by McNeir, Leo
“Perhaps we can talk when you’re feeling better,” said Ralph.
“Yes. I’ll be in touch.”
Anne was humming to herself as she printed copies of the letter and licked the stamps for the envelopes. She made a neat pile of about a dozen and turned to tick off that item on her list.
“There’s just the bank now,” she said. “And I’ll make coffee for the builders before we go.” Ralph was glad to see Anne looking so happy. She flitted about the office barn as if she had wings on her heels. He had always enjoyed being with young people, unlike many of his colleagues who preferred their own research and writing to contact with the students. For that moment he shared her happiness and did not want to spoil Anne’s elation, but soon he would have to warn her to stay vigilant. At the back of his mind a voice was telling him not to drop his guard. The problem had not gone away. This was only a temporary reprieve from the horror that had fallen on the village once again. The murderer was still at large.
*
Marriner looked at his watch for the hundredth time. Eleven-ten. He was beginning to wonder if everyone was determined to thwart their progress on this case. At the hospital no-one would even give him an idea of how long it would be before he could speak to Marnie. The girl, who was supposed to be a patient suffering from shock, had been allowed to go home. The medics had told Ralph Lombard to stay away for the whole of the morning. It would be typical of this case if Bartlett rang him from the ACC’s office and asked in desperation for an update on progress. He rang in and asked for any news on the search for Randall Hughes. Nothing. Not a bloody thing.
“How about coffee?” said Cathy Lamb. “I don’t think there’s anything useful we can do here.” Marriner shrugged irritably and turned on his heel. On the way to the lifts they were met by Anne and Ralph walking quickly towards them.
“Mr Lombard?” said Marriner. “I’d like a word with you, please. You got my message yesterday?”
“Yes, I did,” said Ralph without stopping. “Excuse me. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Marriner’s jaw dropped. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered to Cathy. “Anyone would think I was invisible.” He hurried after them and almost caught up as they reached the doors barring entrance to the ITU, confident that he had them cornered. “You won’t be able to go in there. It’s locked.” Anne quickly pressed four buttons on the keypad and pushed the door wide enough for her and Ralph to slip through. Not expecting this, Marriner was caught wrong-footed and, by the time he reached the door, it had locked itself again.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed, clenching his fists at his side. “Did you see what numbers she pressed?” Cathy shook her head. “Bugger it!” he said and pressed the bell. At the end of the corridor, Cathy saw Anne and Ralph turn the corner and disappear. Behind her, Marriner was still muttering. “I could have him for obstructing our enquiries. Bloody cheek, walking past me like that.” She could understand Marriner’s annoyance, but what did he expect them to do? Marnie Walker mattered more to them than the police and their questions. A minute later Ralph returned.
“Sarge?” Cathy stood aside so that Marriner could see him coming.
“Didn’t you know I wanted to talk to you urgently?” Marriner began.
Ralph raised a hand. “Of course. I’ll do everything I can to assist you, but first things first. You are Sergeant Marriner, I take it?”
“Yes. And I want to talk to you and the girl. Now.”
“Her name is Anne. Anne Price. She needs a moment or two with Marnie. You can talk to me first.”
“I hope I’ll get some co-operation.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to be rude, but we have a lot on our mind. I know you do, too. You look as if you could do with a cup of coffee, sergeant. Come on.” For the second time that morning Marriner found himself chasing Ralph. After pressing the button for the lift, Ralph turned to Cathy and held out his hand. “Ralph Lombard. We haven’t been introduced.” He spoke with a quiet intonation, as if they were attending a college dinner or an embassy reception. Cathy needed all her willpower not to laugh and did not dare look in the direction of her sergeant, who was struggling to regain his usual calm.
“Cathy Lamb. Detective Constable.” She smiled charmingly and shook hands. Marriner rolled his eyes and took a deep breath.
In the canteen, Ralph bought them coffee and biscuits and chose a table where they could have a measure of privacy. Marriner’s temper was restored and Ralph eased the situation by giving him his absolute attention. In response to Marriner’s questions, he gave a full but succinct account of his movements since leaving Seattle. He told him what he had discovered since returning, but omitted the incident involving Albert Fletcher and Randall Hughes. Cathy Lamb took detailed notes in shorthand.
