The Haunting of Mount Cod

by Nicky Stratton

  He stood the painting up against the bedside table, inserted the key and turned the lock. He took out a leather box and put it on the bed. Then he got down on his knees and opened it, staring at the contents.

  ‘There is her engagement ring,’ he said. ‘And here’s the sapphire one. But look.’ He held up a gold and enamel brooch. It was a modernist creation of stupendous ugliness, possibly from the 1960s, in the shape of a fish.

  ‘Her mother gave her this,’ he said. ‘We called it, “The Cod Piece”. How Matilda cherished it.’

  ‘But are there any empty spaces?’

  Sir Repton shuffled sideways as Laura nudged him out of the way.

  There was no way of telling, for Matilda had not kept her rings neatly in the chamois-padded recesses of the case. Strings of pearls jostled with earrings, paste or otherwise. Laura was reminded of her own untidy jumble of jewels as she spotted an expensive looking evening watch next to a pink stoned ring that might have come out of a cracker.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ she said, shutting the lid. ‘But I am sure Cheryl has some questions to answer. We must find out what she is up to.’ She handed the box back to Sir Repton.

  ‘What Cheryl is up to?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I believe that she may have something to do with this serving wench you are so convinced is behind the demise of your late wife?’

  ‘What can you mean?’

  Laura had a moment of panic that she might not know where she was going with all this but she took the bull by the horns and hoped for the best. ‘You must know Venetia’s daughter Angel is under the impression that you yourself had a hand in it.’

  ‘Angela was very fond of her aunt. I have been forgiving her for her sinful accusations and putting them down to misguided grief.’

  He sounded convincing. ‘But have you ever thought that while she may be mistaken about your involvement, there may be some truth in what she says but that she’s got the wrong person?’

  ‘Oh my, I am left speechless.’ Sir Repton slumped further onto the floor.

  ‘Try to think back Repton.’ Laura pulled him up and sat him on the bed. ‘Was there anything that gave you cause for suspicion?’ She sat down beside him and waited as his brows knitted in concentration.

  ‘There was one thing that did puzzle me.’ He turned to her. ‘You see Matilda had her makeup on.’

  ‘In the bath?’

  Sir Repton nodded. ‘It was something of a mess by the time Canon Frank and I pulled her out, but the mascara was waterproof.’

  ‘Could she have forgotten to take it off the night before?’

  ‘Not that much lipstick and I feel I would have noticed the false eyelashes at breakfast. Although come to think of it she only briefly turned to me from her writing desk when she told me off for finishing all the prunes.’

  ‘Did she often wear false eyelashes?’

  ‘Not since the sixties but Cheryl admitted she had found some and given them to her. She said my wife was suffering from low self-esteem.’

  Had Cheryl played some kind of cruel joke on her? Laura felt suddenly sorry for Matilda.

  ‘It was an act of kindness,’ Sir Repton continued. ‘Yes, that’s all it was.’ He stopped and thought for a moment. ‘But through this small act, did Cheryl inadvertently become the catalyst that motivated Rosalind to implicate Cheryl in the heinous act of fatally submerging Matilda?’ He put his hands to his head. ‘Was it jealousy of Cheryl, my wife’s bountiful purveyor of female accoutrements? Oh, irony of ironies… just like Millais’ poor tragic Ophelia!’

  Wrinkled senior citizen, caked in makeup… toeless… dispatched in bath by female apparition? And the comparison to the Pre-Raphaelite portrait of the young Danish noblewoman was laughable, but had the great actor won the day again? Laura kept her thoughts to herself. She refrained from positing the theory that had sprung to mind, that in fact, it was Cheryl who was the ghost.

  Chapter thirteen

  Laura returned to Wellworth Lawns in time to join Venetia for dinner. Her friend’s concentration was sporadic, but Laura persisted with the story as they waited for Mimi to bring the starter.

  ‘Matilda was plainly in the process of getting up. She had had her bath but the water was still in the tub. Cheryl pushed her in after she had applied her makeup for the day.’

  ‘But wouldn’t she be dressed? I thought you said she was naked.’

