The three of them were sitting at the table in the rectory dining-room. A social worker had duly arrived to take charge of a somewhat mutinous Becky, who had agreed to be taken to a hostel only after extracting a solemn promise that her whereabouts be kept a secret from her father. Alice had whisked the children into bed and she and her husband had insisted that Melissa stay to share their evening meal. Part of her had longed to go home and unwind in peace, but having given in to their pressing invitation she realised that it had been the right decision. In their friendly and sympathetic company she was already aware of the tension slipping away. When, after a simple but delicious supper that Alice seemed to have conjured up out of nowhere, she got into her car to drive home, she felt more relaxed than she had done for days. With any luck, the mystery surrounding Cissie’s death and the attack on Tommy Judd would be cleared up within twenty-four hours without the need for any further contribution on her part.
Her optimism received a jolt when she arrived home and found a message from Matt Waters. ‘We sent a couple of officers round to interview Gideon Lane,’ he said, and even before she heard the rest of the message the frustration in the detective’s voice warned her that there had been a hitch. ‘And what do you know?’ the detective continued. ‘The old buzzard’s done a runner. We’ll catch up with him soon enough, though. I’ll keep you posted.’
As she reset the machine and plodded upstairs to bed, Melissa speculated with a certain relish as to precisely what had prompted Gideon’s hasty departure. Had it been the possibility of a further call from the police, or—as seemed to her more likely to be the case—fear of a more direct form of retribution? Either way, she told herself as she put out her bedside light, I’m not losing any sleep over that old sinner. He deserves all that’s coming to him.
She slept soundly for over eight hours, awoke refreshed and was eating her breakfast prior to making a start on printing the final version of her novel when the telephone rang. Remembering that she had not yet responded to Bruce’s call of the previous day, she half expected to hear a reproachful reminder. Instead, a rather hesitant male voice that she did not immediately recognise said tentatively, ‘Is that Mrs Craig?’
‘Speaking.’
‘This is Gideon Lane.’
Melissa almost dropped her slice of toast and marmalade in her astonishment, but managed to answer calmly enough, ‘Good morning, Mr Lane. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve just been listening to the local news on the radio.’ The voice shook slightly, betraying considerable agitation. ‘Something about an attempted suicide in Upper Benbury. They didn’t give a name—do you know who it was?’
‘Yes, as it happens I do. I was one of the people who found the victim.’
‘Aah!’The drawn-out sigh seemed to come from a great distance. ‘Would you be kind enough to tell me—?’
‘I understand the police aren’t revealing the victim’s name, so I don’t think I should either,’ Melissa interrupted, deliberately making her voice brisk and businesslike. ‘If you have a particular interest in knowing, you can always call them.’
‘Yes, er, well …’ There was a silence for a moment before Lane said, ‘I just wanted to know—will the poor man be all right?’
‘What makes you think it’s a man?’
To Melissa’s glee, Lane walked straight into the trap. ‘You mean—it wasn’t Mr Shipley? Oh, thank God!’ There was a click and the line went dead.
‘I wonder,’ Melissa mused as she tapped out the code for checking the source of the call, ‘why you were so concerned about the fate of Graham Shipley? Guilty conscience, perhaps? We’ll soon find out.’ She reached for a pencil and a scrap of paper to jot down the number dictated by a precise, android-like female voice. She called it and found herself speaking to the receptionist at a small private hotel in Reading.
‘Gotcha!’ she exclaimed in triumph as she put down the telephone.
‘Apart from the fact that Graham Shipley has been completely exonerated,’ said Melissa thoughtfully, ‘there are a few small crumbs of comfort in all this.’
‘Oh?’ Joe Martin took the cup of black coffee she handed him with a question in his dark, deep-set eyes.
‘One is the fact that Cissie’s death turned out to have been accidental.’ She sat down in the armchair opposite him and began sipping her own coffee. ‘Her mother was half out of her mind at the thought that she might have been murdered. Now she knows that isn’t the case, the healing process can start.’
‘Yes, I can understand that. It must have been a nightmare for the poor woman. What about the other crumbs?’
‘Gary Tanner was very upset when he heard that Jean held him in some way responsible for Cissie’s death, and he went to see her to explain that he felt badly because he never offered to walk her home that day. Somehow a kind of bond has sprung up between them and I think that has helped Jean with her grieving as well.’
The two of them fell silent for a minute or two, each busy with their own thoughts. They were in the sitting-room of Hawthorn Cottage after the promised celebratory dinner at the Queen’s Hotel in Cheltenham. A fat envelope containing the typescript of the completed novel lay on the table, ready—once it had received Joe’s blessing—to be handed to her publisher. A disc of Beethoven bagatelles played softly in the background. For the first time in nearly a fortnight, Melissa felt a sense of fulfilment which was not entirely due to the completion of another book.
