by A. M. Clarke
‘So Evelyn, tell me more about yourself, I’m sure Mike only gave me the dust jacket.’
‘Isn’t Father Mike a hoot, all new testament and fervour?’
‘You know I’ve always found him to be very laid back and easy going about his religion. Devout and strenuous in his belief, but laid back all the same.’
‘That seems a bit of a contradiction, but you know him so much better than I do, obviously. He tells me Stephen, that you’re a bit of a loner and have your own place on this lovely Island. A family home, I think he said.’ The bar maid kept replenishing their drinks, his being a double every time resulted in a drop in his mental faculties. Hers seemed to rejuvenate as she talked.
‘As I said before, I don’t know Father Mike that well, but he’s had so much pain in his life. That terrible accident with the mother and her poor baby boy, and then his church leaders down sizing him to this small parish. He must feel very betrayed.’ Stephen thought for a moment before answering.
‘Mike doesn’t feel that way, he believes everything happens for a reason. His philosophy is that he can do good wherever he is posted, you know how it is, any soul in a storm.’
‘You are funny Stephen, but as his friend, you must believe he was sold down the river by his beloved church.’
‘That’s a bit strong, don’t you think, come on, wouldn’t any friend see that he has been punished and defrocked about as much as a priest can be without denouncing him completely. His own church betrayed him, betrayed his true nature, which is his faith, love and belief in God. If I were Father Mike, I would want revenge on the establishment that turned their back on me. Excuse me while I visit the little girl’s room.’ Stephen mused while she was gone. What if Evelyn was right, Mike has been going on and on about evil on the Island. What if Mike was the evil, getting his revenge for the past humiliation done to him. Maybe he was the avenging angel of betrayal. Oh for gods sake, what was he thinking, Mike was the best person he knew. He berated himself quietly while he waited for Evelyn’s return. He watched for her and was rewarded with the vision of her moving through the room, causing every person there to pause their conversations as they admired, envied and lusted for her. She rewarded him again by ignoring all those around her, and locking on to his gaze, held it as she manoeuvred back to the table. Mike hadn’t done her justice, she was undeniably beautiful, but much, much more. This made him wonder, what on earth was she doing on this small 'nothing usually happens here' island. That then made him ask, what was she doing with the likes of Mike and now himself. He wasn’t making assumptions; she was definitely showing an interest. Thinking of his friend, made him remember where his loyalties lay.
‘Well it was a pleasure to meet you Evelyn, but I must be getting back. I hope we’ll meet again’
‘Oh you can count on it. Please give my best to Father Mike, and tell him Ill see him soon.’ Stephen nodded his compliance and left her there.
Chapter Forty
Rudder stayed in the Woodcock house after the undertaker had removed the little girls. Mr Fox, who appeared to be a decent sort of chap, was very agitated. He kept going on about it not being right, too many bodies. Where was he supposed to put them all? That Doctor Wells wasn’t much better, a sour devil if ever he’d met one. Made it seem as if Rudder had planted the bodies, just to annoy him, and give him extra work, and then telling him, it looked like “suspicious circumstances.” Really doc, you don’t say, wish Id gone to medical school!
After going over the house repeatedly, Rudder switched off the lights and sat in the sitting room. A bottle of scotch from the sideboard kept him company as he waited in the semi darkness. The moonlight gave enough light to see anyone who came in. He hoped Mrs Woodcock would return to the scene of the crime. Of course, he had no concrete evidence that she had committed the murders of her children. Someone else could have done it and kidnapped the mother, but he had his own theory.
After being diagnosed with early onset dementia, and having already lost her husband, Lucy Woodcock, despairing at the prospect of deteriorating in front of her children, and the thought of what would become of them after she passed away, brought her to a terrible decision. Kill the girls and then her. They would still be together that way. Always together. Something happened to change her mind; he didn’t think that the washing machine was what he had intended for her eldest. Clara must have witnessed her mother smother her little sister and run and hide in the machine. Lucy Woodcock took advantage of the situation and decided on a more callous and despicable death for her daughter. Talking with the girl’s teacher and then questioning the neighbours, painted a picture of a devoted mother who cherished her darling girls.
Chapter Forty One
Stephen was relieved to escape, Evelyn was a stunning woman, but after some time in her company, something seemed off. She was too beautiful, too perfect, too bloody sure of herself. He was also feeling a terrible sense of guilt, guilty forever considering Mike as the evil, and he felt guilty about Inspector Rudder. A stranger on the island and who had just had a colleague killed, and he hadn’t thought of inviting him to dinner. He redialled the number the inspector had called him on earlier. A low voice answered, almost a whisper, and after accepting the invitation, gave Stephen the address. Judging by his voice and demeanour on the phone, Stephen didn’t ask any questions, deeming it wiser to talk in person. He drove up through the town, to the row of houses on Main Street. There were no lights on in the house he had been directed to, and standing in front of the house, was about to ring, then the door opened, and the Inspector came out, but before he could speak, pulled him inside. He could smell the alcohol as he moved past him in the dark hall, and wondered what he was doing in someone’s house, in the dark, and reeking of booze. Had the Inspector lost it, and broken in?
