“You are miles off touching anything,” she replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Miles off? What could that mean?
And so to bed
The hubbub of voices from the next room suggested most people were now heading to bed. I was in no rush to return. I wanted to take a beat to finish my tepid beverage and process all that had happened.
The Aurora Agency operated with a moral code that my ‘parochial’ mind struggled to fathom. There was a secret at its core. Something that everyone was doing their best to conceal. Did they all know what had happened to Ellen, or was there something else that they were hiding? For such a competitive company, they were very loyal to Steve and Celeste. This I found unusual. No one had moaned about their boss. I mean, I even complain about mine sometimes and He’s the omnipotent, all-seeing creator of everything. Shamefully, there are still times I question His mysterious ways. I am always wrong, of course, but it is human to wonder, to doubt.
When my coffee was too cold to remain pleasurable, I strolled out through the dining room to the terrace to see if I could find Lawrence. Perhaps he had discovered the key to this mystery during a conversation about football, or billiards, or whatever it is men bond over. I found him on the bench under the old oak tree. Oh, tie a yellow ribbon round the… I have had way too much to drink.
“Jess, my love, I thought you had retired already. Hugh was telling me about the time you smuggled him off the ferry dressed as a woman!”
“Yes, happy days!” I sighed. “I just came to say goodnight. Lawrence, my love, I wonder, if you might escort me to my room.”
“Aye, aye,” leered Hugh, his arm lazily wrapped around a sleeping Arabella. “Don’t you two do anything naughty. I promised your parents, hic, sorry. I promised your… oh never mind. Have fun!”
“We will.” I dragged Lawrence away from his newly found best friend.
“Will we?” Lawrence skipped beside me. “I thought…”
“Sssh, enough. You know the rules. Though in this house with its current guests, I think it’s possible to have sex by osmosis!”
“Osmosis, that’s hilarious. But I would, you know. I mean. I really love you, Jess. Like I really do.”
“Well, then you can propose to me in the morning when you have sobered up.”
“Will do, Vicar!” Someone had thrown back a few too many Buck’s Fizzes.
✽✽✽
Lawrence walked with me back to my bedroom and left me with a sweet peck on the cheek. Arabella had put me in the Lilac Room, though the only reference to the colour or the flowers came in some prints hung above the bed. The rest of the decor played with various shades of cream and white, providing a blank canvas to set off the stunning Queen Anne style furniture. Each piece was delicately full-bodied, with curves in all the right places. In the centre stood a massive four-poster bed that could probably sleep a family of four without complaint. A silk nightdress and gown lay draped across it.
Teeth brushed and nightwear donned, Lawrence’s promise spun around my head as the pillows swallowed me up. I think there are two schools of thought about drunken declarations of love. One, that they are the confused mumblings of a mind addled by alcohol and are not the true intentions of the person who uttered them. Or two, that the alcohol merely loosened their tongues, and what they said in that unguarded moment was very close to the truth in their heart.
If Lawrence loved me to the point of proposing, what would be my reply? We had only known each other a few months and had been dating even less. He was a kind, intelligent man. A man of honour, who had a strong moral code. He was attractive, in a gangly, fair-haired, nerdy kind of way. I enjoyed his company. He had a wonderful sense of humour. Though he could be reserved, he was not afraid of fighting for what he deemed important. And when he held me, butterflies danced in my heart. Did I love him? It was too soon to tell, surely? The first throes of a new relationship are often giddy affairs. One cannot base a future on them. And yet? He took my family and the witchy weirdness in his stride. He is actively encouraging my sleuthing, joining in, in fact. He is respectful. He is… He is… Darn it! Now I can’t sleep!
I needed some hot milk or cocoa.
I grabbed the gown and snuck down to the kitchen.
✽✽✽
“Annie, are you still working?”
“Just preparing the breakfast things, Reverend Ward. Lovely to see you again. I hope you have had a good evening.”
“Well, it’s certainly been interesting. By the way, the food was gorgeous. You excelled yourself.”