  ‘This sounding most interesting,’ Mimi said, as she placed bowls of soup down in front of them before carrying on to the next table.

  ‘Perhaps she was in a dressing gown,’ Laura said. ‘Why didn’t I ask about a dressing gown? It could be a vital clue.’ This toing and froing of ideas in her head was like windscreen wipers going full tilt in a snow storm. ‘Oh, I don’t know, perhaps the person removed the dressing gown after they had drowned her.’ she said. ‘It’s not impossible is it?’

  ‘Of course not, in fact I remember a case on CSI once. The man abducted the girl outside a nightclub. Then they went back to her flat and he raped and killed her.’

  ‘Good grief Venetia.’

  ‘Then early the next day before any one was up, he got her dressed and left her sitting at a bus stop.’ Venetia held a spoonful of the thin consommé in her shaky hand. ‘She could have been there for hours what with rigor mortis but the fact was it was a very windy day and she fell off the bench.’ Venetia slurped her soup. ‘They’re awfully badly designed those bus stop benches. I don’t know why they haven’t asked Wayne Hemmingway to come up with some better ones.’

  Laura waited while Mimi came and took the bowls away and replaced them with the main course before continuing the conversation.

  ‘Really Venetia, the stuff you watch – but now I think about it, Matilda could easily have still been in her towel. But then again when did Canon Frank Holliday appear in the bathroom? I must talk to him.’

  ‘This is all too much for me, Laura,’ Venetia said.

  ‘He positively encourages Repton’s hysteria. But why? And where was Sir Repton all this time?’ Laura felt the windscreen wipers going again. ‘And what was most pertinent was that Cheryl and the Canon appeared to know each other,’ she continued. ‘They were having some sort of private conversation while we waited for the ambulance.’ She paused and stared at the chicken slice on her plate. ‘Too much for you?’ She looked at Venetia, then back to her plate. ‘But there’s hardly anything of it; is Alfredo putting us on reduced rations for some reason?’

  ‘I meant all this information and all these people,’ Venetia said.

  Mimi came round with roast potatoes. ‘You wanting?’ she asked, dishing one out onto Laura’s plate before turning to Venetia.

  ‘What’s going on, Mimi?’ Laura said. ‘I normally have at least three.’

  ‘I so sorry Ladyship, I hearing Mr. Parrott, he say Alfredo, them old things eating way too much. You got to cut it down or they getting obesity.’

  ‘Mr. Parrott said that?’

  ‘He say obesity very dangerous. Leading many times to serious infections. Here you going.’ Mimi put another potato on each of their plates.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Laura sliced into a potato.

  ‘About obesity?’

  ‘No. About Cheryl and the Canon. I think I will pay him a visit.’

  Laura rang the hospital the next morning and was told the Canon had not yet been discharged, so she set out for Woldham General. She left Parker in the car and paid for a ticket before tramping down the endless corridors in search of the correct ward.

  Finally she found him. He was lying on the bed, one trouser leg still neatly pressed to the ankle. The other had been cut off Laura noticed, ruing the waste of good cloth, exposing a pink kneecap and blue plastic splint out of which his toenails poked, like miniature dinosaur teeth.

  ‘Most kind of you to visit,’ he said, resting his tattered copy of the Bible on his chest. ‘Have a seat.’

  Laura didn’t have time to see what particular text he was reading but
judging by the way the book was opened, she guessed it was Old Testament. ‘Reacquainting yourself with the miracles?’ she asked.

  He snapped the volume shut, and put it next to the water jug on the table beside him before easing himself up into a sitting position. ‘I expect you’ve come about the séance,’ he said, pulling out the pillow behind him and repositioning it.

  Laura felt the proximity of the chair beside the bed was too close for comfort. She pushed it further away with the back of her legs as she sat down. ‘Sir Repton needs to shake off these delusions of his, not have them compounded.’

  ‘I was only trying to help.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t believe you did.’ Laura watched as the Canon’s eyebrows sank like two synchronised burrowing moles into the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Has he been to visit you?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet, but as it happens I’ve been discharged. I shall be returning home this afternoon.’

  ‘Will you be able to look after yourself?’

