by Emily Selby
'Why are there financial problems at the parish?' Jack asked.
'We've had a couple of unexpected expenses a burst pipe in the vicarage, with water damage to the floors. Then, the vicar discovered an unpaid electricity bill, which incurred penalty charges. It also seems we've also been receiving fewer donations. Even the money box has been light this year.'
'The box in the church entrance?'
'Yes, that one.'
'I wondered whether anyone ever put any money into it.'
'People do. We used to get lovely little extra cash during summer months, but not this year. Oh well, I suppose it's been one of those lean years.'
'Going back to Phyllis Dunbar. Did she have any arguments or conflicts with anyone else, beside the treasurer and the vicar?' Jack chipped in.
Mrs Lee looked at him carefully.
'It's been a difficult year on the council overall. I'm thinking of handing in my resignation once the church anniversary fete is over. Frankly, I got to the point, oh...' She hesitated. 'I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but Phyllis really got under my skin. At one point, I stopped paying attention to her squabbles with the others.'
'Were there any other squabbles between Phyllis and members of the council that struck you?' Katie asked.
'I do remember one other strange interaction. It stood out because it was Barbara Cambridge, another long-serving council member. She lost it with Phyllis. Barbara is usually very calm and never loses her composure. She is quick to make caustic, dry remarks, but she was quite upset that day. And instead of her usual, half-murmured sarcastic comments, she snapped.'
'What happened?' Katie and Jack asked in unison.
'I don't know exactly what they were doing just before the argument. It was before the official meeting started and I was busy going through some documents. All of a sudden, I heard a... I can only describe it as a hiss. I looked around and saw Barbara standing by Phyllis' chair and looking at her like... Like she wanted to murder her. Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say—'
'No, no problem. We understand,' Jack said.
'Then Barbara said something to Phyllis in that similar hissy sound. It was something about Phyllis' husband maybe not being as holy and model a husband as Phyllis made him out to be.'
'Did she say he hadn't been a model husband?'
Mrs Lee hesitated and wriggled uncomfortably. 'I really can't remember. I only heard some of it. I don't know what was actually said and what I filled in later. I think Phyllis was going on and on about her late husband that day. This was last month, shortly after someone offered to buy two pictures from the church - both by Phyllis' husband. And, given the financial condition of the parish, we were discussing whether it was an option.'
'Did you decide to sell them?'
'No, we voted against it. And to be honest, we were almost all unanimous. The vicar reassured us that he was working to get some extra funding for the parish. We received a lot of support from the local community. We thought, hoped, and still hope, the church fete will bring some money to help with at least some of the most urgent needs.'
'What do you think Barbara's comment was about?' Katie asked.
'I don't want to mislead anyone, but I think Barbara alluded to William, that is Phyllis’ late husband, having a child out of wedlock.'
Katie stared at Mrs Lee with her mouth open. Having heard so much praise about William Dunbar from Phyllis, she was totally gobsmacked.
'William was unfaithful to Phyllis?'
Once again, Mrs Lee shifted uncomfortably in her chair. 'I don't think Barbara said it outright. It's just what she implied, and, or - I interpreted what I'd heard.'
A long silence followed, before Katie asked, 'And what was Phyllis Dunbar's reaction to whatever Barbara said?'
'She turned pale. I thought she was going to faint. She mumbled something along the lines of, "How dare you!" but Barbara just shot her an evil look and walked away.'
'Had they ever had words before?'
'No. Barbara is a private person. Obviously, being neighbours with Phyllis, there must have been multiple opportunities for conflict, but that was the first open conflict I saw between them two.'
'And the last?'
That was an awkward question, but Jack must have asked it on purpose, because he was staring attentively at Mrs Lee.
'I don't know. Maybe you should talk to Barbara.'
'We will,' Jack reassured her. Katie flinched at the thought of it, and tried to work out a way to make Jack invite her to the interview.
'Thank you very much Mrs Lee. You’ve been very helpful. Is there anything else you think may help us?'
'I can't think of anything at the moment, but if I do, I'll contact you. I hope you find and punish this awful person. Sunnyvale is such a nice place. Sure, we have our vices and weaknesses, nobody's perfect, but such a horrific crime. I'm totally appalled.'
'We'll do what we can, Madam. I can assure you.'
A few seconds later, Mrs Lee was out of the door, now sporting an umbrella, as it was raining properly.
'That was very useful.' Jack's voice pulled Katie out of her contemplations on the weather and her chores. 'Thank you for organising it, Katie.'
'Who's next? The vicar or Mr Fischer?'
'Judging by what I've heard, the vicar may be an easier option.'
Katie nodded.
'I also think we need to talk to Roy Dunbar again. Maybe he'll know something about his uncle’s extramarital affairs.'
'Do you want me to do that?'
Jack hesitated. 'It'll be hard to ask anyone about family secrets. I'll get him in for a second interview. You maybe try to dig around. People must have gossiped. People always gossip.'
Katie couldn't help but agree once more.
