‘That’s all I can tell you at the moment,’ Melissa repeated firmly. ‘There are several more people I want to talk to. As soon as I learn anything definite I’ll inform the police … and of course, I’ll let you know as well. In fact,’ she went on, getting to her feet, ‘I’m expecting to hear soon from someone who may be able to help, so I’d better be going.’
‘It was very kind of you to call.’ He dried his hand carefully and wrapped his handkerchief round the injured finger. His manner was perfectly composed as he escorted her to the front door. ‘Goodbye,’ he said with a smile that was almost, but not quite natural. ‘Thank you so much for everything.’
‘Goodbye. I’ll pop round in the morning to see how you are. And do have something to eat soon.’
‘I will, I promise.’ His eagerness to please her was touching.
Bruce telephoned almost as soon as Melissa got back indoors. ‘Sorry I couldn’t get back to you before,’ he said. ‘Today’s been a bit hectic. What news? Oh, by the way, Graham Shipley’s been released on police bail.’
‘I know. I’ve just been talking to him, and I’m very concerned. On top of his other problems, he’s lost the job at St Monica’s and he’s taken it badly. He’s in a pretty volatile condition and he’s been hitting the sherry bottle.’
‘It’s probably just as well—about the job, that is. The parents would soon start complaining once they heard about his arrest and he’d have had to leave anyway.’
‘It seems so unfair.’
‘It’s not a fair world, is it? Anyway, what’s your news? Was Gideon’s crime embezzling parish funds—or did he seduce the vicar’s wife?’
‘Not funny. Indecent assault on choir girls.’
Bruce whistled. ‘That puts a different face on things, doesn’t it?’ He listened without interruption while Melissa recounted her visit to his aunt and her subsequent call on the residents of Benbury Manor. He gave a dry chuckle when she explained how she had trapped them into a virtual admission that they had withheld information from the police. ‘You’re getting as devious as you’re always accusing me of being,’ he said slyly.
‘Maybe that’s where I’ve learned it. Anyway, their line was that the fact that he just happened to be nearby, but saw nothing, couldn’t possibly have contributed anything useful to the investigation so there was no point in coming forward and risking his past coming out,’ Melissa explained. ‘At least, that was what the women were saying—’ She broke off as a new thought struck her. ‘Come to think of it, they did almost all the talking. In effect, it was as if they were repeating assurances that their brother had given them.’
‘You’re saying, he might not have told them the whole truth?’
‘It’s possible, isn’t it? He’s almost certainly an inveterate liar, but his sisters are just the opposite—high-principled, staunch churchgoers, real pillars of society. My guess is they’d go to hell and back to protect him, but they’d draw the line at telling barefaced porkies. And there’s something else.’ She went on to describe her encounter with Becky Tanner and her subsequent sighting of the girl jumping out of a car driven by Gideon Lane. ‘She may be only fourteen, but she’s a sexy little baggage and just the sort that dirty old men go for. Is he up to his old games again, I wonder? I warned him off, by the way—hinted that her father would half kill anyone who laid a finger on her.’
‘That sounds really serious. Have you passed any of this on to the police?’
‘Not yet, but I think I made it clear that I would if they didn’t.’
‘You amaze me. I’d have expected you to blow the whistle right away.’
‘I thought of it, but it’s the old problem. I’ve got no evidence—the Benbury Manor crowd could simply deny everything and I’d get another raspberry from Matt Waters for my pains. And as far as the indecent assault is concerned, he’s got no record—as you know, the Warefield people never reported him. I was going to tell Matt about the attack on Tommy Judd, only he didn’t have time to listen to me, and then when it seemed that Tommy was okay there didn’t seem much point.’
‘Hmm. Let’s give this a bit of thought.’ After a moment, Bruce said, ‘What about that Scottish chap—the frozen food merchant? If Gideon was around at the crucial time, he might have spotted him but never thought to mention it in all the excitement of nearly running Graham Shipley down.’