“Thank you for that, sir,” said Marriner. “You’ve been very helpful.” Cathy closed the notebook.
“I haven’t finished,” said Ralph. Cathy flicked open the pad.
“You have something else to tell us, sir?” Marriner waited while Ralph composed his thoughts.
“You will find this strange, sergeant, but what I’m going to tell you seems to me to have a bearing on your enquiries. It’s an unusual story and I must ask you to be patient while I explain.” Ralph began to outline the events that had taken place in the Civil War, including the details explained to him by Anne. He told them about the unsolved murder, the will that cast further light on what had happened, Fellheimer’s research notes, the suicide of Sarah Anne Day and the finding of her headstone. Cathy wrote quickly and carefully, occasionally hesitating over an unfamiliar word or expression, once asking him to repeat the reference for the Bible quotation. At the end, Ralph folded his arms.
“That seems weird,” said Marriner. “What could a murder committed all that time ago have to do with the murder last week?”
“That,” said Ralph, “is precisely why Marnie did not want to talk to you about it. No-one wants to seem a fool, especially a young professional woman talking, if you don’t mind me saying this, to a middle-aged man.”
“They can’t be connected,” Marriner said quietly. “It’s impossible.”
“You thought the vandalism to the gravestone was connected,” said Ralph. “Perhaps it was part of the same thing, old animosities, bigotry, prejudice.”
“Yes, but that was a recent crime, with hard evidence. Mind you, we’ve found no trace of the headstone.”
“It’s hidden in the builder’s rubble at Glebe Farm,” said Ralph. “Marnie and Anne put it there. You’ll find it at the back of the main farmhouse.”
Marriner looked startled. “Why didn’t she tell us any of this?”
“She was going to, but before she could do so, she was … nearly murdered. Nearly but not quite, by the look of it this morning. Tell me, sergeant, do you have a prime suspect?”
The sudden change of direction caught Marriner off guard and he struggled to find the right words. “That’s really a matter … not the sort of thing we can … you understand, sir.”
“You don’t have one,” said Ralph. “I see. Anne suspected as much.”
Marriner looked unsettled. “We’re investigating a number of leads at the moment and we’re still trying to contact Mr. Hughes,” said Marriner. “You’ve not mentioned him.”
“Hughes?” said Ralph innocently, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Randall Hughes, the former vicar of Knightly?”
“Yes. Did you know him?”
“Of course. We met at a village event several weeks ago. We got on quite well.”
“He’s gone missing,” said Marriner.
“No, he hasn’t.”
Marriner gave a start. “What do you mean? We’ve been searching everywhere for him. There’s not a trace. I expect you’ll know where we can find him as well, sir?” There was an edge of irony in the tone.
“I can give you his precise address,” said Ralph. He turned to Cathy. “Shall I spell it for you?”
*
Stra
ngely, seeing Marnie half-conscious was almost worse than when she was lying as still as a corpse on the white sheets. Ralph could sense her suffering now that they were letting her come round. Her serenity had gone, the statue stillness had been replaced by restless half movements, her freedom limited by the tubes and dressings. Worst of all, she tried to smile when she saw him and for some seconds he could not find words to speak. He sat beside her and kissed her hand, too frightened to touch any other part for fear of breaking something. Anne was sitting as if in a trance. Her state of shock had returned and she had lost the gaiety of that morning.
“Marnie, oh Marnie,” said Ralph, holding her hand as firmly as he dared. In the corner of his eye a movement caught his attention and he saw the tracks of tears falling steadily down Anne’s face. He put his free hand on hers. “We will find who did this,” he said.
“Yes, we will,” said Anne falteringly. “I promise you, Marnie.”
*
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Dr Morton.
Marriner sighed loudly. “Doctor, we are trying to find who did this. We need a break and every minute could count. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t vital.”