  The eyebrows resurrected themselves. ‘Since my dear lady wife passed away – some years ago now – I have learned to fend for myself. Anyway it’s only a fracture. I’m only still here because the doctor wanted to check my pacemaker and I shall be able to get around with this.’ He waved a crutch propped up beside the bed.

  ‘Have you booked a taxi? I could drop you off myself, if you like. Where is it exactly that you live?’ Who knew what clues his domestic arrangements might throw up. Cramped accommodation that could be alleviated by a move to more commodious and genteel surroundings; Laura imagined the Canon continuously hunched in a Victorian Almshouse.

  ‘Most thoughtful of you. I’m only on Campden Road, but as a matter of fact Ch… Mrs Varley is coming to collect me.’

  ‘Cheryl?’ Laura hoped her voice contained the right level of mild disinterest.

  ‘Yes, I’ve known Cheryl for some years. Before she took up her position at Mount Cod, she used to do the odd job around the place for me, darning, that sort of thing. It was she who introduced me to Sir Repton and Lady Matilda. Dear Lady Matilda, such a tragic end.’

  ‘It was you that found her was it not?’

  ‘I found her room empty. The bathroom door was open… I thought… sadly I was too late.’

  ‘But why were you in her room? And why was she alone?’

  ‘She would often call upon me to give spiritual guidance during her illness. Often was the time I managed to pull her from the abyss of agnosticism. Take the risk in God, for to be sure, He took the ultimate risk in delivering mankind, I extolled her. And I’m sure Cheryl would have been about. But Lady Matilda was in many ways capable of looking after herself. Talking of which I’d better have a practice at getting up. I don’t want to keep Cheryl waiting.’

  Canon Frank swung his trousered leg over the side of the bed. Then, cradling the other above the knee with two hands, he gave a grunt and eased it down so that his foot reached the floor. ‘Between you and I,’ he said, looking round to check the other patients were not listening. ‘Cheryl is most concerned about Sir Repton.’ His penetrating gaze disconcerted Laura.

  ‘Sir Repton, Why?’

  ‘Those twins girls. She says they are taking over the place behind Sir Repton’s back. Things are going missing.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Well all the old gilt ballroom chairs for example were replaced with plastic ones. But where are the originals? And more disturbingly, one of them was upstairs with Lady Willowby, and later Cheryl overheard them talking about euthanasia. She didn’t like to mention it, but…’

  ‘What?’ From the corner of her eye, Laura could see a figure approaching pushing an empty wheelchair.

  ‘She believes they killed their own grandmother…’

  ‘Wotcha Frank. You ready?’ Cheryl called out, and, as she neared, ‘Oh, it’s you Mrs Boxford.’

  The Canon did not attempt to correct Cheryl.

  ‘Well, come on then, I’ve only got parking for half an hour.’

  Canon Frank stood up. He picked up his Bible in one hand and sat down in the wheelchair.

  ‘I’m sorry our meeting was so brief,’ he said to Laura. ‘Do give me a call sometime. Now I think we should find a nurse. I wouldn’t want them to think I’d been abducted.’ He winked at Cheryl.

  ‘You are a one, Frank,’ Cheryl said, dumping the Canon’s overnight bag and the crutch onto his lap.

  She must have brought his things in for him last night, Laura thought, as she left them at the nurses’ station and walked out of the hospital to the car park. As she reached her car she could see Parker standing up at the passenger window barking at a woman getting out of a car in the next bay. He didn’t hear her open the driver’s door.

  ‘Do be quiet,’ she said and he slunk back down onto the seat and stared at her contritely.

  ‘What d’you think?’ she asked, switching on the engine and edging out of the space. ‘Canon Frank changed the subject pretty fast from being in Matilda’s bathroom to laying blame of some sort on those girls. Do you think the wedding planners are ripping off old Repton?’ She tapped the steering wheel as they waited for the car park barrier. ‘Perhaps Matilda knew?’ She put the car in gear, her foot pressing down on the clutch. ‘Or are Cheryl and the Canon in it together; covering their backs by laying a trail of blame elsewhere? She gripped the handbrake. ‘And what on earth was his comment about Tam and Pom killing their grandmother all about?’ Laura watched as the barrier rose and juddered to a vertical halt. It reminded her of an old-fashioned level crossing. The ideas in her head were like the train shooting past. She could only hope she knew where the next station was. ‘Parker,’ she said. ‘I think it’s time we called on our friends Strudel and Jervis again.’