‘Colin? Yes, I could speak to him—I’ve got his mobile phone number.’
‘It’s worth a try. Ask him if he did see anyone else and if he did, get him to contact the police and say he’s just remembered something else. That should start things moving.’
‘I’ll get on to him right away. Thanks for your help. Your Auntie Edie’s a lovely lady, by the way.’
‘Knew you’d like her. Ciao!’
Melissa had hardly put the phone down when her front doorbell rang. Gemma Woodbridge stood there with that evening’s edition of the Gazette in one hand and the other extended, grubby palm upwards. ‘One pound eighty please, and sorry it’s a bit late,’ she said with a bright smile. ‘Heard the latest?’ she went on as she checked the money and put it into her pocket. ‘Old Mr Judd’s in hospital.’
‘Good gracious! When did this happen?’
‘Dunno exactly. Nurse called by to dress his leg or something and found him half dead on the floor. Saw him through the window,’ Gemma went on with some relish. ‘The ambulance people had to break in.’
‘How dreadful!’ Melissa exclaimed. ‘I do hope he’ll be all right.’
‘Yeah, hope so.’ Having collected her money and delivered her titbit of news, Gemma hopped on her bicycle and pedalled away, leaving Melissa reflecting in horror on her visit to the cottage the previous morning and her conclusion, on finding it locked and with no sign of Tommy, that he was out and about and therefore not too seriously injured. He must have been in there all along, his condition steadily worsening. Supposing he were to die without saying anything about the attack on him? His killer would get away with it—and she would be partly responsible.
Putting her decision to call Colin on hold, she rushed to the phone and dialled Matt Waters’s home number. This time he would have to listen to her.
Twenty-Two
‘Matt, it’s so good of you to come,’ said Melissa as she opened the door to him. ‘I’m sure when you hear what I’ve got to tell you, you’ll agree I’m not wasting your time. Come in the sitting room and I’ll pour you a drink—what shall it be?’
‘A small Scotch and water, please. Coming to see you is never a waste of time, Mel—and how nice to see a log fire.’
‘It’s the first time I’ve lit it this autumn—it hasn’t been cold enough up to now.’
He sank into one of her comfortable armchairs, leaned back and stretched his legs towards the blaze while uttering little grunts of contentment. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure after a pretty gruelling day,’ he said. ‘It’s so much easier to unwind in company than alone.’
‘I find that too. It’s at times like these that I miss Iris even more than usual.’ She handed him his drink and sat down with her own. ‘Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ He took a mouthful and sat nursing the glass, his eyes appraising her. ‘You look all in,’ he said in sudden concern.
‘I feel it.’ For the first time that day she had time to reflect on her own state of mind and it came as a shock to realise that she felt physically and mentally drained.
‘How’s the book going?’
‘Finished, except for a final read-through and tidy up before I print it off. It’s taken quite a lot out of me—I’m seriously considering abandoning this ‘literary’ lark and going back to good old-fashioned whodunnits.’
‘Mightn’t be a bad idea. I’ve always enjoyed your books.’
‘Thanks. Ken Harris never bothered to read them.’
He gave her a sharp look at the mention of the ex-DCI’s name, but all he said was, ‘Have you heard from him lately?’
‘Not for a couple o
f months.’ She hadn’t intended to mention Ken. In fact, she had hardly given him a thought for some time—until the abortive visit to the Grey Goose brought it all back. But it was a relief to find that it was hurting less and less. ‘Does he keep in touch with you?’ she asked, trying to sound casual and matter-of-fact.
‘Now and again. He seems to be enjoying life as a New York PI.’
‘Yes, I think he’s found his niche. Anyway, don’t let’s talk about him. Here,’ Melissa picked up her sheaf of notes and handed it over. ‘I’ve been keeping a sort of diary ever since Graham Shipley was arrested and this evening I brought it up to date.’
Matt reached out and took the notes, but did not immediately start reading them. ‘What is it about this bloke Shipley?’ he asked curiously. ‘He doesn’t seem your type at all—why are you so interested in him?’
