Annabelle steeled herself as she approached the hunched figure of Jeremy, sitting with his back to her at the keys of the vast organ at the front of the church.
“Jeremy!” she called. Her voice shook. “Jeremy!”
The tall, young man continued to play, engrossed completely in the almost superhuman dexterity of his long fingers. Annabelle drew herself to within ten paces of the steps that led up to the altar, and slowed to a stop.
“Jeremy!” she called once again, but there was still no response. She breathed deeply and walked closer until she was within a few feet of him, close enough to see the stitches in the pattern of his dark-blue cardigan.
“Jere—”
With a dissonant clang of a minor chord, the organist stopped playing suddenly and spun around. Annabelle jumped back, one hand to her chest, the other out in front of her.
“Oh!” cried Jeremy, allowing himself to relax. “You startled me, Vicar!”
Annabelle smiled and took a moment to breathe out deeply.
“And you startled me!”
“I apologize,” Jeremy said, bowing his head. “I was completely absorbed in my playing.”
“Yes. I could tell.”
“Am I bothering you? Is that what you came to tell me?” he said, checking his watch. “I suppose it is rather late.”
“Actually,” Annabelle began, stepping closer. She felt calmer now. The music had stopped and Jeremy’s easy manner was relaxing her a little. “I wanted to speak with you about something else. Something rather serious.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow curiously, and shifted around on his stool to face the Reverend fully.
Annabelle clasped her hands together tightly, and gazed down at them as she considered how to begin. She had promised Ted that she would not mention what he had told her about Jeremy’s gambling. She needed to be tactful, and if her deepest suspicions were correct, careful.
“How is your grandmother faring?”
“Quite well, Vicar. Of course, she doesn’t get out much these days, but the villagers are very good to visit her. She is not short of company.”
“How did she take the news of Mildred’s death? I understand they were close.”
Jeremy’s smile remained on his face, his eyes dark in the gloom. “They’d known each other a long time, but my grandmother hadn’t seen her for a while. Mildred was not one of her regular visitors. Too busy with her business, I expect.”
Annabelle smiled back.
“Did you happen to know Mildred yourself?”
Jeremy smiled easily. “A little. My car breaks down rather a lot. It’s old. I should get a new one.”
Annabelle nodded respectfully. “Perhaps Ian Crawford would sell you one. He deals in used cars.”
Jeremy stared at Annabelle, saying nothing.
“Do you happen to know anything about a gambling ring? One that some of the men in Upton St. Mary have become involved in? Maybe Ian Crawford, too?”
Jeremy shook his head and frowned.
“Vicar! I am surprised you see fit to question me about such things!” He paused for a second. “Did that mechanic say anything to you when he was at your cottage earlier?”
“Ted? No. Why would you think that?”
Jeremy was flustered for a moment before settling down.
“If he did, then I would assume you have enough sense to take them as the ramblings of a drunk; one who has done plenty to distance himself from the church, and almost nothing to support it.”
The way Jeremy spoke bothered her terribly. He was typically one of the more obtuse people in her congregation, but this seemed a little overly-defensive even for him.
Annabelle frowned and looked up at the large crucifix mounted tall and proud on the altar table. She gazed at the figure of Jesus on the cross, thinking furiously. What would you do now if you were me, boy-o?
“How do you know Ted is a drunk? I thought you barely knew him?”
“I don’t. Why are you asking so many questions?” Jeremy said, his smile suddenly disappearing and his tone shifting an octave lower, as full and as powerful as a bass note. “I feel you are casting judgment upon me for some reason.”
“No,” Annabelle said, appealingly. “I’m investigating a very serious matter in the parish. I need to be exact about every detail.”
Jeremy’s thin lips pursed themselves tightly. He placed his hands carefully on his knees, as if meditating. Annabelle glanced at his long, extended fingers as he sat on his organ stool and wondered if such soft, delicate hands could have wielded the wrench that killed Mildred so brutally. She shook the thought away quickly.
