The Devil Came to Abbeville

by Marian Phair

  “She has a bad concussion, and will be kept in overnight for observation. You’ll find her in a single room, opposite Ward C. That’s just down this corridor and left at the end.” She gave him a toothy smile, and he noticed the lipstick stains on her teeth.

  Thanking her, he walked away, signalling to Scott to follow him.

  Ruth was sitting on a small, metal chair, holding Sally’s hand. She looked at their concerned faces as they came to the bedside.

  “How is she doing?” Father Patrick asked Ruth, as Scott kissed her swiftly on the cheek, and then stood behind her chair massaging her shoulders with his strong hands.

  “She’s sleeping at the moment, and has an awful lump on her head under that dressing. She was panicking and trying to pull the support collar off her neck, so they gave her something to help her to relax. I still can’t believe this has happened. Poor Sally, she hardly gets out as it is. She’s scared that something really bad will happen to her. If only she was old enough to have a guide dog. Then she would have something special in her life that would give her the freedom, and confidence, to get around outside on her own, instead of having to have someone with her all the time.”

  “Yes, Scott looked into that when he suggested it to me a while back. We didn’t mention it before for fear of upsetting Sally. Although the age limit has been lowered now, it would seem the youngest age for a child to be given a guide dog, is twelve. They supply all the equipment free of charge. The only obstacle is Sally’s age.”

  Father Patrick told them.

  He moved to where Sally’s sleeping form lay in the hospital bed, her pretty face was deathly pale, her blonde ringlets almost hidden by the bandage. The priest gently laid his hands on Sally head. His eyes closed, and his lips silently formed words, that they were unable to follow, as he called upon the healing power of the Lord.

  The onlookers watched in silence until he had finished. Then Scott broke the silence.

  “I was thinking, Patrick. What if we get a rescue dog for Sally, not a puppy, but one that has been house trained and is used to being around children, one young enough to be taught a few hand and foot signals? I know Guide dogs are specially trained, but they do have books on the subject. Would the church allow that, if we could find one?” Scott posed the question.

  The priest was silent for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face as he pondered the question. “I’ll look into it, in due course. For now, my concern is getting this young lady back to her bubbly bouncy self, and my housekeeper, back to the task she does best, cooking my dinner.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet. “See, even my stomach agrees with that.”

  The smile he gave them lit up his whole face, and for a moment the haunted look he’d worn for days, left his eyes. Father Patrick asked them to join him in a prayer. They bowed their heads hands clasped together, as the priest offered up a prayer at the bedside for Sally’s recovery.

  “Right, I’m off to get something to eat, and suggest you two do the same,” Father Patrick said. “After that, I think I’ll pop into Buxton, and see what sort of mangy creatures they have been giving house to, in the dog pound. Maybe I’ll come across a suitable animal for a certain little blonde, who is fast becoming a pain in my backside; but it’s a pain I don’t mind bearing. If anyone cares to join me, I’ll be outside having a cigarette.”

  “But you don’t smoke, Father.” Ruth told him.

  “Don’t I, Ruth?” The priest looked quizzical.

  “As your housekeeper, Father, I would know if you did.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, young lady,” he smiled at her.

  “I also like the odd glass or two of whisky, I’ll bet you didn’t know that either?”

  Ruth, sat lost for words, as the door closed behind the priest. Scott grinned at the look of shock on her face.

  “Hell, honey, even I knew he likes a drink now and then.”

  “But smoking and drinking? He’s a priest!” Ruth couldn’t believe it.

  “Well, whatever next? You think you know someone, and then all of a sudden you find you don’t really know them at all. Are you going to go with him?” she asked.

  “What about you, what are you going to do? Can I get you anything?” Scott asked.

  “No, thanks, I’ll stop here with Sally. I’ll get something to eat when she wakes up.”

  Scott pulled Ruth to her feet, and pressed himself up against her, murmuring in her ear. “Give me a lip lock, honey, before I go, or have you had enough excitement for one day?” He bought his mouth down on hers and gave her a long lingering kiss.