Morton sat thinking. “I doubt if she can help you at this stage. She’s suffered severe concussion; she’s lucky not to have broken her skull. Strictly speaking, she’s not off the danger list yet.”
“All the more reason for letting us see her,” Marriner insisted.
Morton frowned. “I will have to be present,” he said. “You will leave the moment I tell you. Is that understood?” He led them into the unit and explained to Ralph and Anne, Beth and Paul what he had decided. The three adults moved away to give the police space by the bed. Only Anne remained where she was. Marriner cleared his throat by way of introduction. Anne raised a finger and leaned forward.
“Marnie,” she said. “Marnie, are you awake?” There was a slight turn of the head towards her. The eyelids flickered. “Listen, it’s the police, Sergeant Marriner. He wants to ask you something.” She looked round at him and he kneeled down beside her.
“Mrs Walker,” he said softly. “Do you know who did this to you?” Marnie’s eyelids flickered again and her breathing quickened, but she made no attempt to speak. Across the bed, Morton shook his head at Marriner.
“Ask me,” Anne whispered to him. He muttered in her ear. She looked surprised and moved her face close to Marnie.
“Marnie, was it Frank Day? Did he do this?” The eyelids flickered again and this time Marnie’s mouth started to move. She licked her lips and Anne moved in closer.
“What did she say?” said Marriner.
“She said ‘there’, or it might have been ‘not there’”.
“Is that all? What does that mean?” said Marriner. “Ask her was it Randall Hughes.” Anne glared at Morton before relaying the question.
“She said ‘no’.”
“Are you proposing to try the name of everyone in the village?” said Morton.
Marriner ignored him. “Ask her if she saw who did it.” This time, Marnie began to whisper without Anne’s intervention; her voice was too soft to be heard in the room. Anne turned to Marriner.
“She said ‘yes’!”
“Who was it?” said Marriner, straining forward.
Anne listened and turned back. “She said ‘no’.”
“No? But she just said –”
“I think it means she can’t remember,” said Anne.
“That’s all you’re going to get for now,” said Morton. “She’s too tired to be able to help you. That’s what she means.”
*
The two police cars pulled into the lane blocking it completely. Bartlett led the way to the front door, sending three constables round the back of the cottage to prevent any attempt to get away, with a fourth standing just behind him on the path. He took hold of the brass ring and knocked on the door. There was a sound of movement from inside and Bartlett braced himself for whatever might happen. The door opened and Randall Hughes appeared. Wearing his long black cassock, complete with dog-collar, he looked surprised but otherwise at ease, holding a green plastic watering can.
“Good morning,” he said affably.
Bartlett eyed him warily and held up his warrant card. “Detective Chief Inspector Bartlett, Northamptonshire CID.”
“Randall Hughes. How do you do. This is unexpected. Won’t you come in? I was just watering the plants in the conservatory. Would you like some tea?”
*
Marnie spent much of that day undergoing further tests to determine the full extent of her injuries. She grew weary of being told how lucky she was, especially as every breath caused her pain.
Anne spent as much time as was allowed sitting beside her, no longer keeping up the constant words of encouragement, simply being there. Each time Marnie woke, her first sight was Anne. Ralph tried to be useful, phoning the bank manager, the builders, the brewery, suppliers, doing everything needed to keep Marnie’s world moving despite what had happened. Anne had given him a list. Beth and Paul were on standby to fetch parents from the airport, but there were no cancellations that day and they were on a priority list for a flight as soon as one could be found.
*
Marriner and Lamb returned to the police station in Towcester for a meeting with Bartlett who had ‘invited’ Randall Hughes to come with him for a ‘discussion’. Borrowing a friend’s cottage for a few days and forgetting to leave a note for the cleaning lady was not yet an indictable offence, but Randall agreed to accompany the police in his own car in order to give them his full co-operation. The fact that some of his property, namely a sleeping bag, had been found in the vicarage was one further regrettable example of his forgetfulness. The excellent condition of the plants at Ralph’s cottage were a testimony to his caring nature.
