Consecrated Crime: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 5)

by Penelope Cress

  “It’s just dinner. I’ll be fine. Wouldn’t want you two lovebirds falling out on my account.”

  ✽✽✽

  Before I could start transforming myself into a delectable dinner guest, there were a few work things I needed to catch up on. What with the wedding and everything, I had been sadly neglecting the day job. Even with choosing to walk up to the manor house, I had several hours to kill. Bad choice of words, but murder was on my mind.

  There was a nagging something running around in my head, evading every attempt to pin it down. In the cabin, I knew I was reliving a memory. I had experienced this before. It’s a strange sensation. Like I am there and also not there at the same time. I am a witness to events from the victim’s or killer’s perspective. I feel their motivations but have no tacit knowledge. There is no context, only emotion. Given the scenario, I expected to find passion, desire, lust, but what I experienced was cold and calculating. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable. To be witness to such intimate physical sensations was embarrassing. Yet, I felt that the pleasure gained was a bonus and not the reason for the encounter. All this head-hopping was making me nauseous. How do women use sex for profit? This mindset goes against everything I stand for. Where is the love?

  I needed a shower to wash the experience away, but first I had to talk to Lawrence. I was desperate to hear his voice and let his calm tones heal my troubled spirit. .

  I was stretching across the desk to reach my phone when the vicarage landline rang. I paused, waiting for Mum to answer it.

  “Jess? It’s for you!”

  “I’m busy, Mum. Can you get their name and number and I will call them back?”

  Mum’s muffled voice floated down the corridor. Then there was a knock on the office door. “Jess, I think you need to come straight away.” Whatever was on the other end of that phone, it wasn’t good news. My feet dragged my anxious heart to the hall table. “Jess, remember your old school friend, Karen Clark?” I nodded. We had only talked about her yesterday. Mum passed me the receiver, her hand covering the mouthpiece. “Her name now is Karen Findlay. Ellen was her daughter.”

  ✽✽✽

  My earlier enthusiasm for an evening of fine dining and sleuthing at the manor ebbed away over a whiskey-laced cup of tea at the kitchen table. Karen was travelling down on the Caledonian Highlander sleeper train overnight and would arrive at London Euston just before eight in the morning. I had offered to meet her at the county coroner’s office in Stourchester at eleven. Sam was going to join us. Whilst we both had been keen to contact our old friend, it was hard to see how the circumstances could have been any worse.

  “Ellen was her only child,” I sobbed “Mum, what am I going to say to her?”

  “You will find the words. This is what you do.” A rare arm of comfort snaked its way around my back. “I can’t imagine the pain of losing your only daughter. There’s no word for it, is there? We have widows and orphans, but we don’t have a term for people who have lost a child.”

  “Karen has no one now, she said. Her husband died five years ago, and now this? I’m glad Sam agreed to come with me. It’s been so long. What comfort can we give her? We don’t know each other anymore.”

  “No, but you had an incredible bond when you were young. That will come forth to support her in her hour of need. Invite her to stay here. She’s a long way from home.”

  I agreed. They all were a long way from home. Aberdeen is about as far away as you can get from Wesberrey and still be in the British Isles. Is it me? Has murder followed me to this place?

  Mum pushed back her chair with a screech. “Come on, dry your tears. You need to get ready for dinner up the road!”

  “No way! Someone up there killed my friend’s daughter! No way, uh-uh.”

  “Exactly. And though it rips my heart in two to say it, you are the only one who can help get Ellen justice. Have a shower, throw on your glad rags and paste on a smile. You’ve got this.”

  Tommy

  I took my phone with me and curled up with it under the duvet. This gift was a curse, and my curiosity killed more than cats. Death stalked my every move. I had been on this island for six months. Six! And the murder rate had blown off the chart. Before I took up my office at St. Bridget’s, the most PC Taylor had to deal with was a spate of flowerpot thefts. Now the chief homicide detective had rented an apartment here to be closer to the crime capital of the county.

  Jess, you’re talking nonsense. Dave moved here because of Zuzu, not you. Get over yourself! This isn’t about you.