‘Come inside to the sitting room, the scotch is in there. I don’t need to see your face to know your asking yourself many questions. Here have a drink, you’ll need by the time I’m finished.’
‘Ok, Ill go along for the ride,’ Stephen said, deciding to humour him.
Rudder started to describe the events since leaving Stephen at the funeral home. Not too long into his story, Stephen was refilling their glasses, and by the time Rudder had finished, the bottle was empty.
Horrified Stephen asked, ‘And your sitting here in the dark, hoping the mother will come back?’
‘Yes, but it’s a long shot,’ he got up and shook the empty bottle.
‘Look, I came here to ask you to dinner at mine. My friend Mike is at the house, and we can compare notes about what’s been happening, what do you say?
‘I really should wait, just in case,’ Rudder replied rather half hearted’ Seeing his struggle, Stephen added, ‘I have a full bar’
‘Well what are we waiting for, I’m starved.’
‘Ok then, I don’t think I’ve had as much as you, so Ill drive, as long as you don’t breathalyse me.’
‘It’s a deal,’ putting the empty bottle back on the sideboard; he followed.
Chapter Forty Two
Mike had spent a nice relaxing day with Chequers. They had walked and played on the dunes, snacked on naughty treats found hidden in the back of the cupboard. Obviously, a hidden stash not meant to be found. The afternoon sun had turned to a chilly evening moon, and that called for an open fire and comfort food. He and Chequers had gathered dry sticks on their walks for kindling, and a few short minutes later, a blazing fire roared in the grate. Stephen always kept a large supply of logs in their own log cabin out back, he split them and stacked them, and on the fire, smelt of home. Like his friend, Mike had developed his own cooking skills, and even if he said so himself, was good. Stephen would of course claim he was the better cook and he was going to take this opportunity to prove him wrong. As well as a good supply of wood, he also had an excellent larder, a full freezer and a great wine rack. The chilly weather called for a rich beef and stout casserole,
with a scone cobbler for soaking up the gravy. Chopping the vegetables had been therapeutic, but sipping a rather tasty new world merlot had lowered his tension. With the masterpiece in the oven, he Chequers and had positioned themselves in front of the fire, and that’s where they were when Stephen returned with an extra for dinner.
Introductions made, wine poured, and before long, they were deep in the hell that had consumed them. They each gave their accounts of the last few days, and after pulling the different incidents apart, and putting them back together, found nothing that connected them.
They broke for dinner, ‘Father Mike, that was the best meal I’ve had in a very long time, thank you,’ Rudder said, as he loosened his trousers and settled back in an armchair.
‘Yea Mike, hate to admit it, but that was top notch, and Chequers, I thank you too, I’m sure you played an important part in such a delicious meal.’
‘He sure did, without him; there would have been way too much meat. He saved us from a protein overdose,’ a laughing Mike agreed.
Stephen abruptly jumped up, and paced the floor.
‘You know, it hadn’t occurred till now, but something has been nagging at me since we talked with Vera Lake at the undertakers,’ he looked at Rudder as he spoke, ‘Remember what Vera said at the funeral home, about that guy Adam?’
‘Yea, I remember, didn’t she say they did it, and then she accused him of killing everybody? Bit of a whack job if you ask me.’
‘Normally I would agree, but the same day as I found the boat accident, I nearly hit a guy as I was driving to town. I was distracted and speeding, and this person seemed to come from nowhere. I stopped, gave him a lift, and he introduced himself as Adam, ‘Oh my God, there’s the link, the common denominator. I dropped him at the hotel. Gladys worked at the hotel. Vera said he was at the old folks home the night before, and, the next morning at the time of the crash. And, he was on the island when, as I said, I found the bodies on the rocks. That cant be a coincidence, it just cant.’
Mike looked at Rudder, Stephen looked at Rudder, Rudder looked at Chequers.
‘You know dog, there are times when I still love this job. I believe accidents can be just that, accidents, but coincidences have a thread that stitched together a fragment of cloth, and that fragment of cloth came from a whole piece of fabric. My dad used to love to say that when he was working a tricky case, and I grew up believing the same thing. Guys, there is something bad here on this small island of yours, and I think we have found the root cause,’ Rudder drained his glass, refilled from the bar, and even with that amount of alcohol in his system, had straightened with determination.
Up until now, they had struggled with the seemingly unconnected horrors, but as they agreed on an earlyish night, sleep didn’t hold the same terror as it had previously. Tomorrow hailed as a day of answers.
Chapter Forty Three
Agreeing that Mike would go back to his churchly duties, and that they would question those in contact with Adam, they separated at the church. Before leaving the house, Rudder had rung The Island Haven, insisting he needed Vera Lakes address for further questions. He was given it without a second thought. They dropped Mike at his church, and headed out of the quiet town to the quiet neighbourhood of Vera Lake. A very scenic area, a house dotted here and there, houses built by the original landowners of the day. Families of anglers who had risked their very lives to bring food home from the deadly waters, food for selling to the mainland, and nourishment for their loved ones.
