Getaway With Murder

by McNeir, Leo

  She skidded round the gate, sliding on the gravel path, showering the grass with stones as she pitched forward. The church door was ajar and she hesitated a moment on the threshold, wondering if she should phone for the police, but dismissing the idea. By the time anyone arrived, it would be too late. It was probably too late already. Stooping low, Anne slipped into the building and raced towards the tower. She knew the door would be open and as she approached, she could hear banging from high up. She took a deep breath and climbed the worn stone steps as quickly as she could. The noise of the banging grew louder, the mad, desperate hammering of a fist on wood. Frank seemed to be trying to smash the partition to pieces, but it was solid oak, hardened for four centuries. He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages: in the secret places doth he murder the innocent. Anne willed herself up the steps to the final bend. In this frame of mind he would take no notice of her! And he would be killed!

  “Frank! Frank!” she screamed as loud as she could in the semi-darkness. Startled, Frank half turned, his arm still raised. The movement unbalanced him and he tottered on the loose step, grabbing at the air to save himself from falling, his hand seizing the stonework above his head. He did not see the partition swing open behind him, but Anne saw it and launched herself forward, grabbing him at the waist in a clumsy rugby tackle, pulling him on top of her, aware of a rushing sound above them as they crashed down onto the landing. The impact of the fall winded Anne and she struggled to free herself. Frank cried out in agony.

  *

  Sergeant Marriner was getting ready to leave the station on his way to the hospital. In all his years of investigating crimes he had never reached a point where every line of enquiry had come to nothing. No murder weapon, no firm evidence, no prime suspect. Cathy Lamb knocked on the door and they walked down the corridor together. They scarcely spoke, both of them deflated, aware that Marnie’s evidence was likely to be unreliable. Severe concussion rarely produced good witnesses.

  “Do we know if she’s actually awake, Cathy?”

  “I rang ten minutes ago and she was sleeping. The nurse said she’d probably wake up this evening, but she couldn’t say when.”

  “Another wild goose chase,” Marriner muttered under his breath. “Still, we’ve got nothing else to go on for the time being.”

  “But if she saw who attacked her …”

  “If she did,” said Marriner. “And if she can remember. With the way things are going on this case, I wouldn’t be too optimistic.”

  “Sergeant Marriner!” An officer in shirt sleeves called from the door. He held up his hand to his ear, thumb and finger splayed, imitating a telephone. “Call for you, sarge. She says it’s urgent.”

  “Who is it?” Marriner shouted as he made his way back. He wondered if this would be bad news from the hospital, after all.

  “A girl. Anne Price. Very agitated.”

  Marriner feared the worst and hurried along the corridor to the desk. He picked up the phone. “Marriner.”

  Cathy Lamb had followed him back and saw him frowning as he listened.

  “Are you in danger? … Right, we’re on our way, with you in ten minutes.” He put the receiver down and barked orders at the duty officer. “Ambulance and paramedics – Knightly St John – the church – get Dodds and Bathurst to meet me there – immediate – tell Bartlett – got that?” He raced to the car park, Cathy doing her best to keep up, both of them relieved at last to have some action.

  “What is it, sarge?” said Cathy breathlessly as they clambered into the car.

  “He’s struck again!”

  *

  The ACC lit another cigarette. He had been going to give up for the umpteenth time before this case had come along. He offered the packet to Superintendent Bragg who refused and to Bartlett who accepted.

  “You reckon he was hiding out at the vicarage all along, but now he has this alibi, this convenient stay at Lombard’s cottage. But you don’t believe it.”

  “No way,” said Bartlett. “It must have been Hughes. It was his sleeping bag under the bed, his car in the garage. Not a word to his cleaner or the church authorities. People don’t just vanish like that, unless they’ve got a particular reason.”

  “He said he had,” said Bragg.

  “Wanted time to think, time to pray. He lives next door to a bloody church! He could’ve prayed in there any time he wanted!”

