Marsh Blood (The Endel Mysteries Book 2)

by Lucilla Andrews

  I coloured. ‘Thanks. I don’t much mind your seeing me with egg on my face but I’d rather that wasn’t general knowledge.’

  ‘We all have our off moments, love.’ He lit a cigarette and spent a couple of minutes watching the moorhens. ‘If those holding screws had been loosened intentionally I would have expected them to come out much more cleanly.’

  I turned to him sharply. ‘It did cross your mind to wonder if I was right?’

  ‘You know my nasty, suspicious mind. Of course it did, especially as I could’ve been at the receiving end. Though I thought, and think, yours was a daft theory, I allowed for the possibility that it might be right to save myself from later having to beat my breast for helping to dig old Johnnie’s grave. I honestly now think you can scrub that one out, and quite as much from his immediate reaction as anything else. I don’t know him, but I do know an angry bloke when I see one. He was bloody angry but not scared angry. Just good honest this-hits-me-in-the-pocket angry.’

  ‘A nice healthy reaction.’

  ‘So why hasn’t it made you feel nice and healthy?’ He blinked over his glasses and I could almost see the computer flicking over. ‘It’s not Johnnie, is it?’ He tapped his chest. ‘Johnnie’s offered to knock twenty per cent off the bill if I stay. I told him I wasn’t sure yet. I am now. I think,’ he said gently, ‘I’ll push off for Coventry after lunch.’

  I didn’t say anything at once. My judgement agreed with him. My instincts didn’t. I decided on a compromise. ‘Must you go today? Couldn’t you leave it till tomorrow?’

  ‘Give me one good reason for that suggestion?’

  I smiled suddenly. ‘I’ve got one. I want you to come and hold my hand at Cliffhill Art Soc.’s annual exhibition this afternoon.’

  ‘You want ‒ WHAT?’

  I explained in detail. ‘Be a chum, David,’ I went on, ‘and come. It’s going to be hell but I must go and with you there I can get away earlier. And then why don’t we have dinner somewhere well away from dead birds? If we’re about to part for ever again, for God’s sake let’s celebrate.’

  He began to laugh. ‘A greater love for woman hath no man,’ he spluttered, ‘than the man who lets himself be dragged kicking and screaming to culture. Right. We’ll sing our swan-song chez Cliffhill Art Soc., then I’ll wine and dine you, kiss you sadly on both cheeks and vanish into the night ‒ at a civilized hour before lunch tomorrow. Hat and white gloves?’

  ‘Darling, please’ ‒ I mimicked Sue Denver’s affected drawl ‒ ‘do remember you’re back in England. Handblocked silk headscarf, handmade brogues, pigskin sling-bag and gloves and Harris tweeds, of course.’

  He touched my boots. ‘You mean I’m actually going to see your legs the once before the great farewell? Oh me blood-pressure! Down hormones, down!’ He stood up, slapping himself. ‘If I don’t move, I won’t live for the erotic thrill. You’ll have to strew me frozen corpse with rushes and sing a sad song. If we’re going to have a knees-up, I suppose you’ll want me to drive?’

  ‘Yes, please. My car or yours?’

  ‘Mine as she’s still running in. The sooner I get her over that stage the better. How far is it? I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘Thirty-three miles.’

  ‘She’ll need petrol.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Half-eleven. I presume there’s a garage in Harbour. I’ll walk back now and run her up as we’ve to leave early after lunch.’ He glanced round at the sound of the first car coming down the road since I had left the inn. ‘Looks like someone looking for someone ‒ oh, aye ‒ I know that face. One red Audi slowing at the bridge.’ He raised his voice. ‘’Morning, Francis! If you’re looking for Rose, she’s sitting at my feet.’

  I heard Francis Denver’s amazed shout, ‘I say, old chap, what a memory! Hallo there, David! Welcome to the marsh! They said at the inn that Rose was around. I suppose you don’t know if my wife’s rung her?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I muttered, ‘now what am I not meant to say?’ I stood up, scattering sketch pad and pencils. David dived for them as Francis joined us. ‘Hi, Francis. Did Sue say she’d ring me?’