“Vicar,” Jeremy said, deliberately, “if there is something you wish to tell me, please do so. You are a woman of the cloth, after all. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
Annabelle noticed something in Jeremy’s eyes that she had never before seen. A hardness that seemed almost impenetrable. She had never grown fully comfortable with the young man’s awkward, reserved, and somewhat anti-social manner, but she hadn’t felt intimidated or frightened by him until now. She stiffened her back, gathering her composure for a confrontation she anticipated would be deeply unsettling, and spoke.
“Jeremy, I believe there is something you are not telling me. Something extremely important. In the short time you’ve been in Upton St. Mary, I’ve grown very fond of you, respectful of you, and in some ways, admiring of you, so it makes me deeply uncomfortable to talk to you in this way. But I’m certain that you are somehow involved in the disturbing events that have been occurring in the village, and I want you to tell me in what manner.”
A wry smile played on Jeremy’s lips. In the dim glow of the church light, and after her plea for an explanation, Annabelle found his amusement rather distressing.
“I have the greatest of respect for you too, Vicar,” said Jeremy, slowly, “as I do all those who dedicate their lives to the church. But I am surprised at the dogged determination with which you seek to know everything. Only He above may know all things, and it is churlish and indolent of us to attempt His greatness. Was not Adam’s aimless pursuit of knowledge man’s first sin?”
Annabelle screwed her face up in defiance. She was accustomed to Jeremy’s often annoying deference to scripture, but this time he seemed to be wholly avoiding her questions.
“Jeremy, you know very well that I am happy to engage in philosophical discussions with you at almost any time. We have had many productive, informative conversations. But right now I beg you to stick to the subject. Don’t you understand how serious this matter is?”
“What are you talking about, Reverend?”
She could no longer beat about the bush. She had to speak plainly.
“We’re talking about a person’s death, Jeremy! A murder!”
Jeremy stood up. A half-foot taller than Annabelle, he cast an intimidating shadow over her. She took a small step back but kept a steely expression on her face.
“A death, indeed,” Jeremy said, leaning over her. “And what is death but our day of judgment. The one we must all face. Death is sad, frightening, and to be avoided. But only by sinners. For the rest of us, for you and for me, Vicar, death is a glorious event.”
He took a step toward her. Annabelle took two steps back. This was not her humble, reserved church organist anymore. There was a fire behind Jeremy’s eyes. His lips were curled with menace, and his usually-hunched shoulders seemed broad and strong as he walked toward the Vicar, danger and purpose emanating from his being.
“What are you doing, Jeremy!?” she cried. “You’re scaring me!”
“I know, Vicar,” he said, as he continued slowly toward her. “And that fact disappoints me greatly. A true follower of the Lord is never afraid. I’ve had my doubts about you for a long time. I’ve fought against them, but I’m finally coming to accept them as the truth.”
“What do you mean?!” Annabelle cried, as she stepped back into the aisle, keeping a healthy ten feet of distance between them. “Jeremy
! Stop!”
Unexpectedly, Jeremy obliged, his wry smile turning into a broad grin as he stood up at the front of the church, even taller and scarier than before.
Annabelle took the opportunity to gaze at him, still incredulous that this was the same man who asked so politely for a biscuit with his tea, the same man whose only goal, she had thought, was to play the best accompaniments to the psalms that he could.
“Tell me the truth, Jeremy,” she said, too frightened for niceties and indirectness anymore, “did you kill Mildred?”
After a few moments of stony-faced staring, Jeremy shook his head slowly. “No, I did not, Vicar.” Annabelle let out the deep breath she had been holding in for seconds.
“God did.”
Jeremy looked upwards with a beatific smile as if he could see the heavens himself.
“What?!” Annabelle sputtered with astonishment.
Jeremy slowly closed his eyes. He seemed rapt and blissful. He lowered his head then opened his eyes once more and looked at her.
