Vince enquired why Willie thought it should be Jeremy.
‘Ah! Well, why was he saying that he’d had letters from her when he knew for a fact that he couldn’t have received letters from her because she was already dead?’
‘To save face?’ suggested Dottie sympathetically.
Sylvia nodded in agreement. ‘He had to say something, didn’t he? If he thought she’d run off with Harry? Though now we know she didn’t, but he would, wouldn’t he? To save face.’
‘It would be terrible for him when it was Peter who saw them … You know … at it in Home Park. So embarrassing.’ Vince commented.
‘I wonder if the two of them felt embarrassed or only angry when he caught them? I mean, the rector himself!’ They had no answer to Greta’s question, and they couldn’t ask either of them, seeing as one was in prison and the other dead.
‘Of course it could be Harry.’
‘Harry! It was him raiding that bank. Surely to goodness he didn’t murder one day and then rob a bank the next? I mean, honestly.’ Sylvia shook her head in disbelief. ‘No. No, he wouldn’t. He was so nice, wasn’t he, Marie?’
Marie, who’d had her faith in human nature sorely tried by what had happened with Harry, replied, ‘Given what’s happened this last two or three weeks, I could believe anything. You know, do you, that Harry robbed Jimbo while he was on his holidays?’
A chorus of astounded ‘No!’ went round the table.
‘And I wouldn’t mind, but he paid his rent to me with it,’ said Marie, both embarrassed and indignant at the very thought.
‘You don’t know that. Maybe he paid you with his salary from Jimbo.’
‘Out of the same pocket, though. Mmm? I’ve never been so let down by anyone before.’
Zack, still burning with resentment at the way he’d been taken in by Harry, said indignantly, ‘A very practised thief he was. Raiding a bank, armed, how much more professional can you get, I ask you? He’s such a low-life he’d steal from his own grandmother, he would.’
‘Mentioning grandmothers, how’s Mrs Charter-Plackett?’
‘She’s had a mild heart attack apparently, brought on by the shock,’ said Maggie Dobbs. ‘She’s home, under strict instructions to rest, and she has another appointment at the hospital for tests at the end of the week. But she was out shaking her doormat this morning, first thing, so it doesn’t look as though she’s resting. I told her, “I’m doing your shopping and there’s no need for vacuuming and cleaning because I shall do it.”
‘She said to me, “The day I need someone to clean for me is the day I die. Thank you all the same.” Anyway, I told Jimbo when I went in the store for my groceries and he said he was going to make her stay with them for a few days and then he could keep an eye on her.’
There was a burst of laughter at this and Zack said, ‘I doubt Jimbo could persuade her to do anything unless she wants to. I bet she’s descended from Boudica or someone, tough she is. In 1938 they should have sent her to sort out Hitler, not that fool, Chamberlain. Hitler would have gone back to his bunker and not come out again and the war would never even have started.’
This brought on another burst of laughter.
Zack said, ‘It was an amateur who did it.’
‘Did what?’
‘Murdered her and then dumped her car on that old industrial estate where them cars are all piled up that nobody wants.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Vince.
‘Because, OK, whoever it was did it, took the registration plates off. But they forgot about the chassis number. The DVLA has them on the paperwork and her car was brand new. It would have been a matter of minutes to look it up.’
‘Well, what little we know about Harry tells me he’d be wise enough to know that. A man who can raid a bank with a gun would be clever about that.’
‘Exactly, Vince, and who does that point to? Jeremy. No doubt about it.’
Entirely convinced they’d definitely found the murderer, conversation turned to more fun subjects, but they never quite forgot the dreadful incident which had brought everyone in the village up short with its drama and its ghastliness. Seeing her shoe and then her bare foot! It was too ghoulish for words, it was.