  ‘She said something about it at breakfast just before she took off for Astead on two wheels to keep a hairdressing date.’ Francis draped himself against the nethouse. He was a couple of years older than David but looked younger as his long thin sensitive face had the thick-skinned unlined pallor that occasionally accompanies dark-red hair and dark-blue eyes. He was the only man I knew who could look elegant in tweeds even when his feet were in turned-down wellingtons. ‘We agreed I’d drop in on you on my way to Cliffhill. I’m due there at twelve. I’ll be late,’ he smiled pleasantly, ‘but worth it. We weren’t too happy to leave you just like that yesterday and, from what I’ve just seen of the inn, I’m even less happy. State of chaos up there. Damned glad you’re here to keep an eye on Rose, David. We heard from Walt Ames last night that you were back and had come over. How are you?’

  ‘Great, thanks. And so, from the sound of it, is the marsh bush-telegraph.’

  ‘It does its job. But how does this chap do it, Rose? Must be three years since we last had a drink and he gets my name at sight. I can hardly remember the names of the people with whom I’d drinks last week.’

  ‘That reminds me!’ I told him about the le Veres. ‘Renny’s large, middle-aged, big-business ‒ Angie, his wife, lots younger, dark, very slim, very attractive, wouldn’t you say, David?’

  ‘What I’d say,’ said David, ‘is dead sexy if you fancy angles and not curves and some do.’

  Francis frowned slightly, then grinned. ‘I know who you mean. Yes. I’m with you, David. But, about Sue, if she gets in touch or if not this afternoon, could you tell her that, instead of just having a late lunch with her father and then going back home as I said I would, I’m going to court with him. He rang me just after she’d left to say he’d got Mercer v. Mercer coming off this afternoon as I’d asked him to let me know. Should be worth hearing, don’t you agree, Rose?’

  ‘Wow! Yes.’ I turned to David. ‘Tom and Ron Mercer are brothers who haven’t spoken to each other for years. Family relations weren’t improved when Tom shot Ron’s prize Alsatian bitch because she somehow ‒ and no one seems to know how ‒ got among his sheep. She didn’t attack any but Tom vows they were all ewes in lamb and he couldn’t take chances. You can guess what Ron says. He’s suing his brother. Split St Martin’s down the middle. But, Francis, I thought the case was coming off next week?’

  ‘It seems to have been brought forward to this afternoon. I’ve no idea why. My father-in-law is a man of great discretion and ‒ er ‒ wisdom. As he remarked this morning, most regrettably he has to miss Cliffhill exhibition.’

  I laughed. ‘I adore Mr Smith. I’m taking David.’

  ‘My God, you’re not! David, you’re a brave man.’

  ‘And I know it. What’s worse, I’m dying of cold.’

  I said, ‘He thinks this the frozen north after the outback.’

  ‘Outback? Of course. I’d forgotten you’d been there. Where were you based? Brisbane, didn’t Rose say?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ said David, watching us both.

  ‘What was it like?’

  ‘Lovely bloody hot.’ David moved away up the path. ‘Want a lift back? I’ll run you both up.’ Francis and I followed slowly. He smiled at David’s back. ‘Sue’s already working on her wedding outfit.’

  ‘Don’t let her lay out any lolly on it unless you want to waste it.’

  ‘You sound as if you mean that, Rose.’

  ‘You should know me well enough by now to know that I do.’

  He was a nice, kind-hearted, intelligent man. But a man. ‘If you say so, my dear,’ he said in the tone men use at such moments.

  ‘I do.’

  He flushed faintly. ‘I’ve annoyed you and that’s the last thing I’d ever wish to do, Rose.’ He changed the subject quickly to Sue. ‘After the hairdresser she’d got a date with some girl friend at the Tudor Rooms in Astead. I thought
she said she was due there at eleven but, when I rang just after, she hadn’t arrived and as I’d forgotten to ask the girl friend’s name it was a bit too involved to leave a message. I didn’t want to bother her mother as it’s not all that important and she’ll be up to the eyes with the VIP lunch she’s giving the Member’s wife and committee in Cliffhill before the show. I’ve an idea Sue’s planning to drop in here for lunch. She’s not a committee member and didn’t care for the idea of a solid legal lunch with her old man and myself. But she likes to know my movements and ‒ well ‒ I rather like that, so I keep her in the picture.’ He quickened his step as David was circling the Audi. ‘How do you like her, David?’

  ‘Very nice. Very nice. What does she do?’

  Francis said if he didn’t mind the details would wait until he had more time to show the lady off. ‘I’m going to be even later for this morning’s appointment than I thought.’ He held open the front passenger door for me. ‘I must know before I go ‒ what the hell’s going on up at that inn? Why the chaos?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ said David getting into the back. ‘Last night the gaffer collected a load of shot in the back of the arm and I nearly got electrocuted in my bath, but aside from that the food’s good, beds comfortable, service willing and fellow lodgers amusing in small doses. You and your lovely wife must try it some time, but pack your tranquillizers.’

