Chapter Five
JONATHON STARED at him, cold spreading over his skin in icy trickles. “You don’t really think….” His throat seized up.
“I don’t want to think that, obviously.” Mike looked haggard. “When I picked you up near the station? I’d been for a drive, trying to find her. I’d gone to her house, but there was no sign of her. Then I thought maybe she’d taken the dog for a long morning walk. She does that a lot. I drove along her usual route, but no sign either.”
“She wouldn’t have left the dog… would she?” Jonathon loved dogs, and he hated to think of a poor dog, trapped in a house.
Mike shook his head. “If Sherlock had been around when I went to her place, I’d have known. That mutt starts barking as soon as he hears my car engine.”
“Sherlock?” In spite of his present mood, Jonathon couldn’t help smiling at that.
Mike scowled. “Sue’s idea. I gave her the dog when her husband left her. Figured he’d be company for her. She said the name reminded her of me.” He rolled his eyes. “Sherlock. I ask you! And wherever Sue’s gone, the dog is with her.” He stared at Jonathon. “I know. I should ask the rest of the people she cleans for. Maybe one of them has heard from her.” He got to his feet and picked up the empty mugs. “And we can start with the vicarage. She cleans there once a week.”
The vicarage….
Jonathon caught his breath. “Damn. I forgot to mention. We’re expected for tea there, today at four o’clock.”
Mike smirked. “We are expected? Since when?”
“I met the vicar’s wife when I went for a walk last night, and she invited us both.”
Mike smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like Melinda. Heart of gold, that one.”
“She’d like me to invite the curate for a drink in the pub. I get the impression she thinks he needs to get out more.”
“That definitely sounds like Melinda. Everyone’s mother.”
Jonathon smiled. “That explains Sebastian’s comment about waifs and strays. He seemed nice too.”
Mike nodded. “Intelligent bloke. Apparently he preaches well too.”
A derisive snort exploded from Mike’s lips. “I’m not one for church. There are too many Christians who believe I’m going to hell because of what goes on in my bedroom—not that it’s any of their business.” He chuckled. “And not that there’s anything going on in my bedroom in the first place. Chance would be a fine thing.”
Jonathon coughed. He hadn’t expected such a forthright comment.
Mike’s face reddened. “Sorry. My mouth gets away from me sometimes.” He headed for the kitchen with the mugs but stopped halfway across the pub and turned to face Jonathon. “I meant to apologize, by the way. Gorland shouldn’t have spoken to you so rudely.”
“I got the feeling his bad manners were directed more toward you.”
“True, but he was still bloody rude.” Mike tilted his head to one side. “He might have been more polite if he knew he was speaking to the heir of the manor.”
Jonathon shook his head. “Not until it’s made official, remember?” Maybe a visit to the solicitor’s was imminent after all.
“Okay, got it.” Mike hesitated. “Look, I really don’t think Sue was serious when she yelled she was going to kill Dominic. I think it was one of those moments we all have, when we get carried away and say things we don’t mean.”
“Want to tell me why they were arguing in the first place?” Then it came to him that he already knew. “The local hunt. Dominic’s decision to allow them on his land. That was it, wasn’t it?”
Mike nodded glumly. “Dominic was in the pub for a quiet drink. He did that from time to time, a sort of ‘meet the locals’ kind of thing. Sue marched right up to him and started yelling her head off. He told her he wasn’t about to change his mind. And… she told him she’d kill him before the hunt took place.”
“And you still think it was just talk?” Because to Jonathon’s way of thinking, it was pretty incriminating talk.
“Absolutely. Sue doesn’t… I mean, she wouldn’t….” Mike sighed unhappily. “I know my sister. She isn’t capable of this.”
Jonathon wanted to believe him. “Go clean the mugs, Mike.”
“Sure.” Mike left and headed for the kitchen, his shoulders hunched over.
Jonathon got up and walked over to the large bay window. It was a sobering thought that right then, his uncle’s killer was walking around, possibly someone who lived in the village. It was hard to believe, looking out at the tranquil scene, that such a thing could happen in such a peaceful, beautiful spot.
