by Rebecca Tope
‘People like me,’ Thea echoed slowly. ‘That’s most of the legal profession and the House of Lords these days.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Not the sort of company I ever expected to keep. But, darling, don’t you see what that means? How far wrong the legislators and law enforcers have gone?’
‘I think we’d better stop this conversation,’ said Jessica. ‘If you must have your say, then use Phil as your punchbag, not me. I’m still learning the job. Talk to me again when I’ve been on one of your dawn raids.’
‘OK, sorry,’ Thea managed, through a throat that was suddenly thick with distress. Where had all that bile come from? Through no more than a normal casual interest in the headlines, a few Radio Four discussions, increased awareness of the ubiquity of cameras – no more, surely, than the bulk of the population? She hadn’t known the strength of her own feelings until this moment. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘That was awful of me.’
Not a word was uttered as they walked back down to the High Street. Thea assumed Jessica felt much as she did herself: aware of a gulf between them that had to do with some very basic divisions. But she had got it completely wrong. As they crossed the bridge on the eastern edge of Blockley, the girl said, ‘I have a dreadful suspicion about the murder, you know.’
‘What? I mean – is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last ten minutes?’
‘Mainly, yeah. I started off thinking about that ding-dong we just had, but then I got onto crime solving, and the fact of a murder a few feet from where we’re staying. That’s the reality of my work, you see. Anyway, I ran through it all again, the bits I know about the people here. And I had a very nasty idea, that won’t go away.’
‘Which is?’
‘It’ll sound completely stupid. Remember I haven’t done any sort of detective work yet. So I’m not exactly thinking as a CID officer here.’
‘Right. Go on.’
‘First point—’ She held up a forefinger, ‘—the Montgomerys are away, so the routine is sure to be different.’
Thea nodded wordlessly.
‘Second point—’ another finger ‘—that means the body could have been undiscovered for up to ten days.’
‘Does that follow? I suppose Ron and Yvette could have popped in to see Julian every day when they were at home, but nobody’s said they did. And don’t you think I might have noticed a smell after a week or so, across the garden fence?’
‘Doubtful. Anyway, then I started thinking about that door, and the key in Julian’s pocket. It means he had free access to the house. That he probably popped in to see Granny through the Montgomerys’ section. And that means he must have also been able to open the connecting door whenever he liked.’
‘Obviously he could,’ said Thea. ‘The key was right there, hanging on a hook above the door.’
‘Oh yes.’ Jessica was deflated for a moment. ‘In which case, we seem to be making it all much more complicated than it really is.’
‘It seems pretty complicated to me,’ said Thea. ‘But I keep going back to Saturday morning. Granny was obviously expecting Julian then. She was worrying about him. And why did they hire me, if Julian usually did what they were asking me to do?’
‘Precisely,’ said Jessica, casting no illumination onto Thea’s confusion.
‘Precisely what? It’s still all a hopeless fog to me.’ Thea felt herself wanting to withdraw from the whole conversation. She did not want to discuss murder, or hear Jessica’s horrible idea. She wanted to get away from anything nasty and enjoy the spring with nothing to trouble her. She had had enough of trouble over the past two years, and was starting to resent it.
‘I think Granny did it,’ said Jessica, loudly, her voice deep and blunt. ‘I think she’s faking a lot of that senility. And I’m not sure I believe she’s really ninety-two. Who told you that?’
‘Giles Whatnot. On Saturday evening. Why would he tell me a lie like that?’
‘He probably believes it’s true.’
‘But darling, it is a stupid idea. How could she have the strength, for one thing?’
‘We don’t know how strong she is. Maybe he more or less fell on the knife while she was holding it.’
‘A suicide pact – something like that? He wanted her to do it?’
‘That’s possible. But it wouldn’t fit with the lamp being knocked over. That suggests some sort of struggle in the living room, before he died in the kitchen.’
‘Wait,’ begged Thea. They were standing at the front door of the Montgomerys’ house, and Thea fished in her pocket for the key. ‘I still don’t follow any of your reasoning. I’d be more likely to think it was that Giles – or even Thomas. When we met him on Saturday, the first thing Granny said to him was “What have you done with Julian?”’