  Francis unclipped the safety-belt he had just put on to twist round and stare at David. ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘He is,’ I said.

  ‘You mean you really could’ve been killed?’

  ‘That’s right. But for this, that, and more than a little help from my friend Rose. Someone up there,’ added David piously, ‘must love me and Johnnie Evans-Williams. Let’s hope he loves whoever’s due for the third.’

  ‘I’d rather not think of that.’ Francis was visibly paler. ‘Wish to God I hadn’t to rush off again.’ He turned round, started the car and didn’t speak again till he dropped us at the bridge by the inn. ‘I’m not normally superstitious, but ‒ er ‒ take care of yourselves.’

  I said, ‘And you take care on the road to Cliffhill, Francis. I know you’re late but, as old Walt says, better ten minutes late in this world than twenty years too soon in the next.’ He smiled with his lips. ‘I wish you’d get that into Sue’s head. Cheers.’

  I looked after his speeding-up car. ‘Trouble with that guy is he’s too kind-hearted and has no sense of humour.’

  David gazed after the Audi with abstracted eyes. ‘Takes all sorts,’ he muttered tritely, turned away and walked back to the inn without waiting for me.

  Chapter Four

  The yard was bustling with activity. The laundry van was drawn up at the far end by the kitchen entrance; Hilda and the vanman were lifting out baskets and Mrs Evans-Williams was fluttering round tugging her beads. Near the side entrance to the bar, a trapdoor was hooked open, a wooden ramp in place, and Trevor with two hands, Johnnie with one, were rolling up empty barrels and lining them in front of the two open empty garages.

  Johnnie stood his barrel upright and advanced on us alternately to apologize and explode over the standards of modern British workmanship. He was interrupted by Doreen’s appearance at the hall entrance. ‘You’re wanted on the telephone, madam. Mrs Francis Denver. If you’ll go along I’ll put you through to Box Three.’

  David came in with me and noticed a man’s suede sheepskin-lined driving coat lying on one low windowsill. ‘That’s what I need.’

  Doreen did a double-take. ‘Oh dear. That gentleman with the red car must’ve left it when he came in to ask for you, madam. He had it slung over one shoulder.’

  I paused for a closer look. ‘Yes. Looks like Mr Denver’s. He’s always leaving it around as he never bothers to put it on properly. I’ll tell his wife he’s forgotten it.’

  I had difficulty telling Sue anything. She was ringing from a call-box at the crossroads just beyond Astead woods and was short of change and temper. ‘No, darling, don’t fuss about ringing back this number. I’ve got enough if you’ll just listen ‒ and don’t fuss about that coat. He’ll just have to come back for it ‒ no, don’t bother to take it this afternoon ‒ just listen! I’ve had the most maddening morning. Anton took ages over my hair though I told him I’d got a date and had to be out by ten-thirty ‒’

  ‘Hold on, Sue, and you listen! Francis rang the Tudor just after eleven to tell you he’s going to court with your father this afternoon but you hadn’t arrived ‒’

  ‘Of course I hadn’t!’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, as I suppose you’ve guessed, my date wasn’t at the Tudor and I’ve just waited forty-five minutes in my car and he hasn’t turned up!’

  ‘Since when has there been a coffee house outside Astead woods?’

  ‘Darling, don’t be thick! Do listen,’ she reiterated in her expensive boarding-school whine, ‘as I need your help.’

  ‘No! You know what I said last time!’

  ‘Rose, you’ve got to help me! Actually’ ‒ her voice quivered ‒ ‘I’m in rather a spot. I just don’t dare go to the exhibition ‒’

  ‘You must! It’s your mother’s big day.’

  ‘That’s why I daren’t and you’ve got to help me. Gordon’s got to be there as he wants to flog his pictures and I know if I’m there he’ll make a ghastly scene and ruin everything for Mummy. He said he would last night. We had a hideous row in his van when he drove me home. He got all hysterical about my leaving Francis, getting a divorce, marrying him ‒ you know what men are like when they’re all worked up ‒ and being an artist he takes things so seriously. He doesn’t seem to understand we’ve just been having fun and we have but it wasn’t fun last night. So I told him to meet me this morning and talk it out. He knew where in the woods. He’s come before on his bike and today he’s got the van. He hasn’t come and I know why! He’s trying to frighten me and ‒ well ‒ actually in a way he has as he’s got an awful temper. I can handle him on my own ‒ I can always handle guys on my own ‒ but not with Mummy and everyone around.’