He cast his mind back to what they’d seen at the hall. That photo album, for instance. Its presence on the desk could be entirely coincidental, but the missing photo made him doubt that assumption. Where is it? Has someone taken it? And if so, why? Jonathon closed his eyes and pulled the image from his memory. He could see it in his head, clear as anything, even down to the clothing he wore. He couldn’t remember the photo being taken, but that was hardly surprising. He’d been barely two years old, according to Dominic.
On impulse Jonathon got out his phone and called his father. “Hi.”
“Have the police been to see you?” As usual, his father came straight to the point.
“I met the detective inspector who’s taken over the case.” Jonathon sat back down in his chair.
“Good, good. Glad to know our family name still carries some weight. Then you know it wasn’t an accident.”
“Yes.”
“Let me know if you meet with anything less than complete cooperation. The police commissioner is a personal friend. He assures me everything will be done to find the perpetrator.”
No wonder Gorland had mentioned very long strings.
That photo was still on his mind, however.
“Father, I’m trying to locate a photograph that Dominic had in one of his albums. You might know of it.”
“What makes you say so?”
“Well, you worked with him, and the photo was taken during an office day trip to the seaside. It was of Dominic, with me sitting on his lap.”
Silence followed, lasting a couple of seconds. “Dominic never took you to the seaside.” Jonathon could hear the tone of puzzlement.
“Are you sure? There was another figure in the photo, a lady who worked with him.”
“Oh? Ohhhh. Yes. Now I remember. I’d forgotten all about that. Why are you trying to locate it?”
Some inner sense bade Jonathon hold his tongue. The same inner sense was telling him his father had just lied to him. “Oh, no special reason. I just wanted to see it again. Dominic told me all about it years ago.”
“I see. Well, you have more important things to do with your time than to waste it looking for photographs. Dominic’s solicitor, Mr. Omerod, has an office in the village. Perhaps you should pay him a visit?”
Jonathon was well acquainted with his father’s speech patterns. There was no perhaps about it. For all Jonathon knew, Mr. Omerod had already been told to expect him. “Yes, sir.” There seemed little point in arguing.
He disconnected the call just as Mike came back into the pub, walking over to him. Before he could speak, however, Jonathon blurted out, “It wasn’t me in the photo.”
Mike frowned. “But…. What makes you say that?”
“Because I just asked my father about it, and what I got back was pure obfuscation.”
Mike sat opposite him. “Who told you it was you in the photo in the first place?”
“Dominic.” Jonathon leaned forward, elbows on the table, his fingers steepled. “Why would he tell me the boy was me if it wasn’t?”
“You’re sure about this photo?”
Jonathon stared at him. “I can tell you what was in the background, what I—what the boy—was wearing, what the—”
“Okay, okay.” Mike held up his hands. “I believe you. In which case, it’s obvious.”
“It is?”
Mike nodded. “The toddler was the woman’s child.”
“Then what was Dominic doing in the photo? Why was the child on his knee? And why would he lie to me?” None of it made any sense, especially the most puzzling thing of all—the photo was missing.
“Don’t think about it now,” Mike urged him. “You need to think about more practical matters, such as visiting Dominic’s solicitor. I’m assuming that’s on the cards, right? For everything to be made official? And I need to think about shopping.”
Jonathon had to smile. “Shopping?”
Mike rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, some of us need to do mundane things like shopping, so other people,” he said, pointing at Jonathon, “can eat bacon and eggs for breakfast, and have silly little things like lunch and dinner.”
“Point taken.” In that instant the last thing Jonathon wanted was to visit a dusty solicitor’s office. “Can I come too?”
Mike chuckled. “Seriously? If you really want to. I could split the list between us and we could get it done in half the time.”
“You’re on.” Anything was better than sitting around, letting his mind come up with all kinds of theories.
That could wait until later.
THE VICARAGE sitting room was exactly how Jonathon had pictured it. The vicarage itself was a tall building constructed in a dark gray stone, and inside it was a maze of large rooms, sloping corridors, and stairs that led off in all directions. The sort of house, he concluded, that would have been wonderful for a child growing up.
Then he gazed around the warm, cozy sitting room, taking in the absence of family photos.
Maybe that’s why Melinda has so many surrogate children. She and the vicar have none of their own. The thought saddened him. Melinda would make a great mother.
“Jonathon?”
Her quiet utterance was a nudge back into reality.
Melinda regarded him, her eyes sparkling. “Nice of you to join us. I was just asking if you wanted more fruit cake.”
