“You go mingle, see what people were doing at the time of the murder—or murders. And don’t say anything about the priest.”
Helena nodded in the affirmative.
“And you?”
“I’m going to talk to Uncle Monty.”
Uncle Monty was taking advantage of a brief moment of peace to smoke a cigar through the side entrance door. He looked about guiltily as Cassy approached and wafted away the smoke.
“Couldn’t help it,” he blustered, fumbling with the tightly bound tobacco. “Calms the nerves. Of course, there’s all these laws now, aren’t there? About smoking inside—total loss of freedom if you ask me.”
Cassy wasn’t about to get into the argument so she let it slide.
“I thought you might like to know that we’ve called the police and all this should be over soon.”
He seemed pleased and gave a noncommittal nod.
“Can’t stay here. Have to go.”
“You’re a busy man, I take it. What’s on the books for this afternoon?”
A flicker of excitement crossed his expression but was caught and stamped out. “Nothing much. Nothing that would interest you.”
All of a sudden it became the most interesting thing there had ever been.
“Well, anything beats twiddling my thumbs and walking around in silence,” said Cassy. “I didn’t come here to bury two friends. If it’s okay with you, I need someone to talk to.”
Monty’s demeanor changed. He became more relaxed and physically open to her. By adopting a somewhat fragile and hurt approach, Cassy had given him the opportunity to be a gentleman. He was allowed the upper hand and the illusion that he was in control. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
“By all means, child,” said the older man, being deliberately flattering. She was no child. “Were you close to that poor fellow?”
“Old school buddies. We hung out—had a few amazing summers. I still can’t quite believe that he’s dead.”
“Me neither.” He seemed genuine—like he really couldn’t believe that it was true. As if Dan might spring up to his feet at any moment. Or maybe it was what Cassy was secretly hoping.
“I didn’t really keep in touch with him. The occasional message on Facebook.” She looked back to where Maybe was mingling with other guests, asking if anyone needed anything, slipping in a few questions. “I knew his parents, too. Whose brother are you, Monty?”
Monty tossed the cigar, still smoldering and half finished, through the door, which he closed firmly behind him. He shivered.
“I’m the, how would you put it, the paternal uncle.”
“That would explain the cigars,” said Cassy. “Any reason James couldn’t make it down today? I knew the two of them didn’t always get on but…it just seems a bit odd.” Almost immediately, Cassy suspected that she’d put her foot in it. If she’d been out of touch with Stuart, she definitely had no connection to his parents. For all she knew they could have died years ago. As it was, she hadn’t upset uncle Monty, which was a relief.
“Apparently Mary is very ill right now and they simply couldn’t make it. The move would have been too much for her it seems. A very sad business.”
With all the Wellington’s wealth it seemed odd that not even the looming patriarch of the family should attend his only son’s funeral. Was he such an essential part of his wife’s wellbeing that he couldn’t make it?
“How long do you think it will take?”
It took a second for Cassy to grasp what Monty was referring to.
“My sister just called the police a few minutes ago. After that, who knows who they’ll want to question. You really do need to be off, don’t you?”
“Time is money, and I’m not here for an encore performance, as it were.”
Your nephew has just died and two more men are dead, thought Cassy. Show a little compassion, if just for appearances. She debated internally whether to mention what had happened to the priest, but felt it best to keep that information to herself for now. Knowledge is power, but it can trip you up, too. If she could get someone to react to the priest’s death without prompting the killer, they might give themselves away.
“So you all came down together, huh? That takes some organizing skills. Not the kind of thing I could pull off.” Now that Cassy thought about the two black vans that had delivered most of the family, it struck her as odd.
“More convenient that way, I guess.”
He was very distracted, Cassy noted. Sensing that she had overstayed her welcome and that she wasn’t going to get anything useful from him, Cassy decided to move on.
But where to start? There were simply too many people to talk to, and even with Maybe’s help, they were going nowhere fast.
While she was pondering her next move, Cassy was surprised to find Cat tugging at her sleeve. Still looking frazzled, Cat had however come to her senses.
“I need to talk to you, Cassy,” she said, eyes darting furtively about, even though they were out of earshot of everyone. “Something really weird is going on.”
The look in Cat’s eye was intense in a way that Cassy hadn’t seen in the small woman before. They retired to a corner of the church so that Cat could talk freely.
“I’ve sat watching everyone ever since Dan—” She swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought. “I’ve been watching all of them real close and it’s been bugging me.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s one woman here who I swear I’ve met before.”
“That’s not unusual. I bet we’ve met a few of them when we were younger, up at the house across the lake.”
With an impatient sigh, Cat continued, “yeah, that’s what I thought, but something didn’t sit right with me. I knew I knew this woman. It was the white hair, like a signature. You know how some people are recognizable because of one distinct thing? That was hers, but I didn’t associate it with Havenholm or with Stuart or anyone here.”
“So? Did you figure it out?”
“I sat there forever just watching and then it hit me.”
Cat cleared her throat and burst into song. Not knowing where else to look, Cassy became enthralled by the spontaneous performance.
