A Death in the Parish, page 22
‘Yes, being a midwife.’
‘A what?’ said Alex.
‘Hilda’s puppies are coming.’
‘Oh, how are they doing?’
‘They’re fine. But how are you doing, Nathan? Sit down … please.’
Alex and Nathan sat side by side on the Sofa of Tears. Daniel could tell just from the way they reacted to each other physically that their relationship had been not only recently revived; he supposed their enforced claustration, out of sight of Champton, had accelerated the accommodation of another, which comes when people form couples.
Nathan looked briefly at Alex and said, ‘OK, Rector. I had to come back because I wanted to see Alex, but I couldn’t tell no one.’
‘How is your grandfather?’
‘He’s all right. His hands are really bad. But he’s staying with some of our people Essex way.’
‘Does he know you are here?’
‘I told him and he went mad, said it would cause more trouble and that I couldn’t come, but I came anyway.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been with Alex. And out round the estate and the farms. Places I used to go, like the airfield. That’s where I found him, like.’
Alex said, ‘He’s been unlucky, hasn’t he, Daniel, with murder victims? One last year and another this year. People will talk. Oh, they already were talking.’
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘While we wait for the Detective Sergeant? It’s a yes from me. Have you got anything apart from sherry?’
‘There’s wine, there’s whisky, there’s Noilly Prat.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of raiding your mother’s vermouth. Do you have anything white open?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Not open, but I can open it. What about you, Nathan? I think there’s a bottle of beer somewhere.’
‘I’ll have a white wine as well, please.’
‘Oh. Chardonnay all right?’
‘Not too oaky. I don’t like it too oaky …’
‘Oh, I’m quite the Henry Higgins, Daniel, in an E. M. Forster sort of way.’
Daniel went to fetch the bottle and some glasses from the kitchen. When he got back Alex was standing at his desk and holding up Mrs Hawkins’s cameo brooch to the light.
‘This is a bit special.’
‘Is it? It used to belong to Mrs Hawkins.’
‘What a nice present.’
‘Not a present. I’m an executor of the will.’
‘I could see your mother wearing this.’
‘So could she.’
Alex turned the brooch in his hand. ‘It’s Hermes, isn’t it? The winged god. Early nineteenth century, Italian, I think. We’ve got drawers of them. But this is very special. Was Mrs Hawkins a collector?’
‘That’s more my mother’s department than mine.’
‘Perhaps she was a jewel thief? Perhaps this was one of ours? Over the roof by night she came in a black jumpsuit and balaclava …’
Daniel handed him a glass. ‘I don’t think Muriel Hawkins was ever that athletic.’
‘Nobody would have noticed if she had.’
Nathan sipped his wine. ‘That’s quite nice,’ he said.
They sat in silence for a moment, then Alex said, ‘What will the police want to know?’
‘About the discovery of the body. When, where, why – the usual things. But you need not worry about last year, Nathan, they’re not interested in that.’
‘Gramps said we could never come back because they would start asking questions and there would be no end to it then.’
‘You are not your grandfather, Nathan. I can assure you the police will only be interested in this case, not anything else.’
‘Did you fix that with your friendly plod, Dan?’ said Alex.
‘If you mean DS Vanloo …’
‘Oh, I do.’
‘I don’t fix things. But I have his assurance. Think about it, Alex; what’s the priority here? It’s who killed Josh Biddle, not a hangover from a case that was closed a year ago.’
‘You are a trusting soul, Dan.’
A shout came from the hall. ‘Daniel, help! HELP!’
Audrey was standing on the landing. ‘The third one’s arrived! It’s not breathing!’
Nathan rushed past Daniel and went up the stairs, two at a time. ‘Where are they, Mrs Clement?’
Audrey pointed to her bedroom door. ‘In here. Can you help?’
He went in; she followed; Daniel and Alex after them.
Nathan had the tiny puppy wrapped in a towel in his big hands and was delicately clearing its snout of mucus. He rubbed the puppy briskly with the towel and checked for breathing, but there was nothing. Then he cupped it in his hand, placed his other hand over it and raised the puppy over his shoulder. He looked like he was going to dash it to the floor.
‘Stop!’ shouted Daniel, but Nathan flung his arms down with all the force he could muster, holding on tightly to the puppy; once, twice. After the third time a tiny mewl followed as the force cleared the gummy stuff from its lungs. The puppy peeped again and writhed and Nathan, with a lovely delicacy, placed it back in the whelping box. Hilda nuzzled it towards a spare teat, and it suckled alongside its siblings. Cosmo went and put his snout over the side of the box and watched, like Joseph, Daniel thought, at the stable in Bethlehem.
‘Nathan, you hero!’ said Audrey.
‘It’s just what you do when they won’t start breathing.’
‘But should we call the vet?’ asked Daniel.
‘No need,’ said Audrey. ‘Once it’s breathing, it’s breathing. But, Nathan, thank you. We’ve missed you.’
A ring on the doorbell. ‘That will be Neil, I think,’ said Daniel and he went downstairs.
‘I suppose we had better go and do our duty,’ said Alex.
Nathan was kneeling next to Audrey, both of them fascinated by the squirming trio.
