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

by Penelope Cress

  “I’ll pass it on. And Jess, thank you for helping us find the diary. You can let it rest, okay? Look after your friend. She needs you to do the day job now.”

  “I will, just keep me in the loop. I want to find answers for Karen.” I wanted to solve the puzzle, and I knew Ellen would want me to as well.

  Thoughts raced through my head as I chopped the lemon slices. If she wasn’t Celeste’s child, then who was? Maybe the birth certificate was a complete red herring, but there was something in Ellen’s coded diary that bothered another member of her team enough to kill her and Archie. Something important enough to commit two murders to conceal. Where are the raspberries? I pulled out the vegetable tray in the bottom of the fridge. Oh, there they are, hiding behind the spring onions. Surely in this enlightened age, having an illegitimate child wasn’t so scandalous as to cause someone to kill to keep it a secret? Now for some ice. Awkward, embarrassing, unwelcome? Perhaps. A motive for murder? Unlikely.

  I had to talk everything through with a brain mightier than my own. Lawrence would provide that wisdom in a few hours time. Right now, I needed to get this tray of summery goodness outside without tripping over and sending everything flying.

  School’s out

  I took some fresh food and water up to the cemetery for Hugo’s girlfriend, Paloma, and her gang of feral felines. The fierce heat of midday had subsided, but most of the cats were still sunning themselves on the ancient headstones. Most of them were too relaxed to notice me refilling their water bowls.

  Mission accomplished, I sauntered along the road towards the school yard. There was no hurry. The threatened thunderstorms were nowhere to be seen. The clear blue above was devoid of any clouds, let alone anything menacing and filled with rain. The parched earth beneath my feet would have lapped up any sky offerings. The trees that lined my walk, though, would have to continue their patient vigil, unlike the over excited school children whose voices in the distance trumpeted their wait was done. School was over, for today at least.

  I sped up slightly at the sight of Lawrence’s blond hair over the black iron railing. If I could catch him before he got back inside the building, I wouldn’t need to speak to Audrey, the school receptionist. That woman still gave me the cold shoulder whenever she saw me, which made meeting up with Lawrence at his place of work very unpleasant. As parish priest, I had to visit regularly on parish and personal business and Audrey Matthews never missed an opportunity to place a well timed cutting remark or jab my way.

  I got close enough to grab his trailing wrist just before the reception door. “You need to learn to walk slower,” I gasped.

  “You could have called out.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.

  I knew the colour was rushing to my face. “I didn’t want to draw attention.” I said, looking around for any straggling parents in the bike shed.

  “You know, Jess. This is the worst kept secret on the island. I say we should go public. Put out a notice in the Stourchestershire Times. I can see the headline now.” He raised his hand to spell out the title in the sky. “Sexy vicar steals head teacher’s heart!”

  “Well, you got the vicar bit right.” My blush was now down to my toes.

  “I have it all right,” he countered. “Jess, I know you think I was drunk the other night, but I remember what I said.”

  “Oh?” Keep your cool, Jessamy Ward, don’t look too eager “Well, you didn’t so…”

  “Because, when I ask you, I want it to be the most romantic setting possible. Not when I’m still bleary-eyed and chomping down on a bacon butty.”

  “When?”

  Fiddlesticks! I thought I said that in my head!

  “Yes, sexy vicar. When.”

  Cue plump angels with harp music.

  “Mr Pixley, I have the district director on the phone. Shall I tell him you are busy?” Audrey’s shrill voice intercepted Cupid’s dart.

  Lawrence sighed. “Patch him through to my office.” And still clasping me close with his cornflower gaze added. “Oh, and could you get some iced tea for Reverend Ward, please? She seems rather hot to me.”

  ✽✽✽

  Hot? I was positively on fire. I would say yes over a bacon butty, or a cheese sandwich or a mouldy slice of bread! His smile filled my veins with lava. Iced tea could not put out this ardour. Watching him skillfully negotiate more funds from the district director for the sports day next week only ramped up the heat. I realised that any hesitation in taking this relationship to the next level rested squarely on my own insecurities. I was a menopausal woman whose prime was ebbing away with each blood-free month and here was a man who thought I was sexy! Maybe the laser-eye surgery has gone too far? Jess, stop it! He genuinely cares for you. Enjoy. Smile back. You are worthy.

