by Vera Morris
Nancy’s glass stopped halfway to her mouth, her eyes as round as pennies. ‘I can’t believe it! Who would do such dreadful things?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to discover. Can you help us?’
Nancy put down her glass on a side table and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She nodded. ‘Yes. Sam had come back from London to Aldeburgh for a short holiday, it was before he married Clara; I suppose he was about thirty-four. I was on the beach with Sam; James was holding a surgery. It was August, the beach was crowded with families. It was a lovely hot, still day, the sea calm and for once as blue as a forget-me-not, not its usual muddy brown. We’d been swimming, the tide was on the turn. The beach dips steeply so you were soon in deep water. I was towelling down when there was a cry. A woman saw her child was in difficulties. Sam ran over the pebbles, dived in, swam to the boy, turned him onto his back and brought him back to the beach.
‘Sam put his arms round the boy’s chest and squeezed; water gushed form his mouth. Then the boy collapsed. Sam bent over him. “He’s stopped breathing, get an ambulance,” he shouted and someone rushed off. I comforted the mother and told her Sam was a doctor. I tried to move her and the other people who’d crowded round away, so Sam had room to work.
‘Sam put the boy on his back and gave him the kiss of life. The boy was about eleven, slim with blond hair and a face, as far as I could see, like an angel. After a few minutes he began to breathe by himself, and the crowd cheered as Sam supported him. I saw the look on Sam’s face, I was sure he wanted to go on kissing those soft lips, holding the slender body close to his. Sam was wearing tight swimming trunks and I could see he’d an erection. I glanced round, afraid someone would cry out in disgust, but all I could see on the faces of the mother and the onlookers was relief and admiration. Sam saw my face and flushed. He knew I’d seen his desire.
‘Afterwards I wondered what would have happened if the rescue had taken place on a deserted beach. Would Sam have been able to resist the temptation of the beautiful young boy? One of my mother’s sayings was: no one knows what they’ll do until the right temptation comes along. She used to say it when a trusted bank manager ran off with the contents of the bank, or a beloved vicar left his wife of thirty years to live with a trapeze artist. She was an avid reader of The News of the World.’
‘Did you ever tell anyone about it?’
‘No, never, not even James.’
‘I presume you didn’t talk to Sam about it?’
‘No. I couldn’t. The thought Sam might desire children chilled my body to its core. He hadn’t deliberately sought out the boy, he’d saved his life. I decided Sam’s body had reacted on being close to the boy and kissing him. His mind and morals would have stopped him from taking such a dreadful path.’
Laurel wasn’t so sure. ‘Sam did take risks, didn’t he, before the laws on homosexuality were changed?’
Nancy nodded. ‘But being homosexual doesn’t mean you’re a paedophile, does it? You told me about your friends who are homosexual, they’re not paedophiles are they?
‘No, Nancy, you’re right. Paedophiles can be heterosexual, homosexual, male or female.’
Nancy shuddered. ‘I find it hard to understand people like that. How can they place their desires above the innocence of children? I despise them. I can’t believe Sam would be like that. Can you?’
Laurel didn’t know what to say. Nancy had lost her brother; he’d died a terrible death, now she was faced with possibly learning that Sam had abused children. ‘I think your mother’s saying, about the right temptation, is true of all of us. Hopefully we never meet it. But perhaps Sam did.’ But she had met it; it was what she’d done when she tried to make Angela’s killer confess to her murder. She’d given in to the temptation of believing she could bring him to justice.
‘He did that day on the beach. It was the right temptation, but luckily the wrong place.’ Nancy rose from her chair and looked at the clock on the sideboard. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting a friend for lunch, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything. Would you like to join us?’
‘That’s kind of you, Nancy, but there’s another person I need to see.’
‘I do hope you and that nice Mr Diamond can sort all this out soon.’ She hesitated. ‘If Sam had done something wrong, would it have to come out?’
‘I don’t know, it would depend on the police and the people who were prosecuted. That’s all a long way off, Nancy, we may never know what really happened to Sam and Clara.’
