Murder in Langley Woods

by Betty Rowlands

  Melissa woke earlier than usual on Wednesday morning and after a shower and a hasty breakfast went straight to her study to work on her current novel. A key character was a retired army doctor with a guilty secret in his past life. Remembering that Madeleine Ford had been an army nurse, and anxious to make the setting of her story as authentic as possible, she decided to seek her help. Some background information and – with any luck – a few anecdotes that she could weave into the plot would help bring the action to life. It would also, she thought mischievously, be a change for someone who took such a keen interest in other people’s affairs to find herself on the receiving end of a little probing into her own.

  At nine o’clock, Gloria arrived to do her weekly stint of cleaning. She was fairly bursting with news.

  ‘Have you seen last night’s Gazette?’ she asked as she peeled off her jacket, releasing an overpowering wave of exotic perfume.

  ‘No, the boy forgot to deliver it,’ said Melissa. ‘Was there something special in it?’

  ‘I’ll say! There were a picture of that gipsy girl what got topped … it were the one what my Stanley saw in the pub a while ago … what I were telling Miss Ash about.’ Gloria’s toffee-brown eyes were round with excitement.

  ‘Really? Do you mean the Woolpack, here in the village?’

  ‘Nah, the Lamb and something in Gloucester, near my Stanley’s showroom.’ This was a euphemism for the patch of waste ground where the proprietor of Cathedral Cars displayed his current stock of used vehicles. ‘He were having a drink one evening with one of his business associates,’ Gloria went on, her tone undergoing a subtle change as if to emphasise the important nature of such contacts.

  Melissa bit her lower lip to conceal a smile as she asked, ‘Miss Ash said the girl was selling something. Do you know what it was?’

  Gloria shook her crinkly mass of blonde hair. ‘’Fraid not,’ she sighed. ‘Do it matter?’

  ‘Not really. Is your Stanley sure it’s the girl in the picture?’

  ‘Quite sure. The barman ordered her out, but she must’ve hung around ’cos my Stanley saw her later outside with a bloke. She were getting into his car.’

  Melissa felt a sharp surge of adrenalin. ‘What sort of bloke … and what sort of car? Did your Stanley notice?’

  Gloria shrugged. ‘Dunno. It were quite late … nearly dark he said.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘He don’t remember exactly. You reckon he should tell them at the Gazette?’ Gloria glowed at the prospect of seeing a piece about her husband in the newspaper.

  Her face fell slightly as Melissa said firmly, ‘He should go straight to the police and tell them. It could be very important.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I happen to know the police are looking for the man Hannah went away with. It could be the man she was with that night.’

  ‘Maybe he were the one what done it?’ The brown eyes stretched even wider at the thought.

  ‘I don’t think so. They’ve arrested two other men for the murder, but they still have plenty of inquiries to make. This man might know something important to the case. If what your Stanley saw can help the police find him, I’m sure they’d be very grateful,’ Melissa added shrewdly. She happened to know that Stanley Parkin had more than once been questioned about the origin of certain vehicles offered for sale by Cathedral Cars. So far, he had managed to maintain a clean record, but it would do him no harm at all to be seen voluntarily doing his duty as a law-abiding citizen.

  Gloria was quick to grasp the implication. ‘I’ll tell him as soon as he gets home,’ she promised.

  ‘Fine,’ said Melissa. ‘I’m going into the village now and I may be gone for an hour or so. If I’m not back in time for coffee, you know where everything is.’

  ‘Sure. See you later.’ Gloria rolled up her sleeves over her plump arms and prepared to get down to work.

  When Melissa entered the village shop she found Harriet Yorke on the receiving end of a prolonged and querulous complaint by Mrs Foster on the subject of paper-boys in general, and of Tommy Woodbridge in particular.

  ‘You just can’t rely on them,’ she asserted. ‘Only too happy to take their money every week, but never mind the convenience of the customer. The cheek of it, just too lazy to go all the way round and then dumping the left-overs in my shop. Thought I hadn’t noticed but I saw him, only I never cottoned on to what he was up to till he’d gone. Just wait till he comes to collect the papers this afternoon – I’ll give him a piece of my mind, I can tell you!’