  His phone call finished, Lawrence came over to join me on the tattered sofa at the side of his office. I snuggled up against his chest and purred. This was my happy space.

  “So are you going to tell me, what you were doing up at the manor house when you ignored my call?”

  “Looking for Ellen Findlay’s diary.”

  “And you did this, why?”

  I realised there was a lot to catch him up on. “The police caught Captain Jack this morning. Hold on, let’s roll back a little. You have heard that Archie is dead, right?”

  “From Audrey ‘The island telegraph’ Matthews. Yes. But not from you. So, why don’t you tell me all about it.” He planted a tender kiss on the top of my head. “And don’t stop til you get to the bit where you are lying in my arms right now.” I was delighted to oblige.

  “Then, I fed the cats in the graveyard and the rest you know.”

  “Hmm, not sure how I feel about another man buying you a double scoop of ice cream. And in public as well. Tongues will wag.” I knew he was joking.

  “Let them. Audrey already thinks I am a brazen hussy after all the handsome men in Wesberrey. It’s the perfect cover. Means no one will suspect the truth.”

  “And what truth is that, pray tell.” His hand stroked my neck.

  I tilted my face up to meet his. “That I have fallen deeply in love with the most beautiful headmaster in the kingdom.”

  “Then you must give me this braggart’s name, so I can hunt him down and wrestle him in a duel of wits and cunning.”

  I ended his quest with my lips.

  ✽✽✽

  Fire dampened by a few tender kisses, we picked apart the clues we had. Lawrence uncovered a dusty old blackboard from beyond his filing cabinet and we took a piece of chalk each. I wrote ‘Ellen’ and circled her name in the centre of the board. Such a mind map had worked well for me before. Lawrence drew spokes radiating out from the circle and together we added the names of the other suspects, including Archie, who I then crossed out.

  “I suppose Archie could have killed Ellen when he stole the diary and then whoever asked him to retrieve it killed him afterwards.”

  “But they didn’t get the diary. Seems reckless. You said that you got the feeling that he wasn’t murdered.” Lawrence passed the chalk stub from hand to hand as he paced beside me.

  “If the poolside was wet, then he could have slipped and hit his head on the way down.”

  “Okay, so let’s keep Archie as a suspect in Ellen’s death, but accident or not, another person on this blackboard was there when Archie fell into the pool.”

  “But then why didn’t they find the diary?”

  “They don’t have your sleuthing radar. I wouldn’t have thought about checking the shutters,” Lawrence squeezed my arm. His pride migrated through my sleeve and into my heart.

  “Or they didn’t have time?”

  “Or the person who was there at his death didn’t know about the diary!”

  I paused and took a mental snapshot of this incredible conversation. I had found my puzzle partner. We would solve this mystery together in a blaze of chalk dust. “Let’s look at each suspect one at a time.”

  “Right. Let’s start with the bo
ss, Steve Huntsford. What do we know about him?”

  “He’s rich, handsome and totally besotted with his wife of twenty-five years.”

  “You think he’s handsome, eh?” Lawrence nudged my elbow “Bit too old though, don’t you think?”

  “Rich trumps age, especially in men. I find it refreshing that no one is suggesting that he was having an affair with the younger women.”

  “No, but Sweetpea,” Lawrence took his piece of chalk and ringed Sweetpea’s name a couple of times, “she suggested that Celeste and Jenny were sleeping together.”

  “Which they both vehemently deny.” I added, “And, much like the birth certificate, is a lesbian affair really so shocking these days?”

  “If your husband is obsessed with you and is the money man behind your real passion, then yes, perhaps that’s a motive?”

  “Do you think Ellen was blackmailing Celeste? So the murderer could be either Jenny or Celeste, or were they acting together?”