  “But there’s no firm proof, is there?” said the ACC. “He could’ve left the sleeping bag at the vicarage. No-one can swear it wasn’t there. Marnie Walker couldn’t be certain it was his car in the garage. What about the neighbours at the cottage?”

  Bartlett shook his head. “It’s tucked away. No-one could be sure if he was there, if it was him or Lombard. The place isn’t overlooked.”

  “Well,” said the ACC, “if he sticks to his story, true or not, Lombard’s given him an alibi.” The phone rang and the ACC shrugged. “And there’s not much we can do about it.” He picked up the phone. “Hallo? … Yes, he’s with me now … go on … Christ! … I’ll tell him.” He put the phone down. “You’d better get over to Knightly straight away.”

  Bartlett stood up. “What’s happened, sir?”

  “Your murderer’s been flushed out of the woodwork.”

  *

  Ralph had thought about ringing Anne before setting off from Oxford, but decided against it. Better to get on the road. She would have phoned him at All Saints if she had anything to report. The traffic was less heavy than on his last journey and it was flowing steadily at a reasonable pace. He made good time and was ten minutes early as he drove down the high street and past the church. A few people were standing outside the pub talking, and he noticed a parked car and someone walking on the church path, otherwise all was quiet. Ralph was glad the village had at least the appearance of returning to normal.

  A moment’s apprehension came over him as he swung the car through the field gate and turned onto the track. He had felt a slight nervousness at leaving Anne and now wished he had phoned to see if all was well. He shrugged the thought aside and was reassured at the sight of the rooftops and chimneys of Glebe Farm down the slope along the curving track, against their backdrop of trees, homely and secure. It was a good place to come home to.

  Ralph became aware that all was not as he expected when he caught a glimpse of a car boot protruding from behind the barns. It looked familiar and he tried to place it. Molly Appleton peered round the corner of the barn at his approach. There was something odd about her, not fear or distress, but perhaps an unease. Ralph pulled up in a swirl of dust and got out quickly.

  “Hallo, Mrs Appleton. I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

  *

  “You’re getting to know the routine, I believe,” said the nurse with a smile. Anne nodded wanly. The nurse continued. “Doctor will be here in a minute. We just want to check you over, see you’re okay. Can you take off your top clothes in the cubicle and put on the gown.” Anne stood up and pulled off her T-shirt, dropping it on the back of her chair.

  “Where’s Frank?” She slipped out of her jeans, draped them over the chair and pulled on the gown.

  “He’s in radiology at the moment. We have to X-ray his leg.”

  “Is his ankle broken?” said Anne.

  “Probably.”

  “He was in a lot of pain.”

  “We can control that, don’t worry.” There was a tap on the door and the doctor came in. He was a young man, Indian, complete with turban, with a stethoscope slung over his shoulder. He smiled, showing brilliant white teeth and spoke with a gentle voice.

  “Anne Price, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Doctor Singh. I’ve come to see if you need treatment.” He had a relaxed manner and no trace of accent. He squatted on a chair opposite Anne and looked intently into her face. “What happened to you?”

  “Frank fell on top of me on some stone steps.”

  “That’s Mr Day?”

 
“Yes. He’s being X-rayed. Do you know if he’s all right?”

  “He’s fine. Don’t worry about him. Let’s concentrate on you.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Where did he land on you? Can you show me.” Anne pointed to her ribs.

  “Let’s have a look at you. Would you remove the robe and lie on the couch, please.”

  *

  When Ralph touched her hand, Marnie’s eyes opened slowly and a smile spread across her face. He heard her breathing, saw her moisten her lips.

  “Hallo,” she whispered. Her voice was husky.

  “Hallo, Marnie. Don’t talk. Save your energy.”

  “What energy?” The smile returned. Ralph leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted of chemicals and antiseptic. A nurse came up silently and checked the readings, making the usual notes.

  “How are you feeling, Marnie?” she said.

  “Wonderful.” This time it was a croak. Marnie cleared her throat and coughed.

