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

by Penelope Cress

  Archie temporarily broke off his attentions to Jenny to offer his glass for a refill. “Yeah, man!”

  Hugh grinned as Archie pivoted back in his chair. “Oh, to be young and single, eh, Reverend? The headmaster seems like a good man.”

  “He is.”

  “How long have you been seeing each other? He has that look.”

  “What look is that?” I took a small sip of my drink. I didn’t want to appear rude.

  “There’s a hunger in his eyes. It’s subtle. Easy to overlook. Men hunger for two things and two things only. Sport and love. See Archie, his eyes are wild for sport. That young lady is a game for him. His prey, if you like. But the headmaster sees you as I see Bella. It is a hunger that can never be satisfied. Women rarely understand the difference, but we men know. I see it in him when he looks at you.”

  “But surely, you have Bella now? Everything worked out in your favour. You have your prize.”

  “Yes, Gordon is out of the way. God rest his toady soul. Her father as well. But this is not about winning or taking possession. I have made love to that beautiful woman more than any man, yet it will never be enough. It is about becoming. Bella has my heart and keeps me tethered to her like a puppy, but I feel no shame. There is nothing that will ever pull me from her. I have no pride. I have no dreams that are not hers to share, no future without her in my life. With her, I become more than I am alone.”

  I could feel my cheeks blushing. A quick head tilt reassured me that Lawrence was deep in conversation with his brightly coloured neighbour. “It is early days,” I coughed in reply.

  “For him, it is eternal. Trust me, Reverend. One day he will offer you his hand. Take it and he will never let you go.” Flaming actors, so romantic!

  “So this is how you get cast as the leading man!” I quipped.

  “I know human nature. I know love.” Hugh spooned some buttered asparagus onto his plate. “Steve has that look too.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. You must have picked it up when you spoke to him. Celeste is his world. He would do anything to please her or protect her.”

  Anything?

  Ladies and gentlemen

  The ladies moved again when the dessert appeared. Lawrence was now to my left, and Captain Jack to my right. Sweetpea took great delight in being at the head of the table. When the bowls of lemon posset had been scrapped clean, she insisted on making a toast.

  “To our hostess with the mostest, I give you - Lady Ariadne.” Arabella! “She swooped in and rescued us from incarceration in the dungeon of a Wesberrey jail.” Sweetpea swayed. “Ellen fell, we all know that! Silly fool. She should have been more sturdy on her feet, you know. No sea legs, ain’t that right, Captain?” Celeste tried to pull her protégé back down into her seat. Sweetpea tugged herself free, almost fell back onto her chair, rounded and steadied herself with one hand on the table. “She was probably sneaking around, as usual, you know. Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, to our host-tess, Lady Abigail Somersault. Cheers!”

  A forest of tense arms clinked crystal above pools of fading candlelight. Toast complete, Arabella suggested we should proceed to the terrace whilst they cleared the table for coffee. We all retreated to embrace the call of the midnight air, each grabbing the opportunity to latch back on to our partners. Jenny whisked Archie out to a loveseat under an old oak, and Captain Jack gallantly offered an arm to the wobbly toastmaster.

  “What do you think all that was about?” I asked Lawrence.

  “Jess, I’m not sure you want to find out any more about Ellen Findlay. From what I gleaned from Miss Sweetpea Smythe, she wasn’t a very nice person. And she’s right, it was probably an accident.”

  “The coroner may say otherwise.”

  “And you need to be there to comfort your old friend if he does”

  “Lawrence, no one else has a bad word to say about her.”

  “Jess, I think you will find no one says anything about her.”

  Lawrence was right. Sweetpea’s toast was tasteless, and she was obviously drunk, but no one had offered their respects for Ellen - the wee bairn of the Aurora family.

  ✽✽✽

  Coffee provided a chance to mingle more. Because of the nature of the seating arrangements for dinner, I had hardly spoken to any of the women present, and I felt they held the key. I hung back, stirring the cream in my cup, waiting for the opportunity to chat with Celeste.

  “I had a lovely conversation with your husband over dinner. He is so proud of all you have achieved with the agency.”