Grandmama Charter-Plackett, in a moment of weakness, had agreed to stay at Jimbo and Harriet’s until she’d been to the hospital for an ECG and got her results. She was enjoying the attention she received and the company of Fran as she was on holiday from school. Now Sykes was no longer helping the police, he was living a life of luxury, petted and spoiled like never before. Fran took him out every morning before doing her holiday stint of inputting data into the computer now that Harry was no longer employed. Harriet, despite her mother-in-law’s loud protests, got quickly into the habit of feeding Sykes snacks when she was cooking and Jimbo, much to his own surprise, found himself taking him out each evening before bed for a walk. Though why, he couldn’t say, when the little blighter took himself out whenever he could escape through the door to disappear for hours.
In fact, everyone in the village took note of where Sykes was going as they’d all realised there was more to Sykes than they had ever imagined.
Grandmama was determined that she wasn’t taking Sykes back home with her. He was good company seeing as she lived alone, but the responsibility for him, especially given the way in which he wandered about on his own, was really too much for her. Truth be told, though she would never let on to anyone, finding Venetia had been altogether too much of a shock. It had brought on a rush of old age she’d never anticipated she would reach. To find a new home for Sykes obsessed her, and it was only when Peter happened to call to see Jimbo about bell-ringing that she realised she might well have solved her problem.
Sykes, accustomed to seeing Peter in church, was delighted to see him, wagging his tail in greeting with lavish enthusiasm. And, as luck would have it, Peter spoke about the matter first. ‘Poor old Sykes, he doesn’t have much luck with owners, does he? He seemed so happy to be with Harry in the office and living in Jimmy’s cottage, it’s such a pity he lost out there.’
‘That Harry was not a suitable companion for Sykes. That poor dog had more than enough to upset him with Venetia and Harry’s relationship. He found her and dug her up because he knew her very well indeed. Besides which, Sykes is honest and Harry most certainly was not. Have you been to see him?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You should. That young man needs your kind of help. I don’t approve of what he did, but he does need help. Could you go?’
‘He told me he had no time for the church, nor me for that matter.’
‘In that case, you should definitely go.’ She offered to make him a cup of tea but he refused.
‘Peter, now Caroline’s cats have all gone to pussy heaven, is there a chance you would have room for another?’
‘Another cat, you mean?’
‘Well, not exactly.’ She glanced significantly at Sykes, now curled up on Peter’s feet. ‘Ah! Mmm.’
‘It would be very appropriate. After all, he does visit the church a lot.’
‘I would have to consult the others. In particular, Caroline.’ He bent down to pat Sykes’s head, who promptly snuggled down and closed his eyes.
‘There you are. You see, he does take to you very nicely indeed.’
The front door banged shut.
‘That sounds like Jimbo back, I’ll go and find him.’
‘Will you do what I said about Harry?’
Peter smiled at her. ‘Very likely I will. Thanks for prompting me.’
Sykes got up and followed him out and Grandmama smiled to herself, closed her eyes, and took a power nap, well satisfied with the idea she’d planted in Peter’s mind.
Peter took the opportunity the following day to visit Harry and, to be frank, he wasn’t looking forward to it. The man needed a visit, especially now that Venetia had been found, and he decided to concentrate on that aspect rather than the armed robbery.
&n
bsp; His telephone call to the remand centre to ask if it would be possible to visit him in his capacity as rector of the village where Harry had lived, was met with enthusiasm.
The prison chaplain had been to see Harry, but he’d told him not to come again. Maybe someone he knew might have a better chance.
Harry was seated at a table, waiting for him. The lean man he had known was now more akin to a skeleton.
Peter offered his hand to shake and, somewhat reluctantly, Harry eventually shook it. ‘I decided I’d better come to see you, Harry, with news of the village. Sykes is living at Jimbo Charter-Plackett’s at the moment, along with Grandmama, as she’s not well. I’ve been thinking of taking him on. What do you think?’
Harry summoned a slight smile to his lips at the thought of Sykes. ‘I’m glad. I know he’s only a dog, but he’s very perceptive. He seems to know what you’re about.’
‘True. I’ve spoken to Caroline about the idea and she’s very willing, so if you approve, I think we’ll take him in. Grandmama seems set against the idea of keeping him herself.’
