Anne flinched. ‘Oh. Sorry. Well, anyway, it’s not playing, is it?’
George gave her a ‘you’d be surprised’ look as he found a blank page and licked the tip of his pencil.
‘Right, now before you cut me down in flames, I’m not suggesting that anyone in this room is to blame; but, it makes sense to ask you people some questions. Some may be a little intrusive, but I’ve got to get the facts down. Beth, James, when did your party begin last night?’
Beth put her cup down. ‘Well, we were here from about five o’clock putting up lanterns and candles. You know, fixing the place up to look good. James was sorting out the games and getting the apple desserts going, setting up the hog roast, that sort of thing.’
‘Anne was here too,’ added James, ’buttering the rolls.’
‘Oh, that’s right, and Bert was helping James out in the field.’
Anne leant forward. ‘Stephen was still at home getting the children ready.’
‘And what time did people start arriving?’ asked George.
Beth gazed up, searching her memory. ‘I guess around seven. That’s the time we said it would start and people pretty much stuck to that.’
‘And who arrived first?’
‘Actually, darling,’ said James, ‘it was before seven. Bob Tanner and his little folk band were here and set themselves up on the make-shift stage.’
‘Oh, that’s right. Yes, they were here about six.’
‘Right,’ replied George. ‘So apart from those people you’ve just named, no-one else was at your place before seven?’
Beth’s face paled and James reacted. ‘I say, George, you don’t think it was one of our guests, do you?’
George sighed impatiently. ‘I don’t know, James. But I have to start somewhere. The vicar is new and the few villagers that have met him so far were here. And, if this has got something to do with Grimes’ death - and I’m not saying it has - then, yes, I do think it’s quite close to home.’
‘So you’re not ruling out a link to Grimes?’
George’s lips tightened. ‘As I’ve said, James, I’m not ruling it out. But I have to consider the possibility because of where Reverend Merryweather was attacked. If the Grimes death is suspicious, then I have to look at family, friends, acquaintances. Nine times out of ten, it’s a member of the family or an acquaintance that is involved.’
James leant back in his chair and reluctantly appreciated where his friend was coming from, although he hated the thought of any villager being involved in such an unsavoury incident. He fondled Beth’s toes.
‘Well, I think Dorothy Forbes was one of the first through the gate,’ he said. ‘People seemed to pitch up all together, really. Once the children had finished doing their trick or treat bit, they sort of toddled off to get the parents and then swung by here. But I think just about everyone was here by eight, half past eight at the latest.’
George scratched his head. ‘I know that you invite the whole village, but not everyone comes. Can you give me a list of those people that did arrive?’
James grimaced and glanced hopefully at Beth who confirmed that she would see to it.
‘And what about leaving?’ continued George. ‘Did you see anyone leave early?’
The group looked at one another blankly and Beth shook her head. ‘Oh George, I don’t think anyone took much notice,’ she replied. ‘It was dark. The lanterns only give out so much light. People come and go through the yard door at the side - we don’t have any formalities, as you know. They would have come and gone as they pleased.’
‘Right, so could anyone have left for a half hour and come back again without being missed?’
James nodded thoughtfully as he stirred his tea. ‘Yes, yes I suppose if they’d wanted to. Anyone could have.’
George turned to Bert. ‘Bert, anything to add to that?’
Bert screwed his face up and shrugged. ‘Not really, mate. I ‘ad a chat with most people last night, but I couldn’t tell you when I did or if they were there all night. Anyone could’ve sneaked out and been back without being missed.’
‘The o-only people with a c-cast iron alibi are the band,’ said Stephen. ‘Th-they never stopped playing.’
‘And us, of course,’Anne added.
George raised his eyebrows. ‘But no-one can vouch for anyone all of the time - apart from Bob Tanner.’
Anne avoided his eye contact. ‘Well…no, I suppose not.’
George heaved a sigh and focussed his attention on Mitchell.
‘Mr Mitchell, perhaps you’d better go through what you saw on your way to the party. Try not to leave anything out.’
