“Chief Inspector,” Goodnight returned with little gusto. “I just got some valuable information on this crime.”
Goodnight appeared to be making an attempt to be seen as so very important to this case, for Kent’s sake.
“I see.” Kent eyed the mobile. “Let me introduce my colleague.” Jasper waved his hat toward the fellow with him, who held an iPhone in hand and dressed much smarter than the chief inspector. “Inspector Peter Brice.”
“Take a pew,” Goodnight instructed and then laughed. “This being a vicarage and all.”
No one joined him in his humor as the two men sat.
“Tea?” Berdie asked.
The young man shook his head no.
“Please, yes, thank you.” The chief inspector helped himself to a mug and the brew. “We’ve got some general questions. Then we’ll be interviewing each witness separately.”
Goodnight ran his tongue over his top teeth and rocked toe to heel, hands clasped behind him. “That’s fine,” he said, as if giving permission by his stamp of approval. “Any point of origin yet for the vicar’s phone call? Important, that. Must get to the bottom of this.”
Kent and Brice exchanged a quick glance. “Yes, Albert, I look forward to your full cooperation in all matters, as you have ours. But no, no point of origin as yet.”
Goodnight lifted his chin and sported his not-so-pleased unibrow that occurred when his forehead wrinkled in a scowl.
“Mrs. Elliott, I need…” Tillie, dressed in a simple T-shirt and denim shorts, long hair pulled back in a ponytail, stopped her forward progress into the room and looked from face to face at the table. “Excuse me, I didn’t realize.”
“It’s OK, Tillie,” Berdie assured and plopped down into her dining-table chair again.
“Who are you?” Goodnight blasted.
Berdie pursed her lips. “Constable Goodnight, I realize this is police business, but it’s still my home and courtesy doesn’t go amiss.” She calmed herself. “This is one of my guests, Miss Devlin.”
“Devlin.” The constable pointed an index finger her way. “You related to the wheelchair fellow?”
Tillie’s eyes flared. “Wheelchair fellow?”
“Tillie, this is our local constable, Albert Goodnight.”
“Miss Devlin,” Brice asked briskly, “you’re former Chief Petty Officer Douglas Devlin’s daughter?”
“Who are you?” she asked defiantly.
The young man stood and presented his police credentials. “Peter Brice.” He then sat down again.
“Yes, I’m his daughter.”
“Your father witnessed the explosion?”
“Yes.”
“We need to speak to him. Where is he?”
Tillie pulled her shoulders back. The V-neck of her T-shirt revealed a red mark on her upper chest. The young woman’s eyes seemed a bit puffed, weary, really. “I just gave him a light sedative. This wretched business has upset him terribly. Can’t it wait?”
“We need to speak with him now.”
“My father is an injured veteran of war, who has seen action in the Gulf, an honorable man. You’ve no idea how today’s horror affected him.”
“I’m sure that’s very true, and we appreciate his service, Miss Devlin.” Kent’s tone was respectful. “And we do need to speak with your father now.”
Tillie’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll fetch him, but he’ll not be good for more than a moment.” She huffed from the room.
Goodnight folded his arms. “These young’uns.”
Berdie felt rather sorry for the girl. “She’s quite protective of her father.”
“We understand there was someone, a man, who saw the whole affair along with Mr. Devlin.” Kent looked round the table. “He pulled the commander from the fire?”
Berdie’s eyes went to Carl Braunhoff, who nodded.
“It was I.” Mr. Braunhoff’s shirt had watery spots where Barbara had used a wet towel, attempting to wash out some of the bloodstains, only a few minutes earlier. “Although I didn’t really cotton on to what was happening until the blast actually happened.”
“It was Mr. Devlin saw it coming.” Berdie rubbed her forehead. “He yelled out a warning at the commander and to me as well. I find that incredibly interesting, don’t you?”
“A warning?” Brice and Jasper exchanged a quick glance.
“He told us to get down. I was tending the children, you see.”
“Children?” Kent seemed surprised. “Were we aware there were children at the scene?”
Peter Brice shook his head.
“OK, who was actually around before, during, or after the incident happened?”
