Screaming Yellow

by Rachel Green

  “I come from a big family, see,” Catherine said. “Catholic. Mum never believed in birth control and I had four sisters and three brothers. Four, if you count Mikey, but he died at birth. We never had a spare penny. Dad was a fork-lift driver–good money if you haven’t many mouths to feed. Mum did what she could but there were too many of us for her to work full-time, so she did part-time at the school crossing. Anyway, I went to college when I was sixteen. Just the local tech, nothing fancy, and that’s where I learned about computers.”

  Meinwen nodded. “I can relate to that. Go on.”

  “I got a part time job in the chippy and saved up enough to buy a laptop. Just a basic one along with a broadband package. It got me out of myself, you see. Showed me other worlds I was missing. That’s when I found the chat rooms.”

  “I can guess what you’re missing out,” Simon said. “There’s really no need. I may be a priest but I have heard of sex.” He grinned. “After all, my sister is quite the author of erotica.”

  “Are you?” Catherine’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know. What have you written?”

  Jennifer shrugged, suddenly modest. “Simon’s exaggerating. I’ve published one or two. Have you read She Died for Passion or The Clergyman’s Confession?”

  Catherine shook her head. “Sorry. I’ll look out for them, though. I was more into Mills and Boon and Black Lace, I’m afraid.” She hitched up her jeans to scratch her ankle, displaying a tattooed anklet chain in a Celtic weave.

  Jennifer shrugged. “Perhaps I ought to spice up my books with bondage.”

  “What happened in the chat rooms?” Meinwen tried to steer the conversation back to Catherine’s story.

  “I met Robert a few weeks later,” Catherine said. “I’d met all sorts by then. Men pretending to be girls and girls pretending to be men. I had to trawl through all the troglodytes in the country first. It was like a test. Those who didn’t just want a quick shag wanted somebody to whip them, and a few of them sounded more like serial killers in the making. Robert was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy chip shop. I could see myself with him, you see. The more blogs and websites I found that told me about women who loved older men, the more I knew that I was one of them. We started talking about a relationship.”

  “Was he easy to talk to?”

  “Not at first. He was different, though. He made me feel safe from the start, didn’t try to make me do anything I didn’t want to do, and pointed me to a few places where I could find out about him, prove to myself that he was a real person.”

  “Go on.” Meinwen picked up her forgotten tea. It was already only lukewarm. She began to drink it anyway. Robert had never taken her that seriously.

  “I wanted to meet him.” Catherine smiled. “He was so careful. He made me set up a safe call first before he’d even tell me where he lived.”

  “A safe call?” Simon leaned forward in his chair.

  “It’s where you arrange for a friend to phone you to make sure you’re all right,” Meinwen explained. “The friend knows who you’re meeting and where. If you’re in trouble you say a pre-arranged codeword, such as ‘I’ve got my lucky socks on’ and the friend phones the police without the person you’re meeting knowing that something is wrong.”

  Simon nodded. “That sounds very sensible. So did you wear your lucky socks when you met Robert?”

  “I didn’t have to,” said Catherine. “He was a perfect gentleman. We met in the Corner Rooms Tea House on Lovat Street.”

  “It went well then?”

  “It certainly did. I handed in my notice at the chippy and was back with my bag within a fortnight. He took me in on a month’s trial and gave me a room.”

  “What happened then?” Meinwen thought about how close she had come to being in exactly the same situation.

  “I had the duties of a maid to begin with, and cooking when Susan was off-duty. He gave me a uniform and everything. It was like being in an old film. We always had to wear stockings, too.” She smiled for the first time since she’d been there. “That’s when I met Richard. He was everything his stepfather was and more. He was my age you see, or near enough. I ended up looking after him more than I looked after Robert.”

  “How did Richard feel about this?” Jennifer was hunched forward, leaning on every word. Meinwen could imagine her writing it up as a novel.

  “He fell in love with me. Asked him to marry him.”

  “When?” Simon sat up again. “He never told me.”

