Murder at the Altar

by Veronica Heley

  Liz took the bag from her, and they walked slowly up the road and across to the vicarage.

  The errand boy reported. ‘Looks like she’s going away for a bit. Drawn the curtains, double-locked the front door, left a security light. Got a small suitcase with her. Probably going to catch the bus from the corner and take it to the station. That looks like it for the moment. Shall I knock off now? I’m bloody well freezing here …’

  The fat man reported. ‘Yes, she went across the churchyard, and crossed the road … going to the bus stop, I suppose. The other woman was carrying the bag for her. Must be going up north. It’s snowing so hard, I can’t see her any more. That looks like it. She’s gone, and we can forget about her …’

  12

  The two women experienced a white-out when a flurry of snow hit them crossing the Green. Only the orange of the beacon on the pedestrian crossing told them where the main road was. The wind was still rising.

  Ellie gasped for breath as they pulled themselves inside the vicarage porch. The office was closed for the night, but as Liz opened the front door the usual familiar mix of smells wafted around them. Ellie sniffed traces of polish from the floor tiles, dust from cardboard boxes stacked in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, and the smell of pine from the giant Christmas tree which Gilbert was cack-handedly trying to wedge into a bucket.

  ‘Hi, there!’ He had the phone clamped to one ear while he tried to hammer a wedge into position at the base of the tree. ‘No, I didn’t mean you, Nora … Liz has just come back from collecting waifs and strays … no, I didn’t mean that literally, of course …’

  Liz and Ellie laughed, shedding coats, shaking their heads at him, going through to the big drawing-room at the back of the house. From upstairs came the chumpety-chump of a CD being played by the teenage daughter, a screeching sound from the slightly younger son playing a computer game, and from further off the scratchy noise of a not-soheavenly choir belting out a chorus from the curate’s flat. In the drawingroom, a CD was playing something soothing by an old-fashioned crooner.

  This room was, as usual, on the chilly side, since the antiquated central heating failed to heat the vicarage properly. However, a gas logeffect fire was doing its best, the third-hand velvet curtains almost managed to meet over the gigantic windows, and there were plenty of odd cushions and throws on the bumpy settees around the fireplace.

  Ellie relaxed at once. Gilbert came in, his specs gleaming as brightly as his smile. ‘Guess what! I’ve got the evening off. The meeting’s cancelled because of the snow, and I’ve got a … whole … evening … to myself!’

  He whirled Ellie round and gave her a smacking great kiss. ‘Oh leave off!’ said Ellie, laughing as she pulled down her sweater again.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of him!’ advised Liz, uncorking wine with expert haste. ‘I’ll shove some more potatoes through the microwave if he’s going to join us for supper, and we’ll eat straight away.’

  Gilbert danced around, a schoolboy given an extra holiday. ‘I’ve turned the answerphone on and told Nora she is not to ring me back this evening about anything short of the church steeple falling down. The best of it is, everyone knows I should be out at this meeting, so they won’t think to ring here!’

  They ate in the big kitchen with the teenage daughter and son, both wanting to know what it felt like to be blown up by a car bomb, what Kate was really like, and what the police had said … until Liz said that that was Quite Enough! When the younger ones disappeared about their Saturday night business, Gilbert and Liz sat Ellie down before the fire in the drawing-room and said, ‘Now tell us all about everything.’

  ‘Well, to start at the end,’ said Ellie, ‘Madam from the charity shop came round to see me, and before you say “about time, too!”, I must tell you that she’s given me the sack!’

  ‘What!’ Gilbert lost his glasses in his astonishment. ‘Has that woman gone raving mad?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Liz dryly. ‘But let the girl speak. And this time, Ellie, start from the beginning.’

  ‘It would be good to talk about it, get things into perspective. After Frank died, the doctor insisted on giving me these pills. I felt totally withdrawn. I was having nightmares, too … chasing Frank along long corridors – the hospital, I suppose – and through different doors … and I still wasn’t sleeping properly, so half the time I was in bed trying to sleep, I was more or less awake. And half the time I was supposedly awake, I think I was … away with the fairies!