  “But you said Annie overheard Jenny and Sweetpea talking to Archie. If that was about the diary, then Sweetpea knew too.”

  “We don’t really know anything, do we?” I thudded back down on the sofa.

  Lawrence stretched out his arm. “Stop pouting, you can’t give up now.” I allowed him to pull me back up and drag me to the board. “Back to Steve. Maybe he learnt of Ellen’s blackmail attempt and confronted her. He got angry. Rode in on his mythical charger to protect his wife’s honour and during the fight pushed his HR Manager overboard.”

  “There were no signs on the yacht of a struggle. No blood. Nothing was broken.”

  “Then maybe he rammed her. Ellen was standing on the poop deck, or whatever, facing out to sea, and the murderer seized their opportunity and just ran into her.”

  “But… then why did her body wash up on the other side of the island? I mean…. Hold on, there’s something not right here. Captain Jack said that he laid anchor by Stone Quay and left them to go to the pub. That was on Sunday night. The pub closes at eleven, right? I need to find out when Jack Shipton arrived at the Cat and Fiddle.”

  “I’m sorry, Jess, my love, you’ve lost me.”

  “If Ellen fell overboard in the harbour, surely someone would have seen it or heard the splash? I have fallen in there before and, yes, it’s cold and a little choppy but whilst I can see how she could have died if she hit a boat’s motor or something, surely her body would have surfaced closer by?”

  “So, are you saying that they killed her out at sea?”

  “That makes the most sense, doesn’t it? To have sustained that much damage to her body. Who has their motors on whilst they are in dock? But, wait… no, she was looking at the lights! The fireworks! Lawrence, she died in the harbour. On Sunday night. The lights were the last thing she saw. How did she drift out to the lighthouse so quickly?”

  “You need to talk to Bob. He knows all the tides and currents round here. He would know if it were possible for her to travel that far.”

  “And I need to talk to Phil and Barbara, find out what time Jack got to the Cat and Fiddle. Before or after the firework display. I’m not sure how that will help, but it seems to be the missing piece of the puzzle.”

  “One of many,” Lawrence smiled. “Now, Reverend Ward, it’s getting late. However, I think we still have a few minutes before you have to dash back to the vicarage. I suggest we pick up where we left off earlier.”

  Oh, my! Lawrence and Jessie sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G...

  Forever friends

  I wanted to call Bob’s number the moment I stepped off of Cloud Nine, but as I walked through the vicarage door, the sobs emanating from the morning room brought me back with a bump. They say grief comes in waves and Karen was currently wrestling with a tsunami. Questions about tides and currents would need to wait till morning. My friend needed me to be a friend, not a detective.

  “Jess, you're back. Where did you go?”

  The guilt of spending the last few hours in the arms of love rippled through my response. “I told you, I had to see Lawrence about school business.”

  Sam appeared at the doorway, steamy mugs of tea in hand. “That’s what they are calling it these days, eh?” She placed both cups on coasters on the coffee table and scooted to wrap her long arms around our distraught friend. “She’s been like this for an hour. I tried to coax her into eating something, but she can’t face it.”

  “Maybe, she’s heard about your cooking? No one should be subjected to that.” I wanted to lighten the mood. I couldn’t take away Karen’s pain, but we could distract her for a while. “Is Mum still out?”

  Karen lifted her head from her handkerchief. “Sorry, she called just after you left. Said she was going to her sister’s for dinner. Give us some space, you know. She’s very kind.”

  Sam clapped her hands. “Great, well, in that case…” She reached for her bag down at the side of the settee and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “I think those mugs need a shot of something, don’t you?”

  “Another present from a grateful patient. You must work miracles in your little hospital.”

  “Nope, that’s your department. I’ll have you know that the cupboard is bare. I went into town to buy this one myself.”

  I hesitated. “Guys, don’t let me stop you, but I have drunk so much this week. I’ll take a pass and find us something to eat. I can just about manage an omelette. Or there are some microwaveable spuds in the freezer.”

