Souvenirs of Murder (7 page)

‘We should have helped you with that,' she said to me. ‘Oh, you wouldn't like to come to dinner tonight, would you? Only we've asked James and Joanna as he's managing to have a couple of days off and it's a bit fogeyish for them with just us two.'

‘Fogeyish?' John queried. ‘Is that a word?'

‘Of course it is,' his wife declared. ‘Besides, someone's given us a huge chicken. Folk are so generous, you know. And as we were saying just now, the builders have finished making a mess indoors and have cleaned up as best they can so if we all turn to for an hour or so now to do a bit of hoovering and dusting I think we can unseal the dining and living rooms and use them this evening. That's if it's all right with you two. I mustn't forget that it's your house now.'

‘It'll always be home to you,' I said, as ever in total admiration of her tactics.

FIVE

Nothing further was said about the shootings – the Carricks remaining tactfully silent on the subject – until later that day after dinner when Patrick's parents had retired for the night. We were seated in front of a blazing log fire – which was needed as it was snowing outside – in the living room of the rectory and by candlelight, Elspeth having completely forgotten that there was no power, water,
or central heating reconnected yet in the old part of the house.

Patrick gave James Carrick a rueful smile. ‘I'm innocent until proven guilty,' he observed. ‘But Greenway told me to surrender my passport and stay in Hinton Littlemoor.'

‘You've been debriefed, I take it,' Carrick said.

‘Not in so many words. I'm not being told too much as he wants to see how much I recollect on my own. He's coming here the day after tomorrow accompanied by what he described as ‘colleagues', by which time I'm supposed to have rid my system of all the dope. Rightly or wrongly he was handling me with kid gloves at the time and what he really meant was that I'll be grilled by people from Complaints. I'm forbidden to investigate this myself, on pain of dismissal.'

‘You're actually suspended then.'

‘Oddly enough, no. I think Richard Daws might have had something to do with that.'

‘Is there anything I can do to help?'

‘Thanks, but I don't know what. You might let me know if a guy by the name of Jethro Hulton turns up on your patch – that's one of the names he goes by, anyway.'

‘He's the one with drugs baron friends in Colombia, isn't he?'

‘That's him.'

‘Hardly likely to be found opening a church fête in Farrington Gurney then.'

‘Now you mention it, no.'

‘He's not been out of jail that long, if I remember correctly. Served five years for his part in a bullion robbery. The prosecution couldn't make it stick that he'd masterminded that and other crimes of a similar nature.'

‘The difficult bit's getting people to testify against them,' Joanna commented. At one time she had been Carrick's sergeant. ‘What else do we know about this character?'

Patrick said, ‘Born 1970, five feet nine inches tall, thickset, brown eyes, swarthy complexion, usually heavily bearded and also grows his hair long. He walks in a strange hunched-over manner, possibly as a result of a back injury, which makes him look shorter. In his youth he served three years of a life sentence for murder in Mexico but was busted out of a prison van taking him to another jail by cronies and fled to Europe. He's connected to all kinds of rackets but as Joanna said, it's getting the charges to stick or even grab the bastard in the first place. Part of my brief was to manoeuvre him into a situation where he could be arrested, along with the woman.'

‘A sting operation then.'

‘If necessary.'

‘Could he have recognized you from something that you worked on in the past and busted your cover?' Carrick said.

‘No, I've never come within a mile of the bloke before. He's a common crook, not someone to interest MI5.'

‘Might Hulton have murdered these people?'

‘He could well have decided to turn over to a new page of his life and tidy up the clutter. That's exactly how his mind works. We'll have to see what forensics turns up.'

The DCI smothered a yawn and said, ‘In the meantime you could always have a go at the murder in the vestry case to keep your hand in. We don't appear to be getting anywhere with it.'

‘OK,' Patrick said.

‘I was only joking!'

‘I'll make your tea for you,' Patrick wheedled.

‘Earl Grey for preference,' Carrick said after a few moments. ‘There's a little shop in Green Street that sells estate teas.'

It seemed staggering to me that any kind of official permission would be forthcoming on this proposal but the following morning, a full twenty-four hours before Commander Greenway was due to arrive for the debriefing, he rang to inform Patrick that he was extending his permitted area of freedom of movement to a twenty-mile radius of the village. There was then a call from a superintendent at the Avon and Somerset force's HQ at Portishead, near Bristol, acknowledging Patrick's temporary secondment to Bath CID and informing him that an official letter was on its way. He made it clear that he, Patrick, would take orders from Detective Chief Inspector Carrick and have no authority over anyone. He emphasized that the arrangement was purely temporary.

In receipt of the news of this development I said, ‘Patrick, I don't think you've really thought this through.'

‘In what way?'

‘It's already a bit difficult for your parents and now you're going to be crawling all over the parish breathing down the necks of the locals, some of them their close friends – while you yourself are under some kind of investigation for murder.'

‘I don't think Greenway's too bothered about offending people round here.'

‘No, I appreciate that, but
you
should be!'

‘I am. And there's also a lot of folk here who would like me to follow in Dad's footsteps and even take over from him one day. This'll be a good test of sentiments. It might even scare them into not telling me any porkies.'

Are men's brains weirdly, drastically and differently wired to women's? Oh, yes.

‘So where do I fit into all this?' I enquired grumpily, having realized, with a sinking feeling, that I ought to be involved.

He considered and then said, ‘There might be room in my briefcase for a nursing mother.'

‘I'm not now, thank you.'

‘OK . . . What shall we call it then?'

‘Tea-buyer and squeeze-of-the-moment?'

‘I'll go for that.'

