by N. C. Lewis
"And the bishop can confirm this?"
"Of course." He took another pull on the cigar. "There were five other vicars in the meeting. Time does not stand still. I can watch the highlights on the news."
"Aye, happen you're right," Fenella replied. "It'll be the top story for a while."
Vicar Briar's eyes turned sad. "PC Hoon wasn't a regular, but I saw Maude often enough." He glanced at the thick oak doors of the priory." We spoke a little. She is still inside."
"I'd best give my condolences," Fenella said, sorrow tugging at her heart. "It's the least I can do."
Chapter eighty-two
It was dark and cold inside the church hall. The stained glass filtered in the dreary light, splattered with colours of the rainbow. There were no signs of the press conference. No microphones or cameras. Just the dust-spotted pews with the altar at the front and a giant crucifix suspended from the ceiling. Maude Hoon sat on the front row, headscarf so tight it etched the pattern of the curlers underneath. Her head was bowed in silent contemplation. She did not look up at the sound of the door or the soft slap of Fenella's footsteps on the hard stone floor.
Fenella approached the front pew so filled with doubt that she sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. What do you say to a wife who has lost their husband? Nothing. But there were other words that she had to say. Words that would shatter Maude Hoon's world. And it was best to say them now before it all came out in the news headlines. Get it over with.
"Mind if I sit with you for a bit, luv?" Fenella spoke in a hush. It felt right, given the surroundings.
Maude glanced at her for a moment. There was no recognition in her mud-brown eyes. She nodded. Then bowed her head once more.
Fenella waited. Yes, this was the woman she'd met at the Christmas do in Whitehaven three years back. She thought Maude and PC Hoon were an odd couple back then. And with the events of last night, felt a deep sorrow.
One minute. Two. Three. Then she said, "I'm Inspector Sallow, worked with your husband."
Maude's neck jerked straight. A strange movement as if a bolt of electricity tightened her muscles.
"Oh, aye," she said. "He mentioned you."
Fenella said, "I've some bad news, pet."
"He's dead, how much worse can it get?" Maude frowned. "I'm sorry, that sounds callous. I have a heart. I do. It's just that Sid and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye."
Fenella leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Maude's face. "I know this is going to come as a shock to you, but your husband was murdered."
Again came the spasm in Maude's neck. "You're crazy! I don't believe it. Who would want to kill that lazy sod?"
"He was found in the basement of your cottage, pet. The door was bolted, so he could not get out."
"I can't tell you how many times I've been trapped in that damp basement. Sid was too tight fisted to get it fixed. Now, look what's happened!"
"You two didn’t get along," Fenella said. "It's nothing personal, pet. I have to ask, you understand?"
"Oh, I understand. As a matter of fact, we split up a few days ago. I'm going to remarry."
"Really?"
"Don't look so shocked. Sid and I were finished years ago. I suppose we stuck it out for the image. Now his miserable life is over. I wonder why I waited so long."
"Why'd you come to church, luv?"
Maude shrugged. "You got me there. Yes, it is for the image. Old habits die hard and anyway I want to keep the vicar sweet. I'd like to get married in this church." She paused. "I suppose I should ask about Sid's murder. Have you caught the killer?"
"Aye, lass."
Maude's back stiffened, eyes round as bronze coins. "Name?"
Fenella said, "It will all come out with time."
"What was their motive?"
"It is greed that pulls us to dark places. Of money. Of prestige. Of another person. Always greed." Fenella felt a twitch in her neck and tilted her head from side to side. "For a while I thought I'd missed it. Then I thought, it has got to be the money."
"What money?"
"That's what I couldn’t figure out until the fire." Fenella looked at Maude. "It's as old as the hills, luv. Marrying a man to move up in life. I don't know all the details of why you killed Viv Gill or Pearl Smith or your husband yet, but I'd bet a good bottle of Glenmorangie it was greed."
"What are you saying?"
"Soon forensics will come back with the details. We know the fire was started deliberately. Did you use petrol or light a match to a pile of kindling?"
Maude looked as if she were going to cry. It lasted for a second. "You can't prove anything. I know how the police work; I was married to one of the buggers. Now, if you have any evidence, we can talk, else I'd ask you show some respect for the house of God."
"Funny thing is, I heard a rumour that you were close to Chad Tate but ditched him for Mr Clarke, the bank manager. Pretty nice catch for an ambitious girl. But the crafty dog gets around a bit. I heard he was in a relationship of sorts with Viv Gill… and Pearl Smith. Don’t suppose you would like that, not if you had your eyes set on marrying the man. Eliminate the competition and move up the food chain, eh?"
"Don't be daft. Those women were killed by Mr Shred."
"How would you know that?"
"Sid told me."
