Joy Cometh With The Mourning, page 21
part #1 of Reverend Norton Series
“You?” he asked, blinking.
“I was a museum illustrator, before I went into the ministry,” said Joy. “Donald, it’s a very generous legacy, and even if your son never does work as an artist, there is nothing to stop him training as anything else, before or after.”
Donald’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What does the church get out of all this?” he asked with sudden suspicion.
“Nothing at all. The man that Reverend Peter asked to be the one trustee was a priest, but he is dead. The other trustee is Mary,” said Joy. “I don’t know how these things work, but my advice to her would be to see if you could also be made a trustee. Look, Peter Hallam was a priest, but his money isn’t clerical. He was a man, I gather, in both physical pain from a hereditary disease, and psychological pain from the loss of his wife and child. Your son, well, made his life somewhat more worth living. He believed that Cameron had great talent. Maybe that was a bit of displacement for his own lost child, but, regardless, he tried to do his best for him. That’s all. If you close up on this, Cameron gets a lump sum when he turns twenty one, and he can do exactly as he pleases with it, art school or whatever. Although, my guess is: he is an honorable boy, he’ll use the money exactly as it was intended.”
“And,” said Mary grimly, “If you want to drive him away from you, still further than you’ve managed so far, that would be the best choice, Donald. Don’t do it, Donald. You love the boy.”
The man sighed. “Look. I’ll think about it. Do some research, I suppose. I’m going to have to talk to Cam about this… and I haven’t got it right on my own. Mary, can I ask you, as an old friend, to come and sit in on that? I don’t want me getting angry or Cam getting angry. Could we get together this afternoon, after work?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course. Come to my house. I’ll make tea for you both. That way it’s on neutral ground as it were.”
He stood up. “Someone’s knocking. I’d better go and see to them. Thank you both for this… I think.”
“I hope it works out for both of you,” said Joy. “Whatever comes out of it, I think you should be very proud of your boy.”
Mary nodded. “Yes, you should be. He’s more credit to you, than you are, you silly man.” But she did allow him a small smile in saying it.
“Probably. Er. You’re sure about the girlfriend?”
“Absolutely certain. But don’t you dare say a word about her to Cam, or her, or try any of your other tricks,” said Mary. “I’ll see you just after five.”
As they drove back to the rectory, Joy was very grateful Mary had been with her. She said so.
“He was rattled. Otherwise, well he’s got a smart mouth and a glib tongue. He’s used to being a little cleverer than anyone else,” said Mary.
“You did manage him exceptionally. How do you know him that well?”
“I used to babysit him. We lived on the farm next door, and his parents were very much into entertaining and social high-life. Mine weren’t. I am only five years older than him — but they thought an eleven year old girl could take care of a six year old boy… even one as capable of trouble as he was.”
“Well, you must have succeeded,” said Joy, with a laugh. “Let’s hope and pray he weighs it all with common sense. Thank you so much for doing a wonderful job, Mary.”
“That might be hoping for too much,” said Mary, “But I’ll do what I can.”
“Better out in the open than in, whatever happens.”
“My father used to say that when he, um, burped. I’m not sure I agree,” said Mary, as they stopped at the rectory. “Now I had better get back to work. Oh, I’d better take that lunchbox. What a pain.”
“Oh, I’ll drop it in,” said Joy. “I still need to get the eggs out and give it a wash. And I’d like to buy some fish.”
“That’d save me a trip,” said Mary. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“What’s dealing with the town pagan after a meeting with the town atheist?”
Joy soon discovered: a great deal more abusive in this case. Neither Madeleine nor her mother were outside the Chamomile Natural Foods Café and People’s Store. So Joy went in. She saw Madeleine carrying a tray of crockery she had just cleared from one of the tables, heading into the kitchen behind the deli and fish counter. “I’m just bringing back some of your property,” Joy said, holding out the lunchbox.