13
Saturday had always been 'the catch-up day': laundry, cleaning, shopping, Julia's homework and "what's ups". Since moving home, it also had become the day of catching up with unpacking. But all this had to wait, because Katie was very, very keen to carve out some time for a coffee with Michelle.
With Julia busy in her bedroom working on her audition, Katie took over the kitchen.
She set the washing machine and managed to clear the kitchen table and sink of the remnants of yesterday's dinner, when Michelle arrived, with her share of shopping bags.
'Dang it!' Michelle moaned, sliding onto a kitchen chair. 'The birthday party season's on again. Can you imagine, both my girls are going to two different parties this afternoon, and we are all invited to their cousin's party on Sunday! It's a ferry-your-kids-around-with-presents weekend.'
'Yes. I totally understand.'
'Kevin's making birthday cards with the girls, but I need to be back for lunch.'
'That's still enough time for a cuppa. Tea or coffee? I've got your favourite almond tea?'
Michelle looked at her. 'This shopping trip drained my energy. Coffee please.'
Katie filled the kettle.
'Tell me about the investigation. Did you talk to Mrs Lee?'
Katie gave Michelle a quick rundown on the events of the previous day. She also reported on the rumours relating to William Dunbar's extramarital affairs.
'I thought he was a model husband,' Michelle commented.
'That's what Phyllis made everyone think, but I've no idea if this was true or not.'
'You think people might have talked about it, don’t you?'
Katie nodded.
The kettle boiled, and Katie prepared the drinks.
'Did you hear about William’s paintings in the church? Someone was trying to buy them the other day.'
Michelle stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee.
'I think I might have heard about it. The Church council decided not to sell. Do you think Phyllis Dunbar might have had any of his artwork at home?'
Katie walked through her mental map of Phyllis Dunbar's bungalow.
'She had a couple of paintings in the living room. A paperweight in the shape of an ele
phant - beautiful polished wood. A very pretty small box, probably for jewellery. That's all I remember. I'm not sure if he made all the items. I'm not an expert, but the pictures above the mantelpiece look similar in style to the ones hanging in the church. I wonder how much they would be worth.'
'I'm no art expert, either,' Michelle said sipping her coffee. 'But what if they really are valuable and this was the motive for the murder?'
'If that’s the case, why didn't the murderer take them?'
'They didn't?'
Katie thought for a while. 'I don't think anything was missing when I walked through the house on the day of the murder. The DI hasn't said anything about missing artwork, but I can check with him.
'Ah, the new inspector. What’s he like? I heard some gossip in the bakery this morning. Apparently, he's real eye candy.'
'People always gossip,' Katie mumbled, but Michelle had a good hearing.
'Are you saying he's not good looking?'
Katie took a deep breath as discreetly as she could, trying to control the wave of warmth creeping up her cheeks. Michelle studied her carefully.
'Well,' Katie said slowly. 'He's not your typical dark and broody hunk, or a sweetie in jeans and t-shirt. He's a bit nerdy, I'd say.'
'Nerdy?'
'You know, a bit pale, glasses, quite formal.'
'You don't think he's good looking? Not your type?'
Katie blew out a breath. There was no way to escape Michelle's questioning. She rolled her shoulders back.
'All right then. He is good looking. Well-built and looks smart in those glasses. And his voice...'
Michelle tilted her head, and a cascade of golden curls, slid over her shoulder, her big brown eyes appeared even bigger.
'But don't dare make anything of that. No. No men in my life for now. I've had enough.'
'As you wish,' Michelle said, smiling. 'So how are you settling in?'
Katie sighed quietly. She was more comfortable talking about settling in than the dishy DI.
They chatted for a while, and Michelle left a little before the lunchtime. After she left, Katie took out an old notebook, which she originally intended to use for recipes, and sat down to write. She had missed a few details, which might have been important and didn't want it to happen again.
She grabbed a pen and chewed on the tip.
Details I've forgot about - may be important, or don't make sense, she wrote on one page.
- William Dunbar's paintings from the living room - are they still there? How much are they worth? We assume Roy would inherit the paintings or the money, but it this true?
- If Roy was working in the shed all the time, why did he come from behind the house while I was waiting for the ambulance? Where was he and what was he doing? Why didn't he mention it?
- Did William Dunbar have any extramarital affairs?
- How did Barbara Cambridge and Phyllis Dunbar get on? Why did Barbara become so angry when Phyllis was boasting about her husband's artwork?
- Was William Dunbar a talented artist?
- Why did Phyllis Dunbar pretend she had money when she didn't? She didn't really seem to care about appearances.
Then, she sat back, closed her eyes and steadied herself. Breathing slowly, she recalled her moves from the moment she set foot in the hallway of Phyllis' house. She tried to remember all the sensations and her hunches. She walked step by step, and once she got back outside the house, she opened her eyes and grabbed the pen and turned the page.
Little details that keep bugging me, she wrote.
- The cat - must have got in through the toilet window, which means the window was open for a while. Vera left earlier, Mrs Dunbar must have been really upset or tired not to notice the open window or the cat.