Suddenly everything fell into place. There was no doubt in Fenella's mind now. She broke out into a full smile.
"You wrote to Hamilton Perkins, didn’t you? You were the third woman!"
Maude pursed her lips, but her eyes gave away the truth.
The church door opened. PC Beth Finn stepped through the doorway with Vicar Briar two paces behind.
Fenella said, "PC Finn, will you read Mrs Maude Hoon her rights. We're bringing her in for the murders of Viv Gill, Pearl Smith, and PC Sid Hoon."
Chapter eighty-three
Late that night, Fenella sat at the desk in Superintendent Jeffery's office. The winter dark had long since crept over the town of Port St Giles, and fog hovered like a great grey sheet over the police station.
"Don't think we'll get a confession," Fenella said. "Maude Hoon hasn’t said much, even in the presence of her lawyer."
"I see," said Jeffery thoughtfully. She tapped a finger on the large brown folder on her desk and slowly got to her feet and walked across the room to the window, so her back was to Fenella. For a long time she stood there against the faded glow of a street lamp which shone its weak, sulphurous rays through the small window. There was a sadness to her posture. A deep sorrow hung in the still office air. "Pity. Would have been nice to wrap it up in a bow."
Fenella said, "Aye. But we'll secure a conviction even if she seals her lips tight with superglue." She paused a moment, considering, but did not speak of the elephant in the room—Dr Joy Hall. "I set Jones to work on Maude Hoon's financials, and he has already come back with a hit."
Jeffery turned. "Go on."
"Mrs Hoon recently took out a life insurance policy in the name of her husband, and the signature does not match with the one we have on record for PC Sid Hoon."
"A good lawyer will find a reasonable explanation," Jeffery said.
"Happen. Happen not," Fenella replied. "But it will take a damn good lawyer to explain away the blades found in the basement by PC Hoon's body. We believe they were the murder weapon and were fashioned after the knives used by Hamilton Perkins. We know Maude Hoon corresponded with Perkins, and we are dealing with a copycat killer."
"Still, without a confession… it is all circumstantial."
Fenella said, "We have an eyewitness. Mr Chad Tate. He saw the flames, ran to the front door as Maude Hoon hurried from the house and climbed over a fence. She didn’t see him in her haste to get away. But he saw her and tried to deny it at first. He has signed a statement. And Mr Pete Clarke, the bank manager, has confirmed Maude Hoon didn’t show up at his house until the early hours of this morning. We have enough to press charges."
Jeffery turned to stare at the window, and Fen
ella knew it was time to address the elephant. She said, "And Dr Joy Hall?"
"What about her?"
"I hear she has hired an expensive lawyer."
"I have not spoken with that woman. But if you say so."
"Don't know how she can afford it." Fenella's lips quirked at the corners. "Not on her pay."
Jeffery's voice dropped to a whisper as though she were speaking to herself. "Can't keep a secret long in this place, can we?"
"Aye," Fenella replied. "And I hear this posh lawyer is an old friend of yours, eh?"
Jeffery's lips twisted into a wolfish scowl. "Do you think I condone what Joy did?"
Fenella waited.
Jeffery said, "Joy will never work in a prison again. Still, if an old friend of mine is a successful private criminal solicitor and wants to help Joy, who am I to object?"
Once again, Fenella didn’t speak.
"And no sign of Hamilton Perkins?"
"He has gone to ground, ma'am." Fenella knew Perkins had camped in the garden of the Seafields Bed & Breakfast, but that was weeks ago and the trail was cold. She wondered if Maude Hoon was the mysterious woman who was heard with him but knew they'd get nothing from her sealed lips.
"Shame," Jeffery said. "It would have been a damn sight easier on everyone if…" Her voice trailed off. She looked at the large brown folder and frowned. "I've another balls-up to add to the long list."
Fenella waited.
"Child smuggling." Jeffery picked up the thick folder and read for a moment, then looked up. "The regional crime squad's operation has collapsed. It seems the kingpin and his minions got word and scattered. At least the network is broken, but it would have been better to haul them in. They've asked us to be on the lookout. She slid the folder across the desk. A little light reading for you."
Fenella took the folder and stood. As night continued to creep over the town, she knew evil still lurked in the shadows. In the form of Hamilton Perkins, in the form of the child smuggling ring, in a hundred and one other forms. But she reminded herself that there were beautiful things in the world, and they far outweighed the bad. For now, she'd done her part. The memory of Viv Gill, Pearl Smith, and PC Sid Hoon would sit a little easier in her grey matter. Now it was up to the courts to hand out justice.
Chapter eighty-four
It was the last Saturday of the month. Chad Tate sat on the first pew in the hallowed hall of St Bees Priory. It was his first visit since the funeral of his wife, Rose, and daughter, Lark. He fidgeted with his hands as he tried to blot out the memory of what had happened the last time. He breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves. Would anyone show up?