  Ruth pushed him away, smiling good naturedly.

  “Get out of here before Father Patrick adds to his sins.”

  CHAPTER 41

  DCI Fletcher sat at a table in the police canteen, wolfing down a full English breakfast. “Why don’t you join me, I’ll get someone to rustle one up for you,”

  he said to Scott, who sat opposite him, amazed at the rate the sausages, eggs and bacon disappeared down the detective’s throat. He watched as Jake tore a thick slice of bread in half and used it to mop up the juices left by the tomatoes and mushrooms, and then belching loudly, he pushed the plate to one side and reached for his mug of tea.

  Scott pointed to Jake’s empty plate “That, my friend is a heart attack on a plate. Give me a heap of pancakes, with Aunt Jemima’s Maple syrup and a dab of butter on top, now that’s a breakfast. The one I enjoy the most is grits, along with scrambled eggs, a few slices of crisply fried bacon, and a decent cup of freshly ground coffee. Now that for me is happiness on a plate, a real tasty breakfast.” Scott took a sip of the dark brown liquid in his cup, which had a weird aroma, and an even weirder taste. His screwed up face wore a look of distaste.

  “Yuk, how can anyone in their right mind call this coffee, it’s more like engine oil. How can you drink this stuff? And they have the gall to charge one fifty for it.”

  “We’re a nation of tea drinkers, Scott, I warned you the coffee was lousy here, I told you to have a mug of tea instead. Mind you, that’s not much better, it all depends on who makes it. It’s either that weak, it comes out on crutches, or that strong, the spoon stands up in it.” Jake paused to light a cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke before continuing, grinning as Scott waved his hands, dispersing the smoke.

  “Changing the subject, things seem to have quitened down a bit now, since the Bradley’s funerals. Which is a good thing really, as my men are still no nearer to catching this White Rose killer than we were at the start of the murders,”

  “That had crossed my mind as well,” Scott told him. “There were ex-number of murders in the past few months, and then they suddenly stopped. What made them stop? This is the question I’ve been asking myself. Has the killer moved away from the area, or is he in jail? I don’t like this, Jake, my gut tells me he’s still around. I think this White Rose killer is a psychopathic individual, who blends well enough with normal society, that he doesn’t draw attention to himself. I think he’s stalking his next victim.”

  Jake sat in reflective mood as Scott spoke of his fears. As a detective he knew that most crimes occur in the neighbourhood of the culprit’s home. That is why their investigations tend to begin around the crime scene. Often, local house-to-house enquires turn up, apparently unconnected information, that proves crucial to the case. Officer Morgan was the best man he had for obtaining information. By asking the same question of many different people, he had unmasked many incriminating lies. People opened up to Pete Morgan, he had an engaging way that put them at their ease. Changing the subject away from murder, Jake asked, “How’s Sally getting on now?”

  Scott toyed with his teaspoon, as the two men eyed each other across the table. “She’s doing fine, really, considering what happened. She’s looking forward to her mom’s birthday party next week. That’s why I’m here, to invite you to come along, if you’re free. It will be nothing spectacular, just drinks, c
ake, and finger food. Planned by yours truly, Sally, and of course, Father Patrick O’Connor, whose idea it was in the first place. It’s to be a surprise party, and I have one of my own. I’ve chosen her birthday to ask her if she will be my wife. I’m crazy about her, and I believe she feels the same way about me. You’re the first person I’ve told about this, I haven’t mentioned it yet, to Father Patrick, but I’m guessing I don’t have to, he can read the signs, and he’s always dropping subtle hints to me.”

  Scott stopped talking at the look of despair that crossed Jake Fletchers face.

  He realised too late, that Jake still had strong feelings for Ruth. Maybe he was still in love with her, and secretly hoped that one day they would get back together again. Now he had just dashed any hope Jake may have held for that to happen by revealing his own love for Ruth, even though Ruth herself had told him that Jake was just a close friend.

  Jake reached across the table, took Scotts hand and shook it warmly.