  Karen snorted. “Well, I’ll take your share. And a jacket potato sounds good. Do you have any tuna mayonnaise?”

  “I should think so.” Though being honest, since Mum moved in, I didn’t know what there was to eat. It just appeared like magic on the table every night. “Sam, do you want to find a film on Netflix? I say we all get our PJs on and have a sleepover.”

  Shortly after the last morsel of potato left her plate, Karen nodded off beside me, leaving me and Sam to watch the rest of An Officer and a Gentleman alone. Sam tapped my shoulder. “Have you had any more visions?”

  “Nope, not a one. Have you heard any more from the coroner’s office?”

  Sam double-checked Karen was sound asleep. “It looks like Archie’s Baldwin’s death was accidental, unless someone pushed him, of course. But there was no sign of a struggle and it appears he hit his head on the edge of the pool.”

  “So he could have slipped.”

  “Yes, it’s possible.”

  “And…” I mouthed the word ‘Ellen’, just in case Karen could hear us.

  Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s hard to determine, but tests revealed some scorching round her abdomen. The water damage and all the post-mortem bruising made it difficult to see, but the coroner thinks they shot her with a flare.”

  “Oh no!” I gasped, covering my mouth to muffle the sound. “Then it was murder.” And not just murder, but a violent, horrific end. “We can’t let Karen ever find this out.”

  Sam stroked our friend’s peroxide ponytail. “No, she never needs to know that.”

  ✽✽✽

  Friday morning arrived with a Disney soundtrack. The dawn chorus was accompanying my mother’s recital of princess songs to work by. Who knew how much of this impromptu concert I had missed. But now, broadcasting live from the vicarage kitchen, we had ‘Part of Your World’, from The Little Mermaid.

  I staggered into the kitchen to find Mum wiping a ‘dinglehopper’ with a dishcloth. “Mum, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but it’s way too early to be singing.”

  “Sorry, dear, but it is a beautiful day.”

  I peered through the curtains to the garden outside. “Yes and dazzling already!”

  “I’ll get you some coffee. Looks like you’re going to need it. By the way, don’t forget Scissor Sisters at ten.”

  “Scissor…?” Our hair appointments! “Of course, not. How could I forget?” Talking to Bob will have to wait a little longer.

  Sam had to skip to the hospital, so Mum and I left a not
e for Karen to find when she woke up. How she had slept through so far was a mystery, or maybe not - given the circumstances.

  As I was expecting to get my hair professionally coiffed, we took the railway down. No outings on Cilla until after the ceremony. Tom and Ernest had the day off, so two teenage volunteers greeted us politely and without fanfare. The young man at the bottom station barely acknowledged our presence. In his defense, the next carload of pretty girls with their short shorts and pastel tops took most of his attention. They were a worthy distraction. Their final school exams had ended the day before. Their last summer together had just begun. Their excitement was palpable. The island would be host to these fresh, adolescent dreams for the next eight weeks. It was the same every year past and would be so for many years to come. Time marches on. The wheel turns. Birth, life and death - the cycle continues. Everything changes, yet everything stays the same.

  ✽✽✽

  It was only a little after nine when we reached Market Square. Still plenty of time to get to our appointment. I thought if I was quick, I could grab a few words with Bob before he took out the next ferry. I promised Mum I would be at the hairdresser's in good time and pushed my way through the growing morning crowd. The Regatta was drawing to a close, and the street was heaving with tourists.

  Bob was collecting tickets on the jetty, but the queue was longer than usual, and I knew he would be in no mind to stand and chat. I pressed on towards the Norma Jean instead. The Captain might have a few answers to my questions. I found him literally mopping the decks.

  “Morning, Vicar, Thought I get her Bristol fashion whilst I’m land bound.”

  There was no sign of his police guard. “Where’s the fuzz? I thought Inspector Lovington had you under boat arrest?”

  “They’re both in the galley, getting some breakfast. Nice chaps, for coppers.”

  “Well, I suppose you can't run without the keys.”