The Killer in the Choir

by Simon Brett

  Only Carole and Jude, it seemed, regarded investigation into the circumstances of Leonard Mallett’s death as unfinished business. And, with the passage of time, even their urgency to do something faded.

  ‘No, what I’m talking about is a community choir,’ said Heather Mallett.

  ‘Based here in the pub?’ asked Ted Crisp.

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ said KK Rosser.

  Carole and Jude were pleased to be part of the little group in the Crown & Anchor that Wednesday evening. Though Jude would not have stood on ceremony, Carole felt reassured that their previous introduction to KK, by the arcane protocols of Fethering, justified their being introduced to Heather Mallett, a woman who still held an aura of mystery for her.

  Now it wasn’t just the glasses and the longer hair that had transformed her previously beige image. The glasses were there, the oxblood ones she had worn at the funeral. And the hair had now been skilfully shaped and animated with a bit of bottled colour. But the rest of her wardrobe had changed too. It was now late March, and unseasonally warm enough for Fethering residents to murmur darkly about global warming. To match the weather, Heather Mallett was dressed in a linen shirt with vertical blue and white stripes over scarlet linen trousers. On her feet were white canvas espadrilles.

  Her manner had changed too. Of course, neither Carole nor Jude had ever spent time with her before, but they had heard reports around the village of her generally cowed demeanour. It was certainly unexpected to see her being so expansive in the Crown & Anchor and taking the initiative with Ted Crisp.

  ‘So, let me get this straight,’ said the landlord. ‘The idea is that you run the choir here … what, once a month?’

  ‘No, once a week,’ Heather replied.

  ‘Yes,’ KK agreed. ‘Mondays. Like you’re always saying, business is slack on Mondays.’

  ‘And what about me having to get an entertainment licence?’

  ‘No problem. The choir wouldn’t be entertaining people.’

  ‘Oh, you’re going to be that bad, are you?’ asked the landlord, and guffawed.

  ‘Ha bloody ha.’ The guitarist grinned wearily. ‘I do set them up for you, don’t I, Ted?’

  ‘Yeah. Very generous, thanks.’

  ‘No, but the point is,’ KK went on, ‘that we’d just be rehearsing here, like for fun.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t get it.’

  Heather intervened. ‘The fact is, Ted, that a lot of people like singing with a choir, just for the sake of it.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘It’s an extremely popular leisure activity. Very therapeutic, too.’

  ‘I’ve heard that.’ The landlord shook his shaggy head. ‘I must say I don’t get it. Being in a choir with all them other people. If I’m on stage – you know, like back when I was doing the stand-up – I want people looking at me. God, if I’m putting in all that effort, I want people to know what I’m doing. Don’t see the fun of being with a group, where nobody notices whether you’re there or not.’

  ‘No,’ Heather agreed, ‘you don’t get it, do you? But there are people out there, you know, who get a real charge from community activities.’

  ‘Well, I don’t.’ Carole couldn’t stop herself. She’d always considered that attaching the prefix ‘community’ to any activity was the kiss of death, and had only just stopped herself from speaking the first time Heather used the word.

  ‘That’s fair enough.’ The widow smiled. ‘No one’s going to force anyone to be part of the choir. There’ll be no three-line whip. It would only be for people who wanted to take part.’

  ‘And how would you find those people? Put ads in the Post Office window?’

  ‘Probably be more effective to put something in the village online newsletter.’

  ‘Oh?’ Carole was aware that such a thing existed, though there was no danger of her ever subscribing to it.

  ‘Yes, that can be very effective,’ said Jude. Typical of her not to show solidarity, thought her neighbour sniffily. ‘I’ve got quite a few clients that way.’ Something else Carole didn’t know.

  ‘So, what do you say, Ted?’ Heather turned her brown eyes on him appealingly, almost flirtatiously. ‘Will you let us give it a go?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Come on,’ said KK. ‘You know Monday nights are dead for business. If people come in for the choir, they’re going to buy drinks, aren’t they?’

  ‘Maybe. Things pick up, though, once you get to May and June.’

