by Bill WENHAM
Back in the office, Middleton addressed Rachel Donnelly in a low voice.
“Ms. Donnelly, I just wanted the opportunity to say this off the record to you before you make your statement and to try to put you at ease. I want you to know that as far as I am concerned, you and your friends have done nothing that I, as a policeman, consider to be the least bit criminal. You’ve all just made bloody nuisances of yourselves that’s all and have wasted a lot of time that we can ill afford.”
Rachel looked down at her lap and mumbled, “I’m so very sorry. I really am. It was just an attempt to get our own back on a very nasty man who hurt us all both mentally and physically.”
She looked back up at Middleton with tear filled eyes, “Sorry,” she said again.
“As police officers, Rachel, what we are trying to do here is a very serious business. We need to apprehend whoever it is that is committing these murders before they hurt anyone else. Do you understand?”
“I do, and thank you for not making trouble for us. In retrospect we were being very stupid and I’m really sorry for starting it all.” she said.
“Good,” Middleton said. “Now just relax and gather your thoughts for a moment until Detective Sergeant Bristow gets back with the tea. You do like tea, don’t you, Rachel?”
“Oh, yes, I do. Of course I do. I suppose everyone does, don’t they?” she said, with her nervousness evaporating rapidly.
Middleton smiled. Rachel Donnelly was obviously relaxing now and he really had no wish to intimidate her. All he wanted to do now was to have her explain to him what they were up to and why. He had a hunch that when the truth was told, it would have no connection to any of the murders at all.
He had always stressed to his subordinates, including Bristow, that successful police work always resulted from looking very carefully at all the details, not at what was immediately obvious. Most criminals tripped themselves up by either overlooking or completely ignoring the details in his opinion.
A moment later Bristow came back into the office carrying a tray with three mugs, milk, sugar and teaspoons. She set it down on the edge of the desk where all three of them could reach it and then sat back down herself. She had dropped off Sgt. Barnett’s mug of tea off on the way back.
Over a pleasant mug of tea, Rachel Donnelly told them her ORARA story and apologized again for the mischief she and the others had caused,
Middleton smiled.
“Its okay, Rachel, because, much as you all thought you had, none of you had us fooled for a moment, did they, Bristow? So, thank you for coming back and my sergeant will drive you home now. You can disband your militant little group just as soon as you like and nothing more will be said about it, okay?”
Middleton stood up, as did the two women and Middleton shook Rachel’s hand.
“As I just said, thank you for coming in and clarifying things, Ms. Donnelly, and I hope that in future you will all now leave police work to the police. Except, of course….” he said and paused, with his eyes twinkling, “if any of you see something genuine that you wish to report to us.”
Rachel nodded gratefully, lifted her chin and walked out past Sgt. Barnett and Mary with all of her normal grace and poise now intact again.
Middleton watched her leave with Bristow and smiled as he sat back down.
If only he was ten years younger, he thought, and then immediately rejected the idea. His wife, Enid, had been killed in a terrible road accident on the A40. It was almost ten years ago now and the poor woman had been alone in the car. They’d never had children and after her death, he had dedicated himself totally to his job. Since then, Middleton had never felt the need or inclination to pursue another romantic relationship.
Chapter Five
When Bristow returned, she said,
“Nice lady, sir.”
“Nice lady, be damned,” Middleton retorted, knowing full well what she was referring to. “The bloody woman was a royal pain in the arse, Bristow,” he added.
Bristow grinned at him.
“Yes, sir – that too,” she said. “And I did notice that you paid a great deal of attention to her rather shapely one too. In fact, I would say that you gave it a most professional scrutiny. You didn’t miss a single thing, sir, in my humble opinion.”
Middleton tried to give a stern look but failed miserably.
“Are you done, Bristow? I did not look at her, her…”
“Derriere, sir?” Bristow said helpfully.
“No, I did not! And may I remind you, young lady, that I am your superior officer and don’t you forget it. So don’t be so bloody cheeky in future and anyway, don’t you have anything else to do this morning?”
Still standing in the office doorway, Bristow looked down at him.
“Actually, no, sir, I don’t. Not without precise instructions from you. As you have just pointed out to me, you are my superior officer and therefore, whilst in your most revered presence, sir, I am not required to think at all, am I?” she said cheekily.
Middleton gave her a full blast from the blue eyes and said, “Let me think for you then, Bristow.” He looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling for a long moment as if figuring out a complicated assignment for her. Finally, he said,
“Let me see now, Bristow. I need to have you do something that I know that you can do well and one that won’t tax your somewhat limited mental capabilities unduly.”
Bristow raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.
“More tea, Bristow. Do you think that you could mange to do that with any further unnecessary observations?”
Bristow grinned at him.
“Yes, sir, boss, I think I can manage that for you but I do have a question,” she said.
“And what’s that?” Middleton asked, and knowing immediately that he was falling into a trap.
“Do you want the water boiled or straight out of the tap?”
Middleton rolled his eyes.