  Chapter fourteen

  Laura was still thinking about her encounter with the Canon as she turned into the driveway at Wellworth Lawns and then took the turning that led to Mulberry Close. She parked outside Strudel’s bungalow, walked up the path and pressed the bell. Bing bong it chimed and a few seconds later, Strudel held open the door. ‘Come in, come in,’ she called out, as Parker jumped up at her legs.

  ‘Oh, you naughty young man,’ she said, brushing down the calves of her green, leotard-enveloped body. ‘Lucky I am leggings in. But this is most fortuitous timing. Jervis and I were just thinking of you. We have a little problem with Gladys Freemantle.’

  ‘What kind of problem?’ Laura followed Strudel into the sitting room where Jervis was sitting in front of the computer. ‘Councillor Gilman’s received negative feedback again. He’s too forward by half,’ he said, scrolling down the screen. ‘We’ll have to cancel his date with Gladys.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ Strudel polished her nails on her chest. ‘It might be just the thing – a taste of her own medicine.’

  ‘Has Gladys joined Ancient Eros? I thought she was wedded to widowhood,’ Laura said.

  ‘She’s changed her tune all right.’ Jervis turned to face Laura, his highly polished dancing shoes making little pas de deux on the carpet as he swivelled the chair. ‘Dramatically.’ His eyes widened as he nodded in confirmation.

  ‘What has she done?’ Laura asked.

  ‘We are sending her on a date with the old bank manager in Woldham; a gentle soul and keen arborealist. But she is terrifying him with her cleavage.’

  ‘Oh dear, Gladys is normally so modest But now I think about it, she was rather forward with Sir Repton.’

  ‘She told me she is taking pine bark extract for her libido,’ Strudel said.

  ‘That’s a new one on me. I thought a bar or two of dark chocolate did the trick.’

  ‘She’s plainly got the dosage wrong. Came at him like a…’

  ‘This is enough Jervis.’ Strudel wagged a finger at him and turned back to Laura. ‘I am thinking a little word from you would not go amiss?’

  Laura said she’d talk to Gladys. It was a situation she felt she could handle well and she was reminded of when she
was a prefect at her convent school and one of the junior girls in her dorm had got a crush on the chaplain. The girl had started to cry of course but Laura had told her to buck up and get a guinea pig like the rest of them.

  ‘But tell us,’ Strudel continued. ‘How is the case of the late Lady Willowby progressing?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d ask. How do you fancy a trip to Mount Cod?’

  Laura gave them a brief outline of the séance, her hospital visit to see Canon Frank and what Cheryl had told him about Tam and Pom.

  ‘So the housekeeper’s out of the frame?’ Jervis said.

  ‘Not necessarily. This is just a new avenue that needs exploring and I need your help.’

  ‘So you think the two girls might be involved? Fair play.’ Jervis swivelled back to face the computer. ‘I haven’t found out much about State of the Union I’m afraid. Only one of our couples who have subsequently married had heard of them.’

  ‘What did they say?’ Laura asked.

  ‘They were told that they would have to take out an extra life insurance policy on account of being over ninety. They emailed me a copy of the confirmation letter. The cheque had to be written out to Robert Hanley Jones personally. I need to do a bit of digging on him; Companies House should shed some light. Should have done it earlier really.’

  ‘That certainly doesn’t sound right… Positive ageism, I don’t think that’s legal,’ Laura said.

  ‘True, but there were various issues. Potential dangers relating to bridal trains for wheelchair users in public spaces; proximity of bridesmaids and pageboys to ECG machines; visually impaired cutting of the cake; not to mention the throwing of the bouquet – a bride in Belgium managed to give some chap on crutches behind her conjunctivitis. The subsequent enquiry identified genetically modified gladioli.’