  ‘I don’t suppose he left anyone out on purpose,’ said Harriet. ‘It’s only his second week … and the first on his own.’

  Mrs Foster evidently took a less charitable view, for she gave a disparaging sniff and said, ‘No doubt he’ll have some fine excuse. Those Woodbridge lads are all the same. Can’t say a word to them without getting a mouthful of cheek.’

  ‘Have you any idea who else didn’t get their paper?’ asked Harriet who, judging by the copy of last night’s Gazette in her hand, was evidently one of those so deprived.

  ‘I didn’t, for one,’ said Melissa. ‘And nor did Iris. I guess Tommy just forgot about us as we live on the edge of the village.’

  ‘In that case I don’t suppose the Fords got theirs, for the same reason,’ said Harriet. ‘I’d offer to drop it in for them, only I’ve got a dental appointment and I’m a bit rushed.’

  ‘That’s all right, I’ll take it,’ offered Melissa. ‘I’m on my way to see Madeleine as it happens. I’ll bring it back if they got theirs.’

  Harriet departed. Melissa bought a few groceries from a partially mollified Mrs Foster and left a few minutes later, bound for Tanners Cottage. Major Ford answered her knock and it struck Melissa that he looked far from well. Beneath a network of broken veins, his normally florid face was the colour of under-cooked pastry and his eyes were bloodshot. However, he greeted her with his normal, over-effusive courtesy.

  ‘Good morning, Melissa. How nice of you to call.’ He gave a courtly little bow and stood aside for her to enter. ‘Do come in. Madeleine will be so pleased to see you.’

  ‘Good morning, Dudley. I was hoping to have a word with her if she’s got a few minutes to spare. I’m after some information about military hospitals for my new novel … I believe she used to be an army nurse.’

  ‘That’s right … it’s going back a bit, though. A lot of things will have changed.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter … it’s how they were soon after the war that I’m interested in.’

  ‘In that case, I’m sure she’ll be delighted to help.’

  ‘And I think you may have missed your copy of the Gazette yesterday evening,’ Melissa added, holding it out as he closed the front door behind her. ‘If so …’

  The Major frowned and fingered his moustache. ‘No, no, we got ours.’

  ‘Ah, then this must be someone else’s.’ She tucked the paper into her shopping bag with the others. ‘Never mind, I’ll return it on my way home. The new paper boy seems to have got in a muddle. I didn’t get mine and nor did Iris or Harriet Yorke and we thought perhaps—’

  ‘No, we got ours,’ he repeated over his shoulder while striding ahead of her along the narrow, flagged passage that always seemed cold, even in midsummer. ‘Maddy,’ he said breezily as he ushered her through a door at the far end. ‘A lady to see you.’

  As always, Melissa was struck by the cluttered aspect of the Fords’ sitting-room, with its low, oak-beamed ceiling, heavy antique furniture, dark velvet curtains and fussily patterned carpet. Every available surface was crowded with framed photographs, knick-knacks and curios from every country to which the Major’s army career had taken them. It must, she thought, be a nightmare to dust, even for someone as energetic as Gloria.

  Madeleine Ford was seated at a bureau under one of two leaded windows overlooking the garden. She appeared to be writing letters, but immediately put down her pen and stood up to greet her visitor in her cust
omary gracious manner. Although it was only ten o’clock in the morning, her immaculately groomed appearance made Melissa uncomfortably aware of her own casual attire and lack of make-up.

  ‘Do come and sit by the fire.’ Madeleine indicated an old-fashioned, rather shabby sofa covered in floral-patterned cretonne. ‘Dudley, take Melissa’s coat and shopping bag. It’s quite chilly this morning, isn’t it?’ she went on, sinking gracefully down beside her guest.

  ‘Melissa thought we might have missed our evening paper,’ said the Major as he obeyed the instruction. ‘Seems that young scallywag Tommy Woodbridge left several people out, but I told her we got ours as usual.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Madeleine gestured towards a low table where the previous evening’s Gazette lay on top of a vast heap of newspapers and magazines. ‘It was very sweet of you to think of us, though.’