“Doug, Mr. Braunhoff. There was Mrs. Limb with the children, but she came and left before the actual crisis occurred.”
“Why was she here?” Kent blew on his tea.
“She brought the children, Max and Emmy, here to catch a ride to Tea Time Club at St. Matthew’s.”
“I thought the children were to be collected from the school.”
“Yes, but she said something about a previous dental appointment, and that the church was closer. They’re her grandchildren, I believe.”
“You believe?”
“I just met her at church last Sunday. I know nothing of her or the children, really.” Berdie became conscious of how unreliable she must be sounding. “I can tell you she was in a rush to get somewhere.”
The chief inspector pointed toward his colleague, who had the iPhone positioned to enter data. “Rushed, you say.”
Berdie could tell by the tone of his voice that Kent considered the woman’s actions suspect. Berdie was unabashed. “Inspector, surely a grandmother wouldn’t place her grandchildren somewhere if she knew something horrific was about to happen.”
Brice raised a suspicious brow. “You know for sure these kids are her grandchildren?”
“They called her ‘Nanna.’” Berdie wasn’t often caught up short, but she was now. “No, I’m not sure.”
“How can we reach Mrs. Limb?”
Berdie felt a slight flush of pink creep into her cheeks. She looked at Barbara, who shrugged. “The school will have information on the children.”
“Anyone else around?” Kent asked.
Berdie recalled her box of unsorted produce that still sat on her kitchen counter. “Oh, I wonder if any of it’s gone off.”
“What?” Kent eyed her.
“I’m sorry. Yes, Sundeep was here.”
Brice’s neck snapped up from his iPhone.
“Sundeep, you say.” Kent leaned forward. “Who’s he, then?”
“He’s the nephew of our village greengrocer, Mr. Raheem,” Goodnight interrupted. “Young Asian fellow.” He tapped his finger on his arm. “So he was here, was he?”
“Age?” Brice now moved his finger briskly over the iPhone.
“Approaching twenty?” Goodnight raised a brow.
“He seems a nice lad,” Berdie redirected.
“How well do you know him?” Kent asked Berdie.
“He arrived in the village about three months ago.”
“From where?”
“London?” Brice asked.
Berdie wondered what information the techno-savvy inspector was accessing on his tool. She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Why is he living with his uncle here?”
Berdie thought back to Sundeep’s comment in the hall, when Hugh was on the phone, when the desperate caller was shouting. What did he say? He left all the crazy behind him in London. What crazy? Something in her felt uncomfortable about relaying that information now, especially with Goodnight’s penchant of jumping to unjust suspicions. “Why is he living with Mr. Raheem? I expect because his business is growing. The Raheems are well respected in our village. Sundeep’s been helping them.”
“Why was he here at the vicarage?”
“He delivered my fruit-and-vegetable order.” Berdie paused. “He brought in the first box and was searching about the delivery veh
icle for the second. He was there on the street in front of the vicarage when I began to walk Max and Emmy to the people carrier. That’s the last I saw of him or the vehicle.”
Brice jutted his jaw.
Berdie’s head throbbed. “Why this interest in a delivery boy? He made his delivery here and moved on.”
“We must consider every possibility,” Kent reminded as the hum of the stairlift was heard.
Berdie sighed. “Yes, of course.” She suddenly wondered if she was too close to all this to have a clear view. The fact her head felt as if it was splitting open didn’t help either. But she could count on a thorough and fair job by Jasper Kent. “I’m glad you’re on the case, Chief Inspector Kent. I know you’ll do a good job.”
He smiled and brought the teacup to his mouth, taking a generous swallow.
Berdie decided to approach him about the question uppermost in her mind. She spoke softly. “Do you think Hugh could have been the intended victim?”
Goodnight, still standing and apparently earwigging their conversation, grunted. “The Yard doesn’t send their crack team to scratch around vicars when there’s terrorism involved.” He stuck his head close to Berdie’s ear. “What do you s’pose the boy wonder with his fancy toy is specially trained to sniff out?”
Berdie looked at Brice, who continued to enter data while conversing with Carl. Terrorism?