Mr Mitchell cleared his throat and put his cup down. He’d arrived for the meeting straight from the orchard and, after excusing his unkempt clothing, insisted on leaving his muddy walking shoes on the front step and then went on to excuse his grubby socks.
Clearly an outdoor man, his rugged face made him look a little older than his twenty-six years and it creased with worry as he thought about what to say. His hand rubbed the rough stubble on his chin. He fidgeted in his chair and, James observed, appeared uncomfortable in his surroundings.
‘Right, well,’ he began, ’I came round here early yesterday afternoon - to drop the apples off, like. I didn’t stop coz I’d got quite a bit to do at the orchard, what with my wife being at her sister’s. She’s just getting over the flu and her sister offered to look after her, you know, convalescent sort of thing. Anyway, I says to his Lordship that I’d see ‘im later, like; that I’d pick up Mr and Mrs Jepson on the way. That’s right. I ‘ad to drop some apples off at a shop, but I said I’d pick ‘em up on the way.’
He nodded as if to reaffirm this to himself and George jotted this down.
‘And what time were you doing all of this?’ asked George.
‘Ah, right. Well, let’s see. I’d arranged to pick Mr and Mrs Jepson up at about eight-thirty, I think. So, I must’ve left the orchard at eight. I knew I’d be a bit early, but I didn’t think it’d matter. But there weren’t anyone there. At the Jepson’s house, I mean, which I thought was a bit odd. Anyway, I thought I’d go and drop the apples off with the shop-keeper and come back. I had to go down past Grimes’ farm to get back to the village.’
‘What shop are we talking about?’
‘The little grocer down Blandon Lane. Always takes a stock of cookers off of me.’
‘Cookers?’
‘Yeh, apples. Cooking apples.’
George nodded and gestured for him to carry on. Mitchell glanced across to James and then back to George.
‘Right. Well, I got to where Grimes’ farm is and just looked across. Don’t know why, but anyway, that’s when I saw lights. Like torch lights in the distance.’
‘In the distance?’
Mitchell shuffled his feet. ’Yeah, well, it looked like in the distance. I mean, it weren’t in the house.’
James leant forward. ‘But it could have been near the house?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so. Well…I’m not sure. At first, I thought it was further back, like, near the copse.’
‘Th-that’s what you s-said last night, when you arrived,’ Stephen added.
George took out his pipe and some tobacco. He carefully filled the bowl.
‘So, you don’t know if this light was by the farm or half a mile away in the copse?’
‘Not really,’replied Mitchell. He looked across at everyone apologetically. ‘Sorry, but after a night’s sleep it don’t seem so clear.’
‘And you said torch lights, not a torch light?’
Mitchell sat up in surprise. ‘Oh, did I? Well, I’m not sure that it was lights, now. I think it was prob’ly just the one.’
‘But you’re not sure exactly where?’
Mitchell grimaced and looked at James, who felt obliged to pitch in.
‘It was dark, George, and he did only drive by.’
George studied everyone in the room. Beth took advantage of the silence that
followed and offered more tea and cake to their guests, who appeared relieved for an interlude in the proceedings.
Mitchell fidgeted uneasily as he rolled his cap in his hands. Anne, again, offered her help, glad to be busy and distracted from George, who appeared to her to be a very grumpy individual. No amount of reassuring looks from Beth would change her mind.
George lit his pipe. James watched as the ladies organised tea and he got up to stretch his legs.
‘Mitchell, old chap,’ he said, ’did you go back to see if the Jepsons had got home?’
Mitchell sat up. ‘Yeah, yeah, I did,’ he replied, ‘and they still weren’t there. I knocked on the front door about four times. Then I went down the little alleyway, the one that takes you to the back of the house and tapped on the window but there was nothing. No lights on, upstairs or down.’
James worryingly looked across at George and wandered to the French windows to watch the boys playing. This wasn’t good, especially if Mr Jepson had argued with Grimes the morning he’d died. He’d been due back yesterday and now he and Mrs Jepson had upped sticks and gone. George pushed himself up from his chair and wandered across to join James.
‘What are you thinking, James?’