“For hands that do dishes as soft as your face, mild green Fairy Liquid,” she sang in a soft and not unpleasant voice. When she was finished, Cat looked intently at Cassy as if the little ditty had been enough of an explanation.
“Are you okay, Cat? Do you need to sit down?” Cassy had been concerned for Cat before, but now she was becoming genuinely worried.
“Don’t you remember those old ads? The housewife who has all those dishes to do but her skin remains immaculate because of the brand of soap she uses. And she’s got stacks of plates to do. I mean, just incredible amounts, like she’s got fifteen kids or something? I don’t know why she waited to do them all at the same time. If it was me, I would have done it in shifts or maybe get the kids to lend a hand. They can’t all have been too young, right? Give a cloth to a couple of the older ones and set them to work. Their hands would be fine after if they used Fairy Liquid.”
Before Cat got too carried away, Cassy had to lay both hands on either shoulder and give her a little shake. “Cat, you’re babbling. You do it when you’re nervous and that’s understandable. We’ve all been through a lot, but you need to calm down and not let your mind wander. Stay focused. It’ll all be over soon.”
Cat pulled away, exasperated. “You’re not listening to me. That woman over there with the white hair is the woman in the ad. What’s she doing at a funeral? There aren’t any dishes to do here, Cassandra. No dishes at a funeral.”
Chapter Ten
It was impossible that the Holloways would have left on vacation without leaving someone to look after the horses. But they were young, naive and had no idea what it took to rear a stable of purebreds. Even Maybe, who was by far the smartest of the bunch didn’t suspect a thing. She was as caught up in the night’s folly as the rest of
them and had only one goal in mind—to have fun.
The quickest way to the Wellington’s was directly over the lake by boat. Weeks earlier, Dan and Stuart had swam across, leaving Elliot and the girls to await the victor on his return. But now that the sun was setting, swimming had not been an option, even for the giddy kids out on their own. They were young and naive, but not stupid.
Stuart acquired the small fishing boat, which he assured everyone was owned by his parents. The gang of Maybe, Helena, her younger sister Cassandra, Catherine and the boys, Dan, Elliot, and of course Stuart, had made their way up to what they thought was an abandoned house.
It was objectively nicer than the Wellington’s, though nobody brought that up as Stuart had been a kind of patron of their summer fun. They didn’t know or care that he had funded many of their trips into town (and once to Nottingham to go bowling) with cash purloined from his mother’s handbag. The thefts went unnoticed by Stuart’s parents, who it would seem had a surplus of money as it was.
The Holloway household sat slightly higher than the Wellington’s, which was a lakeside house. It was surrounded by the forest and on one side opened up into a large field where the horses could be seen running freely. At this hour they were all stabled, however, and could occasionally be heard whinnying as they settled for the night.
“Follow me,” said Stuart, taking the lead. At the side of the house, there was a small fence with a low gate that was easily mounted. And then they were in. This was the beginning of the fun.
“Don’t they have cameras or something?” asked a concerned Cassandra who had been holding her big sister’s hand whenever she in turn wasn’t holding Stuart’s. “Or guard dogs?”
“There are no dogs, Cass,” said Stuart reassuringly. “Do you want to go see the horses?”
This was, of course, Cassandra’s main goal and the only reason she’d been tempted into coming with the older kids. She knew that Hell had ulterior motives, which were very evident (namely Stuart), but there had only been one thing on Cassandra’s mind all day. Apparently, the Holloways had the best horses. Everyone said so. There was nothing that Cassy wanted more than to meet every single one of them and stroke their long manes and feed them grass. Their skin would be warm to the touch and great gusts of air would come from their big nostrils. Shivers of delight would overcome them and they would let out contended little braying sounds.
Elliot was being a goofball as always, trying to make the others laugh and largely succeeding. Every few steps he would trip up and blame Cat, or make some lewd suggestions about Stuart and Helena, many of which went over Cassy’s head.
Once they were on the property itself, Maybe forged ahead. Cassandra had always looked up to Maybe as the kind of girl she wanted to be. Bold, independent, and seemingly unconcerned with boys.
It was the complete opposite when it came to Catherine, however. When she had learned that Cat was the oldest of the bunch, it had come as a shock to Cassandra. Cat seemed so innocent and gullible. As if in a dream, she floated through life. Secretly Cassandra knew that she had a crush on Stuart, having looked through her diary one day a few weeks earlier, which had been left carelessly out on her bed when she and Hell had gone to visit.
It listed in astonishing detail the life she’d imagined they’d have together and the number and individual names of all their kids. If only Cat could recognize that Elliot had a crush on her, then she might have saved herself a lot of trouble.
“Do we have to walk so far just to see some dumb animals?” Dan trudged along at the very back of the group and sighed deeply.
“You’re always so negative Danny-boy,” said Maybe. “Like, what were you going to do tonight without us? Sit at home watching the A-Team?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good night in actually,” he replied.
“You’re a lost cause, Dan. Live a little.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Cat spoke before Maybe had a chance to deliver another dose of heavy sarcasm. “Leave him alone. He came this far, didn’t he? Well, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t wanna.”