‘I’m not interested in him—not in the way you’re suggesting—but I think it’s diabolical the way your people have been hounding him after all he’s been through in the past.’
‘It’s not fair to accuse us of hounding him. We’re trying to get at the truth about Cissie Wilcox’s death and we had good reason to believe he could help us, that’s all. If he’d come clean in the first place about his movements—’
‘You know perfectly well why he felt he couldn’t do that—’
‘Mel, if that’s the reason why you’ve asked me over, to bang on about how badly we’ve treated Shipley—’
‘No, that isn’t the main reason, but I do feel strongly about it. He’s in a pretty bad way at the moment, especially as he’s lost his new job through all this.’
‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’
‘Yes, well …’ Melissa stood up and reached for Matt’s half-empty glass. ‘Let me top that up while you read the notes.’
‘No more booze, thanks, but I wouldn’t mind a coffee.’
‘Right.’
When she returned with the coffee he was sitting with the notes on his lap, gazing reflectively into the fire. She put down the tray, filled two china mugs and handed him one. ‘Well?’ she said.
‘Mel, I have to hand it to you—you never give up, do you? You should have joined the force and gone in for real-life detection instead of just writing about it. It wouldn’t have paid so well, of course,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘So what do you think?’
‘I have to be honest—until I came to the last sheet there didn’t seem to be a great deal that would help us over the Wilcox kid’s death. The fact that this Gideon Lane seems to have been in the neighbourhood at the crucial time and that he has a secret weakness for groping young girls is certainly interesting, although by itself it’s not much to go on. The attack on Judd is much more serious and I’ll certainly make sure an officer goes to have a chat with him when he’s well enough, but if he won’t co-operate there’s not much we can do. You’ve really no idea what might have been stolen—if anything?’
‘None at all, I’m afraid—but something’s just occurred to me. You’ll see I’ve mentioned the fact Gideon has been in the habit of calling on Tommy, which has always struck me as a bit odd, considering what different people they are.’
‘“Pastoral visits”, with a query, it says here,’ grinned Matt with a glance at the notes.
‘That’s a bit of guesswork on my part. The entire family has a very strong church background and they must know that Tommy never sets foot in the place. Maybe they see him as a soul worth saving. Anyway, the two men must have chatted about something and you never know what might have come out in conversation that could give a lead.’
‘And Lane was at great pains to endorse Judd’s refusal to have the attack reported.’ Matt referred back to the notes and rubbed his chin reflectively. ‘Well, now that Judd is in hospital and we’ve been informed about it, we have a perfectly valid reason to go and have a word with both of them.’
‘You’ll do that?’
‘Have to report back to the DCI first, but yes, I’m sure he’ll agree. May I take your notes?’
‘Of course, I’ll get you an envelope.’
‘Thanks.’ He put down his empty coffee mug and got to his feet. ‘I’d better be going now. You look as if you need a good night’s sleep.’
‘You can say that again.’
At the door, he took her hand and said quietly, ‘You’ve always been something of a crusader, Mel, and I respect you for it—even when I’ve felt like shaking you for getting under our feet.’ He gave her hand a squeeze before adding, ‘You know, I’m beginning to hope that Shipley’s in the clear after all—for your sake as much as his.’
‘Thanks, Matt. Goodnight.’
She stepped outside as he drove away and glanced at the windows of Elder Cottage. It was only a little after ten o’clock, but they were in darkness. ‘He’s probably as shattered as I am, or more so,’ she told herself as she went back inside and locked the door.
A short while later, as she put out her bedside light and waited for sleep to close in on her, she remembered something she had forgotten to draw to Matt’s attention. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would do a little more sleuthing of her own.
It was after eight o’clock when she awoke. Her normal routine in the morning was to get up around six and work in her study for a couple of hours before getting showered and dressed. This morning there was no question of working; after a good night’s rest her mind was clear, sharp and focused on the day’s objective, and she was impatient to be up and doing.
