He sent most of them for slaughter. The best you can say is they died without too much suffering. And even that wasn’t always true.’

‘The dogs loved him,’ Thea persisted. ‘They found his dead body, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Thea!’ Drew warned. ‘Don’t be so—’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, without quite meaning it. ‘But they did. Now they’re your responsibility. I’m going home this evening, so there’s no way I can keep them any longer.’ Again, she felt a lurch of sadness and resistance at the bleak prospect for Betsy and Chummy.

‘Judith can have them,’ said Millie. ‘She’s got a dirty great mansion standing empty near Chipping Norton. She can pay somebody to feed them. At least that’ll do for a while.’

It sounded marginally better than a rescue centre, at least. ‘Good,’ said Thea. ‘Now we have to go and see your grandmother.’

Millie looked from Drew to Thea and back again. ‘Why? You can’t. What
for
?’

‘I wanted to tell her how sorry I am,’ said Drew.

‘Why – you didn’t kill him, did you?’ The words were shot out angrily, very far from the joke they might have been coming from another person.

Drew smiled stiffly and said nothing. Thea was less restrained. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say,’ she accused.

‘Everything’s horrible anyway.’ Millie’s voice broke and tears began to flow. ‘My poor dad! I still can’t believe it. It’s changed everything. I feel as if I’m drowning, sinking through the earth, with nothing solid to stand on. How could he do such an awful thing? I never had any
idea
he was thinking of killing himself. How could I miss such a thing?’

Drew patted her arm. ‘People always say that. It can often be a terrible shock.’ He threw a look at the building in front of them, plainly wishing he could leave Millie and make his planned visit as soon as possible. ‘Is your friend staying with you?’

‘Who? Oh – you mean Judith. No, she’s working for the next two days. Nothing can get in the way of that.’ She glared at Thea. ‘And don’t start about the dogs again. I’ll take them back with me for tonight and sort something out tomorrow. Wretched things. I
told
him not to get them. They always have to be taken into account, every time we go anywhere.’

‘They seemed to know he was in that barn,’ said Thea. ‘It was uncanny, really.’

‘They’d been there with him plenty of times,’ dismissed Millie. ‘He taught them some tricks there. They probably just wanted to go and play.’

‘Tricks?’

‘Agility sort of stuff. Those sheep races are useful – where they used to dip them, ages ago.’

‘They’re quite overgrown,’ Drew commented.

‘So?’

‘It didn’t look as if anybody had used them for anything for a long time.’

‘Well he did,’ she said flatly. ‘You can’t possibly think I would tell lies about it.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Thea loudly. ‘I’m going to get Betsy and Chummy now. They’re all yours from here on. Be nice to them. They’re confused, poor things.’

Millie, whose demeanour had brightened slightly during her conversation with Drew, slumped again. She was very young, Thea reminded herself, and she’d had a dreadful shock. She’d been kind enough to visit her grief-stricken grandmother, too. Perhaps they had managed to comfort each other. She collected the dogs and handed the leads to Millie. ‘There’s a bit of food left. Everything’s in the bag.’

‘Come on then, girls,’ said Millie. The dogs looked at her trustingly, and Thea was reassured that all would turn out better than she had feared, where the animals were concerned.

‘Will they let us see your gran if it’s lunchtime?’ Drew asked. ‘We do have quite a busy schedule for the afternoon.’

‘Oh, you can’t see her,’ said Millie. ‘I told you. They wouldn’t let me, so they definitely won’t let you.’

He stared at her blankly. ‘Why not?’

‘You just can’t. I’ve got to go now. I expect I’ll see you again. You’ll be doing Dad’s funeral, won’t you?’

Drew and Thea were both taken aback by this. ‘Will I?’ said Drew stupidly.

‘We’ll phone you about it tomorrow. Bye.’ She ushered the dogs onto the back seat of her car and was quickly driving out of the big double gates of the home.

‘Well, part one of the mission is accomplished,’ said Thea. ‘Now let’s see what she meant by saying we can’t see the old lady. If you’re doing her son’s funeral, then you
need
to see her, anyway. They’ll have to let us in.’

They became aware of a woman standing in the main doorway, looking as if she had been watching them for a while. Together they walked up to her. ‘Morning,’ said Drew. ‘We’d like to see Mrs Rita Wilshire, if that’s all right.’

The woman, who wore a blue nylon garment over ordinary clothes, shook her head. ‘Not now, you can’t. It’s bridge.’

Drew glanced at his watch. ‘In the middle of a Sunday? Isn’t that an odd time for it.’

‘Eleven to one. It’s their brightest time. Then a sherry and roast lunch.’ She smiled. ‘Life of Reilly, here. They live like lords. Literally.’ There was a definite trace of resentment in her tone.