Nancy collected the glasses and took them into the kitchen.
She got up and waited for her to come back. ‘I have one last favour to ask. Could I borrow a key to Sam’s house? Frank, Mr Diamond, wants to have another look round. Have the police finished there?’
Nancy put on a blue wool short coat and wound a cerise scarf round her neck. ‘Yes, they’ve given me the keys so I can sort out Sam and Clara’s things. The solicitor says I’ll be a very rich woman when all this is over. Sam left everything to me. He’d made an allowance to Clara and the right to live in the house until she died, but then the house would have come to me, or my son if I died. I’m surprised the police didn’t have me down as the chief suspect.’
She smiled; Frank told her what Revie had said about Nancy not being able to peg out clothes, let alone string someone up.
Nancy went to the sideboard and passed a set of keys to Laurel. ‘There you are, my dear. Perhaps Mr Diamond will find something that will solve the mystery.’
She took them and put them in her handbag. ‘I doubt it, Inspector Revie seems a thorough person, but Frank likes to mooch about a crime scene, he says it gets his mind working. I’ll get them back to you as quickly as possible.’
‘No rush, I don’t feel up to clearing out clothes just yet.’ She smiled up at Laurel. ‘Frank … he seems a good man, er, are you and he …?’
Laurel laughed. ‘We’re good friends and partners. You can squash any rumours you hear.’
‘What a pity, you look good together.’
But not good enough, Laurel thought.
Laurel decided she needed something to eat before she saw Nicholas Tucker, so she bought some fish and chips and found a sheltered spot near the lifeboat station to eat them. She frowned, her fingers were greasy and she was concerned she’d soil David’s drawings when she showed them to Tucker. She walked quickly to the public toilets near the Moot House, and made the best of a bad job with cold water, no soap and her handkerchief.
She walked back to Tucker’s gallery. Damn! It was closed. A sign hanging in the front door said it would open when the new summer collection was ready. No date was given. How could she contact him? Was he staying at the hotel? She would walk there and see. She peered in at the window: there were packing cases, some closed and ready for moving, and others empty. Brown paper and boxes were heaped in one corner. She thought she saw movement in the far room, so she knocked on the door. Several times.
Nicholas Tucker appeared; he was frowning, as though concentrating on solving a problem. The frown disappeared when he saw her, replaced by a smile. He opened the door.
‘Laurel, what a lovely surprise. Do come in. We’re in a mess I’m afraid. I heard about Dr Luxton. That was dreadful, and so awful for you, finding three dead people in a few days. Let’s go into my office, shall we? If the denizens of Aldeburgh see the door open they’ll be in like a shot wanting to know when we’ll be opening again.’
He led her through the second gallery and upstairs to the floor above. This was also in a state of flux: more packing cases, and strong smells of glue and turpentine. He opened a door to a spacious office and drew out a chair in front of a modern desk.
‘Sit down, can I offer you a drink?’
Laurel refused. ‘I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy, but I wanted to show you some drawings.’
He cocked his head. ‘Yours?’
She laughed. ‘No. I wish they were.’
She took out three drawings sh
e’d selected from the Manilla envelope Adam Pemberton had put them in. ‘These are by David Pemberton.’ They were drawings he’d done in the year before he ran away. One was of the Moot Hall, another a fisherman’s hut and the third was of Aldeburgh High Street.
Tucker laid them on the desk and looked at them intently. ‘Did Mr Pemberton tell you I wanted to show some of his work in the gallery?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Mrs Pemberton came to see me with some of his drawings when he was, oh, about eleven, I think. He’s a remarkable talent.’
‘You don’t think he’s dead, then?’
He gazed up at her. ‘I hope not. It would be a great crime if such a talent, possibly genius, were to die so young.’
‘It’s a great loss if any child dies, whether they’re a genius or not, whether they’re clever or with a disability, such as Down’s syndrome.’ What made her say that?
He nodded his head. ‘True, true. All loss of life is sad.’