‘Really? Remind me which is Thomas?’
‘The old gent with the beer gut, who came to Granny’s door this morning. She told me she didn’t like him.’
Jessica went into the house and dealt with the burglar alarm. Thea glanced around for the dog, only to see her a foot away, nosing intently up and down the pavement to either side of the front door. ‘Somebody’s been standing here,’ Thea noted. ‘Somebody she recognises.’ And then, as if to confirm her words, a man emerged from a car parked further down the street, slamming the door deliberately loudly, to attract attention. The spaniel bounded ecstatically up to him, leaping at his legs, scrabbling at his thighs with sharp toenails.
‘Good God, it’s Phil,’ said Thea, surprised at the way her heart had started to pound, and the blood to rush to her cheeks.
They ushered Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis into the living room. ‘How did you find me?’ Thea asked, with a giggle.
‘Easy,’ he said. ‘You’re next door to the scene of a murder.’
‘And that address is on the police computer,’ said Jessica. ‘Otherwise you’d have a job to find us. There’s no yellow tape across the front door, and no sign of any police activity.’
‘There is if you know where to look,’ he corrected her. ‘But never mind how I found you – are you both all right?’ He gazed into Thea’s eyes. ‘You must be feeling a bit persecuted.’
‘Not really,’ she disagreed robustly. ‘I don’t feel particularly affected by it, to be honest, except for the difficulties over Granny – that’s the old lady next door who I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on. I never met the man when he was alive, and I’m still finding my way around the village. It feels as if I only just got here, in a way. And the really weird thing is that nobody in Blockley seems very bothered by the fact of a murder in their midst. There’s a sort of collective denial going on, and I seem to be included. If it wasn’t for Jess, I think I could more or less ignore the whole thing.’
Phil looked at Jessica. ‘So you’re rocking the boat, are you?’ He knew Thea well enough by this time to recognise her sturdy refusal to admit fear. Even after some alarming experiences in Frampton Mansell – where he had woefully let her down – she had managed to reason herself back to fearlessness. It was a trait he knew he was always going to find unsettling.
Jessica rolled her eyes at him, and sighed. ‘Not at all. But it was me who found the body. I can’t pretend it never happened. It’s funny you turning up like this – I expected it to be Uncle James.’
‘Don’t worry. He’ll be along,’ said Phil. ‘Sooner or later.’
‘Are you part of the investigation?’ Thea asked him.
He shook his head. ‘Definitely not. There’s a big operation ongoing in Birmingham, and my team’s been sent in to help. I ought to be there now, by rights. But—’ he twinkled boyishly at Thea, making her wonder whether she could find some excuse to go upstairs with him. Could she send Jessica out for some more shopping, perhaps?
‘It’s good to see you,’ she breathed. ‘And such a surprise.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it. I wasn’t sure what my reception would be. Women can be funny about surprises.’
Thea did not do flirtatio
n. She did not say Oh, and which women are you referring to? She did not play the usual games, or tell the usual lies. ‘I don’t mind them,’ she said. ‘Actually, the whole point about a surprise, surely, is that nobody knows how they’ll react until it happens.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ groaned Jessica, meeting Phil’s amused eye. ‘You’re so—’
‘What? What am I?’ Thea genuinely wanted to know.
‘Literal,’ said Jessica. ‘That’s the word. You take everything at face value.’
‘Sorry,’ said Thea. ‘Although, to be honest, I’m not really sorry about that at all,’ she added. ‘You’ll just have to take me as I am.’
‘Oh, I know that,’ said Jessica. ‘I was born knowing that.’
‘Girls!’ Phil reproached them. ‘Enough. Go and make a pot of tea, one of you. It’s nearly four o’clock.’
But the tea was barely made before Phil happened to glance out of the window and observe a man in his late thirties hovering near his car. ‘Oh-oh,’ said Hollis. ‘That looks like somebody for me.’ He went to the door and called out to the man.
‘Sorry, sir, but you’re needed,’ came the reply.