‘You know,’ said Joe as he helped himself to sugar, ‘I’m still not entirely clear as to exactly what happened. You’ve told me bits on the phone, but there are lots of gaps that need filling. Those two old men—Tommy Judd and the randy old choirmaster—just what did the two of them get up to, and how did it bring about the death of that poor girl?’
‘They discovered a mutual interest in paedophilia by obtaining their supplies from the same dodgy newsagent in Stowbridge, and it seems they had regular sessions in Tommy’s cottage where they indulged in what Matt euphemistically called “unnatural practices”. Cissie blundered in on one of Tommy’s solo performances and fled; he ran after her—not with any intention of hurting her, he insisted, he just wanted to reassure her that he meant no harm and there was no need to tell anyone—but of course she panicked. Then she saw Graham Shipley approaching from the opposite direction and fled from him as well. We know what happened after that.’
‘Dreadful.’ After a moment’s reflection, Joe asked, ‘So exactly how did the truth come out?’
‘Gideon Lane finally spilled the beans, once the police picked him up. He’d taken off because he guessed that his sister Esther was going to show Becky’s father the photo that she had confiscated from her brother—incidentally, that must have been how Becky got the money for her shopping spree the day I caught her coming out of the bank. Knowing Jake’s temper he was scared stiff he was going to get the same treatment as Tommy.’
‘Ah, so it was Jake who roughed up Tommy?’
‘That’s right. It seems that when the lads broke into the cottage and found the stock of porno mags, there was a nude photo of Becky at the bottom of the hole. Her brother was reaching for it when Tommy turned up unexpectedly and he left it there rather than risk the others seeing it. He returned a few nights later and stole it—incidentally, Dave Potter was there shortly afterwards to nick more supplies so Tommy had two burglars that night. Unfortunately for Gary—and for Becky—Jake caught him with the photo and shook the whole story out of him. Then he gave Tommy a going-over, took the rest of the mags and burned them.’
‘Did he give Becky a going-over as well? It sounds as if the little monkey deserved it.’
‘I think she got a dressing-down for allowing the photo to be taken, but she managed to convince him that she’d been doing a favour for a friend of hers, a girl doing a Media Studies course who was putting a portfolio together for an assignment she was working on. Becky claimed she must have dropped it near Tommy’s cottage on her way home through the woods o
ne day. The first part of the story was probably true, but the rest was complete baloney—Tommy admitted later that he’d given her money for it. Jake believed it because he couldn’t bear to think of the alternative. He’s completely disillusioned now, of course, having found out that she’s been fooling around with Gideon Lane as well. He’s a broken man.’
‘Poor blighter.’ For a while they sat quietly listening to the music. Then Joe said, ‘I understand it was Gideon Lane who actually found the body?’
‘That’s right. He was on his way to see Tommy a short time after Cissie’s fatal visit and by chance he spotted one of her bright yellow shoes that she lost as she went plunging down the bank towards the brook. He didn’t think to do anything about it at the time, but when he found Tommy in a state of great agitation and heard what had happened, bells rang and he went back to investigate. Knowing how steep and slippery the bank is, he was worried she might have fallen and hurt herself. He was horrified when he found her body and claimed to have done everything he could to revive her after hauling her out of the water, but it was too late.’
‘It’s dreadful to think how a comparatively simple chain of events could have led to such a tragedy,’ said Joe. ‘If only Shipley hadn’t turned up at the crucial moment—’
‘Oh, don’t blame poor Graham. He feels in some way responsible for what happened to Cissie because he just ran away and left her to it.’
‘What do you suppose he’ll do now? I doubt if he’ll want to go back to teaching.’
‘Ah, that’s one more bit of good news I learned yesterday. Sam Rogers has a friend who’s curator of the Stowbridge Museum and has been looking for an assistant to organise educational courses in local history. He’s persuaded Graham to send off for the application form—it sounds just his cup of tea. He’s got a project he calls ‘History on the Hoof’ which according to Sam is tailor-made for the job.’
‘Well, good luck to him. He deserves a decent break.’
‘You’re dead right. What makes me so angry is the way that nasty little toad Gideon Lane allowed him to remain under suspicion for so long, just to preserve his own lily-white reputation. It was only when he heard about the suicide attempt and suspected it might be Graham that his miserable conscience pricked him. When I planted the idea that it wasn’t Graham at all, he couldn’t back off quickly enough. He really thought he was in the clear—but my final bit of detective work tracked him down.’
