A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  She laughed at herself for conversing with a dog, but somehow one always had the feeling he knew exactly what one said. Harry had said that very same thing. Pity him turning out to be a first-class thief, though she supposed being charming was part of his stock-in-trade.

  When Sykes came home three times up to his elbows in soil, his claws and pads thick with the stuff, she decided to keep him in and take him out herself the next day for a walk on the extending lead she’d bought the first time he’d been hers.

  She intended crossing Home Park, a short trip round the lake, and then home but Sykes had other ideas. He insisted on going on into Sykes Wood. ‘Oh! Well, all right then. But that’s it, definitely it, otherwise I shall be in bed for a week after this and look at the time, it’s already ten minutes past ten, and so far I’ve done nothing this morning. You’re spoiled to death, Sykes, you little charmer.’

  She climbed with difficulty over the stile and began admiring the beautiful green trees, now in their full summer prime. The lead kept getting twisted round the tree trunks as Sykes dashed about sniffing for rabbits but she tolerated that, after all he’d only come in because she allowed him to, so it was her fault. Suddenly he disappeared the full length of the extending lead and was pulling so strongly on it that she could do nothing but follow where he led.

  He rounded a huge beech tree in the very densest part of the wood and began digging. ‘So this is where you’ve been getting so muddy, you’ve been digging and digging here, haven’t you?’ She saw he’d dug and dug, first in one place and then another. And here he was, at it again. She became wary, his digging appeared so purposeful, as though he knew something she didn’t. There was more to this dog than she’d ever imagined … ‘Oh my God!’ Surely it couldn’t be …‘Come away, Sykes!’ She reeled in the extending leash as fast as she could; the trouble was, it brought her closer to what she knew by instinct she wouldn’t want to recognise. ‘My God. It is!’

  A gold, high-heeled shoe she’d last seen being worn by … ‘Oh no! Come away, Sykes. Leave!’ But the serious state of agitation she found herself in made her relax her hold on the leash and Sykes plunged immediately towards the shoe and picked it up. Right there in front of her, he worried the shoe as though it were a rat, then went back to digging. This time he exposed not a shoe, but the bare foot of its owner. It was only partly revealed, sticking up out of the soil at a peculiar angle.

  Grandmama screamed as she had never screamed before. On and on, screaming and screaming, with Sykes free to dig as he wished, except she didn’t want him to dig any more. Finally, she pulled herself together, reeled in the leash until he was beside her and began to run. And running was not her forte. She didn’t know where she was going. She kept getting hit in the face by branches that stuck out over the path, stumbling on stones, turning her ankles on the roughest bits and, once or twice, narrowly avoided falling over Sykes. Eventually, she had to pull up to get her breath. Was that a chink of light there through the trees? Had she reached the stile in Shepherd’s Hill? Please God! That’s it, it is. She was right. She breathed long and deep, then headed for the stile, struggled over it, threaded Sykes through and went straight away to Laburnum Cottage.

  She fell on the knocker and banged it continuously until Marie and Zack came running to answer it. The sight of Grandmama, dishevelled, perspiring, her immaculate hairstyle blown to pieces, clothes in disarray, and gasping for breath came as something of a shock to them both.

  ‘Why Mrs Charter-Plackett, whatever’s the matter?’ The relief of reaching civilisation brought the realisation to Grandmama of just what a horrific thing had happened to her.‘S-S-Sykes has found a body in the w-wood. It’s terrible.’

  ‘A body?’ Zack didn’t believe her. People were always talking about Sykes Wood, saying it was haunted and such but no one had ever said they’d found a body before.

  ‘Now, come now. You’ve frightened yourself. Who’d put a body in the wood? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Get the p-police. It’s … Venetia, I-I’m sure.’ Whereupon Grandmama fell in a dead faint on their doorstep.

  Sergeant MacArthur appeared first on the scene, before the detectives came from Culworth in response to the 999 call. He rang for an ambulance for Grandmama, and called the police in Culworth again while Marie tried to bring Grandmama round. Zack held on to poor Sykes who couldn’t be let in the house until Zack had washed him down. Then they thought better of it, in case the soil on his legs held clues.