  ‘All right, well, just let us try once, in the next couple of weeks. See who comes along.’

  Ted Crisp was on the way to being persuaded. ‘So how would it work?’

  Heather took over. She and KK had clearly thought the whole thing through. ‘We’d meet early evening, half past six, seven …’

  Ted looked round the bar. ‘Where?’

  ‘In the Function Room.’

  ‘And do I get paid normal rates for the use of the Function Room?’

  ‘No, of course you don’t,’ replied Heather, almost winsomely. ‘You let us use it for free.’

  ‘And why would I do that?’

  ‘Out of the goodness of your heart.’

  ‘Huh. How d’you know there’s any goodness in there?’

  ‘You also do it,’ said KK, ‘because of all the drinks the choir members are going to buy.’

  ‘Oh yeah? I’ll believe that when it happens. Anyway, what kind of music will it be? I don’t want hymns and that driving out the few customers I do get. Nothing like “O God Our Help in Ages Past” for putting a damper on an evening.’

  ‘It won’t be hymns,’ said Heather. ‘It’ll be more, sort of, light popular stuff.’

  ‘Kind of songs I play,’ KK added.

  ‘Bloody hell, that’s all we need!’ But Ted grinned as he said it. ‘And may I ask what your role in the proceedings will be?’

  Heather provided the answer for him. ‘KK would be the choirmaster.’

  ‘That sounds a bit posh to me,’ the musician objected. ‘A bit po-faced and churchy. But yeah, I’d be, like, the one who leads the sessions, you know, playing the music, showing them how to do the harmonies, that stuff.’

  ‘Hmm …’ Ted Crisp sounded uncertain.

  ‘I’ve done this kind of thing before. In a pub in Brighton. Went very well.’

  ‘If it went very well back in Brighton, why aren’t you still doing it there?’

  ‘It was … um …’ KK looked uncomfortable. ‘It didn’t work out. Artistic differences.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And, incidentally, what’s in it for you?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Money, KK, money. Because if you think I’m going to pay you, as well as giving you use of the Function Room for free, then you’ve got another—’

  ‘No, no, you wouldn’t have to pay anything. The participants’d pay me a fiver a time, something like that.’

  ‘Hmm …’ Ted still wasn’t persuaded. ‘And it’d be your kind of music?’

  ‘Yeah, stuff I always play, you know my repertoire. And back in the day, when I did the gigs here, it never drove anyone out, did it?’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

  ‘Come on, you did all right out of those nights. A lot of drinks got bought.’

  ‘Yeah, but all the profit went on providing you with free Guinness.’ There was a joshing quality in the way the two men argued. They were enjoying the negotiation. Clearly, they’d known each other for a long time.

  The landlord looked at his watch. ‘I got to go and check through tonight’s menu with Ed.’

  ‘Oh, do say you’ll let us try having the choir here, just the once,’ Heather pleaded.

  Carole and Jude could see that Ted was about to say no, but suddenly he relented. Maybe he was susceptible to Heather’s new-found flirtatiousness. ‘When do you have in mind?’

  ‘Monday week,’ Heather replied quickly. Clearly, she and KK had it all worked out. ‘Go on, let us try; see what happens.’

&
nbsp; ‘All right. Just the once, though. No promises of any more, till we see how that one goes.’

  ‘You’re on.’ Heather beamed. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Ted. You’re a real sweetheart.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he mumbled, as he went back into the kitchen. But he was clearly pleased by what she had said.

  KK Rosser needed to go off to give a guitar lesson, so Carole and Jude had serendipitously achieved something they had both wanted since Leonard Mallett’s funeral – the opportunity to talk to his widow on her own.

  Jude was at the bar replenishing their drinks. The Polish bar manager Zosia poured two large New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs without being asked. Heather wanted a gin and tonic. ‘Make it a large one,’ said Jude.