“Yes, thank you, Albert.” Kent tapped his hat against his leg.
Goodnight seemed smug. “It was a bomb, you know, terror right here in our little village.”
“I said thank you, Albert,” Kent snapped. “We needn’t broadcast it.” While Goodnight glared, Jasper Kent looked Berdie in the eye. “And to answer your question, yes, we entertained the thought of your husband being a possible target. But it doesn’t fit. He’s been out of the military for years. A small village churchman is not a high-profile target these types go after. And there are other mitigating factors concerning the commander, which I shan’t discuss. You can rest easy on Hugh’s part.”
Berdie released a slow sigh, though it wasn’t an entirely trouble-free one.
“This needs to be done as quickly as possible” sounded like a command from Tillie’s lips as she wheeled her father into the room and placed him at the table.
“They’re just doing their job, Tillie.” Doug looked drawn, dark under his eyes, just able to keep upright in his chair. His T-shirt had perspiration at the neckline.
“Formerly in naval intelligence,” Brice stated more than asked, cool eyes rising up from his iPhone.
“You want to know what happened,” Doug said matter-of-factly. “Of course.”
“We understand you yelled a warning to the commander.” Inspector Brice sounded accusatory. “How did you know the vehicle was going to blow up?”
Doug reared. “Know it would blow up? Know? I suspected.” He squinted. “Just what are you implying?” Then it was as if a single quiver rippled through his body. “Commander Royce was a colleague, my good and decent friend.”
“You’re treating my father as a suspect?” Tillie’s face went pink, and her shoulders tensed.
“It’s a perfectly reasonable question, Miss Devlin. We just need an answer.”
Doug worked at keeping his broad shoulders straight. “It was the dog.”
“Sparks?” Berdie couldn’t hide her surprise.
Doug’s voice quivered. “Sparks was a military-trained bomb-detection dog.”
Berdie knew her jaw visibly dropped. Sparks, a military bomb-sniffing dog, here, living in the vicarage garden, running amuck throughout the village? And no one told her?
Kent leaned forward. “How do you know that?”
“Cedric told me. He rescued the old thing after Sparks was found unsuitable for further service.” Doug made several rapid blinks as if working to stay aware.
“And?”
“The dog sat down.” Doug put his head in his hands. “Unsuitable or not, he sat down, right there in front of the vehicle.” His hands began to shake. “I tried…” A quiet sob was all Doug could utter.
“We’re done,” Tillie announced. She put her hand on Doug’s arm. “It’s OK, Dad. We’re going upstairs now.” She stood tall and gripped the wheelchair handles. With fire in her tired eyes, she addressed Brice. “Do you see what you’ve done?” She wheeled her father away from the table. “He needs rest.”
“We’ll want to see him again tomorrow,” Inspector Kent affirmed.
If heat could rise from one’s eyes, Tillie’s would have smoked. “Would my father have warned Cedric of danger if he wanted him gone?”
A fizz bubbled in Berdie’s tired mind. Of course. The logic of warning didn’t fit with intent. It was the dog. She worked to focus her thoughts away from her headache, but with little success.
“If you’re so eager to point fingers,” Tillie all but shouted, “it’s Chadwick Meryl you should be questioning. Ask him about the threats he made against the commander just this afternoon.”
“What threats?” Goodnight, still standing, had an edge of animation in his words.
Tillie was off, Doug still with head in hands. She paid no mind to the question, pushing the wheelchair as if it was the last ounce of determined strength she possessed.
“Chad.” Berdie shot a look at Lillie, who squeezed her lips together. His life in ruins, and my hand behind it. The commander’s earlier conversation with Hugh ran through Berdie’s mind. “Excuse me momentarily, Chief Inspector. I must see to my guests. Lillie, would you like to refresh everyone’s cup?” Berdie rose from the table and followed Tillie and Doug into the hall while Lillie set to with a will.
“Tillie, I know you’re upset, but do you really believe Chad capable of something as heinous as this whole affair?”
“He threatened the commander—you heard him.” Her anger still colored her words. “How dare they accuse my father.” A tear made an appearance in the corner of her eye. “How dare they think he could do Cedric in.”