‘I wanted to ask you if you would ask some of your art colleagues and see if any of them had come across a young boy with a talent like David’s, or if they’d heard about such a person. If he’s alive, he won’t be able to stop drawing. At least that’s what I believe. What do you
think?’
‘I’ll certainly do that. A good idea, Laurel.’
She got up. ‘Thanks for seeing me. You seem to have a lot of work to do. Do you usually change your paintings at this time of the year?’
He followed her out of the office. ‘We need to get ready for the summer visitors. The displays must appeal to their tastes, which are often different to the locals. The locals tend to buy in the winter.’
‘Why? Do you put your prices up for the summer?’
He tapped his nose. ‘You’re a shrewd lady.’ He paused, as though a thought had struck him. ‘Are you doing anything tomorrow?’
She hesitated. The Harrops’ house would be searched tomorrow. ‘There’s always more work.’
‘More sleuthing?’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘I’ve a few friends staying with me at the moment. They might be able to help. And they have more contacts than I do. It would spread the word about David. I’m sure if they met you, and saw the drawings, they’d be only too pleased to help. Come for lunch.’
Why not? She didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow, and it would get her out of going back to the Harrops’ house with Frank and Stuart. It was a long shot, but she couldn’t afford to turn the offer down. Perhaps when Tucker’s friends saw the drawings, it might spark off something. ‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’
‘Splendid. Twelve thirty for one?’ He sketched a map to help her find his house and wrote down the address and phone number. ‘In case you can’t make it for any reason. I hope you can, my friends are leaving the day after. It’d be a pity to miss them.’
He escorted her to the door of the gallery. ‘Until tomorrow. I hope the weather is as good as today. I’ll be able to show you my garden. I’m so fond of it.’ He sounded wistful.
‘I’m not much of a gardener I’m afraid. It’s Mr Diamond, my partner, who’d appreciate your plants. He’s got a degree in botany, would you believe. Always pointing out different wild flowers to me.’
Tucker looked bemused. ‘Goodness. Wasn’t he a policeman?’
‘Yes. The best one I’ve met.’
‘So what’s he making of all the dead bodies? Does he think everything is above board and tickety-boo?’
‘I’m afraid he has a suspicious mind.’
‘And you, my dear?’
‘I always think the best of everyone.’
He shook his head and laughed, his jowls shaking. ‘That’s no good for a detective. You’d better find another career.’ Still laughing he waved goodbye and closed the door of the gallery.
Chapter 23
Stuart Elderkin stood outside the kitchen door in Greyfriars House. There were sounds of Mabel moving round, and the muted clash of baking tins, and a sweet, nutty smell crept under the door. It made his mouth water and his stomach felt hollow. Everyone else was out, this was his opportunity to get Mabel to finally commit herself. Their relationship had improved after Laurel talked with Mabel, and then relayed her findings back to him, but he and Mabel hadn’t yet talked about her fears, and Stuart was careful not to press her, either for a discussion about getting married, or to be too intimate. He thought he’d waited long enough and now he wanted to be sure they had a future together.
He opened the door. ‘Hello, love. That smells good.’
She turned. ‘Hello, Stuart. Hold on while I test the cake.’ She pulled a large cake out of the oven and placed it on an iron trivet. She pierced it in the centre with a knitting needle, pulled it out and examined it closely. ‘Needs another five minutes.’ She replaced the tin in the oven. ‘Not sleuthing?’
He sat down on a chair at the table. ‘No. Thought I’d come and see my best girl.’
Mabel took off her apron and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Who’s your second-best girl? Hope her name isn’t Ann Fenner.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re not going to let me live that one down, are you?’
‘I should think not. Want a cup of tea? I’m afraid the walnut cake won’t be ready for a bit, but I’ve got some scones left. I thought I’d make a cake as we’re only having sandwiches tonight.’
‘Perhaps a bit later. I think we need to have a talk, Mabel. A talk about our future. Everyone’s out, even Dorothy; she’s gone to see a friend. This is a good time. What do you say?’
Mabel stared at him. ‘All right. Let me finish off this cake, then we’ll talk.’