  Carole didn’t quite know how they were going to get round to the subject they really wanted to discuss, so at first she continued the previous conversation. ‘Have you been involved in another choir like the one you’re trying to set up here?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really. It was KK’s idea, and I thought, well, why not give it a go? I’ve sung in lots of choirs over the years, though. At school and university. I was at Manchester.’ It was strange; for no very good reason, Carole wouldn’t have imagined that Heather Mallett had been at university. ‘Then, I joined some others while I was working in London, but, since I got married, it’s only been the church choir.’

  ‘Yes.’ Carole recognized that this was the perfect springboard for a question about Leonard Mallett’s death and funeral, but couldn’t find the right way to phrase it. Fortunately, at that moment, Jude appeared with their drinks. And, smoothly as ever, she went straight to the relevant subject by saying, ‘I was sorry to hear about your husband’s death.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Heather replied formally. ‘It wasn’t totally unexpected. He was getting very frail. It’s strange, if you marry someone considerably older than yourself, from the start you kind of subliminally take on board that they’re likely to die before you. That doesn’t mean it’s not a shock when it happens, though.’

  ‘I’m sure it doesn’t.’

  ‘Are you married, Jude?

  ‘No. Have been a couple of times. Not currently, though.’

  ‘Carole?’

  ‘Divorced,’ came the crisp response.

  ‘And how are you feeling now, Heather?’ asked Jude. Carole envied her gentle directness, something that was partly instinctive and partly developed through her work as a healer. Carole knew if she had asked the same question, it would have sounded brusque and clumsy.

  ‘I’m not in too bad a place,’ Heather replied. ‘I don’t think it’s any secret that Leonard and my marriage was … well, let’s say not made in heaven.’

  ‘So, you actually feel some level of relief?’

  ‘Yes, Jude. I know that’s not the kind of thing the recently bereaved should say, but … yes, I am looking forward to the next stage of my life, to doing different things.’

  ‘Like starting the choir here?’

  ‘That kind of thing, yes. And of course, I’m busy helping to organize Alice’s wedding. That’s my main priority at the moment. Do you know Alice? She’s my stepdaughter.’

  ‘Yes, I met her,’ said Carole. Then, rather pointedly, ‘At the funeral.’

  ‘Of course. Well, I’m afraid you didn’t see her at her best then.’

  ‘No,’ Carole agreed, wondering if Heather was about to comment further on the incident which had galvanized Fethering.

  But all the widow said was: ‘Grief affects people in different ways.’

  ‘And in Alice’s case, it made her aggressive?’ asked Jude. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually at the funeral, but I did hear what happened.’

  Heather Mallett grinned wryly. ‘I think everyone in Fethering heard what happened.’

  ‘Probably.’

  Again, Jude’s gentle manner easily prompted further confidences. ‘Alice had a very complicated relationship with her father. She’s never really recovered from her mother’s death. She was at a difficult early teenage stage when it happened. I tried to fill the gap, but I know I wasn’t wholly successful. And Leonard was not an easy man. It’s no surprise Alice’s behaviour got a bit out of hand.’

  Carole couldn’t suppress her instinctive response to that. ‘“Out of hand”? I think that’s something of an understatement. The girl did actually accuse you of murdering her father.’

  Heather Mallett looked awkward. ‘I agree, that’s how it may have sounded.’

  ‘It wasn’t just how it sounded. It was what she actually said.’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid it was the drink talking. She was very upset and confused, and I found out later she’d got through most of a bottle of vodka before the funeral started. Still, that’s in the past. And, as I say, she’s about to get married. I’m hoping that will settle her down a bit. Did you meet her fiancé, Carole?’

  ‘Briefly.’

  ‘Roddy may come across as a bit of a buffoon, but his heart is very definitely in the right place. They’ve known each other for years. I think he’s very good for Alice.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ said Carole, without much enthusiasm.

  Again, Jude’s intervention was less acerbic. ‘It must have been tough for you, Heather, all the Fethering gossip following on from the funeral.’

  ‘It wasn’t great. Normally, I wouldn’t hear much of that stuff, but I was making a very positive effort to get out more around the village, so I couldn’t escape it.’

  ‘Bob Hinkley even said the police got involved …’ Carole dangled the thought, fishing for more information.

