Shades of Evil (15 page)

For a Christian, Father Gosling was showing very little goodwill to all men. Well, Jill at least. His answers were becoming increasingly short and terse.

‘Then they’re well blessed as a couple,’ Jill said, giving him a smile that would chip ice. ‘I think many men in Steve’s position, men who wanted children, would have difficulty with that. They might grow to resent their wives. They might feel trapped in a sad, poor excuse for a marriage. They might even look elsewhere for—’

‘Now look here, I was under the impression that you wanted to talk about Lauren Cole. I can’t see that my niece’s marriage has anything whatsoever to do with the poor girl. In fact, if there’s nothing else, I have things that I need to be doing.’

‘You’ve been most helpful,’ Max told him, eager to get outside where it would be warmer. ‘Thank you for your time, Father Gosling.’

‘A pleasure.’

It had clearly been anything but that.

Outside, darkness had fallen and the wind strength had increased. As soon as they were in the car, Max turned the heater on full.

‘I don’t think you made a friend back there, kiddo.’

‘Miserable git,’ she muttered. ‘Why is it so wrong for people to have problems with life? And what the hell was it with the brown shoes?’

‘God’s will?’

‘Ha. If I thought God wanted me to look a complete prat, I’d start questioning my faith.’ She took off her gloves and rubbed her hands together for warmth. ‘It’s odd, though, that Alison hasn’t spoken to him. Them being so close and all that. And he was rattled when I mentioned their dead daughter, Maisie. I wonder if he’s had problems with Alison, or Steve come to that. I wonder how he’d react if they didn’t accept that it was God’s will quite as easily as he thinks they should.’

‘You think they have problems in their marriage, don’t you?’

‘I think it would be odd if they haven’t. The loss of a child, and the inability to have more children, isn’t the best foundation for a happy life, is it? And if there
were
problems – no love, no warmth, no fun, no sex – Steve might have found a young pretty girl very appealing.’

When Jill pushed open the door of her cottage that evening, with Max right behind her carrying their takeaway, the first thing she saw was a brown envelope lying on the mat. There was no other mail and, although she didn’t know why, she had an ominous feeling.

She picked it up, let Max inside and shut out the darkness. The envelope was thicker than the average bill and, when she turned it over, she saw that there was no address. It had been delivered by hand.

‘Max?’

He’d gone straight to the kitchen and she followed him, holding the envelope in front of her.

‘Hand delivered,’ she explained, and he took it from her with the tips of his fingers.

Scowling at it, he took a knife from her cutlery drawer and, very carefully, slit it open. With even more care, still using the knife, he inched out the contents. There were five photographs of Jill. One showed her opening her front door, another getting into her car. In another she was gazing out from her window. In one she was standing at the back door and, in the last, she was bending to fuss a cat.

‘Bastard!’ she muttered.

‘When were they taken?’

Jill looked more closely and tried to remember what she’d been wearing yesterday.

‘At a guess, I’d say those three were taken yesterday. These were taken this morning.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes.’ Today was the first time she’d worn her long grey coat.

She’d known he’d been close, of course. Close enough to kill a cat. To know he was hanging around long enough to use a camera was unsettling, though.

At least her cats were safe. They were sulking because they couldn’t come and go as they chose, but they were pleased to see her and would be even happier to see the tin opener.

‘Let’s eat,’ she suggested, ‘before it gets cold.’

She didn’t want to think about cranks phoning her in the small hours or taking photos as she went about her day.

Max went outside to his car and returned with an evidence bag. The envelope and photos were put inside and Jill hoped they could forget it for a while.

She was trying to enjoy her spicy chicken wings, without the appetite she’d had before arriving home, when Max brought up the subject again.

‘At least we know Steve Carlisle isn’t stringing up cats,’ he said.

‘Well done, Max, you’ve managed to narrow it down to sixty million suspects minus one. No wonder you’re a detective.’

He ignored her sarcasm, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

‘We need to get you away from here,’ he said instead.

‘No way. I’m not being frightened out of my own home. Besides, I can take care of myself.’

He rolled his eyes at that.

‘For all we know, Lauren Cole had a few Thai boxing lessons, too.’

‘I can take care of myself, Max.’

She could tell he wasn’t convinced.

In truth, she was beginning to feel a little anxious herself. Looking on the bright side, though, she knew that this particular nutter was merely trying to frighten her. Phone calls were the act of a coward. As was hanging an old frail cat. He’d been near enough to take photos, so near enough to put an axe through her head.

‘We’ll get a couple of cameras rigged up,’ Max said and she nodded.

She watched him start his second glass of wine. She wasn’t going to suggest he stayed the night but she had to admit that she’d feel a whole lot easier if he did.

‘Why was that priest so antagonistic this afternoon?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘I don’t know. Perhaps he didn’t like us prying into the lives of his family members.’