  This wasn’t the moment so I didn’t tell her this moment had been inevitable for her and the only wonder was that it hadn’t come sooner. ‘He could make a scene even if you’re not there.’

  ‘He won’t. He’ll think I’m sulking because he’s just stood me up and that must mean he’s still got me hooked. You know how conceited men are! They all think they’re irresistible. As if I’d leave my home and Francis for a grotty peasant who can’t even raise the price of a gin! I’ll handle him later but I must keep out of his way this afternoon and you must help me!’

  I frowned at my reflection in the box mirror. ‘I guess so, though I still think you’re over-dramatizing. Surely if he wants to flog his pictures he won’t start chucking dirt ‒’

  ‘Won’t he just! If he does he’ll flog the lot! All Mummy’s chums will buy them as conversation-pieces,’ she retorted with rare insight.

  ‘That’s true. Okay. What do you want me to say?’

  ‘I’ve been working it all out in the car and that’s what I’ll blame. Actually, I have got a slow in my front nearside, so I’ll drive on to Coxden and get that rather gorgeous guy opposite the forge to swap it for my spare. It’s ‒ oh, God ‒ it’s ten to twelve now ‒ and he shuts up for his dinner hour ‒ no, that’s good, as it means I’ll have to wait. I’ll have a snack at the pub there, and after I’ll have to wait while he mends the puncture as Daddy makes such a fuss if I only have four wheels and actually so does Francis. Honestly, sometimes,’ she added peevishly, ‘I think cars are the only things Francis really cares about!’

  ‘So you’ve said before. You know I don’t agree. But you can’t spend the entire afternoon waiting for your slow to be mended.’

  ‘I know that! So I’m going to have one of my headaches and have to go straight home and if Francis is in court that’ll work out beautifully! Just sort of tell Mummy briefly. She’ll be in too much of a tiz-woz about being queen bee and bossi
ng everyone to get in a tiz-woz over me. Tell her I haven’t rung her as I didn’t want to spoil her lunch party by worrying her and ‒ yes ‒ that I can feel my headache coming on now. Say I’ll ring her at home tonight and hope everything is simply super at the show.’

  I sighed. ‘If I must, but I don’t like it and I warn you, this is the last bloody time I’ll cover for you!’

  ‘Darling, you’re fabulous! What would I do without you? Byeee!’ She rang off.

  I grimaced at my reflection. Ananias Endel. My God, the messes my married friends got themselves into. Where was the nearest convent? I left the telephone alcove, seething with irritation, and through a hall window saw David checking his car oil. He had added several sweaters beneath his overcoat and looked half a stone heavier. I went outside. ‘Do I just call you Nanook of the North?’

  ‘Feel free.’ He replaced the dipstick. ‘I can’t discover why but yesterday she drank oil like it’s going out of fashion.’

  ‘Ask them at the garage.’

  ‘Yep.’ He glanced at the barrel rollers. ‘Our Johnnie’s just told me to ask for one Joe Wattle, brother of Harry, who runs it, lives above the shop and doesn’t mind being disturbed at his dinner. Best mechanic on the marsh, he says.’ He glanced at my face. ‘What’s Hot Pants been saying to raise your adrenalin?’

  ‘Tell you when we drive over, if I’ve cooled off.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He got into his car. ‘Back in about half an hour, I imagine.’

  ‘Don’t hurry for me.’

  He looked at me over his glasses. ‘I haven’t and I bloody won’t,’ he added under his breath, and drove off.

  The laundry van was just leaving. Johnnie stopped the driver for a word and I was turning to go in when I heard David’s car brakes slam on. I swung round. He had gone about a hundred yards up the road to Harbour and had stopped in the middle of the road. I heard Johnnie’s ‘What the devil ‒?’ and saw the wisps of black smoke coming from the white bonnet. A second later David had leapt out and was spraying the bonnet with the contents of a small fire-extinguisher. Suddenly, he threw it to one side and charged back towards the bridge. He was nearly there when his car exploded. He pulled off his glasses, flung himself face down on the road and covered the back of his head with his folded arms. A sheet of flame enveloped the car, soared upwards, and the birds rose in outraged clouds.