Annie loaded up the dumb-waiter with clean crockery for the morning. “Oh, it’s been a pleasure having guests to cater for. Just like the old days under Lord S. God rest his soul.”
“I imagine you cooked for a strange array of characters back then.”
“Oh, we’ve had all sorts here, Vicar. Pop stars, artists, politicians. You name then, they have probably been here for one of the master’s parties. What these walls have seen and heard, if only they could talk.” I could only imagine!
“I guess you and Ralph have seen and heard a few interesting tidbits in your time too.” I made helpful gestures, but Annie pointed at a wooden chair and invited me to sit down.
“My lips are sealed, though, of course.”
“Of course.”
“So, Vicar, is there something you wanted?”
“Yes, Annie. I can’t sleep and I was going to help myself to some hot milk or a cup of cocoa.”
“Then you stay seated right there and I’ll put on the pan. I have Cadbury’s, or Galaxy. That’s a bit sweet for my tastes, but it’s her ladyship’s favourite. Or there’s a Bourneville at the back somewhere.”
“Ooh, Cadbury’s would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, in fact. Do you mind if I join you? Ralph is doing his last security check of the grounds. Checking in on the gate, etc. He’ll still be some time.”
“And that would be my pleasure.”
Annie busied herself with mugs and milk whilst chatting away about all and sundry. I wanted to see if she had any interesting intel on their current guests.
“Hmm, this is just what the doctor ordered. Did I see you add double cream?”
“Of course. I forgot to ask, would you like some of those mini marshmallows?” Annie rose, but I waved my hand for her to remain seated.
“Oh no, thank you. Much too sweet. This is absolutely perfect the way it is.” After a few more minutes of general chit chat, I grasped my opportunity. “I shouldn’t speak ill of my fellow dinner guests, but they are a strange bunch, don’t you think?”
“No stranger than usual.”
“But don’t you think it’s weird that they all are partying so hard after losing a member of their team so tragically?”
“Everyone grieves differently.” She sipped her chocolate. “But there was one conversation I overheard… What time is it?” Annie looked at the clock on the wall behind me, “Yes, yesterday afternoon - between the two younger ladies and that black guy, on the main stairs.” I tried not to respond negatively to how she described Archie. “Bit of a charmer, don’t you think, Vicar?”
“Yes, he has a certain quality about him. What were they talking about?”
“I couldn’t hear exactly. They kept their voices really low. I was hoovering the first landing, so missed a fair chunk of their conversation. They went quiet as I walked up past them to the plug socket on the next landing.”
“So what made you think it was strange?”
“Their body language, really. They were all hunched together. You know, like rugby players in a scrum.”
This piqued my curiosity. “So what did you hear them say?” I cradled my drink between my palms and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the edge of the table to show I was hanging on her every word.
“Well,” Annie mirrored me on the other side of the table. “The plump one with the pink hair, boy does she get dressed in the dark, anyway, she said somethin
g like ‘we all need to stick together.’”
I took another sip of chocolate heaven. “And?”
“Then the guy said, ‘you both promise you've got my back on this.’”
“Got his back? What could that mean?”
“Exactly. Anyway, then the prim one, you know the one with a broom up her backside. She began laughing really loudly, cackling, like a witch! So, I looked over the bannister to check it out.”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing, they must have turned away at the bottom of the stairs.”
Porridge and kedgeree
Despite the delicious nocturnal elixir, I still tossed and turned in my oversized bed. I spent several hours tracing the pattern of the intricate lace canopy above my head, trying to puzzle out the design, and the clues I had gathered so far in this strange mystery. To be honest, the clues were few, and the questions were many. Hence my lack of sleep. I still didn’t know if Ellen was murdered or not. The coroner may come to a different conclusion. Poor Karen! How was I to explain getting inebriated with her daughter’s murderer, or murderers? Even if Ellen’s death was an accident, there was something very wrong here. Very wrong indeed.