  ‘And she wants to quiz you about your experiences as an army nurse,’ her husband went on. ‘No giving away any trade secrets, mind!’ he added roguishly.

  Madeleine’s enamelled features registered polite interest. ‘I take it this is for one of your splendid novels? Naturally, I’ll be glad to help if I can. Would you like some coffee?’

  ‘That would be nice, if it isn’t too much trouble. I don’t know how Mrs Foster survives in that shop in cold weather – I got quite chilled standing there for just a few minutes.’ Melissa stretched her legs gratefully towards the fire. Sinbad, who was sprawled on a shabby hearth-rug plentifully strewn with his own hairs, raised a languid head and studied the newcomer from rheumy eyes for a few seconds before falling asleep again.

  ‘Dudley!’ said Madeleine with a meaningful tilt of her carefully coiffured head in the approximate direction of the kitchen.

  ‘Of course, dear.’ He hurried out of the room and closed the door.

  ‘Dudley looks a bit off-colour,’ Melissa remarked. ‘Has he picked up this bug that’s going around?’

  Madeleine leaned forward and poked the fire. ‘I’m not sure what’s the matter with him,’ she said with a frown. ‘He hasn’t been sleeping too well lately and he seems to have lost his appetite. I want him to go and see Doctor Blake, but he absolutely refuses … says he’ll only prescribe more pills.’

  ‘It must be worrying for you.’

  ‘Yes, it is. What with his blood pressure and his angina …’ Madeleine put down the poker and sat upright with her hands clasped together. Outwardly, she appeared her usual poised and controlled self, but small white spots on her knuckles betrayed her unease. ‘And of course,’ she went on, ‘he hasn’t been helped by all the unpleasantness we’ve had to put up with recently from the police. We were practically treated like criminals over the death of that gipsy, just because some murderous ruffians hid her body in our old freezer.’

  ‘Oh yes, that must have been very unpleasant for you.’ Despite her sympathy for the woman’s anxiety over her husband’s health, Melissa could not completely hide her impatience with such a self-centred attitude. However, the hint of irony in her tone was totally lost on Madeleine.

  ‘It was indeed,’ she asserted, ‘and I’m very much afraid this latest development is going to make things even worse.’

  ‘Oh? What development is that?’

  ‘Haven’t you seen … no, of course you haven’t, you didn’t receive your paper last night.’ Madeleine reached for the copy of the Gazette and handed it to Melissa. ‘There, on the centre pages … that picture … Dudley tells me it’s that … that female who had the impertinence to call on us, peddling some rubbish or other.’ She made no attempt to hide her disdain.

  ‘Really?’ Melissa was staring at the artist’s impression of Hannah Rose that Bruce had shown her the previous day. ‘Are you saying this is the girl who was calling at houses round the village a little while ago?’ The conversation in the shop the day after the discovery of Hannah’s body had entirely slipped her memory, but now it came rushing back. Privately cursing herself for having been so exercised over the possibility of a revenge attack on the girl’s abductor that she had failed to spot such an obvious connection, she exclaimed, ‘Are you sure?’

  Madeleine looked faintly affronted. ‘Dudley tells me he recognised her immediately from the drawing,’ she said, her tone indicating that Dudley’s word should be enough to put the identification beyond doubt.

  ‘You didn’t see her yourself?’

  ‘I was inside the garage, closing the door behind Dudley – he was just leaving as she arrived. He says he told her to clear off.’

  ‘And she was selling lace?’

  ‘I suppose she could have been … he didn’t enquire. Really, Melissa, anyone would think you were a police officer, asking all these questions!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Melissa gave an apologetic smile. ‘I do have a particular interest … I happened to meet the girl’s aunt the other day. She’s terribly upset over her death.’

  Madeleine’s raised eyebrow indicated a well-bred surprise at Melissa’s choice of company, but all she said was, ‘I’m not surprised, but what else does she expect if the girl is allowed to go round alone, knocking on doors? We’ve been wondering who else she called on. One hears of such dreadful cases nowadays of apparently normal people doing the most appalling things.’

  ‘You’re suggesting that someone enticed this girl into their house and then killed her?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. As I said, if these people will persist in calling at the houses of complete strangers, they only have themselves to blame if they get into trouble.’