  “Mais oui, the agency has been a marvellous success. Aurora is leading the way in global marketing. We are the best in the world.” She nibbled off the tiniest corner of the shortbread biscuit in her hand and balanced it on the rim of her saucer. Her trim figure suggested she was extremely careful with what she put in her mouth.

  “He talked about Aurora being a family. Ellen’s tragic death must be hard for you all.”

  Celeste bristled. “There’s a draft? Non?”

  “Shall we adjourn to the sitting room; the nights can get quite chilly. I believe Ralph was going to set a small fire.”

  I had never been in the sitting room before. I’m not sure that was the correct name for it, but it was a cosy furnished room with a soft floral settee and matching armchairs around a low table. It was almost like being back in my Aunt Pamela’s front room, though the walls had white painted wooden shelves displaying original Ming Dynasty vases, not G-plan furniture and mid-century Royal Worcester plates. The coffee table was a handy space to place our cups down. Celeste wrapped her silk shawl around her bare shoulders and made herself comfortable in the furthest armchair.

  I settled myself on the settee. “This is a magnificent house, isn’t it? I understand you have visited many times?”

  “Oui, Arabella is like a sister to me. She understands my passion, and we worked on her father’s account for several years.”

  “It’s a small world, isn’t it? Did you know that Ellen’s mother was from Wesberrey? She’s an old school friend of mine.”

  “Mon Dieu! I did not know.” She shivered. “A small world, indeed.” A mist rose in her eyes. She turned her focus on the fire. “Ellen was, how shall I say, she had a complex personality. I loved her ambition. She knew people, she read them so well. It made her an excellent Head of People Power.” They all have such imaginative job titles! “We have a huge team. All over the world. Different labour laws, different expectations, and she never shied away from a challenge. C’est tellement tragique, n’est pas?”

  As a product of the English state school system, my school level French was woefully poor, but I caught the sentiment. Ellen’s death was a tragic waste of talent. What I didn’t detect was any sense of personal loss. Celeste appeared upset but remained guarded. Maybe she was just a very private person. Someone who needed to maintain control, despite all her talk of passion.

  “Did you ever meet Ellen’s mother? You all seem very close.”

  “Non.” She shook out an imaginary crease in her green organza dress and shifted slightly, squaring up to the fire. “We do not meet outside socially. I do not care for their lives outside the Agency. It is unimportant.”

  “And yet, correct me if I am wrong, you are all most intimate. Archie is very open about -”

  “Archie is for my girls, an amusement.”

  “And for you? Such activities lead to jealousy and -”

  Celeste slapped her thigh and leapt to her feet. “Reverend, you are so parochial! Yes, that is the right word. I do not sleep with the help! But, even if I did, why can we not share? They are all adults. He is also a superb cook.”

  She bent and swirled close to the fireplace. So close that my ‘parochial’ mind was fearful of her dress going up in flames. “Celeste, please, it is dangerous. Your dress?”

  In response, she gathered up her skirt in one hand and continued to waltz around the room. “You think me a paradox. How can I dance when I have lost my b
aby?” Her baby? “But, we must always dance when we can dance. Work when we can work. And love... For that -” Celeste fell on the seat beside me, breathless. “For that, Reverend Ward is all we can do. Come, come, the party is next door. You have a handsome man waiting for you. When we have handsome men, we should not dance alone.”

  ✽✽✽

  I did indeed think her a paradox. One minute she was uber-restrained and controlled and the next she is whirling around the room like a dervish. Celeste had corralled all the couples back onto the terrace to dance.

  Poor Lawrence. I cursed being short as he stooped down to whisper in my ear. “Jess, she is probably on drugs. Aren’t all those types snorting cocaine in the bathroom during their lunch breaks?”

  “Let’s forget about the investigation for now.” I stroked his cheek. “Just kiss me.”

  And he did.

  Madeira, m’dear?

  After a few turns around the terrace, I needed to make a trip to the little girls' room. To my surprise, Captain Jack was stationed in the corridor outside.