“It’s a good job you’re a bloody good driver, Bristow, or I might be tempted to find some very long and stressful point duty somewhere to reassign you to,” he said, smiling.
“Promises, promises. All I ever get is promises,” she said. She picked up the three empty mugs, then turned, looked back over her shoulder at Middleton and swung her own rather shapely rear end suggestively at him as she left the office. Sgt. Barnett raised his eyebrows at her as she sashayed past his desk.
“I prefer my water boiled, please, Sally,” he said, grinning at her as he handed her his empty mug as well.
Rachel Donnelly hadn’t mentioned the name ORARA to Middleton, only that the women had formed a group to take some retributive action against Andy Rudge. Old Joe Turner was the only other person outside their own group who knew about it and there was no way he would speak to any of them ever again if he could possibly avoid it.
When Bristow returned with the fresh tea, Middleton said,
“Sit down, Bristow, and let’s the two of us just put our heads together and…”
Before he could say any more, Bristow cut in with,
“Really, sir! Heads together? I thought the two of us were supposed to be working?”
Middleton pursed his lips and attempted to look irritated.
“Enough, now, Bristow. It was just a figure of speech and you know full well what I meant. We should discuss the case. Do you have any opinions or ideas that you’d like to put forward?”
Bristow thought for a moment and then said seriously,
“Well, sir, if you look at the history of this place, as I have done, you’ll find that nothing even remotely like this has happened in years. So, it would seem to me that possibly someone new to the area might have upset someone else’s applecart a little,” she said.
Middleton smiled at her use of the old fashioned phrase as Bristow continued.
“I checked and there have been seven new arrivals in the area over the last twelve months. Only one, as far as I can gather, has caused any public aggravation.”
“And that is?” Middleton asked.
“That would be Ella Thomas, sir. A very attractive blonde woman who has opened a beauty salon in Little Carrington. She also has a very shapely…”
“Yes, thank you, Bristow,” Middleton interjected hurriedly. “I get the picture, thank you. What else?”
“Well, sir, she has made quite an impact on the male population since she arrived. Something similar to what would have happened if Marylyn Monroe had suddenly taken up residence here during the war, I would think. I should add that there are a lot of wives and girlfriends who are not at all pleased by her arrival, sir.”
“Ah, I see,” Middleton murmured.
Bristow wasn’t at all sure what it was that he saw and just carried on with her report.
“Another one of the newcomers is a nun up at the convent and I think that we can eliminate her from the mix, don’t you?” she said.
Middleton raised his hand for an instant in protest.
“We can’t be too hasty there, Bristow. I agree with you that the lady would be a very unlikely suspect, but we still can’t eliminate her out of hand, just like that. Identify and investigate by all means, but never eliminate anyone who has caught your attention for any reason, unless you can be absolutely certain they are uninvolved. So, that’s two. Who else?”
“One of the males is in his eighties, sir. As you say, we can’t eliminate him either yet, but I think it is highly unlikely that he is involved. You should see him. The poor old darling is as thin as a rake and awfully frail as well. The second man is Tom Waring, Mrs. Merriman’s brother.”
Middleton nodded.
“Go on,” he said.
“The other man, Adam Trent, has bought a home and business here and one of the remaining women is Samantha Trent, Adam’s wife.”
“And the other remaining woman, Bristow? Who is she?” Middleton asked.
Bristow grinned at him.
“I thought you’d never ask, sir. The last woman is Rachel Donnelly, the lady with the very nice…”
“Bristow!” Middleton warned her.
“Red hair, I was about to say, sir. I’m sure you’d agree that she has very nice red hair, wouldn’t you? Natural, too, I would think.”
Middleton didn’t answer but instead he suddenly looked thoughtful. Then he said, “Ah, that puts a very different light on it, I think.”
“What does?” Bristow asked.
Instead of answering, Middleton said, “Do you know what magicians do, Bristow?”
“Magic, sir?” she said innocently.
“Of course they do bloody magic, Bristow, but I meant do you know how they do it?”
Bristow shrugged, knowing that Middleton wasn’t expecting or wanting an answer. So she waited patiently for him to tell her.
“By simple illusion and distraction, Bristow. By directing the viewer’s attention to something else that is going on. The audience will either look at or concentrate on one thing while something else is taking place, sometimes right in front of their eyes, but they don’t see it at all. Why do you think that is, Bristow?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
“I am indeed, Bristow. It is because the viewer has been distracted by something else, just as we are being distracted.”
Bristow looked at him curiously as Middleton continued.
“I don’t think that we should discount the possibility that these crimes may have been committed by more than one person either, working as a team for some reason.” he said.
Bristow nodded her agreement.
“Nearly all magic acts, the more spectacular ones at least, usually have one or more very scantily clad female assistants, right?”
Bristow just nodded again, not wanting to interrupt his chain of thought.
“She, or they, isn’t there just as a decoration, Bristow. Not at all. They are the deliberate deceptions while the trick or illusion itself takes place. I believe we have much the same kind of thing going on here and we have two undoubtedly beautiful women causing distractions all over the bloody place, don’t we?”