‘Grandmama! Ah, yes. I’m almost glad it was her who found Venetia. Better her than some hooligans, at least she’d have respect.’ Harry’s eyes dropped so he was no longer looking at Peter. ‘I knew her for what she was, but I loved her just the same. I couldn’t help myself. The difference with me was that I didn’t use her like all the others did. I loved her, and she knew it. It wasn’t me that did it, you know. I just thought, though I couldn’t understand why, that she’d gone to her mother’s like Jeremy said.’
‘She was rich, she had two men who loved her to distraction.’
‘She despised him.’
‘She stuck by him when he had his heart attack and I admired her for that, Harry. That was before you knew her.’
‘She told me. And about all the others. There was no shame there, in her mind. All that time I was pining for her, wondering why she hadn’t contacted me, and she was buried. She was dark and cold, filthy and neglected in that blasted wood, with no one to care. She was always amazingly fresh and smelled like a tropical flower, as though she bathed three times a day.’ A sob rose up in Harry’s chest like a scream, and the tears poured down his cheeks. He hid his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving.
Peter was shocked by the intensity of the sound Harry made. He might be a thief of the first order, but right now he needed someone. He left Harry to weep for a short while, then rang for a glass of water for him.
He took the warder aside and spoke quietly to him. ‘Could he have a glass of water? I’m rather afraid for him. Has he been like this before?’
‘No, padre, he hasn’t. He hasn’t really spoken, not until you came. Do him good, I expect. I’ll get the water, I won’t be a moment.’
The warder returned with the water, shook Harry’s shoulder, and got him to take it from him. Harry took a few gulps, then wiped his eyes. He sat staring at his hands and then looked up at Peter. ‘Have they arrested the murderer?’
‘Who?’
‘Jeremy Mayer!’
‘Who says he killed her?’
‘I do, and I’m right. There was no other man than me, and I didn’t do it, so it must have been him. Believe me, I’m right.’ He blew his nose, then sat back waiting a reply.
‘He’s been interviewed, obviously, but not arrested.’
Harry banged his fist on the table. ‘Tell them they must do.’
‘Very well, I will.’
‘You see, she told me he was beside himself when he found out it was you who saw us in Home Park that night. He blethered on at her about the shame of it, and I must admit she was upset. She seemed to hold you in high esteem, you see. Anyone but you, she said.’
‘Right. I see. Now, Harry, is there anything I can do for you?’
No reply.
‘Like contacting someone who should know, bringing in anything at all for you while you’re in here?’
Harry, his equilibrium restored to some extent, looked him full in the face. ‘I don’t want anything. I have books. I read crime, you see.’ He laughed. ‘To pick up tips. You haven’t mentioned why I’m in here. No sermons on honesty and truthfulness, when I’ve lied since the very first moment I came to Turnham Malpas. Not to Venetia though, not to her. Not your scene, then, sermonising self-righteously?’
‘It can be when appropriate. I think you are soon going to be full of regret for what has happened, full of remorse. When that time comes, I may be able to help. But you’re not ready yet. I can still feel your belligerence towards me. I’d be of no use to you right now.’ Peter stood up, getting ready to go. ‘I’ll come next week.’
He held out his hand and Harry took it with both of his. ‘Thank you for coming. Thank you for not sermonising, because that’s what I fully expected.’
‘See you next week then. If you want me to visit, any time, you only have to send a message and I’ll be here absolutely as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you for that.’
Peter sat in his car for a full ten minutes before he drove away. Thinking. He was wondering how on earth Harry had come to such a pass. Armed robbery, loving a woman who desperately searched for love from anyone who would offer it and then, when she found the real thing with Harry, lost it in terrible circumstances. How much fear had she felt while dying? Or had she laughed right to the end, never suspecting the depth of Jeremy’s feelings? Was it Jeremy? Or was it in fact Harry who’d murdered her? On his own admittance, lies and deceit were the norm for him.