  “I wish you all the best. I know you’ll take good care of them both, if Ruth accepts your offer of marriage.”

  “Why do you say ‘if’ Ruth accepts my proposal, Jake? Do you think she’ll turn me down?” Now it was Scott’s turn to worry. He still had this niggle in the back of his mind about the differences in their ages. Hot sex was one thing, but would Ruth want to settle down with a man who had lost his virginity before she was even born.

  Jake’s face broke into a grin. He leant over, and his eyes dropped to Scott’s crotch. “How could she resist you? One look at the long, lean, tanned body, in those tight jeans, that show off your lunchbox, not to mention that Southern charm, how could any woman resist you? I know if I was female, I couldn’t.” He gave Scott a cheeky wink.

  “My lunchbox, is that what y’all call your private parts here?”

  “It’s just a bit of fun. It’s like a meal, you know, meat and two vegetables. And you certainly pack a lot of meat.” He laughed, pointing to Scott’s crutch.

  “Your jeans are so tight, they remind me of a small hotel...No ballroom!” Jake roared with laughter.

  Scott’s face reddened at the crude reference to his private parts.

  Jake Fletcher sat grinning at his rival, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

  “You’re getting very personal, Detective Chief Inspector, Jake Fletcher. Are you coming on to me? I think you’re hiding a secret.”

  Before Jake could reply, Scott leapt to his feet and shouted to the other men in the room. “Hey, you guy’s, listen up. Your boss is gay, he just tried coming onto me.”

  Scott managed to duck the screwed up paper napkin that Jake threw at him.

  The room erupted into laughter, and Sergeant Dick Frankton, shouted back,

  “Are you only just finding that out now? We’ve known about him for years.”

  “Get back to work the bloody lot of you.” Jake said, good humouredly.

  “Remind me again about the party nearer the date, Scott, I’ll be only too happy to attend. I’m up to my eyes in other matters right now. Have you had a chance to study the case file of that missing twenty year old dancer, Lorraine Cooke, yet? I’d like to get your thoughts on that. Buxton police were asking just the other day if you were able to help them solve it. So far they haven’t been able to find a clue to her disappearance.

  “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been kinda tied up myself these last few days. I’ll get back to it ASAP. Father Patrick and I are heading out to Sherrier Kennels later, to see if we can get a suitable dog for Sally, if nothing else, it will lift her spirits, she’s been acting very weird these last few days. Ever since she came out of hospital, she’s gotten quiet and withdrawn, really secretive. She’s either hiding something, or something is really troubling her, but she not letting anyone in on what it is.”

  Jake could tell by the look on Scott’s face that he really cared about Sally.

  “I wouldn’t read too much into it, Scott, all kid’s go through these phases. Sally will snap out of it in her own good time. When you think of what she’s gone through in the past, she’s shown great resolve in getting on with her life. I wouldn’t want to go through what that kid has gone through. She lost the father she adored when she was five years old, in an accident that left her blind, not to mention her pet that went everywhere with her. When she lost her sight, she also lost her playmates, until Liam Findley came into her life. That kid spent three years of her life, stuck with adults, no one of her own age to talk to or play with, and proper education, until Father Patrick took her under his wing. Then her ‘eyes,’ that sweet young lad Liam Findley, was murderd. You would have loved him; that lad had a great heart, and an even greater personality. If I ever marry, and have a son, I’d like to think he’d turn out like Liam Findley. No, Scott, Sally Ann Ferguson, has more guts, and determination, than any adult I’ve ever met.”

  Jake looked across at Scott who had sat silently listening to what he had to say.

  He wondered what thoughts were going through the American’s quick, agile brain.

  “I hadn’t given much thought to Sally’s past, or Ruth’s for that matter. I just had the one thought in my head, and that was to give them a secure and happy future. But now you have made me take off my rose-tinted glasses, and see things as they really are. If Ruth were to agree to marry me, it would mean another upheaval for them both. I took an early retirement Jake, because I wanted to have my own ranch where

  I could breed horses, which is something I wanted to do for many years. My life is in America Jake, and as my wife, I would expect Ruth to move to the states. I know I could give them a good life. Sally could learn to ride on a horse. They would want for nothing, I’d see to that.”