Madeleine dropped the entire tray with a clatter of breaking and flying crockery.
And then Zenobia, who Joy had not seen standing between the shelves restocking from a basket, started swearing and throwing things at her. “Get the f… out my f…ing shop, you f…” and considerably more. Joy retreated hastily, to the surprise of the customers having a late coffee under the awning. Zenobia followed. Joy was only saved from certain death, inflicted by viciously flung whole nutmegs, by Zenobia being ambushed by her own doormat and falling flat on her face.
Zenobia scrambled and clattered up, still swearing, and Joy decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and that she couldn’t reason with the woman. Zenobia screamed that she’d better never dare f…ing come near here again, and flung a pack of dried shiitake mushrooms at Joy’s head as she backed away. Fortunately they didn’t weigh much.
Puzzled and unsettled, Joy went home to the rectory. It had to be something to do with the pink lunchbox. But what?
She was going to ‘phone Mary, but then decided to ‘phone Mary’s brother instead. After all it had been Tom’s daughter’s lunchbox that she’d found here. The ‘phone rang and rang. Well, he had a farm to run, and she did not have a mobile number for him. She resolutely tried to put it aside, and addressed herself to her sermon. When that failed, she settled on a novel, a light and fluffy thing with a good ending, that made her feel more at ease, and happier with the world. She finished it as the afternoon was slipping into evening, and she put it back in her shelves grateful to an author she’d never meet, and who would never know how welcome that book had been. She tried Tom again, and this time he answered, even if he too had no answer. “Zenobia doesn’t need a lot to set her off,” he said. “Look, why don’t you ask around among the folk who tend to clean up after tea at the church on Sunday, if anyone has lost that box, or knows how it got to the rectory. So how did your session with Donald go?”
So she told him as much as she could, and after that made a short list of the people — largely the women, who cleaned up in the hall after the Sunday service. She could, of course, wait until Sunday. But that, a quiet voice inside her said, that might be too long . So she started ‘phoning. At the second call, she struck paydirt. Lindsey said, “Yes. I remember that. I found it in the washing-up rack, when I went in to set the tea things up. It was the Sunday just after Reverend Peter died. I took it across to the parish office, meaning to ask Mary to add it in to her notices. I thought it might be her brother’s. We were at such sixes and sevens that it completely slipped my mind. I suppose in the chaos and packing up it ended up in the rectory, and got put away by someone. So… um I’m going to join the fly-tyers for their evening session every fortnight,” she said airily. “You wouldn’t like to come along as well, would you?”
“Well, maybe one day. I am not sure that it’s my thing,” said Joy.
“I wouldn’t have thought it would be mine, but I’m finding it fascinating. Oh, um, I won’t be in church this Sunday. I’ll be away for the weekend. I’m not deserting you or anything, I promise.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. I have a small enough congregation already.”
“Oh no! I’ll be back, next week. I just haven’t been away in, forever. I feel like a little girl going on holiday.”
“You certainly sound very happy about it. Enjoy it!”
After a few more pleasantries, Joy put down the ‘phone, and sat there, thinking. The lunchbox had come from the church hall, four days after Peter Hallam’s death. She took a deep breath, and ‘phoned Isabella. Her name had been on the list, anyway.
She described the box.
“Yes. I find it in the church,” said Isabella. “Someone leave it there, with a little meat pie in it, and a cup-cake with the pink icing and the little heart decorations. So pretty. I ask, but no one says they know. So I throw the pie and cake away and wash the box.”
Somehow, that box was tied to Peter Hallam’s death… and Madeleine Denton, in the church, of all places, on the day of his death. The question for Joy, now, was whether she immediately told the police, or tried to find out more.
Given the way things worked out here, it seemed important not to jump to conclusions too hastily. But she needed some kind of local input, and for that Tom Truman seemed to be the calmest person, and the most able to give her that information. So she ‘phoned him next, and told him what she now knew.