  “That’s the anaesthetic,” said the nurse. “We can get rid of the coughing, but it takes a while.”

  “I was expecting to find Anne here,” said Ralph. Marnie looked surprised.

  “She’s downstairs,” said the nurse. “She sent a message to say she’ll be up in a minute or two.” Marnie closed her eyes and the nurse made a signal to Ralph as she moved away. Ralph gave Marnie’s hand a gentle squeeze and got up, following the nurse to the next cubicle.

  She turned to him and spoke quietly. “Anne is in A and E, in casualty. As far as we know she has no injuries, but we always carry out a thorough examination.”

  “What happened to her?” said Ralph. “I was just told she’d accompanied Frank Day in the ambulance.”

  “I really don’t know more than that,” said the nurse. “I was asked to pass on the message.”

  “Of course. Thanks,” said Ralph. “I’ll find out from Anne. As long as she’s all right.”

  “You’ll have to get in the queue,” said the nurse. Ralph raised an eyebrow. “The police are waiting to question her as soon as she comes out of A and E.”

  *

  Dr Morton sat in silence for several seconds. Beth and Paul were by now accustomed to his manner and did not find the reaction to their question disconcerting. Morton drew breath audibly. “I would like to keep her here for two or three more days,” he said with his usual deliberation.

  “But you aren’t worried about her?” said Beth.

  “Not in the way you mean. On the other hand, a patient with such serious injuries always requires a great deal of care and I like to take no chances.”

  “Will she make a complete recovery?”

  “As far as I can tell, she should return to full health. It may take time and she may have some discomfort for a while, the odd ache here and there. But once the ribs heal and the headaches subside, she ought to be as good as before. And she is in good shape.”

  *

  It was ten-thirty when Anne slumped into Ralph’s car with a sigh. He climbed in beside her. “It’s been quite an evening for you,” he said. “Let’s take you home.” The Volvo was years old, but started at the first turn of the ignition.

  “Just like Sally Ann,” said Anne. “She always starts first time.” They made their way out into the streets of Northampton and Ralph pointed the long bonnet towards the south.

  “If it’s all right with you, Anne, I’d like to stay at Glebe Farm tonight. I can go in the barn or stay on Sally, which ever you’d prefer. It’s nice to think there’s no danger anymore.”

  “It’s such a relief,” said Anne. “I can hardly believe it. To think that all that time, the murderer was there, waiting.”

  “No wonder Bartlett and Marriner couldn’t believe it,” said Ralph. “It’s the first time they’ve ever had the same murderer commit two crimes separated by three hundred and fifty years.”

  “Ralph, do you think that’s an end to it now? I mean, all the hatred.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But what about Ireland?” she said. “You know Marnie often talks about the trouble there. It really upsets her. She says people shouldn’t have to live in all that distrust and violence. I couldn’t bear it. Perhaps it’s the same in Knightly. Perhaps it never goes away.”

  Ralph drove on in silence for a while before answering. “I think it’s different here. Ireland is much more complicated, a bigger problem.”

  “But it’s still people,” said Anne.

  “Yes. And the problem has persisted for generations. I’m sure one day things will change and everyone will want peace and be willing to work for it together.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  So do I, thought Ralph. “Anne, things have changed in Knightly since Toni died. I think the village has suffered a severe shock to its system and things will be different from now on.”

  “Yes,” said Anne. “I think Mr Fletcher will have changed. Perhaps things will be better.”

  “That’s my guess,” said Ralph.

  “You haven’t asked me any questions about what happened,” said Anne.

  “You’ve been questioned enough for one day. You can tell me all about it when you’re ready.”

  *

  It was a damp morning, one of those days in a long summer that warns of autumn coming. Moisture clung to every surface, dripping softly from the branches of trees in the spinney, outlining the webs of spiders, making the steelwork of Sally Ann glisten. It hung in a low faint mist over the surface of the canal and the air smelled of leaf mould and the good earth.