James shook his head and said nothing. George had yet to find out about the argument between Jepson and Grimes and he decided to keep quiet about it until he had time to think. He’d find out sooner or later, but James wanted it to be a little later. He couldn’t believe the Jepsons would be mixed up in this. George, unfortunately, had a built-in sixth sense. His eyes narrowed.
‘Is there anything you’re holding back?’
James looked indignant. George lowered his voice, pointing the tip of his pipe at him.
‘Because if there is, you need to let me know. If you want me to investigate this, and you’ve been badgering me to do so, then you’ve gotta be straight with me. And, if this does turn out to be more serious than I’ve let on, you’ve got to accept that someone you know might be involved.’
James chewed his lip as George continued.
‘That’s the problem when you go poking your nose in. Things jump out and you’re thrown a surprise that you didn’t expect. And then you wish you hadn’t meddled.’
James composed himself and turned to face him. ‘If I have something that I feel is important to you, George, I’ll let you know. I promise.’
George rolled his eyes in exasperation and returned to his seat, just as Beth and Anne finished pouring fresh Darjeeling. James wandered across to the fire place and leant on the mantelpiece. George continued his questioning with Mitchell.
‘So, what time did you get to the Jepsons’, that second time?’
‘Must’ve been about nine, nine-fifteen.’
‘How far are they from here?’
Mitchell shrugged. ‘About five minutes, I s’pose, by car.’
‘But you didn’t get here until ten? What were you doing in between?’
A long silence followed. James watched Mitchell; he fidgeted considerably under George’s unswerving gaze. Mitchell swallowed hard.
‘I went back to Grimes’ farm.’
James studied Mitchell as he explained that he’d returned to check to see if the lights were still there, and they were. He caught Bert’s eye, who was clearly thinking the same as he. Last night, Mitchell hadn’t mentioned going back to the farm. It’s the other side of the village - why would he go back? wondered James. Why had he changed his story? Even if he did go back to Grimes’ farm, it shouldn’t take that long. James put his hands in his pockets and sauntered back to his chair.
‘I say, Mitchell, old man. Did you know Grimes at all?’
‘Not really. He had some of my apples, but I never really talked with him much.’
‘Did he pay you?’
George stole a glance at James. ‘What’s that?’
James smiled. ‘It’s just that Grimes seemed a little short of the old readies and he doesn’t - or, rather, he didn’t - seem to pay up for things.’
Mitchell tensed and looked at the floor. ‘He didn’t pay me for the last lot, no. It weren’t much but, well, we have to make a living like, don’t we?’
George scribbled more notes on his pad. James picked up his teacup.
‘This mud man, golem thing,’ he said. ‘Do you think that’s relevant, George?’
‘Not sure how,’ replied George. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Well, the pentagrams on the floor at Grimes’ place, the devil worship stuff, the play that’s going on - it all points to some sort of supernatural theme, don’t you think? And why go to all the bother of making a golem?’
‘I’ll have a look into it, James. Remember, I’m not even sure that this is linked to the Grimes death. It’s easy to see how it would tie in, but I’m not sure why at the moment.’ George focussed his attention on Stephen.
‘Do you have any enemies in the village, Reverend?’
Stephen stared in horror. ‘G-good Lord, no. Y-you don’t think th-this was planned, do you?’
‘George,’ Beth interrupted with a look of horror, ‘you can’t be serious? He’s only just moved here.’
‘Where were you before that?’
‘K-Kidlington, near Oxford. I-I used to be a teacher there. Anne did too.’
Bert kicked his shoes off. ‘No-one would wanna hurt ‘im, George. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’
‘You know him?’
‘Not well, no. But I know people and ‘e’s no trouble. Blimey, he even wants to re-name the local play so it don’t offend. He’s as quiet as the proverbial church mouse.’
‘This play, The Devil Incarnate,’ continued George. ‘That’s all to do with the supernatural, isn’t it? Stephen’s a vicar - perhaps he’s annoyed someone by getting involved?’