“Hmm. This sounds a bit like Donald, all over again, Reverend Joy. Someone who dislikes Christianity kills the priest. Let’s look at motive — yes she, and her mother have had a long record of little pokes at the Church, mainly just to be irritating and prove they can. I recall Zenobia sitting in her car in the street outside the service playing Black Sabbath at ear-shattering volume a few years back. Maddy did the same with her bike. But that’s a long step from there to murder in the church. And why bring lunch with you if you are going to do it? But I’ll try and ask her on Monday, when her mother is not around. Look I know: ‘She’s a good girl really, wouldn’t hurt a fly’ is what most friends and relations say about cold-blooded murderesses, but Madeleine and my daughter are still friends and were right through school. There’s a bit of her mother in her, but she’s more like her father.”
“Er. He seems to have a substance abuse problem.”
“Anything to escape reality, especially if that reality includes Zenobia. Joe’s all right. He’s just weak… I mean willed, rather than physically. Zenobia tells him what to do, and he either gets stoned or does it, even if he doesn’t like it. But Maddy, no, I don’t think she’d kill anyone, except maybe herself.”
“Suicidal?”
“No, that bike of hers. Anyway, I’ll ask her on Monday, if I can get her nose out of a book for long enough.”
“Well. Thank you,” said Joy.
“Not a problem. I shall see you on Sunday. I’m dying of curiosity to see if a certain member of the congregation is there.”
“Oh?” said Joy.
“Yes, I was asked for some advice, man-to-man this week,” said Tom, the laughter in his voice apparent. “And if there is one thing about Felixtown, if you don’t want the entire town talking about your taking an interest, you’d better go away for a weekend. That’s what I said, and he’s cancelled a fishing trip we were going on together.”
Joy hoped it was quite a convincing fit of coughing that she had.
Still when she put down the ‘phone. She was left thinking… That meant waiting until Monday.
A still voice in her head said: Don’t wait. But how could she do otherwise? Then it occurred to her that Izzy seemed to know Madeleine — at least well enough to ask advice about boyfriends. Which, if Joy was any judge was not a subject younger girls would be anything but wary about with older girls they did not know and trust.
So she decided to try Izzy. “Yes,” said Jeanie. “She’s home and you’re welcome to talk to her. Mind you,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t remember that my having a boyfriend suddenly made me do math homework. If we’d known, we’d have encouraged one earlier.”
So Joy got to talk to Izzy, who had obviously promoted her, in the rank of adults, to ‘almost human’. Joy knew that was quite flattering. “Yeah, like she used to stop the older kids beating up Cam,” she said, when asked about Maddy.
“Do you think you could ask her if she could please come and talk to me? Soon? Without her mother knowing… Zenobia seems to have taken me in dislike.”
There was a silence. Then Izzy said: “You know, like, Reverend Duck… uh sorry that’s what my Grandad calls you, Mads is… well, she’s not like goodie-two-shoes. I mean she was in trouble for…uh, smoking at school. And other stuff... uh.”
“That’s okay, Izzy. Tell her I’ve been going through some things in the rectory, and have something of hers, I would like to give back. And, um, if you can, tell her I’m all right to talk to. I like to smooth the waves, not splash people, just to prove that I can.”
There was another thoughtful silence. “Like, I guess I can tell her that.”
“I do my best,” said Joy, hoping Mary, Donald, and Cameron would not prove her a liar.
“I can nick off to there at break. I know she’s off just after two.”
“I’d be happy to meet her any place she likes. Here, or anywhere she likes.”
“Cool. I’ll tell her.”
And with that Joy had to be content. She half expected a call from Mary, but that didn’t happen.
She did get the call from Mary the next day. “I thought that you’d like to know it went all right. We ended up talking until after two in the morning. If I hadn’t sent them off home to bed, they’d be talking still,” said Mary. “Donald is still putting a few objections up, but we’ve won, I think.”