  Marie rang Jimbo and explained as gently as she could about Grandmama and the body.

  ‘A body in Sykes Wood? Whose body?’

  ‘She said she thought … Well … She’s sure it’s Venetia, you see.’

  ‘Venetia? Dead? In the wood? But she’s gone to her mother’s.’

  ‘Your mother says she’s buried in the wood. Sykes dug up first her shoe, those gold strappy things only Venetia could wear, and then, well believe it or not, her foot. She’s seen her shoe and then her foot. Your mother’s going to hospital because she fainted on our doorstep. Do you want to go with her in the ambulance? If so, come right now.’

  ‘She fainted on your doorstep? And she’s going to hospital, you say? Right. Thank you. I can’t believe it. Be there in less than five minutes.’

  Shepherd’s Hill had seen nothing like it. There were two police vans, three police cars, people putting on all-over white suits and white boots with masks hanging round their necks, and men with spades. Carrying their equipment, they all, in turn, climbed over the stile and disappeared into Sykes Wood.

  One officer, rather more astute than the others, suggested taking Sykes with them so he might pinpoint exactly where the body was, otherwise they might never find it in such a dense wood. He took Sykes’s leash from Zack, intending to go immediately into the wood with him, but Sykes had very different ideas about that.

  Sykes, being a rather private kind of dog, was reluctant to assist the police in their enquiries, and fancied staying at Laburnum Cottage instead. But the police would have none of it and marched him off as though he too might soon be under arrest.

  Greta, who’d been in Shepherd’s Hill visiting a neighbour with a message from the WI, had been passing Marie’s and had overheard what Grandmama had said just before she collapsed on the doorstep. She sped home on winged feet to tell Vince and he got the car out, drove into the village, parked in the Royal Oak car park, and went in to spread the news. This was the answer then. Venetia wasn’t at her mother’s, after all. She was dead.

  Georgie blanched when he told her. ‘Never! You must have got it wrong. She’s gone to her mother’s, everyone knows that.’

  ‘Well, she hasn’t. She’s been murdered. Murdered!’

  ‘Who found her?’

  ‘Mrs Charter-Plackett.’

  ‘Oh no! Not Harriet?’

  ‘No, the old lady.’

  ‘Of all things! And at her age. In Sykes Wood, you say? How did she come to find the body?’

  ‘Don’t know. She had Sykes with her on a lead, Greta says, and he was covered in mud. The police have taken Sykes into the wood with them to help find the body. I expect she was walking him in the wood, seeing as she’s taken him back from Harry.’

  At the mention of Harry’s name, he immediately became Georgie’s prime suspect. She would hardly dare say it, but when she looked at Vince she could see, from the look in his eyes, he thought the same. ‘He couldn’t have done it, could he? I mean, he was dotty about her. He wouldn’t. Would he?’

  ‘Well, we could speculate till the cows come home, couldn’t we?’

  ‘Yes, yes, we could. And they say living in the country we don’t see life. They haven’t tried Turnham Malpas if they think that. Have a brandy, Vince, you must be shocked.’

  ‘I don’t mind if I do.’

  Out of politeness, he patted his pockets as though searching for his money, but Georgie said, ‘Don’t worry about paying right now.’

  She handed him the brandy for which he
was most grateful and then added, ‘I’ll put it on the slate.’

  ‘Oh! Right. Thanks.’

  That was the thanks you got for bringing such astounding news.

  It being too soon for the early lunchtime punters, only he and Georgie were in the bar so Vince decided that the next person who should know was the rector.

  He rattled on the knocker and waited for someone to come to the door. It was Dottie, so she asked him to step inside as the rector wasn’t in and did he want to leave a message? Vince knew from past experience that Dottie would be more than mildly interested in his news and so he told her the whole story.

  ‘Dead? Oh my word! I’ve never approved of her goings-on, but then who am I to talk, with my record? But I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Buried, you say? In Sykes Wood. How dreadful. Poor Grandmama, finding her. What a shock for her. How did she know it was her? No, don’t answer that.’ She backed away from Vince.