  I scrolled Lawrence’s number and hit dial. I needed it to be about me, for a few minutes, at least.

  Fifteen long minutes later, my heart sang to the tune of his voice crossing the threshold below my window. A few moments more, and Lawrence’s lanky frame lay wrapped around me on the bed.

  He stroked the hair from my eyes and brushed his lips along my left temple.

  “I’m here for you.”

  I prayed out the words. “Hold me.”

  And he did.

  ✽✽✽

  We arrived at Bridewell Manor a little after eight. Though still fragile, I finally found the energy to get myself ready and had phoned ahead to warn our host that I would be bringing Lawrence with me. Arabella was delighted because that meant an even number of place settings. Hugh Burton was also staying over in the big house.

  “We have made up the blue room for you both. You didn’t bring any nightwear? I’ll have Ralph go fetch you some up from the vicarage. And a swimsuit. If you don’t have one, I'm sure there is one of mine you can have.” Arabella snapped a finger.

  “Arabella, we weren’t planning to stay the night.”

  My protest fell on deaf ears. “Nonsense. How can you relax whilst watching the clock? You can have a late-night swim under the stars. Shame it’s not a full moon yet, but it will still be magical.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely, but there’s no need to trouble Ralph. I can swim another time.”

  “Or you could swim in the nude.” Arabella found the idea highly amusing. “It won’t be the first time. That pool could tell a tale or two.”

  Sharing a bedroom, naked swimming. I looked at Lawrence in horror. Usually, I would have no difficulties in clarifying where I stood, but tonight I was struggling with everything.

  Like a valiant knight of old, he stepped forward to defend my honour. “Lady Somerstone-Wright, maybe another time. The Reverend has had a trying day. All we seek is excellent food, pleasant conversation. And...” he whispered, “separate rooms.”

  Arabella sniggered into the back of her hand. “Excuse me, Jess. I do forget you are a priest, especially when you are out of uniform.” Arabella had been at the cooking sherry. “And, Mr Pixley, sir, you are a gentleman. A rare creature these days. As you wish. All are welcome here.” Right on cue, her butler appeared. “Ralph, we will need another room for Mr Pixley.” Stretching her head to assess his full height, she added. “Looks like he’ll need a super-king. The emerald suite, I think,”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Tell Annie, we will dine in twenty minutes.” She linked her arm through mine. “And champagne. My guests all need champagne!”

  The thought of alcohol threw my already knotted stomach into a tailspin. “Perhaps I could have an orange juice instead?”

  “Oh, Jessie, loosen up. You never let your hair down. Come, Hugh is simply dying to say hello. We are both so grateful for your discretion. You know, before. Ralph and Annie too. We all owe you such a debt of honour. Please, re-lax.”

  Coming here was a huge mistake!

  The drawing room swam in a sea of chatter. Lawrence offered his arm and guided me towards Hugh, propping up the fireplace.

  “Reverend Ward, what an absolute joy! When Bella said you were coming tonight, I was beyond delighted. And who is your handsome companion?”

  “Hugh Burton, this is Lawrence Pixley. He is the headmaster of the local school.”

  “Ah, a man of learning. So, yo
u must be the chappie heading up the new Somerstone Academy. You’ll get free rein with all that. Bella has zero interest in any of it.”

  “Hugh, at some point I need to get you to make a call to my aunt. Seems she’s a huge fan of Above Stairs and your character in particular. She may talk your ear off with her theories. She was furious when she found out you had stayed at the vicarage and I hadn’t told her.”

  “My pleasure, Reverend. Shall we do it now before the appetisers? Always have time for a fan.”

  I had promised Aunt Pamela that I would help her meet her hero, but I mostly welcomed the relative normality of the conversation. Being in a room with Ellen’s murderer made me uneasy. How was I going to face Karen tomorrow? I had held her dead daughter’s hand. Her final thoughts on this earth had been in my head. I needed some air.