He watched her as she busied herself at the sink, checked the clock on the wall, took out the cake and tested it again. ‘That’s fine. I’ll let it sit in the tin for twenty minutes before I turn it out. Thought I’d put cream-frost on the top and some extra walnuts. What do you think?’
He got up and inspected the cake. ‘Looks perfect to me without all the other stuff. Almost as perfect as you.’ He put an arm round Mabel’s waist and gently pulled her to him.
‘Stuart Elderkin, flattery will get you anywhere.’
‘I hope so.’ He kissed her and she put her arms round his neck and kissed him back. ‘That was better than any cake.’
Mabel chuckled. ‘Knowing you, you want to have your cake and eat it!’
‘You know sweet things are my downfall, and you taste sweet today.’
Mabel pushed him away gently. ‘We were going to talk, remember?’
He took hold of her hand. ‘We did, but I think I prefer action myself.’
Mabel sat down and pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the table. ‘You go first. You start off.’
Stuart breathed deeply, remembered the warmth of Mabel’s kiss and took courage. ‘I love you, Mabel Grill. I’ve told you that before, and I want to marry you. You’ve driven me potty this last month or so, but now Laurel’s explained what’s the matter I understand. How do you feel? Do you love me and do you want to get married? If you don’t want to … be intimate, I have to tell you I’m willing to give married life a go even if we can’t …I’d rather be with you, even if we couldn’t … you know, than be without you. I’m no Casanova, and I’d try and control myself, but you might have to smack me down now and then, ’cos you’re a lovely looking woman, Mabel and I am only human, after all.’ He slumped back in his chair exhausted by the effort.
Mabel put a hand to her mouth.
He couldn’t be sure if the sound she was making was a sob or a laugh. ‘What do you say, Mabel?’
She reached across the table for his hand. ‘Stuart Elderkin, that was the loveliest speech I’ve ever heard. I do love you and I will marry you. As for the other thing … Laurel’s got me something to help … you know.’ She hung her head, ‘I think it’ll be all right. We may have to take it slowly.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘That’s all right, love, I was always a
slow burner.’
‘I think we’d be better starting off in your bungalow. It’s not too far from here. I’d be nervous making love with all the others round us, well Laurel and Dorothy. I know they’d be discreet, but that’s what I’d prefer.’
He gave her hand another squeeze. ‘Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll get someone in to do some decorating; it needs a few coats of paint. Would you like a new kitchen?’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘I certainly would! Can I choose it?’
He smiled broadly. ‘Of course, I’ll get you the best kitchen I can.’
‘Thank you, Stuart.’
‘So, can we set a date for the wedding?’
‘I don’t see why not. Spring’s a lovely time to get married.’ She jumped up. ‘All this talk of love and marriage has made me forget my cake. I don’t want it sticking to the tin.’
The sandwich supper was over and they’d moved to the sitting room. It was a chilly evening and Frank put another log on the fire. It was seven, the end of the day, and a clear sky was full of stars. Dorothy pulled the curtains together.
‘Nancy had no objections to lending you the key to the Harrops’ house?’ Frank asked Laurel.
‘No. We had a long talk. I asked her if she knew if Sam was attracted to children.’ She told them of their conversation.
Dorothy blew her nose. ‘That must have been hard for her, to think Sam was a pervert, I can’t believe it myself, but I suppose after finding out the headmaster I worked closely with for years was a mass murderer, I should know better.’
‘One thing Nancy said has stuck in my mind; one of her mother’s sayings was: no one knows what they’ll do until the right temptation comes along. We might think we’d never do something dreadful, until something unexpected happens and then it’s too late. I find that frightening.’
Was that aimed at him? Frank thought. But she was right. It had been the right temptation, and he’d nearly given in to it. If Carol had been subtle, less pushy, he could easily have taken the next step. His throat tightened as he imagined making love to her, and immediately he was thankful he hadn’t gone that far. His balls said yes, his heart and mind said no. ‘Revie’s said he’d phone me with details of the death certificates this evening.’