Not like the terraced houses dragged up to accommodate the more modern angler, in his modern engine powered boat. One thing remained the same through the changing years of fishing, and that was the destructive and unforgiving waters around their island. Men died, and it didn’t seem to bother the sea how big their engine was, or if they even, had one.
A small red Mazda, that they knew was Vera’s, was parked in her driveway. Her house was an old fashioned red brick, two up two down cottage, with a small green house at the side. Her garden was loved and tended with care. Marigolds and pansies were bright and colourful as they lined the walkway to the front door. Yellow and orange roses were still in bloom, hips and runners pruned as they climbed the wooden trellises against the front brick walls. Hydrangeas were in their last moments of stunning blue glory, and red and purple fuchsia hung heavy heads in autumns defeat. Her front door was a lively daffodil yellow, which played in tune with her although seasonally muted, still colourful garden. The doorbell rang hollow inside, no answer, no sound of any kind. Rudder bent and looked through the letterbox.
‘Well that would explain why she didn’t answer the door. Take a look.’
Stephen followed Rudders example, and looked through the letter box.
‘There goes another one. This Adam person is single headedly wiping out the island. He’s worse than small pox.’
The welcome mat hid a spare key, and they let themselves in. Vera lay at the bottom of the stairs, well, most of her did. It wasn’t that her head had departed her body, but had in fact just stretched the skin and spinal cord to a grotesque degree.
‘Unless we find something fishy, I can tell you now, she will be signed off as an accidental, can you smell the gin?’ Stephen didn’t feel the need to reply, but nodded, he could smell it too. The house was tiresomely mundane. Lots of late mother memories. Although dead, the woman remained a dominant fixture in the house. Vera was either too respectful or afraid of her mother to change the interior of her house, or, she was just like her. The bedroom held the only signs of the real Vera Lake. A large unfinished gin and tonic sat beside a very tatty and often read Mils and Boon book. There were several more on her bookshelf, all of a similar genre, and all similarly over read. Her wardrobe spoke of her position, professional and stern, except for her underwear drawers, that, was a different Vera completely. One held the usual sensible panties and tights, socks and bras. The other, was a revelation, sexy bodices, string thongs, fishnet stocking and suspenders. But the worst thing was a small bag of Victoria Secret night things. All still with the labels on, never given the opportunity to use their seductive powers. Vera lying at the bottom of the stairs was wearing comfortable flannel pyjamas. Rudders phone ringing interrupted their distasteful rummaging. It was his new sergeant informing him of his and the coroner and vans approach to the island. First off, Rudder told the sergeant that the ferry was not to leave on the return journey, until he had all the occupants from the funeral home. He gave directions, with instructions to oversee and escort the bodies back to the mainland for autopsies. He was personally to inspect all travellers boarding the ferry. He would send pictures of the individuals in question through on his phone, also to send back a forensic team to examine possible multiple murder scenes. He informed him that a suspect or suspects were still at large and probably still on the island. He would remain behind to question witnesses, and would hope to apprehend the offender, or offenders. He didn’t tell him about the scene that they were at, feeling a connection, this time he wanted forensics to check before the body was removed. He had taken a picture of Lucy Woodcock from a photograph with her kids when he was at their house. Getting one of Adam, might prove tricky. Still, he liked a challenge.
‘I think a visit to the home might prove useful, are you happy to play deputy, of sorts? Rudder asked. ‘Ready to be deputised, SIR.’ And they went on to the home, to check on Vera’s story.
Chapter Forty Four
Only two cars stood in the front car park. The place looked empty and sad. Hearing the car pulling in, a woman ran out from the front door, a hopeful look on her face. It soon turned to disappointment when they stepped out.
‘Can I help you?’ a rather distraught voice asked.
‘We hope so. Can we ask you a few questions about Vera Lake?’ Rudder showed his badge. Stephen was rather pleased that Rudder had used “we” to include him.
‘Why. I was actually hoping that you were her. Many of the famili
es are on their way here and Vera needs to be here to tell them what happened. That kind of thing is way above my pay grade, and anyway how could I explain how the old dears were suddenly able to walk and do what they shouldn’t be able to do.’
‘Ok miss, can we go inside and discuss this over a coffee.’
‘Of course, I’m so sorry, please come in. There’s only me and Jane here.’ She led them through the empty foyer and out to a very pleasant empty sunroom, before leaving to fetch the coffee. She returned shortly with a tray of wonderful smelling fresh coffee, and a plate of assorted biscuits.
‘I’m sorry we don’t have any fresh pastries, but the kitchen staff, and everyone else was told not to bother coming in. Vera wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time, otherwise she would have realised the families would require refreshments. Especially at a time like this. I tried ringing her this morning, but got no answer.’
‘What is your function here miss----?’
‘Oh, my name is Helen; I usually look after the front desk, take care of visitors and any prospective clients. I guess you could call me Vera’s second in command.’
‘And who is Jane?’ Rudder scribbled in his notebook as he asked questions. Stephen had decided to let him do what he did best, and would only speak if prompted.
‘Jane is our physiotherapist. She looks, looked, after the resident’s mobility, and tried to keep them as active as possible. Is this to do with the accident? Because we were all here, and devastated at what’s happened.’ Helen took a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.