The first clue that something wasn’t right came when Cassy noticed a light on in the main house. In itself, that wasn’t such a big deal. Many people leave lights on when they’re not home. But Cassy could have sworn that it hadn’t been so when they’d first arrived.
“The stables are over there,” said Stuart, pointing to a second building around the back, adjacent to the field.
The summer sun had baked the surrounding mud which otherwise would have been a quagmire and wisps of dirt swirled into the air as the gang traipsed across. Stuart unhooked a rope that held a long gate shut and opened it for the others to enter the main stables. A nervous frisson went over Cassy’s skin as she heard the shuffling and animal grunts coming from inside the two long stables.
“You guys go on ahead,” said Stuart, “We’ll catch up.”
Cassandra saw that Helena was standing resolutely at Stuart’s side and didn’t look like she was coming with her sister. Despite an imploring look, Helena didn’t move and instead shooed Cassy away.
“Come on, Cassandra,” said Cat, taking Cassy’s hand. Together they both went into the first stable. She pushed past Elliot who was peeking through the door.
“Hey, quit horsing around,” he said, deliberately corny. “Get it? Horsing? This is ‘A’ material, guys. C’mon!”
It was warm inside and smelled powerfully of manure, though you quickly became immune to the scent. Dan walked by, holding his nose, followed closely by Elliot doing the same, though with added fits of fainting.
“Here’s one,” said Cat, leaning over the gate to the nearest stall. Anticipation rose in Cassandra as she tiptoed to better see the horse on the other side. In the evening murk, it was hard to see. The only light in the stables was a small security light at the far end and the residual glow from the house itself. Cassandra could still make out the form of a pony, its legs folded under it, sitting in the corner.
“I thought they slept standing up,” she said. Everyone knew that surely, but here was the evidence to the contrary.
“They do both,” said Maybe, who had already moved on to the next stall. “It’s a popular misconception that they only stand up.”
It was an important lesson for Cassy who would learn to question everything she knew. Knowing that horses sleep on their feet was one of those useless little facts you could pull out to impress people, except that now she knew it to be not entirely true. While all this was going on in Cassy’s head, the boys had crossed all the way to the opposite end of the stables, nearer the light. Stuart and Helena were still nowhere to be seen, though everyone knew that they were probably half way down each other’s throats by now. It made Cassy a little queasy.
The incident, as it had to be called, happened shortly after. There was no point giving what happened a more fitting name because to do so would bestow it with a kind of respect. This was not something that the children would look back on fondly.
It was Dan who screamed first, alerting the others. This was swiftly followed by a curious whelp from Elliot. Cassy’s first thought was that the two of them had accidentally unlocked one of the stall doors and were fretting about how to contain the beast they had unleashed. Cat, Maybe and Cassandra rushed over as one, keen to witness what mess the boys had got themselves into this time. Peering around the corner of the entrance to the straw-lined cubicle, Cassy immediately saw that it was vacant. Either the horse had bolted or there had never been one.
“Can you believe these two?” said Maybe, waltzing past them and into the stall, “If it weren’t such an insult to cats, who I adore, I’d call them pussies.”
“What did you see?” asked a curious Catherine. “Is it a rat? My cousin keeps rats as pets. I think they’re a bit yucky except for the one she has is kinda cute. Its name is Bilbo. I don’t know why, it’s a silly name, I think.”
Cat stopped dead in her tracks, having spotted something be
fore even Maybe, who was kicking around loose straw. The look on Cat’s face was enough to bring a tear to Cassandra’s eye. Never before had she seen someone so gripped by fear.
“Are you okay, Cat?”
Cat did not reply. Instead, she raised a trembling arm and pointed.
“Oh my…” Maybe crouched down near a shape in the corner that had been covered in a hurry with a brown sack and a few handfuls of straw. She prodded it with the toe of her shoe and a limb became visible as it fell limply to the ground. “There’s a body under here, guys.” Maybe was curiously dispassionate, coming across as more fascinated than frightened.
“We need to call the police,” said Cat in a rare moment of lucidity. Both Elliot and Dan cowered in the corner as far as they could get from their gruesome discovery.
“We can’t call the cops,” said one of them, Cassy didn’t see who. “We’re trespassing. We’d be caught. We’d go to jail. Or worse.”
“Someone’s died, you fool! We have to do something.”
While Cassandra was trying to figure out what could be worse than going to jail, a light switched on in the main house, drawing everyone’s attention.
“We need to run. Now! Back to the lake!” Dan was already halfway back to the entrance as he was saying it, only to run into Stuart and Helena coming the other way.
Very quickly the two of them were brought up to speed.
In contrast to Elliot and Dan, Stuart pushed his way past the others to get a look at the unfortunate victim. And he or she was a victim, this much was clear to Cassandra. Why else would the body be covered? This was not done out of some kind of dignity the way you might place a shroud over a loved one. This was a hurried attempt to hide evidence.
“The killer’s in the house,” said Cassy. “We need to have a look before they escape.” Just where this newfound courage and determination had come from, Cassandra didn’t know, but she was convinced it was the right thing to do.
Dan of the Dead Page 6