  “It’s Miss Smythe. I think she’s unwell.”

  I knocked on the door.

  “Hold your horses! Gawd, surely there’s more than one loo in this mansion?” The door cracked open, and I edged myself around to find the fingers of an outstretched arm losing grip of the handle. “Oh, it’s you, Vicar. Come in, Chuck.” Sweetpea released the door. I slid into the bathroom before it slammed shut. “Wow, that was loud!” Her pink head disappeared back into the toilet basin.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Stupid question. I’m clutching a U-bend for dear life, what do you think?”

  “Yes, sorry. Here, let me help.” I pulled a face towel off the shelf above the sink and ran some cold water. “May I?” I took the garbled sound from the bowl as a yes and knelt down beside her. Pulling back her hair, I wiped her face.

  Sweetpea twisted around and fell against the wall, sprayed her legs out in front, and blocked my exit. I flushed the toilet and squeezed down beside her.

  “Tough night, eh?”

  “Did you see her?” Sweetpea waved her hand around. “Left me with ole Jack!”

  “Are you talking about Jenny?”

  “Of course. You’d think with Ellen out of the way… man, I mean, you know? What does she want him for anyway when she has the boss! It’s not fair!”

  “The boss? What, is Jenny having an affair with Steve?”

  “Oh, you are cute, you know.” Sweetpea gulped, paused, puffed her mouth and pushed me back into the wall. I knew I should have sat on the other side! Then she pulled back and smiled, “False alarm.”

  “You were saying, Jenny and Steve?”

  “No, silly.” she hiccuped, “Celeste! They are always having secret meetings, you know.”

  “But Jenny’s all over Archie?”

  “And?” Indeed, how parochial of me.

  “Did Ellen know about their… relationship? Jenny and Celeste,” That could be a potential motive for murder.

  “Not sure, m’dear. I mean, she was constantly up in everyone’s business, you know, so I doubt that escaped her beady little eyes.” Sweetpea gestured with her hand for me to pass her the face towel.

  “I take it you didn’t like Ellen much?”

  “Look, I know we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but I’m not going to miss her. She had a way with her, you know? She pissed off lots of my team. My guys are creative, you know. Sensitive. She just saw them as problems to be solved. Resources to be deployed. Expensive resources. She was always bringing in novel ways to check up on them, you know. Setting targets. Cutting the deadwood, she would say. It’s my team, you know, my responsibility. I can be ruthless if necessary. This is a tough business, you know.” She mangled the towel on her lap, creating a wet patch on her crotch. “But as long as we deliver for the client, who cares, right? That’s the bottom line. But not for Miss ’Show me your receipts’ Findlay. You’d think it was her money. Like cut us some slack, you know.”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  Sweetpea continued to wring the towel between her fingers. She seemed impervious to the damp material. Her mind was elsewhere. “She made it very difficult… Still, being the bitch from HR isn’t a crime, is it? I mean, we’re the same age, you know.”

  “Could she have been blackmailing Celeste or Jenny?”

  “Celeste would have just laughed at her. Why would she care? It’s not the 1950s, you know.”

  “No, but would Steve be jealous? He loves his wife very much?” I resisted adding, ‘you know,’ it was a contagious habit.

  “He has forgiven her much worse, you know.” Sweetpea’s plump breast heaved with buried tears.

  “It’s okay to cry, you know.” Darn it!

  “I wouldn’t be crying for her, Vicar, you know. Just the cherry on the cake when I saw Archie…” She stemmed the rest of her words with the towel.

  “You saw Archie go into her cabin that night, didn’t you?” Matted pink locks swayed in response. “Were you jealous? That would be understandable.”

  There was a loud knock. “You okay in there?” It was the captain. I’d forgotten he was on sentry duty.

  Sweetpea dragged herself to her feet and called out, “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Pausing at the door, she added, “Thank you for your help, Vicar. I think I’ll retire to my room. Too much madeira, you know. Don’t know what I am saying.”