  Scott rolled his silver Lincoln dollar through his fingers as he spoke. Jake remembered Scott telling him it was a habit he had that helped him when he had serious matters to contemplate. Scott looked more than a little concerned as he relayed his new found fears.

  “Before I met Ruth, I was content to live a bachelor’s life. I’ve done the marriage scene. I was happy enough getting my ranch started, hiring staff, and living my dream. Now my dream is to have Ruth and Sally share all this with me. You’ve given me a heck of a lot to think about. Time’s a passing. I’d better haul my sorry ass outta here before Father Patrick sets the hounds of hell on my trail.”

  Scott shook Jakes hand, and reminded him about the reason for his visit as he got up to take his leave of the detective. “Three weeks to party time, I’ll send you an official invite, then you’ll not forget it. I know Ruth would want you there to help us celebrate.” He smiled at Jake Fletcher, but for once his smile didn’t reach his eyes, as they bid each other goodbye.

  Scott headed for the rectory, his mind troubled by the realisation that, even if Ruth agreed to marry him, would she want to leave behind all that was dear and familiar here in England, to travel halfway around the world with him? Would she want to live in a strange land, surrounded by strange faces? Most of his ranch hands were Mexican, some of whom spoke little or no English. He should have gone back to the states ten days ago to attend to his affairs, he knew he couldn’t stay here indefinitely; the ranch wouldn’t run itself. He had invested heavily in his dream, too heavily to risk losing it all. He had been so caught up in the goings on here in Abbeville. Caught up in the lives of the people he had grown to care about and love, and in such a short time, that was frightening. It was hard for him to imagine his life now without Ruth. He knew he was being selfish expecting her to give up everything to be with him, when in his heart, he knew, he couldn’t make the same sacrifice for her. There was only one other person, apart from Ruth herself, that he could share these thoughts and fears with, the only person who could look into his eyes and his heart, and know his true intentions, and that man was walking towards him now, a smile of greeting on his face.

  Father Patrick called out to him as he approached. “There you are, Scott, I was wondering where you had got to. Molly hadn’t a clue where y
ou’d gone. If you’re ready we can go now, and see about getting a dog. I’ve already put fuel in Myrtle.”

  He told him, referring to the two-toned, rust and black, old Ford Fiesta.

  “You need to get a new car, Patrick, this one was ready for the scrapheap years ago.”

  “I’ll have you know this is still a good reliable vehicle,” the priest told him.

  “It’s still got all its original parts. The cars today aren’t built to last like Myrtle here.”

  He patted the bonnet affectionately.

  “She has cost a shilling or two over the years, but all cars need new tyres, brakes, batteries, exhausts pipes, and last year, her old heart packed up for the second time, and she had to have another new one.”

  “Her heart, Patrick? Cars don’t have hearts,” Scott chuckled.

  “The engine is the heart of the car, Scott. Just get in, and mind the door, it’s a bit temperamental.”

  “The door’s falling of its hinges, Patrick; I wonder how this old heap is held together?”

  “It’s held together by the will of God,” Father Patrick said, as he turned the key in the ignition. ‘Myrtle’ gave a cough and a splutter, and they were on their way.

  CHAPTER 42

  Ruth gazed longingly at the elegant, deep red, velvet gown in Lombards shop window.

  “Just look at it, Mary, it’s gorgeous. See how the jewel’s and sequins on the bodice catch the light.” Mary Findley stood with her nose pressed against the glass.

  “I can just make out the price tag,” Mary said. It’s been reduced down to eighty five pounds. That’s thirty five pounds cheaper than it was last week when you stood gawking at it.”

  “Yes I know, Mary, but even at sale price it’s far beyond my budget. I would love to find out what it feels like on, it’s real velvet you know,” Ruth said dreamily.