  ‘The first thing I can remember clearly is watching Kate run down from the church … I suppose it was just before Ferdy was killed, but I really don’t have the slightest idea what time it was. Next day Mrs Dawes came to say she’d found the body, and that night I saw Mrs Hanna and …’

  With many a false start and recap, Ellie poured the whole story out. She had meant at first only to talk about the murder and why she didn’t think Kate had done it, but as she went rambling on, she found she was including details of Armand’s interview with the police, and going to order a new bed – due to be delivered Monday afternoon – when that poor man fell on the bridge, and the flowers Tod had left on her doorstep … because she was worried about Tod, he was left alone too much … and then it was on to Aunt Drusilla and the mystery of her source of income, and Diana wanting her to go up north and such odd things had been happening to her, like – oh, she didn’t know what, exactly, but there it was. Life was quite different, now, what with trying to make sense of the computer, and phoning Tesco’s for food, and eating pot noodles and getting quite tiddly not just once but several times and going out in Kate’s car. Everything. And perhaps that was a good thing, helping her to move forward, get over Frank’s death.

  ‘Only,’ she said, ‘I wish I understood what was going on … so many loose ends. I don’t like loose ends.’

  She stopped, feeling a lot better. I’m emptied out, she thought.

  Gilbert was humming to himself. Leaping to his feet, he began striding around the room. ‘You do realize you’re ducking the main issue, don’t you? Of course you’ve got lots of little problems to deal with, but the important thing as I see it, is that you’re refusing to face the facts about the murder because you’re fond of Kate.’

  Ellie would have protested, but he held up his hand to stop her. ‘Come off it, Ellie. If Kate didn’t kill him, then who did? Did anybody else – anybody at all – have a reason for killing him?’

  Ellie shrugged. She simply did not know.

  ‘The jealous husband?’ suggested Liz.

  Gilbert hummed to himself. ‘Mm … possible, but unlikely. He’s violent, possessive, jealous. He had a possible motive and he can’t prove where he was at the time. But why would he have gone on to kill Mrs Hanna?’

  ‘We don’t know that she’s dead,’ argued Ellie. ‘In fact—’

  ‘He had no reason to do so. The only possible reason why anyone would have wanted to kill Mrs Hanna is that she was a threat to them. But Mrs Hanna didn’t know anything about the murder, did she? Because she asked Ellie to investigate it for her. I think her disappearance is a separate issue.’

  Both women protested. How could it be a separate issue? It was asking too much to expect them to believe it was a coincidence.

  Gilbert continued, ‘All right. Let’s consider the case against Kate for murdering Mrs Hanna. Kate had opportunity, I think. We don’t know what she was doing the evening Mrs Hanna disappeared, do we? Could Mrs Hanna have found out something linking Kate to Ferdy’s murder? That would have done it, wouldn’t it?’

  Ellie broke in. ‘I’m not at all sure that Mrs Hanna has been killed. I admit I was worried when they found that body in the park, but the police said that was a psychiatric patient from the hospital. I saw inside Mrs Hanna’s fridge, you see. The kitchen looked a mess with furniture pulled over and shoved around, but there was a tea towel hanging over the door of the fridge, and the door was wide open. There was nothing but a couple of jars of jam inside.’

>   ‘Yes? So?’ said Gilbert impatiently.

  Liz uncurled her legs and recurled them another way. ‘Really, Ellie? Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, not a hundred per cent sure. I wanted to take a closer look, only the policeman threw me out. But if the fridge hadn’t any butter or milk or cheese or bacon or anything like that in it …’

  ‘… and if the door had been left open, so the fridge would defrost … was the electricity turned off?’

  ‘I couldn’t see. I tried to discuss it with the policeman who came to see me today, but he didn’t want to know. I suppose only a woman would see the significance of it.’

  Liz nodded. ‘You’re right. Oh, stop gawping, Gilbert. If Mrs Hanna had been taken unawares and killed, her fridge would still have contained perishable foods. But if she’d planned her departure, she would have disposed of everything that might go off, unplugged the fridge or switched the current off at the wall, and put a tea towel over the door to stop it closing, so that the air could get in and stop the fridge going mouldy inside.’