‘Why didn’t they just use my phone? Where’s your motor?’ Phil asked him.
‘They phoned us at the Incident Room up the hill, assuming you’d be there. I’d heard a whisper that your…friend…was in Blockley, so I took a gamble and trotted down here. I thought…I mean, it gave you a bit more time, that way. I knew your car when I found it.’ He deliberately avoided looking at Thea, his face slightly pink.
Phil sighed, and turned to meet Thea’s gaze as she stood in the hallway behind him. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Duty calls. It was good to see you, if only for a few minutes.’
‘It was wonderful,’ she said unguardedly. ‘An unexpected treat.’
‘I know I’m wasting my breath, but stay out of trouble, OK? How long are you here?’ he asked Jessica.
‘Till Thursday, all being well,’ she told him. ‘It’s a bit uncertain, but that’s the general idea.’
‘So keep an eye on your old Mum, right? I don’t want to hear about any heroics from either of you. The chances are the old fellow next door interrupted a burglar, and the bloke’s back in Solihull or somewhere long since. Nothing to sharpen your detective faculties on. Rotten thing to happen, but no great mystery.’
He approached Thea, arms wide, and she folded herself into them for a thorough hug. Phil’s body was nothing like Carl’s had been. The two men smelt different, wore different clothes, put their hands in different places. But there was still, in a lurking corner of her heart, a sense of betrayal. She had truly and profoundly intended, when she married Carl, never to get as close as this to another man.
Jessica averted her gaze, bending down to the dog, watching a young woman with a baby across the street.
‘See you, then,’ said Phil at last. ‘Not sure when.’
‘We’ll let you know if we solve the murder,’ said Jessica lightly, and Thea held her breath. But no more was said, and the police car sped away. When they’d gone, Thea turned to Jessica. ‘You didn’t feel like giving him your theory about who killed Julian, then?’
‘I didn’t get a chance, did I?’
‘Were you planning to?’
‘I don’t know,’ the girl admitted. ‘Very probably not.’
‘Better have that tea, then,’ said Thea hoping she sounded more stoical than she felt. ‘Maybe we could give the patio a try.’
‘The seats’ll be wet,’ Jessica objected. ‘Haven’t you had enough fresh air for one day?’
‘I’ll wipe them. I like the quiet, and the garden’s so pretty, it needs somebody to admire it.’
‘You’re mad,’ said her daughter, but she followed her out with a plate of biscuits.
They sat at the small wrought iron table for five minutes, before Jessica shivered and announced she was going back indoors. But before she could move, the silence was cracked into ear-splitting shards.
‘What’s that?’ Jessica squealed.
‘Oh, Lord. It’s Granny’s buzzer. She must have gone out.’ Thea got up and hurried through the house. The buzzer was making its maddening sound just over her head as she threw open the front door. Hepzie was at her heels and she turned to order the spaniel to stay indoors. The dog seemed hardly to notice the noise, until Thea caught the strange look in her eyes. Apprehension and something like pain filled them. ‘Stay!’ she ordered. ‘Go and talk to Jessica.’
But Jessica was already following her into the hall. ‘What a ghastly din,’ she complained, at the top of her voice.
‘Can’t you turn it off for me?’ Thea shouted, pointing at the switch. ‘I’ll go after her.’
Thea could see no sign of Mrs Gardner, until she looked to her right and caught sight of a bowlegged figure heading towards the woods at the end of the street. The old lady was moving at quite some speed, she noted, and seemed very purposeful.
Putting on a spurt of her own, she drew level with her quarry within sight of the trees ahead. ‘Off for a walk?’ she puffed. ‘You look as if you’re dressed for it.’ Mrs Gardner was wearing stout shoes that looked as if they’d been made around 1946, and a felt hat with a very droopy gauzy flower attached to it.
‘That’s right,’ chirped Granny. ‘I thought I’d go bird’s nesting. I know all the different eggs,’ she added proudly.
Thea entertained a flash of early memory, where her brother had come home with three different eggs from three different nests and their father had chastised him with astonishing violence. That had been, she supposed, during the Seventies, when wild birds were disappearing rapidly, thanks to the chemicals and hedge-removal involved in farming at the time.