Middleton paused thoughtfully as Bristow waited patiently for him to continue.
“The crimes in this community appear to be motiveless, Bristow, and right now I’m inclined to believe that’s exactly what they are, motiveless. For the woman, almost certainly. I believe also that she was killed merely as a distraction while something altogether different was going on.”
Bristow had trouble keeping her expression from looking horrified. How could anyone be so callous, but she knew that Middleton was probably right, as he usually was.
“But how about the doctor, sir? Where does he fit in?” she asked.
Middleton pursed his lips and again looked thoughtful for a moment.
“I believe that, for some reason that I can’t put my finger on at the moment, he is part of the magic trick, Bristow, and I also have a horrible feeling the performance, or performances, are not yet over. I don’t think his murder was quite as motiveless as the other one either.” Middleton said.
“But why kill him? What motive could anyone possibly have? It doesn’t seem to make any sense to me,” Bristow said.
Middleton looked at her speculatively.
“Why does a chain break, Bristow?” he asked her suddenly
“Pardon?” she said, surprised.
Middleton didn’t wait for her to say more.
“A chain breaks because of its weakest link, Bristow. Everyone knows that and we, you and I, have to discover who or what that weakest link is here in Carrington – and quickly, before anyone else dies.”
He picked up his mug, sipped at his now lukewarm tea and pulled a face.
“Damn it, Bristow, you did make this with water straight out of the tap, didn’t you!”
Bristow just rolled her eyes at him and grinned.
Back in her tearoom, the very attractive Rachel Donnelly was experiencing a variety of emotions. Uppermost amongst those was, at the moment, regret.
Her first regret was that, in her late teens, she had married a man, purely out of infatuation, one who had treated her abominably. She had filed for and had been granted a divorce after just over a year of marriage.
Regret number two, and her current one, done mainly out of boredom, was to have had a fling with the local Lothario, Randy Rudge. It was over now but Andy had responded very badly when she had told him very recently that it was all over. Fortunately, if that is the word, the recent bruises were in less conspicuous places than those she had received from him earlier. He could be extremely brutal after a few drinks. If he failed to perform he always blamed the woman and she usually bore the marks to prove it.
Regret number three, and one that had only just surfaced today, was that why couldn’t she have ever met a man like Detective Inspector Middleton? And then she smiled.
“What on earth are you talking about, girl? You have just met him!” she said aloud.
He was older than her, certainly, but he was obviously a very kind, gentle and considerate man. Those were qualities that she admired most in a man, whatever his age. He wore no wedding ring but that often didn’t mean anything these days, did it?
“Hmm,” she mused. “So how do I get to meet him socially?” and in the very next instant, she had answered her own question.
You own a tea room, for God’s sake! Invite him there to thank him for being so understanding and considerate – minus his female watchdog, of course. She didn’t think there was anything going between them but you could never be sure of that these days either.
She had to admit that she’d felt quite a tingle when he had shaken her hand – and that wasn’t just out of gratitude. Even Randy Andy Rudge, for all his reputation, hadn’t made her tingle!
The middle-aged owners of the Black Bull Inn, Don and Hilda Onsworthy, had, as gesture of community policing support, offered Middleton and Bristow complimentary accommodation for any nights they needed to stay
over in Little Carrington during their murder investigations.
On the previous night, after his interview with Rachel Donnelly, Middleton had decided to accept the Onsworthy’s generous offer. Bristow said she would stay over as well to keep him company since both were unattached and neither had any urgent reason to return to Cambridge. They were both pleased to see that each bathroom had a complimentary packet containing a tiny tube of toothpaste and a two piece toothbrush that plugged together. Middleton also had his own electric razor in his bag.
They had a very nice meal in the Inn’s dining room and had followed it with a couple of drinks in the bar. Although the rooms were complimentary, the Onsworthy’s generosity didn’t extend to meals and drinks.
Old Joe Turner nodded to them in the bar but didn’t attempt to make conversation, for which Middleton and Bristow were truly thankful. They were more accommodating when Don, Doreen and Ernie Merriman came over and Don introduced his elderly father, Ernie, to them both. They chatted politely for a few minutes and the Merriman family left. A few minutes later, a barmaid came to their table with drinks the Merrimans had sent over for them.
Finally, after making non-police small talk with Bristow for a couple of hours Middleton said that he would like to take a stroll around the village before turning in. He asked if Bristow cared to join him. With a smile, Bristow said she’d love to.
It was a beautiful clear, warm and brightly moonlit night as the two of them walked around Little Carrington. Bristow said that she thought it looked even prettier at night with the moonlight casting deep shadows on the thatched roofs of the cottages. Lights were shining out of most of the cottage windows and they could see the occasional coloured flicker from televisions inside as they passed. Middleton, in keeping with the mood, said that all that was needed was a nice snowfall to make it into a living Christmas card.
Bristow took his arm as they walked and Middleton knew the gesture was merely for companionship and nothing else. She laughed at his Christmas card comment. “Not in the middle of May, sir, thank you very much,” she said.