“No, Mary. You, Cameron, and most of all Peter Hallam, have won. With a little help from God,” said Joy, feeling immense relief.
“With a lot of help from his local representative! Anyway, do let me know what you hear from your Dean.”
“I will just as soon as I have anything I can tell you. These legal issues take time, you know.”
“Oh I know. But do you know what that idiot Donald said to me? He got there just before Cam. He made some crack about Isobel Jenkins not being a bad start, but hoped that Cam would find a dish among these arts students. I bit his head off. Told him his father found a society beauty, he had found a stupid beauty queen, and maybe Cam should learn from his father’s bad example, instead of being as dumb as he was.”
“You said he had a rough time growing up.”
“He was a bit neglected. I mean, plenty of money, just not much attention. He’s tried not to do that with Cam, I’ll grant. And of course at school, well he was too bright and not too sporty. And sport is pretty important out here.”
“He probably wanted a trophy wife to bring home to show off,” said Joy. “Anyway. The discussion went all right, other than that?”
“Yes. Of course, Donald is determined Cam should follow the money, but we can work around it. Cameron is just so stunned that he’s going to be allowed to do what he actually want to do, that he’s happy to go along… for now. I can see this will be like herding cats.”
None-the-less, it sounded as if she was pleased with the job of cat-herder, thought Joy. She wondered if Izzy had managed to speak to Madeleine Denton. Well, there was no use thinking endlessly about it, so she turned herself determinedly to other tasks. Of course, trying determinedly not to think about any subject, be it pink elephants or just how the girl could tie into Peter Hallam’s death, that was exactly what she thought about all day. Joy thought she heard a motorbike half a dozen times too.
Eventually she picked up the pink and purple lunch-box and walked across to the church, and, unlocking the small back door into the vestry, she walked down between the rows of pews.
CHAPTER 17
Later, Madeleine would say that she had no idea why she actually did it, except maybe that she needed to tell somebody before she went through with her plan for the afternoon. There was a reasonably straight piece of road, she’d be able to get the bike up to at least a hundred and forty before she hit those stupid imposing stone gate-posts. It should be quick enough, surely? Especially if she took her helmet off first and tossed it away. Let her hair blow in the slipstream one last time.
It still took her three attempts to get herself to go back to that church.
Joy knew none of that, when she chose to sit on the pew near the back of the little church, half a dozen steps from the vestibule, with its glass fronted cupboard full of hymn books and prayer-books, and the door to the toilet and hand-basin.
She just saw that the young woman in the black bike leathers, knee-high boots, and crimson hair, had a very white face when she came in through the vestry door. And she knew that the front door of the church was locked behind both of them.
God moved in mysterious ways she thought, reading something in Madeleine’s gait as she walked down the three stairs from the chancel around the altar towards her.
That suddenly clarified something in Joy’s mind. And like a vision dimly seen, the rest of the picture began to form.
Words, however seemed to be having trouble forming for Madeleine as she looked down at Joy. Her mouth worked several times. Finally she came out with: “Iz said you had something to say to me?” It was almost an accusation.
“Thank you for coming.” said Joy.
“You’ve got a cheek after shopping me to the cop and getting me that fine. I should…” Madeleine raised a hand, and then lowered it.
“I’ve certainly never shopped you for anything,” said Joy. She did not add: ‘yet’.
“So who set the cop on me last Saturday?” demanded Madeleine.
“Ah. When you came past us, while we were gardening?” asked Joy.
“Yes. I’ve got a four hundred dollar fine… Not, not that that matters.”
“Of course it matters! Look, it wasn’t me or anyone in the gardening group. You could ask anyone who was there… Tom Truman perhaps. Or Arthur Ambleside-Smith. He was trying to talk to me just then.” It occurred to her as she said it, that that was a tactless choice. It must have been because the young woman promptly sat down on the floor, and then put her head between her knees. Joy hastily got up. But she got pushed away by a hand.