‘Maybe.’

But Jill wasn’t convinced. She thought it went deeper than that. Then again, hearing that a family member was being questioned in connection with a murder would be a shock for anyone.

When their food was eaten, she put plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, and then they carried their wine through to the sitting room.

The room was warm, but Jill lit the stove. She liked to see the flames and hear the logs crackling. It was cosy, a place to relax, yet Jill was struggling to do that. She kept wondering if someone was outside.

So when her doorbell rang, a quick short ring, it frightened her half to death. Yet again, she had to remind herself that maniacs rarely announced their presence.

‘I’ll get it.’ Max was at the door before she could argue, but she followed, curious as to who might be calling so late.

She was surprised to see Ruth Carlisle standing there.

‘What are you doing out on a night like this, Ruth? Come in, quick.’

‘I’m sorry to bother you, Jill.’

‘It’s no bother at all. We were doing nothing, just sitting by the fire. You’ve met Max, haven’t you?’

She realized that although Ruth most likely knew Max, he couldn’t be expected to know her.

‘This is Ruth Carlisle, Max. Steve’s mother.’

They went through the social niceties as Jill ushered Ruth into the sitting room.

‘A glass of wine, Ruth?’

‘Oh, no, love. Really, I’m not stopping. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all, but—’

‘You’re not bothering us,’ Jill assured her again. ‘Let me take your coat. Come and sit by the fire and get warm.’

Jill wasn’t normally so pushy with her visitors, but Ruth looked a breath away from collapsing. Her face wasn’t so much white as a pale grey, and it was dominated by red-rimmed eyes.

Ruth sat down and Rabble, the cat who was usually wary of strangers, jumped straight on to her lap. Instinctively, Ruth began to stroke her.

‘I only came – well, I wondered what was going to happen to Steve,’ Ruth said. ‘I don’t suppose you can tell me anything but—’ Her voice cracked. ‘Oh, Jill, you can’t imagine what a worry it is.’

‘I can.’ Jill sat beside her and patted her hand. ‘At the moment, Steve’s trying to tell us everything he can about the morning Lauren Cole was murdered. That’s all.’

It wasn’t quite ‘all’, but Jill didn’t want to add to Ruth’s panic.

‘But why? I mean, what would make you think’ – she looked at Max as she spoke – ‘that Steve had anything to do with it?’

While Max prepared his answer, she rushed on, ‘And Alison said something about the poor girl being killed with Steve’s axe. Surely, that can’t be true.’

‘I’m afraid it is,’ Max said.

‘Oh!’ Ruth seemed incapable of anything more than that one anguished word.

‘Have a glass of wine,’ Jill urged her.

‘Perhaps I will. If you don’t mind, Jill. I won’t stay long. I know you’ll not want me—’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Jill insisted. ‘It’s good to see you. I just wish the circumstances were different.’

Jill went to the kitchen for another glass. The photos, safely packed away in the evidence bag, were still on the table and, once again, she wondered if the photographer was outside. Perhaps he was watching them. Perhaps he’d seen Ruth arrive. And perhaps he would see Max leave …

‘Here you go, Ruth.’

With a glass in her hand, Ruth seemed to calm herself slightly.

‘Tell me,’ Jill began, ‘how do you get along with Alison?’

She could see that her question had taken Ruth completely by surprise.

‘Alison?’

‘Yes. I know that, on the surface, everything is fine, but—’

‘I know what you mean,’ Ruth said. ‘Yes, if we’re out in public, we smile and give the impression that we’re the best of friends. The truth? We’ve never really taken to each other.’

‘Oh?’ And that took Jill by surprise. Ruth was the typical mother hen, the sort who would welcome anyone into her family. ‘Why’s that?’

Ruth managed a weak smile.

‘We’re chalk and cheese. Alison is always dressed up to the nines. Her house is the same, one of those where you have to ring for an appointment to visit.’

She took a small sip of wine and Jill could see her considering the question more seriously.

Max, Jill was pleased to see, was looking fairly relaxed. He was paying attention to every word, but at least he wasn’t firing questions at Steve’s mother.

‘When Steve first met Alison,’ Ruth explained, ‘I thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wore a smile as big as Lancashire. He was so deeply in love that it touched my heart. I couldn’t wait to meet the girl responsible.’

‘And?’ Jill prompted.

‘She only came from Harrington, but it might as well have been a thousand miles away. She simply didn’t have time to meet Frank and me.’

‘Really?’

‘We saw her twice before the wedding, and then only briefly. She called at our house both times to tell us of the wedding plans. Of course, as I wanted to welcome her, I’d prepared a big spread. I know she likes to watch her weight, but she wouldn’t have so much as a cup of tea. I felt, well, we both felt a bit uneasy with her. It was as if we weren’t good enough for her. We felt – on edge.’