‘How many puppies is it, Mrs Clement?’
‘Three.’
‘Is that all of them?’
‘I think so.’
Alex peered into the box too. For a while even he was quiet. ‘Three little wrigglers,’ he said eventually. ‘Shall we name them after the Rhinemaidens in honour of their German heritage?’
‘It’s two girls and a boy, dear.’
‘Hitler, Himmler and Eva Braun, then.’
‘Don’t be silly, Alex. We should call one of the boys Nathan. Isn’t that what you do, name the baby after the doctor who delivered him?’
‘They’d all be called Abdul now, Audrey, if we did that …’
Then the door opened and there was Daniel with Neil and two uniformed officers.
Daniel began to say something, but Neil interrupted. ‘Nathan Liversedge, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Biddle. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
For a moment there was total silence, save the mewling of the puppies. Then Alex said, ‘You promised! Daniel?’
Before Daniel could answer, Neil said, ‘Alexander de Floures, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Joshua Biddle. Consider yourself cautioned too.’
‘Me? Arrested?’
‘In my bedroom?’ said Audrey.
Audrey decided to keep Hilda and the puppies close to her, both for their benefit and for hers, for she was unsettled by what had turned out to be an unexpectedly dramatic day. First, the births; second, the appearance of Nathan, the gypsy lad missing for over a year; third, his arrest and the arrest of the Hon. Alexander Arthur John Wellbeck de Floures, his boyfriend, in her bedroom. ‘What a turbulent world those puppies must think they’ve been born into,’ she said to Daniel, and retired to her room with a mug of Ovaltine and the Sunday Telegraph.
Daniel had gone to church to say the night prayer, but had been so distracted, so angry, he could not concentrate. Distracted trying to work out why Neil had arrested two people whom he thought – knew – to be incapable of the crime. And angry that Neil had used him to get Nathan and Alex to walk into a trap. That he had made him look like he had broken a promise, been unworthy of trust, lied. Daniel knew enough of human nature to no longer be surprised when people did not behave as they ought to behave. Very few of us, in a corner, acquit ourselves with credit, for we are weak, and scared, and flawed. And very few of us, if offered the world, would not at least consider leasing our soul to the devil.
But this was Neil: he had given him his trust, and received trust in return, and they had come to know each other, and to spend time together, and had shared the things about themselves they wished to be known, but, most importantly, the things they wished not to be known. For he knew, and Neil knew, that the friendship, which had surprised both of them, demanded it; it wanted to go places, and would take whatever it needed for wherever it was going. Daniel – he found this difficult to admit, but it was true – had never given anyone more than he wanted to give, so this was new, and exciting, and challenging. And to be betrayed was crushing.
He went back to the rectory and sat at his desk. Cosmo, with the innate sense dogs have for human distress, came to find him and curled up at his feet. And then he uncurled and ran to the door, and Daniel saw headlights in the drive.
Neil stood on the doorstep. ‘Can I come in?’
Daniel let him in. Neil went straight into the study and waited for Daniel to follow and close the door. Daniel said, on reflex, ‘Would you like anything to drink?’ but as he did, he felt the corners of his mouth begin to turn down and his voice trembled.
‘I’m sorry, Dan. It wasn’t what I meant to happen, but I had to.’
‘Had to?’
‘Yes. Do you want to sit down?’
‘Normally the host invites the guest to sit.’
Neil said nothing. Daniel indicated the sofa.
‘I wasn’t misleading you, Dan. I only wanted a statement from Nathan. But there’s new evidence.’
‘What evidence?’
‘Wellingtons. Two pairs of Dunlops. Did you notice anything outside the lodge?’
Daniel remembered the pairs of black wellingtons left next to the woodpile. Two clues, not one.
‘One size ten, one size nine. And from what I can see, the tread is identical to the tread from the crime scene.’
‘Everyone has wellingtons – all the estate people, all the farmers, have the same kind, the black ones, like theirs.’
‘Size nine and a size ten? It could connect them to the crime. And remember, Nathan is technically a fugitive. He has suspected involvement in a crime of violence …’
‘Suspected, and he was a boy, and it was nothing like this …’
‘… and his grandfather has a suspected involvement in a number of murders, with victims who had their throats cut. What do you think my superiors expect me to do with that?’
‘But Nathan didn’t kill Josh Biddle. Of course he didn’t.’
‘I don’t think he did – I don’t think he’s capable. But Alex?’
‘Why on earth would he want to kill Josh Biddle? He might like a spectacle, he might seem cold-hearted, vicious even, but why would he want to kill someone?’
‘There’s more evidence. We think Alex has been using cocaine bought in Braunstonbury rather than brought from London …’
‘Why?’
‘We’ve been hearing about one especially entrepreneurial dealer, young guy, active in the local music scene.’
‘Works in the record shop?’
‘You know him?’
‘Brandon Redding. Do you remember him?’
‘From where?’
‘He was the surly boy sitting behind us at the football.’
‘I didn’t make the connection.’
‘He didn’t threaten you. Nor me, exactly, but I recognised him at Our Price.’