  Gilbert looked bewildered. ‘But you said the place was in chaos, that there was every evidence of a fight.’

  ‘In the kitchen, yes,’ said Ellie, ‘but the rest of the flat was in pretty good order, even though someone had gone through the drawers in the bedroom. You could say that a burglar had been at work … or you could say that Mrs Hanna had been packing for a getaway. There’s something at the back of my mind about her flat … I want to go back and have another look if I can. If the police will let me.’

  Gilbert recommenced his striding around the room, waving his arms like a scarecrow. ‘The fact remains that Kate is the only real suspect. I don’t see how you can deny it.’

  ‘I don’t deny it. I just don’t believe it. Did you know Ferdy well?’

  ‘I suppose – in a limited sort of way. He was brilliant at keeping our old banger on the road, and you could always find him outside the church if you needed him. Of course, some people objected to his using the road outside the church grounds as a garage and workshop. I tried to get the PCC to agree to his renting the yard behind the church hall to use as garage space, but they wouldn’t agree. They said if we ever got the money through to rebuild, we’d need that space, and of course they were right. But still, if it were only for a few months …’

  He sighed. ‘I wish I hadn’t got so angry with him that day, but he had no less than three vehicles out there the evening he was killed. His van, and two others that he was working on. The van was blocking the entrance to the church hall, which was why I sounded off at him. He promised to remove it and I suppose he did, because it’s not there now.

  ‘The other two cars were both there for a couple of days. The Bentley was taken away a couple of days ago, I suppose by the police. The Mondeo is still there. I was going to talk to Mrs Hanna about getting the cars removed because I suppose they belong to her now, but then she disappeared. I don’t know what to do about it.’

  Liz sighed. ‘Ellie, I know you like Kate but everything points to her. You say you’ve been asking around. The police have, too. Have you turned up anything – anything at all, which points to someone else?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ said Ellie, unhappily. ‘If only he’d been dealing in drugs then we could all have shrugged it off as some sort of gang warfare. But everyone seems to agree he was clean in that respect. I did once think I might talk to Joyce McNally since she used to be Kate’s best friend …’

  Gilbert pointed a bony finger. ‘Joyce sings in the choir. You could speak to her after church tomorrow. If she turns up in this bad weather.’

  Ellie yawned. ‘I’ll try to, though I can’t see that it will help.’ She yawned again.

  ‘Time for bed,’ said Liz. ‘You look worn out, Ellie. Have a good lie-in tomorrow, and don’t bother to turn out for church if you don’t feel like it.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Ellie, sleepily.

  Liz kissed Ellie. Gilbert kissed Ellie. They were a very touchy-feely family.

  Liz took Ellie up the chilly staircase and put the electric radiator on in the guest room to supplement the barely functioning central heating.

  Liz tried to yank the inadequate curtains closer. ‘My dream is that one day we’ll have a parish with a modern house, with a proper built-in kitchen and good central heating. Goodnight, Ellie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Liz. Smashing evening. Thanks.’

  In the morning the scene was like a Christmas card, with the church and spire, the bare-branched trees and the Green all covered with snow.

  At breakfast in the huge inconvenient kitchen, Gilbert slurped tea, sharp-set after returning from an eight o’clock service at the church.

  ‘Long live the snow,’ he said. ‘It’s given me a brilliant idea for a sermon.’

  Liz laughed. ‘Does that alarm or delight me? Well, I don’t suppose many people will get to church today’

  ‘Oh, some will,’ said Gilbert. ‘They’ll struggle in even if their cars won’t start, all bright-eyed and cheery, having overcome all the temptations that Satan has put in their way to get there.’

  Ellie went with them and sat at the back as usual. Liz whispered to her, ‘Hardly anyone’s turned up for the choir, though Joyce has, you’ll be glad to hear. Nora is in her usual muddle, Mrs Dawes is looking down her nose at the flower arrangement one of her assistants did, and I’ve got to read one of the lessons for someone who’s phoned in sick.’