“So you were in no way involved in the murder of Toni Petrie?” said Bartlett, bringing the discussion to a close.
Randall’s face clouded over. “I cannot, in all honesty, say that.”
Bartlett and Marriner exchanged glances. “Would you like to explain that statement, sir?” said Bartlett. Cathy Lamb waited, pencil poised over her notebook.
“Of course I hold myself partly to blame for her death. It was on my advice that she said nothing to the police about the vandalism. If the two incidents are connected in any way, I bear part of the guilt. We neither of us wanted any scandal in our new jobs.” He looked down at his lap. “I am ashamed of my behaviour. It was selfish and unforgivable.”
“And that is why you wanted to go away for a few days,” said Bartlett.
“Yes,” said Randall truthfully. “I needed time to think and pray, time to repent.”
“And Dr Lombard allowed you to use his cottage during the time of his visit to America to complete your repentance?”
“No. That’s not strictly true,” said Randall. “I shall never complete my repentance, as you put it. I shall go on repenting for the rest of my life.”
*
“What will you do now?” said Anne. Ralph steered out of the roundabout over the M1 and pointed his car in the direction of Knightly.
“That rather depends on you,” he said. He looked at the dashboard clock. Two forty-five.
“You must have important things to attend to, Ralph. I’ll be all right at home if you have to get back to Oxford. We can meet later.”
“Mid-evening?” said Ralph. “They said she’ll probably sleep until eight or nine. Suppose I come back at about seven?”
“Fine. I’ll be home in time to see the builders and make their tea. I’ve got plenty to do.”
“You’ll put the mobile on charge?” said Ralph.
“Yes, I won’t forget. I’ll be okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Ralph. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be perfectly all right.”
28
Anne was in her element. She had the office barn to herself and set about giving the whole place a thoro
ugh sorting out. All her energy had returned now that Marnie was on the mend and she applied herself to cleaning and tidying with vigour. She told the builders briefly what had happened and assured them she would see to anything they needed, including all payments. They were overjoyed at Marnie’s improvement and promised to press on as before. She rang her parents and suggested they wait until the weekend before coming up to visit Marnie in the General.
Within an hour of arriving, the office looked as it had been when they first came to Glebe Farm, apart from a pile of papers that Anne had collected from in and out-baskets for attention. They sat in a growing pile on Anne’s chair while she finished hoovering and dusting. At five she collected the tray of mugs from outside and waved the builders on their way, bumping up the dusty track in their old Transit.
Next, Anne turned her attention to Sally Ann. She bundled the papers into a spare folder and pocketed the mobile phone, now fully recharged, locked the office and strolled through the spinney, calling out for Dolly as she went. It took half an hour to make the interior of the boat as orderly as the office barn and Anne made a cup of tea while Dolly ate her supper. Settling herself at the table, she began to sift through the papers in the folder, putting them in piles for filing and action.
In the middle of the bundle she came upon an A4 pad that she had not seen before. The cover had some of Marnie’s doodles and Anne opened it with interest. The first pages contained sketches of the church, the porch from different angles, details of the keying in where it would join on to the main structure. The drawings were annotated and some of the pages had notes in more than one handwriting. With a pang, she recognised the small neat characters of Toni Petrie in a list of dates and the bold angular writing of Mike Thomas. Anne made a note on her own pad to speak to Mike about the porch job. For the next few pages, Marnie had written notes of her meetings with Toni to tackle the renovation: timetable, budget, action and so on.
The last meeting was the week before Toni died and Anne turned the page expecting that she had reached the end of the notes, only to discover that the writing continued. At first, she could not make sense of what she saw. There were names she did not recognise, dates copied from the church history booklet, the names of vicars at the time of the Reformation, question marks beside the gaps in the list, places where battles had been fought in the Civil War. Anne read on and found yet more notes, page after page of lists, questions, even a sketch map showing Knightly St John, Yore and Great Hanford. Suddenly she felt weary at the thought of reading again the whole story and she closed the pad, dropping it onto one of the chairs. She returned to the task of sorting the office papers and soon had everything in order ready to take back to the barn.