  Dolly had not stayed in for the night, preferring to roam outside, preferring the excitement of the mouse-hunt to the comfort of her cushion. With the sun rising through the trees, she stood at the doors of the aft deck and meowed. It was a long persistent call and was heard by both the occupants of the boat. Anne heard it first and woke quickly, feeling refreshed and glad to be alive. She glanced in the direction of Ralph who was on the camp bed in the saloon and saw that he had not moved. At once she leapt out of bed, anxious not to disturb him. She moved quickly because in the night she had slipped out of her dressing gown under the warm duvet. She felt the cool damp air on her pale body as she pulled open the bolts and let Dolly into the cabin. Pausing only long enough to take in the scene around them, she pulled the doors together and sprang back onto the bed. She saw that Ralph had still not moved and pulled the covers over her, enjoying the warmth of her cocoon. The world felt a different place now that the long nightmare had ended. Anne smiled to herself under the duvet and began putting on the white cotton robe, ready to get up and start a new day.

  In the saloon, Ralph lay on the rickety camp-bed, wondering if it would collapse if he turned too suddenly. It seemed less luxurious than it had on his first night. He had heard Dolly’s cry to be let in and had woken fractionally after Anne, only propping himself up on his elbow as she was reaching for the bolts to the stern doors. He had seen her pale, thin form, remarking how childlike she looked, and he had felt a great fondness for her, for this waif, this slip of a girl who had shown such courage and who had ultimately led everyone to the solution of a mystery that had been unsolved for centuries. He lowered himself quickly and quietly onto the pillow and pretended to be sleeping. He heard Anne stand up from the bed and step into her trainers. She went up the steps and out onto the deck, wrapping the robe around her against the faint chill in the air. It was a few minutes before she returned and, as she stepped down into the cabin, she called out in a singsong voice:

  “It’s gone seven, Ralph! The morning’s half over!” She walked through to the galley as Ralph stirred. “That’s what mum always says, anyway.”

  “Very wise woman, your mum. Good morning, Anne.” Ralph found himself face to face with Dolly, purring loudly, asking for breakfast.

  For Anne, the magic of the place had returned and even the most ordinary of tasks, mopping the deck dry and setting the breakfast table, was pure pleasure. It still distressed her that Marn
ie should be in hospital, but she took comfort in the knowledge that her friend was recovering and that her suffering would soon be at an end. Anne’s gaiety was infectious and Ralph drew strength and optimism from her happiness. Over breakfast she narrated the events of the previous evening while Ralph listened in silence.

  “So that was it, really,” said Anne. “It was Marnie’s notes that made me, made us – Frank and me – understand what had happened. Bob had made her realise that no builder would have left a wooden screen in the church. It would have been substandard. They would only have done their best work and that meant stone, a proper wall like the rest. And that bill for sundry ironwork was another thing. Marnie asked herself why a blacksmith was doing ironwork in the tower when it was a job for a joiner or a stonemason. One thing I don’t understand is why he should’ve put in a bill anyway.”

  “Perhaps it was to explain why he was there at all,” Ralph suggested. “No-one was likely to query it. He was just one tradesman among several. If he hadn’t put in a bill for his time, it might have looked suspicious.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But the really strange thing was that quote from the Bible, the psalm. That was really creepy, He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages: in the secret places doth he murder the innocent. It made me tingle all over. When I saw that, I realised that I’d been right all along. The murderer was hiding in the tower on the night the first vicar was killed and was there all the time, like a boobytrap waiting to go off. It was the blacksmith’s ironwork. I wonder why they never removed the killing machine.”

  “Probably never had the chance,” said Ralph. “Jonathan Day was too badly injured to be able to do it and he couldn’t have told anyone about it. He wouldn’t want anyone else to be involved. They’d share his guilt and his sin.”

  “But Sarah Anne found out,” said Anne.

  “Yes, probably while she was caring for her father when he came back from the war. It would’ve been an intolerable burden for her to know that her own father had committed murder, especially the murder of a priest.”