  It was a warm night and the drawing room doors opened onto the garden. I tried to make my excuses, but I didn’t have enough breath to speak. Taking advantage of Hugh’s conversation with my aunt, I mimed my exit and left Lawrence to make my apologies and follow behind.

  “Are you okay? We can leave if you want to?” Lawrence bowed down to search my eyes for clues.

  “No, Mum is right. I need to be here. I owe it to Karen and her daughter.”

  Lawrence was being incredibly stoic about everything. Who wants to date a psychic vicar who speaks to dead people? It was a conversation I had avoided for weeks. Since we began seeing each other, I had teased him with the idea that my family had a lot of secrets and there were many things I was struggling to come to terms with myself. Tonight, as I sunk into his firm embrace, I had cried it all out. His response had been to draw me closer. And here he was, literally holding me up.

  “We will go back in when you are ready. I can ask questions too. I’ve read every Agatha Christie novel, and love Dorothy L. Sayers. Quite fancy myself as a Lord Peter Wimsey to your Harriet Vane.”

  “Oh no, I think we are more like Tommy and Tuppence. Christie wins out every time.”

  “I might have to fight you on that.”

  The setting sun cast a halo over Lawrence’s blond hair, and I felt secure in his shadow. I tiptoed my face to his and sought his lips. My body pulsed in response to his touch.

  “Maybe we should have kept the one room?” I joked. Doing the right thing is so hard sometimes.

  Mon Chéri

  Ralph had set the dining table with fine gilded porcelain tableware and gleaming crystal that caught the dying amber rays of the setting sun. Arabella and Hugh held their respective courts at either end. Lawrence and I faced each other close to Hugh. I had Archie and Steve on either side. Celeste flanked my partner to his left, opposite her husband, and Sweetpea sat on his right. Captain Jack was deep in conversation with Arabella on Celeste’s left, and Jenny was opposite him on my side of the table. Low creamy candles nestled in beds of pink roses; minimal decoration enabled maximum conversation. Alcohol was free-flowing, and spirits were high. It was easy to forget that this assembled party was there as a direct consequence of the tragic death of one of their team.

  I took a large gulp of juice and counted to ten. “Steve, tell me more about Aurora. How long has the agency been going?”

  “We’re heading to our silver anniversary this autumn. I’d planned to charter the Norma Jean for a tour of the Norwegian fjords, but old Jack here is threatening to throw in his cap. Wouldn’t be the same without him.”

  “Twenty-five years! Impressive. Your current team is very young. I suppose that’s the nature of the business. I imagine marketing requires a certain youthful energy.”

  “It’s vital. We were amongst the first to push into twilight marketing before it even became a phrase. Our clients are global players and need a twenty-four-seven worldwide presence. That means long hours, total commitment, and the ability to adapt at speed. Burnout is real. This is a high-pressure industry. We live or die by results. To stay a top-ten company, I need my staff to sell their souls, and Celeste cracks the whip most devilishly.” Steve reached across the table, gathered up his wife’s right hand, and leant across to kiss it gently.

  “Mon chéri.” Celeste pulled back and brushed the back of said hand across her lips.

  “How long have you been married?” I asked.

  “Twenty-five years. It is our silver wedding anniversary on Saturday.”

  “Wow, so you started Aurora pretty soon after you got wed.”

  “Pillow talk during our honeymoon, ya might say. Celeste was, is a fireball of ideas. She had the vision. Celeste recognised the power of digital marketing and saw it was the future. She is Aurora. These are our children.” Steve gestured across the table.

  “And children leave home, I suppose.”

  “Aye, some of our former employees have set up their own agencies, but most tire of the corporate whirl. One even moved into salmon farming. I believe they have supplied our main course. Arabella has an account.” Steve raised his emptying glass in Lady Somerstone-Wright’s general direction. “Our bonds are strong. Team building is important to sustainable growth. We expect total loyalty and complete devotion. We’re a family, and family businesses mean sacrifices for shared reward. Sweetpea, Jenny, Ellen…” His voice cracked as he swigged down more wine.

  “I am so sorry about Miss Findlay. This must be hard for all of you.”