  Melissa had difficulty in concealing her irritation at such a total lack of compassion, but all she said was, ‘I take it Dudley will be informing the police?’

  Madeleine made a hissing sound through her teeth. ‘He insists he has to,’ she snapped, ‘although I can’t see how it will help … he has no idea where the creature went after he spoke to her.’

  ‘Dudley’s absolutely right,’ said Melissa. She spoke a little more forcefully than she intended, but Madeleine was too absorbed in her own feelings to take offence.

  ‘And now I suppose we’ll have reporters knocking at the door wanting interviews … and our names will be in all the papers … it’s positively demeaning,’ she continued peevishly. ‘If only the men from the Council had come in the morning to take the freezer away, as they were supposed to do, none of this would have happened.’

  You mean, the girl could have got herself murdered and her body hidden without any inconvenience to you, you selfish old witch! Resisting the temptation to speak her thoughts aloud, and making a superhuman effort to keep her tone reasonable, Melissa said, ‘This could be a very important lead. I believe the girl called on Harriet Yorke as well, and Miss Brightwell. There are sure to be others in the village. And Stanley Parkin – Gloria’s husband – thinks he saw her once in a pub in Gloucester. I’m sure they will be only too ready to do what they can to assist the police.’

  Madeleine gave a resigned shrug. ‘I suppose one has to do one’s duty as a citizen,’ she admitted with obvious reluctance.

  ‘Quite. And it’s essential to trace as many witnesses as possible. Dudley’s evidence could be very helpful.’

  ‘Evidence?’ Madeleine’s eyes stretched in alarm. ‘Are you saying he might be called on to give evidence … in court?’ Had it been suggested that the pair of them rode naked through the village on Walpurgis night, she could hardly have appeared more shocked.

  Melissa managed to keep a straight face as she replied, ‘Oh, I don’t suppose for a moment it will come to that. Of course, if you were in the house when the girl called, they’ll probably want a statement from you as well. Perhaps you and Dudley should go to headquarters together? I imagine that would be preferable to having the place swarming with detectives,’ she added mischievously, and was gratified to see that this possibility seemed to horrify Madeleine even further.

  The conversation was interrupted by Dudley’s appearance with a tray.

  ‘Here
we are … coffee!’ he announced, depositing his burden on the table. His eye fell on the open newspaper that still lay on Melissa’s lap and he tut-tutted in disapproval. ‘Really, old girl, you could surely have found a more wholesome subject to talk about than that unfortunate affair,’ he said.

  ‘You’re absolutely right, dear. I can’t think how it came up,’ his wife agreed.

  ‘I think it was because I commented that you were looking a little peaky, Dudley,’ said Melissa tactfully as she refolded the paper and put it aside. ‘Madeleine mentioned that all the recent, er, unpleasantness hasn’t done your blood pressure any good.’

  ‘Oh that … nothing for us to worry about really. Have to tell the boys in blue, of course, about how that unfortunate young woman came to the house. Just the same, we’d be obliged if you’d keep it to yourself. Y’know what a lot of old gossips there are in the village … Maddy’s terrified we’ll have the press on our doorstep if it gets around.’

  Melissa hid a smile at this blatant example of a pot calling the kettle black. ‘I quite understand,’ she assured them.

  ‘Much obliged.’ The Major distributed coffee and biscuits and then sat down. ‘Now, what about that research you mentioned, Melissa? Perhaps I can help as well? I was in hospital a couple of times during my army career. In fact, Maddy helped to patch me up once, didn’t you, old girl? That’s how we met – very romantic, what? Only don’t you go putting us in one of your racy novels, haahaahaa!’ His laugh, as always, put Melissa in mind of a sheep with a sore throat. ‘Never live it down, what?’

  ‘I’m sure Melissa isn’t after any personal reminiscences,’ said Madeleine primly.

  ‘Of course not. She’s quite capable of inventing the spicy bits for herself, haahaahaa!’

  ‘I promise you, I won’t compromise you in any way,’ said Melissa solemnly. She put down her cup and saucer and drew a notebook from her handbag. ‘It’s just general background information I’m after. I’ve jotted down a few questions …’