Before further consulting with James Carrick we visited the scene of the crime with a view to calling on John and Elspeth afterwards to give them the news. The church was unlocked, as it was normally during the day and there were no longer any restrictions of movement. (The entire building had been closed for just under a week while scenes-of-crime personnel had gone over every inch of it.) I knew that the bishop of Bath and Wells had paid a private visit and prayers had been said, the feeling being that too much of a ‘song and dance', as Elspeth had put it, would only heighten the sense of tragedy and get the story in all the papers again, thus attracting yet another dose of gawpers.

John was in the church, up by the altar laying a clean white cloth on it. I heard Patrick sigh as he went forward. Despite present and past difficulties there is a close bond between them but I knew he was not looking forward to this encounter. Hearing movement, his father looked round as Patrick approached.

‘Any good news?' he asked bluntly, his voice carrying effortlessly to where I was standing near the door.

Patrick came straight to the point. ‘I'm to assist James with the murder here until ordered otherwise. I thought you ought to be the first to know.'

John said nothing and went back to what he was doing. Then without turning he said. ‘Your mother and I have a very good relationship with everyone in this parish.'

Except for the black magic practitioners, one imagined.

‘I'm fully aware of that,' Patrick replied. ‘And I sincerely hope nothing I do changes that.'

His father spun round and barked, ‘It had better not, Patrick!'

He turned his back on the pair of us.

‘It's no good, I can't concentrate on the job while he's here,' Patrick whispered when he rejoined me. ‘We'll have to come back later.'

‘Coffee with your mother then?' I suggested.

‘Oh – all right.'

‘You don't have to knock!' Elspeth exclaimed, answering the door of the annex.

‘Well, I've just taken a full broadside from Dad and holed below the waterline,' Patrick said with a wry grin as we followed her into the kitchen. ‘If the rigging goes as well . . .'

‘Oh, he's like a bear with a sore head this morning. It's this thing about women bishops. He seems to think that if we eventually get one here everyone'll have to start calling God Madam.' She paused in carrying the kettle across to the sink. ‘But John doesn't usually take things out on you.'

‘No, I'd just told him that I'm going to be helping James with our murder inquiry.'

‘
Really?
'

‘I admit he was half joking when he asked me but, as you know, the man's always overworked and hasn't really got anywhere with the case at all. He seems to think that because I'm an insider of the village I might be able to solve the case.'

Elspeth filled the kettle, switched it on and then said, ‘I can foresee a
bit
of a problem. Some of the elderly people are already very nervous and, rightly so, are worried that someone living near them is a murderer. If you roll up and interrogate everyone like the Gestapo . . .'

Patrick looked exasperated. ‘But—'

‘Like that!' his mother declared, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Like that! When you look like that! Cross! You'll frighten all my old ladies silly!'

Her son got to his feet. ‘A little rôle-play then.' He winked at me and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen door.

We both left the room and closed the door behind us with Elspeth saying, ‘Where are you going? Patrick? Patrick! I'm sorry if I—'

He knocked.

‘Oh, come in,' said Elspeth crossly.

‘Mrs Gillard?' Patrick said, breezing in.

‘You jolly-well know it is.'

‘My name is Patrick Gillard and I'm with the Serious Organized Crime Agency.' Here he showed her his opened wallet in lieu of the warrant card which was still in a safe place at SOCA HQ. ‘This is my assistant Miss Langley. I was wondering if you could give us your assistance in connection with the recent murder in the village by answering a few questions.' All this with a smile that would have made Cybermen coo.

‘All right,' Elspeth said, playing along. ‘I was just making some coffee. Would you like some?'

‘Lovely,' I said. ‘Thank you. Neither of us takes sugar.'

Patrick seated himself at the small kitchen table and appropriated a shopping list pad and pen, which he handed to me. ‘With your permission Miss Langley will take notes.'

Elspeth smiled at me.

‘How long have you lived in the village, Mrs Gillard?'

‘Getting on for twenty years.'

‘And your husband is rector here?'

‘That's right.'

‘Did you know the deceased?'

‘Yes, but not as a friend. He was on the PCC and other local organizations.'

‘What kind of person was he?'

‘From what I knew of him not a very pleasant one. He would buttonhole one for information on this and that matter without even a good morning or a thank you. No manners at all.'

‘You mentioned to us before that several people – five, I think you said altogether – had spoken to you, worried that because they'd had words with him they might be suspects. May I have their names?'

Elspeth frowned. ‘I'll have to think about that for a moment. It was before we went on holiday. We were away when it happened, you see.'

I hid a smile. She had forgotten for a moment the real identity of the man to whom she was speaking. I have never been able to fathom whether it is the easy manner inviting confidence, or hypnosis, that results in witnesses and others telling him everything they know. With those who could be described as real criminals there is an entirely different approach.

‘Shall I write them down?' Elspeth offered. ‘I'll find it easier to remember if I do.'

I gave her the pad and pen and she wrote busily. ‘That's the five but I have an idea there was someone else,' she mused a couple of minutes later, giving us our coffee. ‘An unlikely person.'

‘Unlikely?' Patrick queried.

‘Um.'

‘Where were you when this person spoke to you?'

‘I'm not sure. Oh, I know! It was in Sainsbury's in Bath. That's right, I saw Miss Trelawney and she told me that Melvyn Blanche had threatened to take her to court over her trees. She's their neighbour and has what amounts to a small arboretum at the end of her garden. She's a very knowledgeable lady about plants and trees and the ones she has are rare and lovely varieties. He told her he wanted most of them cut down as they took all his light.'

‘Do they?'

‘Not at all! They're to the north east of his property so actually shelter his place from cold winds. She was very upset, as you can well imagine.'

‘Is she on the cleaning rota?' I asked.

‘Yes, she is. Oh dear!'