  ‘Sykes dug up her shoe and then scraped away, and Grandmama saw her foot.’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘Sykes is helping with the search. I reckon he knows more than he’s letting on.’

  ‘Well, he did live with Harry, didn’t he?’

  ‘I never said it was him that did her in!’

  ‘No. But you’re thinking it, the same as everyone else will. I’ll tell the rector when he comes back. He will be upset. He’s gone to see the bishop again about selling the silver.’

  ‘Oh has he? He’s not let the matter drop then, even though we don’t want it sold.’

  ‘Well, Vince. All I can say is that you should find the money for the repairs if you don’t want it sold. He’s only doing his best for us all.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion. Don’t forget to give him my message.’

  Peter wasn’t back in Turnham Malpas until half past seven that evening. On being given Vince’s message by Caroline, who’d been told by Dottie, he went immediately up to the big house to see Jeremy, having first confirmed with Sergeant Mac that he had been taken to identify Venetia, and had agreed that it was she.

  He found Jeremy at home, a mere shattered remnant of the man he’d known almost since his first year in the village. ‘Jeremy. I’ve just heard about Venetia. I’m so sorry. May I come in?’

  Jeremy nodded. He moved like a man twice his age. He slumped down in the first chair he came to and sat still. Peter stood in front of him and it was left to him to speak first. ‘It must have come as a dreadful shock. Is there someone I could phone for you? A brother or a sister or a friend? Perhaps they could come to stay, keep you company, you know.’

  Jeremy shook his head.

  ‘Are you sure? I think you do need someone.’

  Jeremy didn’t even shake his head this time.

  ‘Have you had something to eat today?’

  No response.

  ‘In that case, neither have I. I’ll make some scrambled eggs on toast for the two of us.’

  Peter walked into the kitchen and cobbled together the eggs, found the toaster, made a pot of tea, and carried it all into the sitting room.

  Jeremy was still sitting like a block of stone in the chair, so Peter pulled up a side table and served the food on there. Jeremy made no effort to begin eating and gentle persuasion on Peter’s part had no effect, so he poured the tea and placed the cup and saucer carefully into Jeremy’s hands. Suddenly, after two sips of tea, Jeremy spoke. ‘I loved her, did you know that?’

  Peter nodded.

  ‘I loved her so much. I have done since the day I first met her. She just had that something special, you know?’

  Diplomatically, Peter agreed. ‘She must have been an exciting person to live with.’

  A gentle smile flitted across Jeremy’s face. ‘She was! In her own way, she loved me too. She stuck with me like glue when I had the heart attack. I owed my life to her persistence with my diet and such.’ He drained the cup right to the bottom and handed it back to Peter, indicating he needed a top-up.

  ‘She was a beautiful woman, you know.’

  Peter nodded.

  ‘I don’t know how I shall live without her.’

  ‘Have the police told you anything?’

  Jeremy looked up at him and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘About … how it happened.’

  ‘Oh! She was smoth … smothered, they think. They haven’t done the post-mortem yet though.’

  ‘Now, I’ve finished my scrambled egg, how about you eating yours? You have to keep your strength up, you know.’

  In five giant mouthfuls the egg and toast were finished.

  ‘Can I get someone to come to stay with you, just for tonight? Is there anyone?’

  ‘There’s no one in this damned place would willingly come to stay with me. No one at all. None of them like me. I haven’t a single friend in this place and not likely to have, not now. I’m a figure of fun, perhaps you haven’t recognised that. But I am. I’ve always known it. After her funeral I shall move away. It’s the only thing I can do after what’s happened. I’ll have to leave my job. It’s the only one I’ve enjoyed though. Mr Fitch and I get on really well now, you know. We didn’t used to, but we do now.’ Jeremy’s mind went somewhere else and then he came back saying, ‘The humiliation of it all. Time after time. But this time was once too often. I’m told it was you who saw them in Home Park. I’m sorry you saw what you saw. She’d have come back to me, you know, now that devil’s been recognised for what he is.’