  And she got a bite. ‘That was even before the funeral. They got in touch with me on the Tuesday, because someone had contacted them, making accusations about my having killed Leonard.’

  ‘Was it Alice?’

  ‘Oh, good heavens, no. I’m sure she wouldn’t have done that.’ It sounded as though she was entertaining the idea for the first time. ‘Just some local busybody with too much time on their hands, I imagine.’

  ‘Did Alice hear about the accusation?’

  ‘Yes, Jude, she did. I told her … which was perhaps not such a good idea, considering the emotional state she was in. Probably that’s what prompted her outburst in the church hall.’

  ‘What did the police actually say to you?’ asked Carole, now very upfront. ‘Was it on the phone, or did they come and see you?’

  ‘They phoned first, and then came to the house.’

  ‘What, on the Tuesday?’

  ‘Phoned on the Tuesday. Came to see me on the Wednesday.’

  ‘The day before the funeral?’

  ‘Yes. They told me that this anonymous allegation had been made, and they said it was the kind of rumour they could not ignore, an accusation of murder. It was part of their job to investigate stuff like that.’

  ‘You can see their point,’ said Jude.

  ‘Oh yes. I have no complaints about what the police did. If I ever find out who actually started the rumour, though, I might be less forgiving to them.’

  ‘Understandably.’ Jude grinned, putting Heather even more at her ease, as she probed more deeply. ‘It’s very nosy of me to ask this, but I’ve heard so many conjectures around the village, it’d be nice to know what the police actually did say to you.’

  ‘I’ve no objections to answering that. In fact, I’d be glad if you would tell as many people in Fethering as possible, to put an end to all the uninformed speculation and innuendos.’

  ‘Sure. We’d be happy to do that. Wouldn’t we, Carole?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Very well then.’ Heather sighed before she started her narrative. ‘Let me just fill in the background. Leonard actually died on Monday 17 February. I went out that morning at about ten, and he was still alive at round eleven fifteen, because the postman delivered a book, which Leonard signed for. It was a valuable antiquarian book about military history – Leonard was very into that. I got back to our house – w
e’re in the Shorelands Estate – round quarter to one. And, needless to say, in a place like that, which is a haven for neighbourhood snoopers, someone saw me put the car in the garage. I suppose, on this one occasion, I should be grateful for the surveillance, because my neighbour could time my return at exactly twelve forty-seven. Anyway, I went into the house, and found Leonard dead at the foot of the stairs. I immediately phoned for an ambulance – my call was logged in at twelve forty-nine.

  ‘It was the view of the police, I am glad to say, that, even if I had been possessed by murderous intent, I did not logistically have time to kill my husband in that two-minute window. I was therefore fully exonerated. They apologized very politely for any stress they may have caused me. End of story.’

  ‘But, presumably,’ said Carole, who had a beady eye for detail, ‘they also checked where you had been that morning.’

  ‘Yes, of course. My alibi. Which, I am delighted to report, matched exactly with the account I had given them. I had spent that morning in Worthing, with KK Rosser.’

  ‘Oh?’ Carole could not keep the surprise out of her voice. The idea of Heather Mallett having anything to do with the guitarist before they’d got together over the Crown & Anchor Choir idea seemed very unlikely. On the other hand, when told of Leonard Mallett’s death, KK had said, ‘So Heather finally did it.’

  ‘He was giving me singing lessons,’ the widow explained.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. As I said, I’d always been in choirs, and I hope in time to get into a set-up which is a bit more professional than the church one. The Brighton Festival Chorus is the real thing, very high standards, but you do have to audition to get in. So, I was having lessons with KK, with a view to giving it a go.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’ asked Carole. ‘At the Crown & Anchor?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. I never went to the Crown & Anchor while Leonard was alive. He didn’t approve of women in pubs. That was among many things that he disapproved of. No, I got in touch with KK through a small ad in the Fethering Observer. He was offering singing lessons, he was nearby, it seemed to fit.’

  ‘And did Leonard know,’ asked Jude, ‘that you were having these lessons?’