He’d have to pull himself together and change his mood, scrape together the remnants of his peace of mind, because he had Tamsin and Paddy coming to see him for the final talk before their wedding. He glanced at his watch. Only an hour and they’d be at the rectory. He must put his time with Harry to one side. Two people shining with love didn’t want a rector in the depths of despair. It would show. He drove home and showered and changed, feeling that might help him shake off his maudlin mood. The magic worked and, when they rang the doorbell, he greeted them smiling and was rewarded by their beaming response. ‘We’ve news!’
‘You have, Paddy? What?’
‘My mother’s come already for the wedding. She thought she’d spend some time with us to get to know Tamsin. Well, get to know me again too.’
‘That’s wonderful news. I’ll see her I expect, out and about. Where is she staying?’
‘At Greta’s. In the spare room.’
‘It must be strange seeing her after all these years.’
‘It is. She approves of Tamsin. I’m glad about that, though I’d have married her even if Ma didn’t approve.’ Paddy laughed. He was almost unrecognisable, full of self-confidence and intensely happy.
Tamsin looked at him with such loving approval that Peter wondered why on earth he’d suggested another meeting before the wedding, they were so obviously made for each other. He had no doubts about that.
They left him half an hour later, full to the brim with joy. Tamsin was to fit in some much-needed practice for an organ recital before the wedding and Paddy was going to spend the rest of the evening with his mother.
He’d had such a surprise when he’d met her that lunchtime for the first time since he was sixteen. Gone was the crushed, hopeless mother of his childhood. Instead, there stood before him a confident, energetic, jolly woman who was well dressed, good-looking, and full of charm. How had this incredible transformation come about?
They were sitting together in Greta’s front room, having been left tactfully alone by Vince and Greta. He poured her a whisky which she declared she preferred and sitting opposite her, he raised his glass to her. Then he asked, ‘How did it come about that you have changed so much?’
Bridget downed her whisky in one go, put the glass on the little table Paddy had pulled out for her, and said, ‘In one word … money.’
‘But where from?’
‘It must have been about five years after you left that your Dad became impotent, so that put
a stop to a child every other year. Thank God! He could still hit me though. If anything, it got worse. But his health went rapidly downhill. He developed every ailment under the sun and then suddenly, without warning, he was dead. I think he died because he felt he was no longer a man. He just withered away really, what with the drink and that, so he did. A week after he died, I got a job. I was housekeeper to a lovely man. It was a big house, well furnished and he was kind as kind. The older children had all left home by that point. They were disgusted with your dad and his pathetic self-pitying carry-on, so there was only me and the three younger boys to look after. It sounds daft, Paddy, but I loved cleaning that man’s house. He paid generously and treated me like a lady. He gave me a car of my own and taught me how to drive it so that I could collect the shopping or whatever and take him to the doctor’s. I cared for him like he was the most precious person, because he was. He showed me such kindness.’
‘What was he called?’
‘Joseph Byrne. When he died and the will was read out, it emerged that he was the black sheep of a titled family. He left some of his money to charity and the the rest to me. His family had wanted nothing to do with him. I think probably because they didn’t realise just how well off he was, so there were no disputes, just a quiet handing over of all the money. The house was sold and the money from that was mine too. So there I was, to be sure, with more money than I’d ever dreamed possible, and that ratbag of a father of yours dead and buried so he couldn’t spend a penny of it. I’ve laughed many a time about that. If he’d been alive he’d have spent it and left nothing for me in my old age. It’s like a fairy tale.’
For the first time in twenty-four years Paddy reached out to take hold of his mother’s hand. ‘You deserve every penny of that money, Ma. Every single penny and you hang on to it. Don’t let anyone take a penny off you. He wanted you to have it or he wouldn’t have left it to you. Enjoy.’
She rooted in her bag and pulled out a well-fingered photograph. ‘That’s him. It was taken about ten years ago, I suppose.’
A Village Deception (Turnham Malpas 15) Page 21