  Suddenly the old Jeremy was back. He looked Peter straight in the eye as though seeing the rector for the first time since he’d arrived. ‘You’d better go before I say too much. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘You have only to ask and I shall come. Whenever. OK?’

  ‘Thank you for that.’ Then a scornful sneer crossed Jeremy’s face as he added, ‘Ever the good Christian is our Peter, such a good chap. Goodnight.’

  Peter had never seen such a look on Jeremy’s face before and he found it deeply disturbing. If Caroline had just been found dead in a wood he knew he wouldn’t look normal either, but there was something very nasty about Jeremy’s expression and it did alarm him. He began to wonder if what he’d said to Sergeant Mac the other day about Jeremy being the wronged husband might have been nearer the truth than he’d first imagined.

  *

  Peter put his key in the rectory door with thankfulness. ‘Caroline?’

  She emerged from the kitchen, a gentle, considerate smile lighting her face. ‘Darling! At last. How is he?’

  ‘Very low, my darling. Hardly knows what he’s saying.’

  ‘It is Venetia then, they’ve found?’

  ‘It is, he’s identified her.’

  ‘How ghastly for him. Do they know how?’

  ‘Too early. The post-mortem is tomorrow. Jeremy says she was smothered.’

  ‘Do you realise what you’ve just said?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said Jeremy said she’d been smothered, so how does he know that? It’s rather odd of him really. ’

  ‘He did say “they think”.’

  ‘However, you’ve had a long day and you must be exhausted. Have you eaten?’

  ‘Scrambled egg with Jeremy to encourage him to eat. I don’t really fancy anything, to be honest.’

  ‘How about a large slice of your favourite carrot cake to round it off, you poor darling? You must have had a hell of a day.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I’ll come in the kitchen. Children OK?’

  ‘Both upstairs getting ready for bed. Coffee or tea?’

  ‘Coffee with rum in it. I could do with a boost.’

  Caroline put her arms round him and hugged him tightly. Neither of them said anything for a few moments and then Peter said, ‘How do we come to have a murder in the village? Tell me that.’

  ‘Why not? Passions can run high wherever you live.’

  ‘But we’ve no drug problems, no drink problems, no abuse, no neglected children. Nothing to cause it as far as we know.�
�

  ‘Except a sex-mad woman and, let’s face it, that’s what she was. It was only your clerical collar that put you off limits.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Caro, you always imagine every woman in the district is after me.’

  ‘They are. So would I be, except that I got you first.’

  ‘Thank God for that. Where’s that carrot cake you promised me?’ Peter smiled down at her, and she grinned back.

  ‘I do wonder if it is Jeremy. Why should Harry murder her, when he loved her so much?’

  ‘You forget, Jeremy loved her too. He said so tonight. Poor chap, he said he’d loved her since the first day he met her. She was a beautiful woman, he said.’

  ‘Ah! He said that, did he? So it could be either of them who killed her? And all because they loved her too much. How dreadfully sad.’

  Chapter 22

  The entire village heaved with the gossip about Harry and Jeremy. The night following the revelation of exactly who it was Grandmama had found in Sykes Wood, the Royal Oak bar as well as the dining room, was filled to bursting with people coming in to find out the latest developments. From Penny Fawcett and Little Derehams they crammed in, and Dicky, Georgie and Alan the barman kept the till pinging regularly. Mentally, Dicky rubbed his hands with glee. They could do with a few more murders if this was what it did to the takings. No, he didn’t really mean that, of course not, he thought as he rang up eight pounds twenty-nine and paused to wonder if he needed to bring in another barrel of his renowned home-brew.

  Even old Jimmy’s chair was occupied, so packed was the bar. In it sat Willie Biggs who’d arrived later than he’d intended because of a leaking tap that Sylvia said she would tolerate no longer.

  ‘Sorted that tap, have you?’ she asked as he sank gratefully into Jimmy’s chair.

  ‘Of course. Well?’ Willie looked round the group seated at their usual table. ‘Anything else happened? Like Jeremy’s been arrested?’