Murder at the Altar

by Veronica Heley

  Ellie went to stand by the kitchen door. Something about this story of Tod’s was making her uneasy. ‘Do you mean that there’s a clown out there?’

  ‘Nah. Clowns aren’t black, are they? Clowns have white faces and spangly hats.’

  ‘A black man, wearing a big woolly hat?’

  ‘Mm. He was there before, just the once, and now he’s come back. But I didn’t take any.’

  ‘Take any what?’

  Tod stared down at the table. ‘Sweets. Mum’s always saying, Don’t take sweets from strangers, or get in their cars. So I didn’t. Some of the others did, but I thought I wouldn’t. Not if I was going to have chocolate biscuits here for tea instead.’

  He was lying, she could tell. She sat down opposite him, and said, ‘Tod, tell me the truth.’

  ‘I am!’

  ‘No, I don’t think you are.’

  He kept his head down. He said, ‘Can I have a chocolate biscuit now?’

  ‘Tell me about the sweets first. You took one … and ate it?’

  He wriggled on the chair, but kept his head down. ‘They made me. Some of the big boys. Dared me to. So a course I did. But I didn’t eat it, honest. ’Cause they took it off me. And that Darren was off the next day. They said with flu, but … maybe it was the sweet. I don’t know.’

  Ellie took a step towards the back door, then hesitated. Her brain was spinning. Was this man the missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle? But if so, how? Ferdy didn’t have anything to do with drugs, did he? And this sounded distinctly like drug pushing.

  Suppose you looked at it a different way. You could say that the church grounds were Ferdy’s territory. That was where he worked on his cars, contacted his customers. And he hated drugs.

  Now if you were a drug dealer looking for a new territory to open up, the church grounds were well placed for someone who wanted to contact schoolchildren and people who visited the library. People parked their cars there and walked along the Avenue to the shops. A man lounging around in the church grounds could be in a prime position to have contact unobtrusively with a large number of people … and children.

  Suppose a drug dealer had seen the possibilities of the site, and had moved in on it. Perhaps had even offered Ferdy a good price to let him in his territory? What would Ferdy have done about it?

  She felt a shiver run up and down her spine.

  She said, ‘Tod, this is important. Can you remember which day it was this man first came to the church to give his sweets away?’

  Tod squeezed his eyes closed and thought. ‘Maybe it was a Wednesday … or was it a Thursday? No, prob’ly it was a Wednesday, because I go swimming on a Thursday and so I wouldn’t have stopped to see what he’d got. Yes, prob’ly Wednesday. Or maybe it was a Tuesday. Not a swimming night, anyway.’

  ‘And he’s a stranger. You hadn’t seen him around before that, and he’s not been there since – until today?’

  ‘No, I’d have noticed. He’s a Rasta, you see. We don’t get Rastas around here much, do we?’

  ‘A Rastafarian?’ Rastafarians didn’t cut their hair, but bundled it all up under large woollen hats; tea-cosy hats.

  ‘Mm. Can I have a chocolate biscuit now?’

  ‘In a minute. Tod, will you do something for me? Come into the livingroom and see if you can spot this man you’ve been talking about. I agree with your mum that he really ought not to be handing out sweets to children he doesn’t know.’

  ‘Sure. But can I have a chocolate biscuit first?’

  ‘In a minute, Tod.’

  She left the light on in the kitchen, but didn’t turn on the main light in the living-room. The side lamp was of course already on. The workmen hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains before they left. There were lights on around the church, and in the alley. It wasn’t raining. The moon was just visible beyond the steeple.

  Tod pressed his face to the glass. She did, too. Gradually their night sight improved. Was there a man standing beside the bench on which Mrs Hanna had been sitting, all those long days and nights ago? Ellie could hardly make him out. Black against black.

  ‘That’s him,’ said Tod. ‘And it’s Darren with him, see? Darren had one of the sweets last time. His mum said he was off with the flu, but he said it was scrummy, though he couldn’t say what way it was scrummy. The man said he was giving out freebies the first time, but we’d have to pay for seconds. Darren gets lots of pocket money, though. He can afford it.’