My mind refused to settle. When the dawn broke, I was pacing up and down the room. My spirit would not rest. As the bedside clock rolled its brass hands to six, I gave in to the sleepless night and took a shower instead. At seven, I walked down to the dining room. Ralph and Annie were putting out the crockery loaded into the dumb-waiter the night before.
“You’re early, Vicar!” Annie chirped. “You slept well then. Miraculous my hot cocoa, eh?” I didn’t have the heart to tell her differently. “I have a special treat for the guests this morning. Them being Scottish and all that.” She pulled back two hinged metal cloches on the side dresser. “This one’s porridge and… this one’s kedgeree.”
“I’m sure they will appreciate it.”
Annie bustled past to fetch more goodies from the kitchen. Ralph pulled out a chair for me at the table close to the bay window. “Would you prefer coffee or tea, Reverend Ward?”
“Oh, coffee, thank you. And, Ralph, can you make it extra, extra strong?”
“Of course. Please help yourself to some porridge, it will set you up for the day.” Even if the weather forecast is for another scorcher? The sun was warming itself up for a long day of melting the earth below.
“I will. Thank you.”
I breakfasted alone for nearly an hour. I was in no rush for company. Ralph and Annie fussed around me as they awaited the other guests. I felt like royalty.
Lawrence was the first to join me, but only briefly, as he had to rush to work. He swooped in, grabbed a bacon roll, placed a coffee-flavoured kiss on my lips and made me promise to call him after I met Karen at the coroner’s office.
Next down were Hugh and Arabella, wrapped around each other like love-struck teenagers. There are many who would question the sensitivity of such a public display of togetherness so soon after her husband’s death. But as I watched them gather their breakfasts from the extensive buffet, I thought how sad it was that they had felt obliged to hide their feelings for so long.
“Reverend, do you mind if we join you?” Arabella slid her bowl of fresh fruit along to the place-setting opposite mine.
“No, of course not. Though I will have to dash shortly to catch the ferry to the mainland.”
“Of course, you are heading to Stourchester. Celeste mentioned that the poor girl’s mother was an old friend. Wesberrey has a way of calling us back.”
“Yes, I'm beginning to see that.”
“Like the Hotel California,” Hugh pulled out a chair beside Arabella and tucked a napkin into his shirt collar. “Don’t want bacon grease on this,” he explained. “I’m off to London. Audition. For a major Hollywood film.”
“How wonderful. What do you mean ‘Hotel California?’”
He nudged Arabella with his elbow. “Oh, you know. You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. That’s Wesberrey. There’s no escape. Once she has you in her claws, she will always drag you back.”
“Ha, yes. I get it. Any sign of your other guests?”
Arabella nibbled on a strawberry. “I think they had plans for an early morning swim before brekkie, but what time they would call early is anyone’s guess. I’m only up because of this audition malarkey. Needed to make sure Hugh had a full stomach for the off.”
“I told you to stay in bed. I’m a big boy, you know?”
“Oh, I know…” Arabella snatched a bite of air, prompting Hugh to offer her a fork full of bacon, which she leaned in to take. She licked her lips with more vigour than necessary for a Wednesday morning. Everyone in this house made me feel like I was playing gooseberry. Time to make my excuses and leave!
I returned to my room to collect my belongings and found my bed already made. How did Annie and Ralph find the time? I took a moment to check out the view from my window. The grounds, like the rest of Bridewell Manor, were quite magnificent. To my right stood the majestic branches of the old oak tree we had gravitated around during the evening. I looked down to see the terrace, a perfectly manicured lawn, and on my far left a glass structure that appeared to house the swimming pool. Maybe next time?
I paused for a quick word with the Boss. There was evil in this house. Behind all the partying and excess lay fragile people, who, like all of us, wanted to feel alive and feel love. For some, they find that in drunken parties and multiple partners, for others we find our solace in our faith and the closeness of those we love. I prayed for the occupants of Bridewell that they would find peace and happiness.