‘You work here, do you?’ Thea asked.

The woman nodded. ‘Just meals. Some of them need extra help then. The pay’s not much, but I get my dinners as well. Suits me well enough.’

She was in her late sixties, Thea guessed. Probably surviving on a pension in a small house on the outskirts of Stratford. The prospect of a residential home for herself might not be terribly far away. She might even be calculating on a discount at this one, if she made herself useful.

‘And you can’t interrupt a game of bridge,’ said Drew with a sigh.

‘That’s right. They don’t even talk to each other, except to cast blame at the end if somebody thinks their partner let them down. It can get nasty then. One or two of them are rubbish players, which the others find annoying. And that’s silly, given that the poor things were bullied into joining in, at the start. Rita’s been very forceful about it. But it’s not just her. There’s one old chap who can reduce people to tears the way he speaks to them.’

‘We’ve come quite a long way to see her,’ Drew tried again. ‘And after the dreadful news yesterday, I’m surprised she’s still playing cards. She must be desperately upset.’

‘News?’

‘Her son. He died.’

The woman went white. ‘No! Who told you that? I haven’t heard anything.’

‘I assure you it’s true.’

‘They can’t have told her. She was just the same as usual when I saw her ten minutes ago. I always pop in to say hello when I get here. I was a bit early today. I’ve got to get cracking now. Thirty full dinners. Roast chicken with all the trimmings.’ Her mouth worked as if she was salivating at the prospect. ‘They won’t have told her,’ she repeated. ‘That happens sometimes.’

‘But the police will want to interview her. They can’t just not tell her.’ Thea spoke angrily, suspecting a patronising attitude of overprotectiveness. ‘She’s not demented or anything, is she?’

‘She’s ninety years old. She’s here because she needs looking after. The boss will want to be sure it’s done properly.’

Drew made a sound of comprehension. ‘Typical,’ he said. ‘These places are terrified of death. I’ve seen it dozens of times. They try to hide it from the inmates. Pretending it’s never going to happen to any of them.’

The woman pushed her face towards him. ‘And what’s the alternative?’ she demanded. ‘Let them think they’re here just waiting to die? On a sort of conveyor belt, waiting their turn to tip off the end? Never knowing which one will go next. That’s no way to carry on. The last thing a very old person needs is to have dead bodies pushed under their noses.’

Drew was wrong-footed. ‘You could be right,’ he said. ‘I’m an undertaker, you see. I probably have a distorted view of things.’

‘I
guessed
as much. You’ve got that look.’

Drew grimaced, obviously wounded by this remark. ‘I suppose I can’t help it,’ he tried to joke.

‘It’s not a bad thing, exactly,’ she tried to reassure him. ‘Something about the eyes. As if you know more than ordinary people.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I should go. I came out for a smoke, and then stayed to keep an eye on you. Thought it was a bit funny, standing around with those dogs, the way you were.’

‘They didn’t let Millie speak to her grandmother, in case she broke the news,’ Thea realised. ‘And she would have done, obviously. She couldn’t possibly keep it a secret, could she? That would be ghastly.’ She thought of the imagined consolation the old lady and girl could provide for each other and how some official had thwarted them.

‘She didn’t see her,’ the woman confirmed. ‘The boss lady caught her and took her into her sanctum. That’s what we call it – the sanctum.’ She repeated the word with relish, giving it a wealth of significance. Thea had a glimpse of a woman who refused to adopt the usual jargon with which the care industry was imbued. Even ‘care industry’ was horrible, when you thought about it.

‘She did look very downhearted when she came out,’ Drew said. ‘It seems very … high-handed, though. People have a right—’

‘Don’t start that again. Go and see for yourself, if you must. You’ve got half an hour, nearly, before they’re wheeled in for lunch. End of the corridor and the second door on the left. She’ll be in there, most likely.’

‘Who? Mrs Wilshire?’

‘No, silly. Mrs Goodison. The Chief.’

‘Right. Thank you.’ All three mounted the shallow steps into the building. Inside was a carpeted area like a small hotel lobby, with two doors and an open archway leading off it. The assistant pointed them through the archway and left them to fend for themselves.

They found the office easily enough, its door standing open. Inside a woman sat at an antique desk, reading a magazine. Two armchairs and a low coffee table were arranged at one end of the room. ‘Hello,’ she greeted them, as if they’d been expected.

It was clever, Thea realised. The very friendliness was guaranteed to disarm any complaint or uncomfortable questions. ‘We’ve come to talk to you about Mrs Wilshire,’ she said, not waiting for Drew to speak first. ‘We’ve just seen her granddaughter outside.’