  ‘Sweeties!’ said Ellie, thinking rapidly. Hadn’t Rose told her something about the son or grandson of someone at the charity shop being ill after accepting some sweets? She said, ‘Tod, I think that man in black is a drug dealer. First he gives away the sweets, but after that he charges. And he’s targeting schoolchildren! He’s got to be stopped!’ Had she seen him before? She didn’t think she had, but …

  ‘Yeah,’ said Tod. ‘I thought that’s what it might be. Our teacher warned us, ages back. But it’s like, well, exciting …’

  ‘But you didn’t take any?’

  ‘No.’ His head hung low.

  ‘Tod! You did!’

  He whined. ‘No. But I might have.’

  Ellie drew back. She wasn’t sure whether Tod had taken any or not. Certainly there was another boy out there at the moment, talking to the black man. At risk. She remembered Liz Adams at the vicarage saying how she couldn’t bear to think of drugs being brought into the parish … with the school and the library so close …

  A group of five boys came out of the library and crossed the road on to the Green. They hesitated, glancing now at the Rasta and now at one another. Potential clients for the Rasta? Undoubtedly.

  And Ferdy had hated drugs.

  Suppose he had tried to stop the drug dealer …?

  She couldn’t spare the time to work it out now. At all costs those boys must be prevented from making further contact with the Rasta. The damage that even one of those tablets could do …

  Ellie said, ‘Listen, Tod. This is serious. I need a closer look at that man. And I’m going to try to divert those boys before they reach the dealer, and bring them here. Then we must ring the police.’

  She knew it was risky, but she must try. Those poor boys … not realizing the danger … she snatched up a coat on her way to the kitchen, and tumbled down the steps into the back garden.

  She ran down the garden path, through the gate, into the alley and across it to the churchyard gate. Opened the gate.

  This was the opposite to the way Kate had run that night, just before …

  Kate hadn’t seen anything of the Rasta, or she would have said …

  The boys had started to walk along the path towards the Rasta.

  Ellie couldn’t intercept them in time. She shouted at them. ‘Police! Run!’

  They knew they were doing something risky. Boys doing something risky are always wary, ready to be warned off.

  They scattered and ran …

  … leaving her face to face with the Rasta.

  Big man. Tall. Immensely strong.

  He said, ‘You!’

  She had never seen him before in her life. She said, ‘Sorry! My mistake!’

  She backed away, realizing she had strayed into dangerous territory. He caught her arm and whirled her against the church wall. ‘But I didn’t see anything …’

  How could she have? A black man, wearing black clothes, on a dark night. He would have been invisible to her.

  ‘But I saw you at the window!’

  She turned her head and saw the figure of a small boy picked out against the light in her sitting-room. Tod, watching anxiously. She could see him clearly, but he probably couldn’t see her very well, in the shadow of the church … in the power of the killer.

  She tried to appear calm. ‘You killed Ferdy because he couldn’t stomach your selling drugs on his territory.’

  His teeth gleamed in the dark. She felt rather than saw him raise his arm to hit her.

  19

  Too late, she understood
why Ferdy had died. Why here, why at that time of day. She wanted to scream at the waste of it. She was only just coming to terms with Frank’s death. Now she, too, had run out of time.

  She backed up against the door of the church. It did not yield and let her in as it had yielded for Ferdy. Had there been a struggle?

  The man grabbed her throat.

  So be it, she thought …

  … and heard a shrill voice calling her name. ‘Mrs Quicke!’ … and felt the pressure tighten around her neck. She was being

  ground against the church wall … knew she was near death … ‘You let her go, you!’

  The hands around her neck fell away as the man released her to deal

  with the newcomer. Ellie gasped and, hands to her neck, stumbled and

  fell to the ground. Thinking … ‘Tod! Must save Tod!’