As I walked down the central staircase, I pondered on how my life had changed. This time last year, I was working in an inner-city parish in London organising Alpha courses for troubled youths. Now I was dining with the landed gentry and nursing champagne hangovers. What I wasn’t doing was thinking about wedding proposals. Lawrence had obviously forgotten his midnight promise. A part of me was quietly disappointed.
“Help! Somebody call the police!”
“Someone, Quick! It’s Archie!”
I turned to see two bedraggled bathing beauties, water pooling on the marble floor at their feet.
“Ladies, calm down. What is the problem?”
Sweetpea rocked, her eyes glaring like a cartoon ghoul. “It’s Archie, you know. In the pool. He’s dead!”
Happy days
I doubt there are many Anglican vicars who have the head of homicide on their speed dial, but fortunately, I'm one of them. Annie brought warm towels to wrap around Sweetpea and Jenny’s shivering bodies. As their screams had awoken the rest of the house, they were soon being comforted by Steve and Celeste in the breakfast room. The only person not accounted for, apart from Archie, was Captain Jack.
“I’ve checked his room, Ma’am, and there’s no sign of the Captain or his things.” Ralph stood tall to attention as he delivered the news to Arabella, falling on his army training to maintain proper order.
“Very well, Ralph.” Lady Somerstone-Wright’s thoughts switched to the comfort of her guests. “Can you ask Annie for some fresh coffee? Reverend Ward, did the Inspector indicate how long he would be?”
“No, but he is on his way.” Poor Arabella, not a happy end to her party.
Hugh paced in front of the window. “Well, I hope he gets a move on. I can’t keep Mr Howard waiting. He’s not all ‘Happy Days’ now, you know.”
“Darling, why don’t you call your agent and explain.”
“Explain what, my sweet? Sorry, but can you ask Ron to take the next flight back to L.A. There’s a dead man in my pool!”
“There, there, my love. This is very unfortunate.”
“This was my big chance! Hollywood doesn’t come knocking every day, you know.” Hugh rounded on the other guests. “One of you did this! You ruined my chances. Your selfish, murdering ways have resigned me to BBC costume dramas for the rest of my days. You should have drowned me
too!”
Arabella put a comforting arm around his waist and guided him to a box seat by the window. The rest of us remained as we were, frozen in shock. The truth was, though, that one of us probably was a ruthless killer.
Steve was the first to speak. “Where is the headmaster?”
“I imagine teaching year two. Anyway, Lawrence has nothing to do with this. What possible motive would he have, eh?”
“I wasnae accusing him of anything! For all we know, Archie had too much to drink and went for a late swim. This could be just another unfortunate accident.” Steve pulled Sweetpea close against his chest, rubbing her towelled shoulders vigorously. “Shouldn’t we let these poor lassies get dressed? They’ll catch their deaths. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Sorry. This is all… it’s all unbearable.”
Ralph stepped forward to take command. “I think we should wait for the police. I can get a fire going if that will help?” Steve nodded. “Reverend, please ensure that no one leaves this room whilst I fetch some coal from the cellar.”
My attention turned to Celeste and Jenny. Celeste was fussing with Jenny’s damp, frizzy curls, detangling them with her long fingers and then smoothing them down. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something particularly intimate about the gesture. Despite their denials, maybe Sweetpea was right about their relationship. Both the young women were sobbing, but I detected a wry smile on Jenny’s face.
The doorbell rang. Hurried footsteps followed. The police had arrived.
✽✽✽
“Let me check I’ve got this right. You both held hands, ran and dive-bombed into the pool without looking? And neither of you noticed Mr Baldwin’s blood circling around you until you, Miss Brown, felt his hand brush your shoulder. Is that correct?”
The shivering duo nodded.
“You don’t think that’s extremely convenient?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Inspector.” Jenny pushed away from Celeste and uncurled herself. She swayed back and forth like a cobra. “We didn’t see him from the doorway, that’s all. He must have been floating in the left-hand corner.”
Consecrated Crime: A Rev Jessamy Ward Mystery (Isle Of Wesberrey Book 5) Page 7