  “Valentine’s Day. Robert wouldn’t have approved of his precious heir marrying a poor girl from south of the river, though. That’s why we had to marry in secret. He had a lot of debts and if Robert had found out he’d married me he would have cut him out of the will.”

  “Debts?” Meinwen’s tone was nonchalant. “What were they for?”

  Catherine shrugged. “College, I think. Student loans and a whopping overdraft. We kept the marriage secret by using the White Art instead of the house. Mike gave Richard a good rate for the room and kept our secret for us.”

  “Then Mr. Markhew insisted that Richard marry Mary.”

  Catherine’s face clouded. “Yes. I didn’t know about it at first. Richard told me the old man was suspicious about us. That’s why he seemed to cool off toward me. I sort of thought Mary found out, but didn’t think she’d give a toss either way. Richard was giving her money to keep her quiet, he said. She didn’t love him, nor he her. They were more like brother and sister than anything.” Catherine relinquished her mug. Jennifer took it off her and gave it to Simon, who put it on the coffee table.

  “Richard was hoping for the inheritance before he told anyone that you and he were married then?”

  “That’s right. We saw each other a bit less for appearances’ sake, but the sex was even better when we did manage it. The trouble came when Robert announced that Richard and Mary were engaged. I think Mrs. Markhew was pushing for it. Suddenly I realized that it was actually going to happen, and what would become of me? I was already his wife but I was being pushed out. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like I could afford a solicitor.”

  “You confronted Richard?”

  “What else could I do? I was devastated. He promised me that it was all a sham, that Mary didn’t really want to marry him. It was all for the inheritance, you see. Richard promised to split it with her. He told me to be patient.”

  “This was in the park, wasn’t it?” asked Jennifer. “I was in the woods and heard you, but I didn’t know who Richard was talking to.”

  “By the wall, yes. I didn’t think we’d be overheard there.” Catherine frowned. “Anyway, I didn’t want to be patient. I wanted my husband, all official-like. So I marched up to Mr. Markhew and had it out with him, interrupted his writing, as well.”

  “He didn’t take it well, did he?”

  “I should say not. He offered to buy me off there and then. Told me I’d come to him on false pretences and gave me my notice. We had a huge row about it and I stormed off. I didn’t want to see either of them no more.”

  “What did you do then?” Meinwen shifted position on the sofa, glancing at the fascinated expressions of Simon and Jennifer.

  Catherine gave a half smile. “I went to the cinema and saw the new Disney film. By the time I came out I’d calmed down a bit. I looked at my phone and found six missed calls from having it off in the cinema. I rang Richard to meet me in the park again.”

  “And you fought.”

  Catherine nodded, her fingers straying once more to her necklace. “He was furious with me because Robert had shouted at him, threatened to cut him out of the will altogether if he didn’t get the marriage annulled.”

  “That’s when you threw your wedding ring at him?”

  Catherine laughed. “Yes, I was a bit dramatic. I stamped on it too! Richard stormed off back to the house and I went to the chippy.” She sighed. “I sneaked back to the house at about half-past six, expecting Richard to find me and apologize. I hid in my room aft
er that to just keep out of everybody’s way. I didn’t wake up again until the police came at nearly midnight and Robert was dead.”

  She looked at Meinwen. “I didn’t have anything to do with his death, I swear.”

  “Nobody thinks you did.” Jennifer rose from the sofa to cuddle the girl. “No one would suspect you of killing Robert, even if you did have an argument with him.”

  “I hope not.” Catherine dabbed her eyes with a fresh tissue. “Richard didn’t do it either. He’s got more sense than that. You can’t inherit by murder.” She looked at each of the three faces.

  Meinwen coughed. “If he’s innocent, he’ll soon be cleared.”

  Simon leaned forward. “How did you know about the marriage, Meinwein? I hadn’t even got an inkling.”