  The killer had flailed at Tod, who was dancing backwards but screaming at the top of his voice. Ellie groped around for a weapon. What could

  a frail widow and a small boy do against that growling maniac, over six

  foot tall and heavy with it!

  Her coat fell away, the rain was getting stronger, and her ears were

  playing her up.

  ‘Come on, man!’ Another shrill boy’s voice.

  ‘Go on, Darren, kick him in the goolies!’

  The man was swearing, using that word again. And again. Ellie tried to focus her eyes. There was a ring round the killer now. A

  ring of boys, baiting him, running away and jumping at him when his back was turned. He threw one off as another swiped at him with his

  heavy school bag.

  ‘Police!’ Sirens screaming, two cars drew up by the level crossing just

  as policemen began to spill out of the incident room at the church hall …

  and plainclothes men appeared in the entrance to the derelict house. The killer turned to run down the path towards the alley and safety. Tod

  threw himself in a tackle, clung to the man’s leg and wouldn’t let go. The

  man swore, flailed at him, but couldn’t release himself from the limpet

  grip.

  Policemen running.

  The man screaming obscenities.

  The boys jumping him.

  Ellie slid down on to the path and let go her hold on the world.

  It had been Tod who had called the police, using his mum’s mobile phone which he’d taken to school with him to show off to the other boys. Luckily. When he saw Ellie confronting the killer he’d used his head for once, and rung the police for help.

  Then bravely gone to her assistance.

  Seeing him trying to tackle the killer, some of the other boys had come back to help him. Buying strange sweets was one thing, but leaving Mrs Quicke to be mugged by the dealer was something else. Luckily those particular boys had not had time to buy any of the tempting sweets themselves before Ellie had interfered, so they could present a virtuous front to the police. Ellie didn’t ask what Tod had done with the sweets he’d bought. And if she spotted an unfamiliar foil-wrapped packet in her waste-bin in the kitchen the next day, she certainly didn’t say anything about it to the police.

  The police charged the Rasta with the attempted murder of Ellie. They took him off to the police station, raving about getting even with those who interfered with him earning a living, uttering threats to kill Ellie for betraying him to the police, and screaming that this was all Ferdy’s fault for not sharing his territory. If Ferdy hadn’t been so stupid, none of this would have happened …

  ‘But I really didn’t see him on the night of the murder,’ Ellie protested. She was visiting the incident room to make one last statement about the attack on her, and this time had been received with courtesy. Well, she thought, they owed her that at least.

  Inspector Clay was all smiles this time, even summoning up tea and biscuits for her.

  She said, ‘I really didn’t mislead you, you know. He could see me at the window, but I couldn’t see him. I had a side light on inside, and he was all in black. How could I have seen him?’

  ‘No, we understand how it was that you didn’t see him. However, if we’d been able to talk to your missing neighbour Kate then we might have got somewhere, because it was more than possible that she had seen him.’

  Ellie looked meek. Kate was due to return home that evening, after having several long telephone conversations with her husband. But for how long? Would she ever feel safe with Armand? How long before Armand misbehaved again?

  Inspector Clay continued, ‘We got a taped confession out of the killer before his brief got to him … he’s complaining today that he wasn’t read his rights and didn’t understand what was going on, but it’s all on tape, and his pockets were stuffed with Class A drugs as well as ‘sweeties’ for the kids, so if that’s the best defence he can come up with …’ A shrug. ‘He’s got considerable form for dealing with Class A drugs and GBH in the past, so I should think he’s looking at a long sentence. Besides, he was a mite careless, so we can prove who he was working for … his mobile phone was programmed with his boss’s number. Even before we got him to the station, she was ringing him to find out how he’d done … and naturally we took the call instead of him.’

  ‘A woman was behind the drug dealing?’ Ellie was shocked, though she told herself that she ought to be aware that women were at the top of all professions nowadays.

  ‘We’ve known about her for some time. She’s been done for dealing before when she worked out of the council estate. Unfortunately for her, she got ideas about moving up market, which will mean quite different surroundings for her from now on.’