The vicar had told him not to worry, that despite the empty pews, the villagers would come out in large numbers to support Lark's Wish. But only Mrs Lenz and a few of her friends had turned up. They were helping run the stalls that sold baked goods, mountains of cucumber sandwiches, and huge urns of tea and lemonade. A stern woman with tree-trunk arms monitored the cloakroom and two wisp-like figures hovered as greeters by the front door.
Chad had closed his store early and now wondered if it was all a mistake. He wanted to speak with Vicar Briar, but the man had vanished. So he sat and watched the empty hall and waited.
"How about a cucumber sandwich to cheer you up," said Mrs Lenz. "You've got to have cucumber sandwiches at a church fête. Am I right? I am."
Her voice echoed off the stone walls. Chad thought there might be another event on at the same time and cursed for not checking that out. Now he was certain no one would show up. He braced himself for the tea and sympathy of Mrs Lenz's ladies. Cucumber sandwiches for the rest of the week. They'd have to throw away the tea.
He heard the drums first. Then a bugle and the syncopated shuffling of feet. The heavy front doors of the chapel opened, with Vicar Briar in the lead ahead of the flags and pennants of the Girls' Brigade. Two girls at the front carried an enormous banner with an image of a smiling little girl with raven-black hair tied with a pink bow. Chad's mouth dropped open. Lark!
And then he saw it.
All the girls wore pink ribbons. They marched to the front of the church and lined up in front of the altar. Behind them came the villagers. They shuffled into the priory chatting and laughing and shaking Chad's hand.
Vicar Briar made a brief speech and called Chad to the front to open the fête. Although Chad sat on the front row, it seemed to take him an age to walk the short distance. He watched all the faces, then glanced at his hands and realised he was shaking. He might never find a wife he loved as much as Rose, or a daughter to dote on like Lark, but he'd live out his days here so he could always be at their side. Yes, he was a native New Yorker, but St Bees was his little piece of England.
Chapter eighty-five
Fenella stepped outside. They had driven to the Lark's Wish fête in St Bees Priory. Nan loved to rummage the knick-knacks on the jumble sale stalls, and Eduardo was content to hover between the food tables, eating baked goods, washed down with hot, sweet, milky tea.
The sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, although it was cold enough to see her breath swirl in white plumes. For a long while she stood in the shadows cast by the red-clay brick walls of the priory, covered in moss and lichen, gazing out at the quiet lane. This was family time, so she didn’t let her mind wander to all that had happened in the previous weeks.
Fenella had mastered the switch between work and home life.
Instead, she thought about her cottage on Cleaton Bluff and made plans for a lunch date with her nurse friend, Gail Stubbs. Her matchmaking mind sifted through suitable names now that Dexter was getting wed to his long-time on-and-off girlfriend, Priscilla. With a deep focus, she stared at her phone, scrolling through contacts in search of a good match.
She did not hear the low splutter of the engine. It was the feeling of being watched that caused her to look up. A figure in black leather and knee-length boots stood on the opposite side of the lane. They had a helmet on their head, stood by a motorcycle, and clutched a large envelope in their right hand.
Fenella became instantly alert. In a heartbeat, she took in the details. The build was so slight and the height around five feet, so she assumed it was a woman. The light-footed steps as the figure hurried towards her did nothing to change her opinion.
The figure stopped several paces in front of Fenella and raised the visor. A thin-faced man, in his late forties, with deep-brown eyes and a wispy devil's beard, the colour of faded carrots, said, "Are you Detective Sallow?"
"And you are?"
"Whitehaven Couriers, ma'am. Package for Detective Sallow."
"Oh, aye, that would be me," Fenella replied, taking the envelope and flipping it over to read the sender's address.
The neat print was too small to read with her naked eye, so she reached into her handbag and put on a pair of reading glasses. On the back, where the sender's address was supposed to be, there was nowt but a series of blue question marks.
Fenella looked up. The figure in black was across the lane and on the motorcycle.
"Hey, come back, I want a word with you," Fenella shouted as she hurried after the man.
The motorcycle spluttered to life and raced away. Fenella watched until the high-pitched whine of the engine faded into the constant rumble of waves against the cliffs. Then her eyes fell to the envelope.
Inside, on a single sheet of cream paper, there were three words:
I'm sorry.
Eve.
Author's Note
If you have enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a short review. Reviews help readers like you discover books they will enjoy and help indie authors like me improve our stories.
Details of my other novels can be found in the store where you obtained this book. If you would like to know more, you can email: [email protected]
Until next time,
N.C. Lewis
rime Thriller Book 2)