‘What were you doing at Our Price?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh. OK. But Redding and Josh Biddle knew each other through the local music scene. We think Josh might be the connection to Alex.’
Daniel thought for a moment. ‘But it doesn’t make sense, Neil. I know Nathan could not kill someone that way. I don’t think Alex could either.’
‘There’s a difference between know and think.’
Daniel thought about that too. ‘There’s quite a gap between having a hunch and arresting people on suspicion of murder.’
‘Only way we could keep Nathan where we need him. And if we nicked him, we had to nick Alex too. Murder inquiry? Class A drug connection? Not how I wanted it to go, but it’s out of my hands. And I’m sorry.’
‘What am I supposed to say to Bernard? What sort of relationship will I have with Alex and Nathan when you release them, as you surely will?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as someone like me can be.’
‘I need to be surer than that.’
Daniel thought how that could have come from Chris Biddle, who needed to be surer than him too. Perhaps it was unacknowledged fundamentalist Christianity that drove Neil too. Then he felt a wave of sadness fall on him, as if he had lost something he had thought he was about to gain.
Neil was looking at him. ‘I’m really sorry, Dan. I hope this won’t … affect things between us?’
Daniel said nothing.
‘Well, I must be going. Are you free at all … in the … week?’
Daniel said, ‘Not this week, no.’
And Neil looked sad too. ‘OK.’
Daniel went with him to the door.
‘How are Hilda and the puppies doing, by the way?’
‘All well, thank you.’
‘Have you decided what you’re going to do with them?’
‘Not really. Mum wants to keep them, but I don’t see how that would work.’
‘I’d take one if I could. But I can’t.’
‘We must all learn to live with the possible.’
They stood for a moment in silence on the steps. And then another set of headlights appeared in the drive. A Land Rover came to a halt in a slither of gravel. Honoria got out and slammed the door. She stood at the bottom of the steps and just said, ‘How could you? How could you?’
Daniel said, ‘Honoria …’
But she turned and got back into the Land Rover and drove away.
8
The hall table was the place where rectory correspondence lay before being claimed by the recipient or taken to the post box. Normally the traffic was moderate: for Audrey, letters from friends so regular, and of such long standing, that Daniel recognised them from the cancellation stamp; for Daniel, letters from friends too, from quiet little country parishes to grand royal peculiars, from Canon Dolben down the road, to mission priests in the townships round Johannesburg; and there were letters from people to whom he gave counsel, household bills, communications from the diocese, and from church organisations to which he had a connection: the Additional Curates Society, the Prayer Book Society, the Society of the Faith – and St Martin’s League, of which he was secretary and treasurer (and which had not met since 1902 but nevertheless existed thanks to a very eccentric but generous High Church cousin of the benevolent duke who originally funded it to promote the spiritual and material wellbeing of postmen).
That morning the table was covered in envelopes, half going out, in his mother’s hand, addressed neatly in rows, and then a pile coming in, in as many hands as there were envelopes, all to A. H. D. Clement, Secretary, TCS, with no address, but a post office box number in Stow instead. Daniel decided not to arrange them for his mother to pick up after her breakfast but scooped them up – there were more than a dozen, from plain brown little diamond flaps to smart tissue-lined tucks – and brought them to her in the kitchen.
‘Mum,’ he said, ‘quite a delivery from the postman this morning.’
Audrey rather slurped on her second mug of ‘déca’. ‘Oh, couldn’t you leave them on the table, Dan?’
‘There are so many – to go as well as delivered. Nearly all for you, and from a post office box number. Is there anything you want to tell me?’
‘Why on earth would I want to tell you anything?’
He coughed. ‘It’s just a bit mysterious, that’s all, and people … might wonder what it’s all about.’
‘The postman might, you mean?’
‘Anything you can tell me? What is TCS?’
‘I could tell you to mind your own business, and perhaps I should, but it is nothing to be mysterious about. It’s the correspondence concerning Muriel Hawkins’s estate, and it is turning out to be extensive. As you have, typically, noticed.’
‘But what is TCS?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘I don’t know, can’t you tell me?’
‘It stands for Total Co-executrix Services, if you must know.’
‘What on earth is that?’
‘It is what I provide for people with an interest in Muriel’s estate.’
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. ‘So many?’
‘Muriel had lots of friends and lots of interests.’ She adopted her magnificent voice. ‘Does it surprise you that a widowed woman of riper years might have a full life? It would do you little credit if it did.’
Daniel knew when the matter was closed as far as Audrey was concerned, but silently he vowed vigilance.
‘And another thing,’ she said, ‘I’m going away for the weekend of the eighteenth and nineteenth. Just so you know.’
‘Oh, anywhere nice?’
‘I am spending the weekend in town. With the girls. If you need me, I will be at the Goring.’
There was a silence. Then Daniel said, ‘Have you won the pools?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Or impertinent. But what about you?’
‘I have no plans for a splendid weekend in town.’
‘I meant for the day.’
‘I have Muriel Hawkins’s funeral this morning, and Lydia Biddle is coming to see the puppies later.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘That is, if you haven’t sold them?’
‘I have not. But they are going to need their vaccinations soon and perhaps you could arrange an appointment with that nice girl, what’s her name?’