  “You forget what I am. A woman knows these things.” Meinwen got off the sofa and stretched her legs. “Besides, I remembered Catherine wore Celtic jewelry and guessed the ring Mary found must be hers. I did a search and found out that there was no record of her being married, so she must have married in secret and quite recently.” She shrugged. “Richard wouldn’t have dared order rings online in case someone asked him about the package or, worse still, it got delivered to The Larches and Robert opened it. There are only three jewelers in town, and only one that sells Celtic wedding bands. The rest was just charm and questions.” She looked at Jennifer. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  Jennifer made another cup of tea. When Meinwen returned, feeling a little fresher than she had done, she squatted in front of Catherine. “Here’s your ring, Mary found it and would have claimed it for herself. Be a bit more careful with it in future?”

  “Thanks.” Catherine slipped it back on. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss it.”

  Meinwen held her fingers lightly to admire the ring in its rightful place. “I have one more question.”

  “Yes?”

  “What cellphone did Richard have?”

  Catherine shrugged. “A Nokia. One with a camera. I’ve got the number if you want it. Why?”

  Meinwen shook her head. “I think the police found it at the scene.”

  Chapter 31

  Meinwen stood. “I can’t hang about here all day. I should be doing an inventory.”

  “Would anyone like another cup of tea?” Jennifer placed a hand on Catherine’s knee and the girl looked up.

  “No, thank you.” Catherine sighed. “I need to think about all this and work out what I’m going to do.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here. You can rest in my room if you like, and I can make up a bed on the sofa for you.”

  “I couldn’t presume…” Catherine was hopeful.

  Jennifer smiled and held out a hand to help her up from the chair. “Think nothing of it. I’ll show you where my room is.”

  “Thank you.”

  Meinwen watched them go. “Remember I need you at the meeting at my house at nine.”

  Catherine stopped. “Must I? I don’t think I could face any of them.”

  “I insist.” Meinwen winked. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll hex anyone who says anything to you.”

  Catherine laughed. “All right.” She took out her phone. “I’ll set an alarm for eight.”

  Simon waited until they heard footsteps in his sister’s room. “Do you think she was telling the truth?”

  Meinwen nodded. “Probably. I can’t see her murdering Mr. Markhew. What good would it have done? Would her marriage last if she’d killed her father-in-law? Richard wouldn’t stay with a murderess.”

  “No.” Simon tapped his finger against his lips. “He’s a very trusting young man.”

  “You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”

  “I am. The lad shows a lot of promise. I had hoped he might go into the clergy, but he studied psychology at university instead of divinities.”

  “Did he now?” Meinwen tied her hair back. “That’s interesting. Was he involved in his uncle’s work at all?”

  “The kinky books?” Simon shook his head. “I don’t think so. Is it important?”

  “Everything is important, Father.” Meinwen smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “I must be off. I have things to do before the meeting.”

  “Do you know who the murderer is?”

  Meinwen paused in the act of opening the door. “Let’s just say that I know who it isn’t.” She smiled. “See you later.”

  * * * *

  Jean Markhew took the key from her pocket and slipped the silver chain from Nicole’s ankle, folding the chain in two and dropping it into her jewelry box.

  Nicole rubbed at the reddened skin where the chain had chafed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Jean nodded. “Until we know how the will is going to be divided I cannot and will not claim you for my own, even if you wish it.”

  Nicole bowed her head. “I understand. I’m sure that the police will sort it out soon.”

  “I hope so.” Jean removed a gold chain from the box on her dresser. “If you’re amenable, I’d like you to wear this in the meantime.”

  Nicole stood up straight. “I would be honored, ma’am.” She dropped to one knee, drawing up her hair so the tattoo of the twin R’s was exposed.

  Jean threaded the chain around her neck and clicked the heart-shaped padlock into place.

  * * * *

  Meinwen took the long way round into town but had to hurry to get out of sight in case Simon left the rectory to go to St. Pity’s. She didn’t want him seeing her talking to Tom, who was trimming the grass around the tombs with a pair of long-handled shears.

  “Afternoon,” he said. “Come to look at Old Mab again?”