‘You’re not allowed to collect eggs any more,’ she said, trying to work out when Granny’s egg-collecting heyday must have been. ‘The birds need protecting from that sort of thing. Besides,’ she realised, ‘I think it’s still a bit early in the year for it.’
The old woman pulled in her chin, and gave Thea a beaky stare of reprimand. ‘I don’t take the eggs,’ she sniffed. ‘I never did. That was the sort of thing boys did – blowing out the yolk. Very messy business. I just like to look, and watch the mother bird with her babies.’
‘Can I come with you, then?’ Thea asked, resigned to retracing the route she and Jessica had taken less than an hour before.
‘I suppose so, if you’re quiet.’
There followed sixty minutes of peculiar magic. A nostalgia that went back to a few brief years of Thea’s childhood where she had been a country child. Not only did it remind her of her own experience, but it conjured her husband Carl and his stories of growing up on a farm in the sixties, where even then he had been unusual. Most of his peers had already caught the television bug and seldom went outside. He, however, had been born with a fascination for the outdoors.
With a shock Thea found herself revelling in her strange companion, who did indeed know where to find birds’ nests amongst the patch of woodland so close to human settlement. And although Thea had been partly right in thinking late March was rather early for such activity, there were signs that the birds were gathering themselves for the breeding frenzy that was almost upon them. They sat on a fallen tree, quietly watching a robin flitting to and fro with dry grass in its beak. They listened to a bullfinch clattering in some overhead branches, and Granny pointed out three or four other species which Thea would never have noticed.
What must Jessica be thinking, she wondered? Had she followed unobserved for a few minutes, enough to understand what was going on? Or had she decided to make the most of an interlude on her own?
It took days for Thea to fathom everything she learnt from that enchanted hour in the woods with a very old woman whose brain only partly functioned. The emotion that surfaced first, and was initially hard to name, turned out to be respect. Respect for a person who knew she was defective and vulnerable and liable to lose herself in the tangle of contemporary realities –
and who still got herself mobilised every morning and followed whatever the urge of the moment might be. It gave Thea a soaring sense of discovery to feel this, as well as something close to complacency. She was impatient to explain it to Jessica and others, until it dawned on her that this might be what Yvette Montgomery had been hoping to convey, without actually uttering any words that might be taken wrongly or dismissed as foolish.
It would explain the comparative freedom that Granny was still allowed, for one thing. And it would also account for the relationships she appeared to have around the village. Giles, her occasional surrogate son, for example, and the elderly Thomas, who Granny claimed to dislike. They had both treated her with dignity. Even the bizarre Ick, with his glittery shoes and strangled English, had taken her seriously. No age discrimination in Blockley, it seemed.
And if that was how it was, then Jessica’s outrageous suspicions concerning the murder of Julian Jolly might not be so unthinkable, either.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Monday seemed to stretch unnaturally, thanks to the change to British Summer Time. Jessica had settled in the living room with a dusty-looking police textbook, and the spaniel on her legs.
‘You’ve only been here twenty-four hours and it feels like weeks,’ said Thea restlessly.
‘What’s the matter with you? You can’t be bored already. How will you manage after I’ve gone?’
‘Good question,’ gloomed Thea. ‘I expect I’ll go on a lot more nature rambles with Granny.’
‘You’ll enjoy that,’ said Jessica encouragingly. ‘You came back really happy just now.’
‘It was lovely,’ Thea agreed. ‘Totally unexpected. Like time travel back thirty years.’
‘Sounds more like a hundred years to me.’ She closed the book with her thumb marking the place. ‘She’s a complicated character, isn’t she?’
Thea considered her reply. ‘I guess everybody is, once they’ve got to her age. Think of all the things she’s seen and learnt in her life. Even if she forgets ninety per cent of it, there’s still plenty left. And it isn’t a normal sort of forgetfulness in her case. She hasn’t got Alzheimer’s. It’s more like one area of local damage to her brain. If Giles is right about the cause, it isn’t likely to get any worse over time. It might even get better.’