  Ellie noticed Mrs Dawes’ granddaughter Chloe moving into a back pew with a stolid-looking young man at her side. He wasn’t black, exactly. Possibly of mixed race? Ellie frowned. Hadn’t she seen that young man somewhere before?

  Mrs Dawes swanned down the aisle to where Ellie was sitting and grasped her by the arm. ‘I know you haven’t formally joined the choir yet but you can help out today, can’t you, now you’re here and we’re short of sopranos? Did you see my granddaughter with her new young man? Wonders will never cease!’

  Ellie was terrified at the thought of being put into the choir, just like that! But she could see that even her small voice might be of use, and she wasn’t the type who would refuse to help. In the vestry she submitted to being inserted into a long red gown and given some hymn books to carry. She went back into church in Mrs Dawes’ wake, hoping she wouldn’t trip up, lose her place in the hymns, or otherwise disgrace herself. She wondered fleetingly what Frank would have said if he could have seen her.

  It wasn’t so bad, really. She stood up and sat down when the others did. Mrs Dawes whispered – piercingly – what to do and when. Ellie found she knew all the hymns they were planning to sing, and she sat out while the choir attempted – somewhat disastrously – an anthem.

  Gilbert’s sermon was brief, amusing, and left them thinking.

  ‘Well, so you all made it through the snow. Congratulations. Adversity brings out the best in the British, doesn’t it? Of course this amount of snow is just a minor inconvenience. We’re not going to be cut off for days or weeks. Our electricity supply, our gas and telephones are still working. Our Christmas shopping will not be affected.

  ‘Some years ago in a small town in Austria, it was a very different matter. They were thoroughly cut off from the world. Well-laid plans for a Christmas Eve spectacular at the church had to be cancelled. Only a few people could be expected to turn up, that didn’t include the movers and shakers. Sadly the local organist put away the music which it had been planned to perform on Christmas Eve.

  ‘What was a celebration of Christ’s coming into the world, without some joy, some music? Sorrowfully, he asked God to understand the situation, and to show him some way that they might still celebrate God’s coming.

  ‘He began to hear a tune in his head. He remembered a poem the local pastor had shown him. The poem and the music went together perfectly. He played the music through on his guitar, and it moved him almost to tears. He paced around, singing the words. Yes, it was good. Unlike anything they’d planned. It wasn’t grand. It didn’
t have a big chorus, or complicated harmonies. It didn’t even need the organ.

  ‘But it told the story of Christmas perhaps better than any of the wellknown pieces the choir had been practising. That piece of music is now known as “Silent Night”. It was born out of adversity, and is perhaps the best carol ever written.

  ‘The snow here is only a minor inconvenience to us today, but this past week we have suffered other blows from outside forces. A young man we knew well has been murdered. His mother has disappeared. A car has been blown up. A young woman has gone missing. The body of a poor distraught woman has been found in the park. We have been besieged by reporters, gossip is rife, and not everyone has been kind to those people most affected by these events.

  ‘The man who wrote “Silent Night” put his problem in the hands of the Lord, and asked for help to solve it. The result was a carol to touch the heart. Let us now in silence ask the Lord to take us, too, under his special care at this difficult time. Let us ask him to have a special care of all those who have been touched by what has been happening. Let us ask him to be with the police, working to solve the case and bring those responsible to justice. Let us ask him to comfort the bereaved mother, and all Ferdy’s friends. Where there has been evil, let us ask him to cleanse our hearts and minds … so that we too may bring forth a new spirit at Christmastime …’

  Later, they did sing ‘Silent Night’.

  ‘I’m Joyce. Mrs Adams said you wanted to speak to me.’ Joyce McNally was a well-brushed, tidy girl with hostile dark eyes. The very picture of a teller behind a bank counter. Ellie wondered if the girl were always hostile, or just feeling anti today.

  ‘Thanks, yes. It’s about Ferdy Hanna, of course.’ The girl pinched in her lips, and then expelled air. ‘Puh! I knew him once, a long time ago, but I don’t know anything about what he’s been up to recently. Sorry, I can’t help.’ She turned away, disassociating herself from Ellie.

  Ellie persevered. ‘Just one question. Was Ferdy doing well with the cars?’