  “Actually, it’s you I’ve come to see.” She took his arm and led him to the side of a tomb, out of sight of the church. “I know your secret.”

  * * * *

  Meinwen pulled the coffee table in front of her chair at the shop and spread a silk cloth over it, shuffling and spreading her tarot deck. She studied the results. So many major arcana cards were unusual in a ten-card Celtic cross spread and she mused upon the positions of The Hierophant, The Hermit and The Lovers.

  She shuffled the cards again and did two quick three-card draws to confirm what the full reading had told her then put them away again. The hermit had come between the two lovers but was occluded by the priest. Could Robert be thought of as a hermit? She suspected so. His lifestyle had certainly been an alternative one.

  When she left the shop at five, she happened to glance across at the bookshop. Mr. Jasfoup stood in the window watching her. He raised his hand in greeting.

  Meinwen shuddered.

  * * * *

  When Catherine arrived at The Herbage at eight-thirty, accompanied by Simon and Jennifer, Meinwen let them in and showed them through to a sitting room crowded with chairs and stools.

  “It’ll be a bit of a squeeze.” Meinwen moved a rug. “And one or two might have to sit on the floor but at least we’ll be cozy.” She went into the kitchen. “Catherine? Could I ask you to make up a pot of coffee and set the cups out? I want to lay out a few snacks.”

  Catherine followed her into the kitchen, spotting the crockery and all but colliding with Simon, who stood in the doorway.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” He clasped his hands together. “I’m quite handy with a teapot, I’m told.”

  Meinwen smiled. “By all means. A pot of green tea would be very welcome.”

  “Green tea?” He drew air through his teeth. “Ah well. If you insist.”

  Catherine laughed at the look on the priest’s face.

  Meinwen shook her head. “I’ll make the green. You sort out some for yourself. There’s a box of Assam in the cupboard. I bought it specially.” She carried a tray of snacks to the living room and touched Catherine’s arm. “It’s ten minutes before the other guests arrive. Mind if I check my email?”

  Catherine had just finished making a pot of coffee when the knocking came and would have answered the door had Simon
not beaten her to it.

  “What’s all this about, Father?” Jean led the retinue from The Larches and glared at Meinwen. “I am getting heartily sick of all this kafuffle over the death of my brother-in-law.”

  “It won’t be much longer,” said Meinwen. “I assure you, this will all be resolved very shortly. That’s part of the reason I asked you all here tonight.”

  “I hope so.” Jean glared at Catherine. “Where have you been all day?”

  “She’s been with me.” Meinwen folded her arms. “Mrs. Godwin and I have had quite a chat.”

  “Mrs. Godwin?” Jean looked puzzled, her eyes seeking her daughter.

  Meinwen coughed. “Not Mary, Mrs. Markhew. Catherine. She and Richard married in secret six weeks ago.”

  It gave Catherine some satisfaction to see the look of shock that passed over the older woman’s face.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

  “Simon?” Meinwen took charge again. “Would you help Mrs. Markhew to a seat and perhaps fetch her a glass of water?”

  Simon steadied one of Jean’s arms while Amanda took the other. When she was safely in one of the armchairs, Jean stared at Catherine. “That’s why you wanted to leave. You have your own master now.”

  Catherine smiled. “I’m sorry for the deception but Robert would never have stood for it. He wanted Richard to marry Mary.”

  “I know.” Jean composed herself. It was fascinating to watch, thought Catherine. It was as if she were two different people. All the confusion and hurt was drawn inside and enclosed in a hard, dominant exterior. Now she was as cold and as calculating as ever, despite the huge shock she’d just had–not only to her hopes for her daughter, but for her financial security.

  “Where is…your husband?” Jean took a deep breath. “Was he really arrested?”

  Catherine lowered her eyes. “He’s been here all along. In Laverstone, I mean. Someone was trying to frame him.”

  “Don’t worry about Richard’s whereabouts just yet.” Meinwen drew the attention back to herself.