- Mrs Dunbar's quilling stuff on the table - why didn't she put the stuff away? She should have done it. She had plenty of time between Vera leaving at 2.15 and the call to me at 2.31 pm. What prevented her from clearing the table, knowing that I was coming that afternoon? Did she fall asleep?
Katie reread the notes. The first list looked good, but the second one... She chewed on her lip. These things kept bothering her, but she had no evidence to support her feelings that there was something not quite right with these two scenes. She couldn't tell Jack about it. He would laugh at her.
She had to find a way to support her hunches with evidence, or forget about them. Either way, it was going to be a hard job.
14
For the first time in ages Katie couldn't wait for Monday. She loved her job and her colleagues, and even more so since her ex-husband moved back to York, following their divorce. And since his move looked like a promotion, everyone was happy. Katie had to admit this was a good solution to the thorny problem and she was eternally grateful to Andy Lumley, their boss, for making it happen.
But the reason she was so keen to be back in her office after the weekend was because she couldn't wait to share her news and have her questions answered.
Jack's car was already in the car park. Katie left her little green Micra beside his reasonable looking silver Vauxhall.
Reasonable was good, Katie thought. Reasonable was stable. Reasonable was what Katie had been longing for during the past few years spent with Barry. As he’d progressed up the police force career ladder, her husband had acquired an expensive taste in sports clothes, gym equipment and computer games. The worst of the worst–a flashy red sport car he bought himself without her knowledge for his thirty-fifth birthday. This, and the loan that came with it, finally broke their marriage.
So, reasonable was good, even though Katie didn't have the time or space in her life for a new man at this moment. But enjoying work was a different thing altogether. It was not only good, Katie concluded having thought about it on her way from the car park to the main entrance, but also reasonable. A happy employee was a productive employee, likely to be promoted and earn more money. And this was reasonable.
Jack was sitting in the reception area, sipping a coffee. He greeted her with a cheerful smile, waving a bunch of papers.
'Just got the message from the coroner,' he explained.
'What's his verdict?'
'Murder by a person or persons unknown. The body will be released to the family this afternoon, so they can start preparations for the funeral.'
'Will that impact on the investigations, you think?'
'I hope it'll speed them up. The victim's last will can be now released. Sometimes, or maybe even often, some family disagreements and resentments surface at this stage and we can see more movement.'
'Do you mean they start singing to the police?'
'Not necessarily singing, but it's interesting to watch. We may learn something important to the investigation.'
'What are you hoping for?'
'Who benefits from her death, if anyone.'
Katie nodded slowly. That was another question she should have added to her list. At least, this would have been a more logical question. No hunches.
Katie sighed. There was no way she was showing the second list to Jack, until she had more evidence to support her hunches. But the first one...
'By the way, I've got some stuff for you.' She fished her notebook out of the handbag, opened to the page with the first list, and handed it across.
'I've been thinking of all the little things I forgot about. Or questions I think may be important to ask to get a clearer picture of Mrs Dunbar.'
Jack read the notes.
'Great questions!' he said with a hint of respect in his voice. 'Roy is coming this morning to collect some documents. I'd like to ask him about his uncle's artwork, his aunt's pretending to have money, and, of course why he came from behind the house, not the shed. As for the pictures, they are still there, I remember seeing them. But I'll talk to Roy about it again. I want to show him the pictures of the inside of the house again. He was so upset on the day he couldn't really tell if anything had gone missing. Maybe he can shed some light on the issue of the value
of those paintings.'
Katie sat in the reception area, as she always did during the Monday morning strategic meeting, manning the desk. Shortly after half past nine, Roy entered.
'I've got some papers to pick up,' he said grimly.
Katie handed him the brown envelope Jack had left on the desk.
'I think the inspector wants to talk to you.
Roy rubbed his greyish face with his hands. He looked wrung out. His salt-and-pepper hair was greasy and uncombed, his beard–unkempt.
'Whatever,' he said. 'I just want it over. What's that about?'
'I'm not sure, but I've heard he wants to go over some of the details, ask if anything gone missing, or have been moved in the house.'
'Nothing's gone missing. They've already checked with me. The darn paintings were there, the jewellery puzzle box, all the photos–thank Lord! As far as I could see, whoever killed her didn't take anything of value. I can't wait to get this whole mess over and done with.'
'Do you want to wait for the DI to talk to him? He should be finished in about twenty minutes. Or do you prefer me to give you a ring when it's over?'
Roy looked around the room absentmindedly.
'I don't care. I've got a meeting with the solicitor at 11 am. I can wait. I can't do much before then, anyway.'
'Do you want a cuppa?'
'That'd be nice.'
She made him a cup of tea and went from behind the reception desk to deliver the cup to him. He was sitting in one of the hard, plastic chairs in the waiting area, reading the documents.
'Thanks, Katie.' He looked at her and even attempted a smile. 'Are you coming to the solicitor's office, too?'
'Me? Why?'
He slurped his tea. 'You're one of the beneficiaries.'