On edge and deeply hurt, Jill guessed. She could imagine Ruth fussing for days over Alison’s impending visits. Everything would have been done to ensure Alison had the warmest of welcomes to the family.

‘A year later,’ Ruth went on, ‘little Maisie was born.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen a prettier baby. She was just beautiful.’

‘Alison and Steve were happy, yes?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘And you were chief babysitter?’ Jill guessed with a smile.

‘No.’ Ruth stared into the depths of her glass. ‘No, Alison preferred to leave her with a young woman called Valerie Easton. She’s left the village now. Left Kelton about ten years ago. She was a qualified child minder, you see. It didn’t matter that I’d managed to raise four children. Alison insisted that an expert looked after Maisie.’

It was no wonder Alison and Ruth didn’t get along too well. Jill could imagine her own mother’s reaction if Prue left her kids with anyone but their grandmother.

‘I had such hopes,’ Ruth said, her expression wistful. ‘I thought it would be wonderful to have Steve and his wife living in the village. I thought we’d be close, you see. I imagined me and Alison going round the shops together, planning Maisie’s birthday parties together – you know the sort of thing?’

‘Yes.’

‘The reality is that I rarely visit the house without phoning to see if it’s convenient. That’s the way Alison likes it. She’s polite enough, of course, and she always buys me something nice for Christmas and on my birthday.’

Something ‘nice’. That one word summed up the relationship perfectly. Ruth wouldn’t want a silk scarf or the latest fragrance. She would prefer something that a little thought had gone into. Homemade biscuits would have given her more pleasure.

‘What about Alison’s uncle, Father Gosling?’ Max asked. ‘How do you get along with him?’

‘I don’t,’ she answered simply. ‘I’ve only met him twice. Once at the wedding, and once when he visited Steve and Alison.’

‘Alison is close to him,’ Max pointed out.

‘She would be, wouldn’t she?’

Jill was alerted by something in Ruth’s tone.

‘What do you mean by that, Ruth?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. ‘It’s nothing. Just something that me and Frank say.’ She sighed. ‘Her uncle, the vicar, priest, whatever you call him, is very well off,’ she explained. ‘He’s had people leave him a lot of money in their wills. Perhaps we’re being unkind, but me and Frank both reckon that’s why she keeps so friendly with him.’

She emptied her glass.

‘I shouldn’t say such unkind things, true or not,’ she said as she stood up. ‘Put it down to worry about Steve. And now it’s time I left you two young people alone.’

‘I’ll drive you home,’ Max said, already on his feet as Jill went to fetch Ruth’s coat.

‘Thank you, but there’s no need. Really.’

‘It’s no trouble.’ Max had his car keys in his hand to allow no argument.

Ruth smiled at Jill. ‘You’ve got a real gentleman here, love.’

‘Don’t you believe it!’

Jill gave her a quick hug, watched her being helped into Max’s car and then closed the door on the night to think over what Ruth had told them about Steve and Alison’s marriage. It was preferable to thinking that someone might be lurking outside her cottage, someone who had seen Max leave and knew she was alone.

Five minutes later, Max was back and Jill was glad of that.

‘Ruth OK?’ she asked him.

‘Probably.’

He looked at the empty wine bottle, picked it up and went to the kitchen for a full one.

When their glasses had been filled and they were, once more, enjoying the warmth from Jill’s stove, she thought how civilized this was. She still didn’t know if Max planned to stay the night, but the later it became, the more optimistic she grew.

‘She seems nice enough,’ he said.

‘Ruth? She’s a lovely woman. Completely genuine. What you see is what you get. She has a nice family, too. Steve, believe it or not, is just the same.’

‘When he’s not lying through his back teeth,’ Max pointed out and Jill knew he had a point.

‘I expect a lot of it is due to low self-esteem,’ she excused Steve. ‘He’s probably spent twenty years blaming himself and being blamed for the death of his daughter. Add to that the fact that he’s lost his job. He’ll be feeling totally useless and inadequate, far too worthless to imagine that anyone will believe his story about finding Lauren Cole like that.’

Max could think what he liked, but Jill was convinced of Steve’s innocence. What’s more, she was determined to prove it. With or without Max’s help.

‘Ruth’s views on Father Gosling were interesting,’ Max murmured. ‘Well, her views on Alison Carlisle keeping well in with the bloke.’

‘Yes, I thought that. It makes sense, too. Alison isn’t the type to trot off to church every Sunday.’

‘We’ll have to delve into his finances.’

Jill leaned back on the sofa and lifted her feet to rest on the footstool. ‘Give me an alternative, detective,’ she said.

‘For what?’

‘In very different ways, using different methods, we both believe we can get inside a killer’s mind. So give me an alternative. Tell me how someone could murder Lauren Cole and pin the blame on Steve.’

He smiled at that. ‘You think Steve’s been set up?’

‘Stranger things have happened.’