‘Ah yes, speaking of detective work—what was the question you asked Tommy Judd that rattled him so much it made you sure you were on the right track?’
‘Oh that!’ Melissa chuckled at the recollection. ‘I merely asked him whether he and Gideon Lane got their girlie magazines from the same shop.’
‘Brilliant! I can’t think how Gloucestershire Constabulary would manage to solve a single case without you!’ The earnestness in Joe’s voice was totally belied by the mischievous glint in his eyes.
‘No need to be sarky,’ Melissa reproached him. ‘I’d have you know there have been times when they’ve been most appreciative of my help—’
‘—and even more times when they’ve told you to keep your nose out of their cases, I’ll bet.’ This time Joe made no attempt to hide his amusement. Suddenly, he grew more serious. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘in spite of all he’s done I can’t help feeling some sympathy for that poor wretch Lane. From what you’ve told me about his gorgon of an elder sister, he can’t have had much chance of establishing a normal relationship with a woman. And he must have brought joy to a lot of people with his music.’
Melissa gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she passed his chair after putting on a fresh disc. He grasped her hand and smiled up at her.
‘Dear Joe,’ she said softly as she returned the pressure, ‘you manage to find good in everyone, don’t you?’
‘There’s usually something, if you look for it hard enough,’ he said.
‘It’s a comforting thought,’ she agreed.
Their eyes met and he moved his chair a little closer to hers as the magic of Schubert filled the room.
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Books by Betty Rowlands
THE MELISSA CRAIG SERIES
Murder at Hawthorn Cottage
Murder in the Morning
Murder on the Clifftops
Murder at the Manor Hotel
Murder on a Winter Afternoon
Murder in the Orchard
Murder at Larkfield Barn
Murder in Langley Woods
Murder at Benbury Brook
Murder at the Old House
Murder in the Dining Room
Murder in a Country Garden
Murder at Hawthorn Cottage
A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 1
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Meet Melissa: cat lover, caring mother… daring detective?
Melissa Craig is absolutely delighted with her new life in an old crumbling cottage, spending her days pruning the primroses and getting to know Binkie, the ginger cat next door. She only wishes she had made the move to the countryside sooner.
But when a knock at the door brings news of a shocking discovery, she suddenly finds herself thrown in to the middle of a baffling mystery: the bones of a young woman have been found in the woods just behind her new home.
Perhaps the little village of Upper Benbury is not as idyllic as it first seemed?
Strange phone calls in the night convince Melissa that the police are barking up completely the wrong tree, so she can’t resist doing a little digging of her own. From the bingo hall to the beauty salon and beyond, her search ruffles a few feathers and uncovers many of the village’s most scandalous secrets, but gets her no closer to finding the culprit…
The discovery of a tatty old photograph in a drawer is the final piece of the puzzle she needs, but as a newcomer in this close-knit community, does Melissa have what it takes to get to the bottom of this extraordinary murder mystery alone?
A joy to read! An absolutely unputdownable whodunnit for fans of Agatha Christie, P.D. James and Faith Martin.
Murder in the Morning
A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 2
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Cream teas, buttered crumpets and a very curious crime…
Melissa Craig is settling in nicely to a new teaching position in the quaint little village of Upper Benbury, getting to know her way around, drinking tea with the eccentric staff, even sowing the first seeds of romance…
But when she arrives one morning to find police outside her classroom, Melissa is shocked to hear that her beautiful colleague Angelica has been found dead in her home.
As everyone in Angelica’s life comes under suspicion, Melissa makes it her mission to go in search of the truth, not least because she’s romantically entangled with none other than the police’s prime suspect.
The discovery of a vandalised portrait of the murdered girl might be just the clue that Melissa needs to clear her lover’s name, but when a second body surface
s, she knows she needs to act quickly. Can Melissa uncover the ugly truth in this beautiful village before another innocent life is taken?
Do you love murder mysteries by Agatha Christie, P.D. James and Faith Martin? If so, make this puzzling and absolutely page-turning whodunnit your next read!
Murder on the Clifftops
A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 3
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French cheese, fine wine and… a mystifying murder?
A delightful afternoon stroll turns to disaster when the guests of an artists’ retreat in the French mountains spot the body of a man at the bottom of a cliff.
Amongst them is Melissa Craig who, binoculars at the ready, suddenly finds herself at the centre of a very puzzling mystery. Was it an accident, or was he pushed?
Murder at Benbury Brook: An absolutely gripping English cozy mystery (A Melissa Craig Mystery Book 9) Page 22