“Did you know that Mildred was proud? Proud enough to pass judgment upon me? I know that I was a sinner, Vicar. Gambling is the resort of the scoundrel, the lowest of the low. I shall never forget the shame of indulging in such a pastime. But I repented, Vicar. I prayed for strength from morning until night. I dedicated every ounce of myself, body and soul, to the Lord. I did everything I could to purge myself of that dreadful sin.”
“So you were part of the gambling ring.” Annabelle said, the words tumbling from her lips.
“I was. But I am a sinner no more.”
“And Mildred found out?”
“My carelessness,” Jeremy said, shifting his eyes to the door behind Annabelle, as if talking to himself. “She found my gambling book in my car.” He turned back to Annabelle, his face now twisted with anger and bitterness. “My sin was great, but it did not harm anyone, Vicar. Mildred threatened to tell my grandmother. Can someone as reverent as you even comprehend such evil? To turn my poor, sickly Nana’s last days black with worry and concern that her only grandchild, the source of everything good and pure in her life, had committed such sin? Isn’t that blackmail?”
This time Annabelle stepped forward, her own face snarled with anger and resentment.
“You killed Mildred because she found out about your gambling?!” she cried loudly.
Jeremy was unfazed. “As I told you before, Vicar,” he said calmly, “I did not kill her. I am merely an instrument of God’s will. I gave myself to Him long ago, and He has used me for many purposes since. Mildred’s fate was in her own hands. Do not condemn the Lord for His just and Holy plans.”
He looked to the side and slowly picked up a tall, brass candlestick holder, one of two that stood either side of the pulpit.
“Jeremy…” Annabelle warned, holding her hand up. “Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t. Please.”
With a quick flick Jeremy threw the candlestick holder into his other hand and smacked it into his palm like it was a baseball bat. He raised his eyes to the Reverend, his broad grin now a focused smirk once again and made toward her.
“The Lord tried to warn Mildred,” he said. “He cast an affliction on her business first, but she was too corrupt, too twisted by her own ego to see His truth.”
He was walking forward quickly now, quicker than Annabelle could retreat.
“Jeremy! Stop! Don’t do this!”
“I am conveyor of the Lord’s light!” Jeremy screamed in a voice Annabelle had never heard before. “I have given myself to Him entirely!”
Annabelle turned toward the door, only a few feet away. She scuttled a few steps in fear, before tripping over her cassock. She fell to her knees. She spun around quickly and saw Jeremy above her, tall and direct, wielding the candlestick holder above his head with both hands, ready to strike. She had contemplated death many times, wondering what her last moments would be like, but she had never accounted for a death that would come so swiftly, so quickly, without even a moment in which to say a prayer.
She cried out and shut her eyes tightly. There was a rush of air.
Thuds, grunts, and bizarre, animalistic snarling echoed around the church interior. Annabelle braced herself for an almighty bang and kept her eyes closed until she could stand it no longer. When the realization dawned upon her that she wasn’t about to be released from this Earth, she tentatively opened her eyes.
Jeremy still stood in his menacing pose. He still clutched the candlestick holder combatively. He still had a murderous look on his face. But he had been prevented from striking Annabelle. For at the other end of the heavy, ornate candlestick, holding on for dear life, his face contorted with effort, was one Detective Inspector Michael Nicholls.
Jeremy and the Inspector were glaring over the top of the weapon, both intent on defeating the other in this murderous tug-of-war. Completing the picture, and as a counter to this sharply male-on-male aggression, the puppy was at Jeremy’s heels. She was yapping, jumping, and nipping, eager to take a piece out his leg but not yet having quite the teeth to do so.
“Inspector!” Annabelle cried, her heart jumping.
As if spurred on by the sound of her voice, the Inspector seemed to double in strength. He gripped the candlestick holder evermore firmly and thrust it toward Jeremy, the end of it hitting him in the chest with a dull thump. Jeremy fell backward onto the floor of the church, and the Inspector tore the makeshift weapon out of his hands. The puppy quickly seized her opportunity to contribute to Annabelle’s rescue and eagerly leaped upon Jeremy’s chest, terrorizing him as he scrambled on his back like an overturned beetle.