  ✽✽✽

  The alcohol was getting to me too. I swayed a little too much as I made my way back to the main party. I could understand how drinking onboard a yacht would be double trouble. Maybe Ellen’s death was an accident. I was so busy trying to stay upright that I didn’t see Jenny coming towards me.

  “Vicar, is Sweetpea alright? I just saw Captain Jack, and he said she has gone to her room.”

  “Why, yes, she was feeling unwell. One too many cocktails.”

  “Poor thing, I understand. They are very generous with the alcoholic beverages here. I don’t think my glass has been empty all night. Are you returning to the party? I’ll walk with you, if I may.”

  “My pleasure. We haven’t talked properly,” I replied. “I wonder if there’s any coffee left?”

  “If not, I’m sure that gorgeous butler will wrestle up a pot. How wonderful it must be to have such a vigorous man on hand at your beck and call.”

  “Well, you seem to have commanded Archie’s attention for most of the evening.” Adding a steaming cup of coffee was a direct challenge to my already compromised balancing skills. I narrowly avoided knocking over a jardiniere with obligatory oversized aspidistra as we entered the sitting room.

  “Yes, well, he’s a company perk.” That’s one way to look at it. “He’s gone to check on Sweetpea.” Well, that should make her feel better.

  “I must say, you are all very casual about sharing the company perks. It’s an eye-opener for me.”

  “I suppose it is unusual. Maybe it’s because Celeste is French. You know, l’amour, la grande passion and all that jazz.”

  “Still, it is unusual. It must cause jealousy. That kind of rivalry cannot be conducive to building good working relationships.”

  “I guess if anyone was to get romantically involved. Which none of us are.” I marvelled at Jenny’s ability to remain poised and perfectly coiffed, despite drinking all night. I could barely maintain my balance on the armchair. She had landed on the sofa, and despite the sumptuous temptation of its cushions, Jenny was very much in control. There was a lightness to her, like a sparrow buffeted by the wind, maintaining its hold of the branch yet ready to fly again at a moment's notice. Her eyes were cat-like. Maybe feline was a better description. She was elegant, but wary. I felt she was biding her time, waiting for advantageous opportunities to pounce.

  “Are you certain none of you wanted more? Sweetpea, perhaps? Or Ellen?”

  “Why, was Sweetpea crying over amorous Archie? Don’t you go falling for that little act, Vicar. Sweetpea wants to win, just as much
as any of us.”

  “Is Archie a trophy to be fought over?” I was uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. Whilst the first mate appeared to be enjoying his role as a lothario, I found the situation distasteful and was trying to be open-minded. But was this really all a game?

  Jenny’s mask broke just enough to leak a patronising snigger. “Archie is irrelevant. He is entertainment, nothing more. He is here to keep us primed. If we can control our sexual urges, channel them into an appropriate vessel, then we can focus our energies on the major prize. The success of the business.”

  I was shocked. Give me parochial any day. What was wrong with these people? Did Ellen pose a threat to their business success? Was she as repulsed as I am and wanted to get out? Or did she take the game too far? I tried to remain neutral, but my face gave my thoughts away.

  “Bless you, Vicar, I have scandalised you!”

  “Yes, I believe you have.”

  “The Aurora Agency is everything.” It sounded like a cult! “For a few years, I happily dedicate myself to the company’s success. In return, I am richly rewarded. One day, I will leave to follow my own dreams, as others have done before me. Until then, they supply everything I need to be the best.”

  “So, Steve wasn’t joking when he spoke about selling your souls!”

  Jenny snorted. “It’s not forever! Just for a few years. And, I can resign anytime I want to. It’s only a job.”

  “It’s intense.”

  “It’s effective. It’s brilliant. Aurora gets our best years creatively. They selected us for our ambition, our energy, and our talent. Celeste is a marketing genius. It is the ultimate apprenticeship.”

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “A dickie bird suggested that you and Celeste are, er, intimate?”

  Jenny stiffened. I worried she had stopped breathing, then with one slow inward breath she regained her composure, though her light had dimmed. “I think that’s enough idle gossip for one evening. Don’t you, Vicar?”

  “I’m sorry if I touched a nerve?”