  Steve nodded. “She was our wee bairn. Been with us a little over six months. She was so looking forward to the Regatta. The girls had told her so much about the fun they had on these trips.”

  I bet they did. I threw a sideways look to Archie who was flirting openly with Sweetpea, her flushed cheeks and décolletage mirroring the colour of her hair.

  My mind returned to Karen and the long journey ahead of her. She would be about to board the train. I was curious why Aurora continued to return to the Wesberrey Regatta. It was a relatively minor event on the sailing calendar.

  “Why Wesberrey? It’s a long way from Aberdeen.”

  “That it is. But it’s much more laid back than Cowes. Ye see I love sailing.” Steve’s Scottish accent ramped up as he spoke. The more excited he became, the broader it grew. “Ye can take the lad out of Fraserburgh, but ye cannae take Fraserburgh out of the man. But the rest of the agency has nay interest in the races. This week is business first, boats second.” He paused to butter a roll. “Captain Jack and I go way back. There’s no better captain in the charter game. His diary fills quickly, so we struck a deal on the Wesberrey gig years ago. Two weeks a year the Norma Jean is ours exclusively, the rest of the time he hires her out for top dollar. Celeste helped recruit Archie for him, he’s an impressive young man. Makes for a positive return on our investment.”

  “You have shares in the Norma Jean?”

  “Aye.” Of course, how stupid of me! The first dish of seared scallops appeared. The sun's heat was a distant memory. It must be past nine o’clock. I was starving. “And you knew Arabella’s late husband?”

  “Gordon? Aye, we were masons together. He went to university in Scotland and hung around up there for a while before taking on his father’s construction business. Another reason to choose Wesberrey for our annual jaunt. Lord Somerstone used to throw the best parties. Tell ye the truth. We were all gob-smacked when Gordy landed Bella. I suppose ye know she was an enormous star in the nineties.”

  I grimaced at the thought of those parties. Parties that had caused my family so much harm. But life goes on. “It must be strange staying here so soon after Gordon’s death. Such a tragic end.”

  “Oh, Gordon probably had it coming.” Steve stabbed at his plate. “We were associates, but I never really liked the man. Celeste and Arabella, on the other hand, get on like a house on fire. Have to keep the wee woman happy.” Steve winked as he threw a whole scallop into his mouth, chewed quickly and swallowed hard.

  “Interesting that your executive team is all women, that must be rare - even today.”

  “Aye, Celeste prefers it that way. Makes me the alpha male, so nay complai
nts from me about that. Better eat up there, Vicar, looks like they are bringing in the main course.”

  ✽✽✽

  As the baked salmon landed, Arabella rose. She raised a glass and using a fish knife clinked the side. “Right, everyone! Men, stay where you are. Ladies all move around clockwise.” Duly ordered, I found myself on the opposite side of the table at the end next to Hugh, with Lawrence to my left and Archie opposite.

  Lawrence squeezed my thigh. “How are you feeling?” Don’t say tingly.

  “I am better, thank you. I saw you talking to Celeste. Anything to report?”

  “I’m relieved she moved on. Does that count?” he sniggered. “She’s a very passionate woman.”

  “I know. They are all a little sex mad, aren’t they? See, Archie has already turned his attention to Jenny.”

  Lawrence blanched. “No, about her business! I barely got a word in. How much can one say about sector analysis and proposition benefits? A lot, it seems.” Could you be any cuter?

  “Well, the agency is her baby. Quite literally, I think. Now Sweetpea is free from playing footsie with Archie. See what you can find out from her. And I will talk with the two handsome gentlemen on my right.”

  “Try not to enjoy yourself too much.” The candlelight danced along his cheekbones, leading me down to his pale lips. I wanted to kiss him to prove my devotion. Devotion! Steve had used that word to describe the team’s bonds. Instinctively, I knew that was important, but how?

  There was no time to think it through. Hugh was topping up my juice with champagne. “Bella has given me strict orders to loosen you up, Reverend Ward. I believe we should count Buck’s Fizz as part of our five-a-day. What do you say, Archie? Eh?”