Her first task was to fetch the morning papers. She walked briskly into the village, enjoying the sharp sweetness of the morning air with its hint of colder days to come. In the shop, Mrs Foster was regaling Miss Brightwell with such details as she had been able to persuade the District Nurse to reveal about the Tommy Judd affair. ‘She reckoned he might’ve fallen downstairs and knocked himself out—said his face was all bruised. Not surprising if he did fall, the state that cottage is in it’s a wonder it hasn’t all collapsed on top of him before now.’
‘It’s a wonder he didn’t kill himself,’ said Miss Brightwell as she handed over the money for her Daily Mail. ‘The Benbury Park people have a lot to answer for, letting one of their properties get in that state. He ought to sue them.’
‘He might have died too, if Nurse hadn’t called round. In agony, all by himself, poor old man.’ There was a certain macabre relish in Mrs Foster’s voice as she put forward this worst-possible scenario.
‘Has anyone heard how he is?’ asked Melissa, who had made a snap decision not to mention the attack on Tommy in front of the two old gossips. Her suspicion that they were quite capable of attributing it to Graham Shipley was confirmed a moment later.
‘Afraid not,’ said Miss Brightwell. ‘I hear the police have released that Mr Shipley,’ she added frostily. ‘It seems all wrong to me—supposing he were to attack another young girl?’
Melissa was on the point of angrily pointing out that the reason for Graham’s release was the absence of evidence that he had attacked anyone at all, but she held her tongue. As it was her turn to be served, she took the copy of The Times that Mrs Foster handed her and said, in a defiantly audible voice, ‘I’ll take Mr Shipley’s Independent as well, please.’ She was conscious of two pairs of appraising eyes on her as she marched out of the shop, almost bumping into Gary Tanner.
‘Good morning, Gary, you’re just the lad I want to speak to!’ she said. ‘Can you spare a moment?’
Gary returned her greeting politely enough, but he appeared less than overjoyed at her request. ‘Got to get me Dad’s paper—he likes to read it over his breakfast,’ he said, edging away from her.
‘This’ll only take a second. I expect you’ve heard that old Mr Judd’s in hospital?’
‘Yes.’ Gary eyed Melissa warily. ‘Did hear something about it. What’s wrong with him?’
‘He doesn’t want this spread around,’ she said, having satisfied herself that there was no one else within earshot, ‘but so
meone beat him up and he sustained some quite serious injuries.’ She waited for a moment, fixing Gary with the kind of direct stare that policemen use when questioning a witness. It might have been her imagination, but she had the impression that he was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. ‘You and your friends often hang around near his cottage, don’t you?’
‘What of it?’
‘Have any of you noticed anyone else hanging about there, lately—anyone strange, I mean?’
‘No.’
The lad appeared to relax a little, but his unease returned with a rush at Melissa’s next question. ‘Have you or any of your friends ever been inside Mr Judd’s cottage?’
‘No!’ He almost shouted the word. ‘No, I never! I don’t know nothing about it!’ He turned away from her and dashed into the shop, emerging a couple of moments later with a newspaper under his arm.
‘Gary, just a moment,’ said Melissa. She moved in front of him, blocking his way. ‘What is it that you don’t know anything about?’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He dodged round her, grabbed his bicycle, mounted it and rode away at a furious pace. She stood watching him for a moment before setting off for home, having already decided what her next move would be.
Meanwhile, there was Graham’s paper to deliver and her promise to ‘pop round to see that he was okay’ to fulfil. Detecting a movement at an upstairs window as she approached Elder Cottage, she gave a short ring on the bell. There was no response and after a moment she lifted the flap of the letter-box and called, ‘Graham, it’s Melissa. I’ve brought your paper.’
‘Thank you.’ The voice came from a distance, as though he was standing at the head of the stairs. ‘Will you put it through the door, please?’
Murder at Benbury Brook: An absolutely gripping English cozy mystery (A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 9) Page 18