  ‘So were the fat man and the fake gas man working for her as well?’

  ‘Yes. The Rasta was her bedfellow as well as her right hand man. The other two were petty criminals she picked up locally because she wanted to get rid of you before her fellow came out of the woodwork to start up the operation openly. They thought you’d seen him, you see, so they concentrated on getting rid of you with some hired talent …’

  ‘… which turned out to be not so talented, after all. And I felt so sorry for the fat man, getting his leg broken like that.’

  ‘He isn’t talking, but the false gas man is and blaming everything on everyone but himself. To help matters on, both their mobile phones connected them with her.’

  ‘Was I right about why the Rasta killed Ferdy?’

  ‘He says it was an accident, that they argued and Ferdy took a swing at him, so he took a swing back. Ferdy fell back through the door into the church, and they went down in a heap with Ferdy underneath. Only he’d caught the back of his head on the edge of a stone step … we found some of his hairs there. We also found some wool fibres from the Rasta’s cap and sweater on Ferdy’s clothes. We thought they’d come from your neighbour Kate’s clothes, of course. They probably got there when the Rasta dragged Ferdy away from the door, so that the central heating engineers wouldn’t stumble over him when they got back. Then he fit off in Ferdy’s van, took it out into the country and set it on fire.’

  ‘Not realizing, I suppose, that Ferdy had two other cars parked around the church. One has since disappeared. Was that the Rasta, too?’

  ‘No, it was the gas man. He fancies a new car every few days. It’s been found, incidentally. It belongs to Mrs Hanna now, I suppose.’

  ‘And was it the gas man who frightened off Mrs Hanna, poor thing?’

  ‘No, that was the fat man – according to his mate, anyway. They thought Ferdy might have told her he’d been approached to share his territory, and they weren’t taking any chances. So she scarpered …’

  ‘… after leaving a note for her neighbour to look after her dog. So have you managed to find her and reassure her yet?’

  ‘We’ve put the word around and knowing the Polish community, she’ll get the message and be back in circulation in no time at all. By the way, you know that big house that’s up for sale opposite the church? Someone was curious enough t
o investigate today. He thought it was squatters … well, in a way it was, because that was where the gang had been keeping watch on you. We found Ferdy’s Bentley and a stolen white van in the garage, and a good stash of Class A drugs upstairs. Also fingerprints all over the place linking the whole gang – not just the fat man and the gas man, but also Mrs Big and the Rasta – with the haul.’

  ‘Had they bought the house, then?’

  ‘No. The gas man had lifted the Sold sign from somewhere else. He’s told us all about that, and about how difficult it was to scare you off. He rigged the car to blow up, of course. He thought it was yours, not your neighbour’s. Has she returned home yet, by the way?’

  Ellie shook her head. If Kate wanted to talk to the police later, she could do so.

  Ellie had a parting shot to deliver. ‘Don’t you think someone ought to recommend Ferdy for a medal? After all, he lost his life trying to save the neighbourhood from a drugs gang!’

  The house was beautifully quiet. A little dusty. The house-plants needed attention, the silver needed buffing up. The azalea which Archie had given her drooped. Ellie never had been as good with houseplants as with those in the garden. She tried to remember what Mrs Dawes had told her to do with the azalea. Something about hot water and a basin? She shrugged. She’d do what she always did with azaleas, which was to stand it in the sink and let it soak.

  She did that.

  It was dusk again. She went to stand in the living-room, looking out over the darkening garden and up at the church spire. The moon was rising. So was the wind.

  She missed Frank. She thought she always would. He had picked her up as a green girl, folded her in his loving care and looked after her until the day he died. Perhaps he had been a little over-protective. He had not wanted her to grow up, to change in any way … to be his equal.

  She drew back from that thought, and then fingered it in her mind. No, he had not wanted their marriage to be a partnership of equals, and she had accepted her place in his scheme of things, without trying to alter it in any way.

  Now that the warmth of his protection was withdrawn, she had found the world to be a colder, sometimes unfriendly place. But also more exciting.