But the heroic pair weren’t finished. Tossing the candlestick roughly to one side, Nicholls forcefully lunged toward Jeremy, turned him over, and roughly snapped on a pair of handcuffs. The puppy snarled and nipped at his long, elegant fingers.
Jeremy struggled against his bonds, growling, furious at his capture, but his efforts were futile. He was caught.
Nicholls left the puppy to taunt Jeremy as she repeatedly pounced on his prone body while yipping in his ear. Quickly, he made his way to Annabelle, offering her his large, broad hand. She took it gratefully, and her savior pulled her up, steadying her as she came to a stand.
“Oh!” Annabelle said, throwing her arms around the Inspector as soon as she was on her feet. “I thought I was finished! You saved me! Thank you, Inspector!”
Nicholls allowed himself a small smile as Annabelle hugged him tightly, though he contrived to make it vanish as soon as she pulled back to look at him.
“Are you alright, Reverend?” he asked, carefully studying her face.
Annabelle smiled at him with huge relief. “Thanks to my knight in shining armor,” she said, before looking over to the snapping puppy, “and his fellow crusader.”
The Inspector took a deep breath, “What on earth happened?”
Annabelle looked up at the Inspector. Shaken and short of breath, she found in his stern expression a source of comfort.
“I believe you just stopped the murderer from striking again.”
Nicholls looked at Jeremy, still squirming as the puppy jabbed her nose at him.
“Really? Him?” he gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he recovered from his exertion.
“Inspector, you look more shaken than I am!”
“Of course, I’m shaken!” Nicholls cried, raising a hand to his stubble and rubbing it vigorously. “A second later and… Well, who knows what would have happened!” He clasped Annabelle’s arms. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in such a dangerous situation ever again, Reverend!”
Annabelle smiled awkwardly.
“I must say, Inspector. That’s a rather strange reaction from a police detective!”
Nicholls released Annabelle and slowly smiled, chuckling some of his nerves away.
“It’s not, Reverend. It’s the reaction of someone who’s grown rather fond of you, despite your habit of pushing him to his very limits!”
Annabelle smiled broadly this time.
“Perhaps it is because of that habit that he’s grown fond of me.”
“Perhaps, Reverend,” Nicholls laughed. “Perhaps.”
Two hours later, Annabelle sat in the Inspector’s office, recounting her perspective of the events for the third time to Constable Raven. They both stopped and turned their heads as the Inspector walked into the office behind his excited puppy.
“Unless your church organist was about to bake the biggest cake Upton St. Mary has ever seen, it’s a pretty sure thing that he was the one behind the fuel tampering,” the Inspector said as he walked over to his chair behind the desk. “Thanks to my wet-nosed friend over there,” he said, nodding at the puppy who was now tucking into her scraps in the corner of the room, “we found forty pounds of sugar and two unused fuel cans in his grandmother’s house.”
“Your wet-nosed friend?” Annabelle said.
Nicholls settled into his chair, shrugging his shoulders.
“Raven, we found something in the home that may prove useful with regards to this…” he glanced quickly at Annabelle, “gambling ring. Some directions – they seem to be in a sort of code – scribbled on the back of a beer mat.”
The Inspector pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket. He leaned across his desk to hand it to the constable, but it was Annabelle who plucked it from the Inspector’s fingers. She gazed at the scrappy, stained card for a few moments before handing it over to Constable Raven.
“They are directions to a pill box, that’s an above-ground concrete bunker. They built many of them during the war as a line of defense in the event of an invasion. Soldiers could launch attacks from them, grenades and such. There’s a large one on the outskirts of the woods beside Shona Alexander’s house,” Annabelle said confidently. “In the middle of the woods, there’s a four-fingered tree that’s a popular meeting spot for teenagers. If you walk in the direction of the shadows – assuming the gambling took place in the evening – you’ll be heading east and will come across the pill box after a few minutes’ walk.”
Grave in the Garage (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 12