James frowned quizzically at George. ‘Involved with what? It’s just the local play! Unless there’s some sort of witches’ coven going on that we don’t know about. Anyway, he didn’t know Grimes, so how could the two be linked?’
‘I’m not saying it is, James,’ replied George. ‘You’re the one that suggested this was linked - not me. Now you’re not sure?’
‘Fair point,’ James said as he munched on a scone. ‘But why would an amateur play be so emotive?’
Beth leant forward and chose a cake. ‘That’s an easy one. The supernatural link. Whether you’re for it, as Grimes was, or against it, as is Stephen, there’s a common link. If someone feels that strongly about something they can sometimes act irrationally. And, if there is some sort of devil worship thing going on somewhere… well, I don’t know much about it, but I can’t imagine them being nice people.’
George scratched his head and put his pipe down. ‘People have killed for less. And where are Mr and Mrs Jepson?’
James went to steer George off the subject, but Burt had already raised a knowing finger.
‘Ah, now that’s the rub,’ he said. ‘Now ‘e was round at Grimes the morning he died. Had an argument with him, by all accounts.’
Bert glanced up at James, who silently cursed him. George caught the look and eased himself out of his chair.
‘Right, I think I’ve got enough for the time being. I’m off.’
Anne’s shoulders sunk in relief as James leapt up and bounded across to George. ‘Is that it? No more questions?’
George confirmed that he really needed to do some rooting about to see if there was a case. ‘Don’t forget, James,’ he said. ‘Bert mentioned that he thought it may have been poachers and that is the most logical answer.’
‘But why mould a golem?’ asked James. ‘Why not just knock him out?’
‘Well, you’ve got me there,’ replied George. ‘I ‘aven’t got all the answers, but I’ve known several innocent bystanders get attacked because they’ve interrupted the nightly wanderings of poachers; and there is poaching in that area. Anyway, I’ll dig around, see what I can find out.’
George bid goodbye to everyone and requested th
ey make themselves available for more questioning. James followed him through to the hall.
‘By the way, James, don’t forget to give me that list of people that came here last night. Soon as you can. I’ll check out those that didn’t attend, too.’
‘Absolutely, old chap. I’ll run it across to you tomorrow.’
The inspector jabbed a finger at James. ‘And I don’t need any prompting or interference from you. I’d like two and two to equal four, not fifty-seven.’
James held his hands up and smiled. ‘You know where I am.’
‘And don’t keep anything back,’ continued George. ‘I clocked the look you gave Bert when he mentioned the Jepsons.’
James apologized and emphasised that he just couldn’t see Jepson murdering anyone.
‘You’d be surprised what people are capable of.’
Stephen popped out from the lounge.
‘Inspector - sorry, D-Detective Chief Inspector. Have you found Keith Grimes?’
‘No, not yet. I’ll follow up on that and let you know what I find out. When’s the funeral?’
‘This coming Wednesday.’
‘Right you are. Leave it with me.’
Stephen returned to the lounge as James swung open the front door.
‘George, are you looking at the body again?’ he asked.
‘Already on to that. I’m getting our doctor at headquarters to examine it tomorrow to see if he agrees with Jackson. I’ll get fingerprints sorted out, too. You in church on Sunday?’ George suddenly looked surprised. ‘Blimey, that’s the day after tomorrow, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it’s a busy few days,’ replied James. ‘We’ve got rehearsals for this play on Sunday evening, the funeral on Wednesday and, of course, Bonfire Night to organise.’ He glanced at George inquisitively. ‘You’re not usually at church.’
‘Oh, I will be on Sunday,’ said George. ‘I’ll be sitting at the back watching. I’m sure the news about the vicar will have spread like wildfire. They’ll all be there, gawping. Can learn a lot from people-watching.’ He secured his trilby and trotted down the steps to his car. ‘Cheerio.’
James deliberated thoughtfully as he closed the door. George mentioned that it was normally a family member to blame during serious crimes. He wondered whether Keith Grimes had already arrived in Cavendish.
LORD JAMES HARRINGTON AND THE WINTER MYSTERY (Lord James Harrington Mysteries Book 1) Page 11