Berdie put her hand on Tillie’s shoulder. “Tillie, Cedric’s not dead.”
“What?”
“He’s hanging on by the most slender of threads.”
A tear slipped down Tillie’s cheek. She released a long sigh and dropped down to face her father in the wheelchair. “Daddy, Cedric’s not gone.”
Doug was slumped in the chair. He mumbled something, but Berdie couldn’t make it out. The sedative was doing its job.
Tillie stood and ran a finger across the top of Doug’s shoulder. “Finally, some good news.”
Berdie decided it best to give Tillie the whole truth. “Cedric’s not expected to make it through the night, Tillie. But we’re praying.”
“Oh.” She made a hard swallow. “Poor Avril must be distraught.”
“Avril?”
“Cedric’s daughter.” She paused. “She doesn’t know?”
“Are you acquainted with her?”
“We were childhood friends through sixth form, although we’ve not seen each other or talked in a long while.”
“Do you know how to reach her?”
“I have her mobile number. Mind you, I don’t know if it’s up to date.” Tillie stepped back. Her eyes grew intense. “No.” She shook her head vigorously. Two more tears made their watery descent. “No, I can’t possibly tell her. No.”
“It’s OK, Tillie.” Berdie wanted to just wrap the young woman in a soft duvet and send her to bed with a cup of hot cocoa. This whole affair was taking a tremendous toll on her. “If you’ll give me the number, I’ll ring her. Or Hugh can. Remember, he’s a vicar. He’s very good at this sort of thing.”
“Poor Avril.” Tillie closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.” She opened them and ran her hand cross her cheek. “I must get Dad up to bed.”
“You should go to bed yourself as well.”
Tillie nodded. “I’ll leave Avril’s number on the side table in the upstairs hall.”
“Thank you.”
Berdie helped Tilli
e get the half-awake Doug onto the chairlift.
“I don’t know when I’ll retire upstairs.” Berdie made sure the safety belt was tight round Doug. “But if you need anything.”
Tillie pressed the stairlift into operation, collapsing the wheelchair and carrying it with her. “Good night then.”
“Good night, Tillie.”
Berdie wanted to ascend the stairs and go to bed as well. But instead, she ran her fingers in circles on her temples and took dogged steps toward the “police headquarters.”
She wondered as she entered the dining room again how much longer the questioning would go on. Both inspectors were talking with Mr. Braunhoff when she dropped down in her chair.
Lillie scooted next Berdie. “While you were out, they asked us if anyone knew what this Chadwick Meryl threat was about.” She kept her voice low. “I didn’t say anything. Is that withholding evidence?”
Berdie grinned. “Not to worry, Lillie. They’ll find out all about it, not to worry.”
“Should I fetch some biscuits for the tea?” Lillie seemed somewhat keen to leave the table.
“Good idea.” Berdie tried to smother a sizable yawn as Lillie departed.
Goodnight approached Berdie with a lifted chin. “You ask your husband, there on the phone, ’bout that ‘help-me-come-now’ call he got today?”
“What do you mean?”
“I did,” Goodnight gloated. “Hoax. And wasn’t it just? All that way to Old Barn Road to find nothing but sedge, hedgerow, and empty road. No such house, no such people.”
“That’s what he said? Poor Hugh.”
“It seems our vicar was set up like so many china ducks in a shooting gallery. I told the big boys while you were out of the room.” Goodnight rubbed one of his buttons as if it was a gold star. “No, someone wanted your Commander Royce gone.”
“And we’re going to find out who it is,” Chief Inspector Kent stepped into the conversation. “I promise you, Berdie, there won’t be an upright stone left in Aidan Kirkwood, or anywhere, until we catch the slime that’s responsible for all this.”
4
Was that a cry for help? Berdie’s eyes refused to open as she lay upon her bed. The events of the day, her headache, and the questioning by the inspectors had made her hunger for sleep. Even now, the dark enticed her. But she worked to rouse her hearing enough to listen with intent to what seemed to come through the open bedroom window.
Enigma of Fire Page 5