“No, thanks, although it was delicious.” He peered at the table, the crisp white cloth barely visible beneath a delicate china cake stand containing three layers of sandwiches and cakes, a plate on which a rich fruit cake stood, a squat teapot, and taller, more elegant coffee pot, plus all the accoutrements of an English tea. “Is there any more carrot cake?”
Mike snickered. “You’ve already had two pieces.”
Melinda gave Mike a mock glare. “And if he wants a third piece, he can have a third piece. I didn’t hear anyone commenting when you helped yourself to virtually all the chicken paste sandwiches.”
It was Jonathon’s turn to snicker, especially when Mike’s expression turned sheepish.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your name last night, Jonathon.” Sebastian leaned forward to cut himself a thin slice of fruit cake. “I’m a fan of your work.”
“Thank you.” Jonathon took the plate of carrot cake from Melinda.
“Where will your next trip take you?”
“I’d planned a visit to Vietnam,” he told the curate. “I was going to photograph the tunnels, among other things.”
Lloyd Talbot peered at him, his brow furrowed. “Forgive me, but your choice of words makes it sound as though you’re no longer going there.” His voice quavered and cracked.
“Let’s just say I may have to put my plans on hold for the time being.” Jonathon took a bite of the moist cake. Melinda definitely had a golden touch when it came to baking.
“Speaking of plans….” Melinda poured more tea. “We need to speak to whomever takes over the hall. The village fete is almost upon us, and if it is to be canceled, we need to know sooner rather than later. Your uncle was always so good to us, letting us hold it in the grounds of the hall.”
“Melinda has organized the village fete ever since we first came to Merrychurch,” Lloyd explained, gazing proudly at his wife. “This will be our thirtieth year.”
That made it easier for Jonathon to reach a decision. Thirty years was a huge milestone. “The fete can go ahead.” He took another bite of cake as four heads swiveled in his direction.
“Can you make that decision?” Melinda cleared her throat. “I hope that didn’t sound ill-mannered. It’s just that I’d hate for us to go ahead, only to have the new occupant of the hall refuse us.”
“Trust me.” Jonathon smiled at her. “I’ll see to it that the family is informed. As long as the police are done with their investigating, I don’t see any reason why the fete can’t go ahead as planned.” He wasn’t about to reveal his status, not until it had been made official, but he couldn’t see why it should be canceled.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Melinda’s face glowed. “Thank you so much. And if you’re still in the village, you must attend, of course.”
Jonathon’s stomach clenched. Right then he had no idea what lay in store for him.
“How long do you plan on staying in Merrychurch?” Sebastian asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure at this point. I’ll probably be staying until the funeral. I’m assuming my uncle will be buried in the family crypt?” He addressed his question to Lloyd, who nodded.
“Once his body has been released, we can decide on the funeral details.” Lloyd’s face fell. “I am only sorry that we had to meet under such tragic circumstances.”
It was a phrase Jonathon was growing accustomed to hearing.
“Indeed,” Sebastian murmured. “I know I’ve only been here a year, but this village will not be the same without him.”
“Will your sister continue to clean up at the hall?” Melinda asked Mike.
His face darkened slightly. “That will be up to the new occupant, I suppose.”
“Speaking of Sue, have you heard from her recently?” Lloyd frowned, his already wrinkled brow creasing even more. “She was supposed to clean the vicarage this morning, but for some reason, she didn’t appear. That is simply not like her.”
“She didn’t call or text to say she wouldn’t be here?” Mike looked like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.
Lloyd shook his head. “Not a word from her.”
Melinda sighed. “I don’t like this. I was in the village after lunch today, and I saw police officers going from door to door. When I asked Rachel in the tea shop if she knew what was going on, she told me they were asking questions about Dominic. Strange questions too.”
The skin on Jonathon’s arms prickled. “What do you mean?” Next to him, Mike stiffened.
“They wanted to know if Dominic had had any arguments or disagreements with villagers. And she distinctly heard Sue’s name mentioned.” She gave Mike a sharp glance. “Not that I believe for one moment that she’s involved in this business. But I think we all know there are those in this village who wouldn’t think twice about spreading malicious gossip where Sue is concerned.”
Lloyd sighed. “Very un-Christian of them. The Bible says clearly, ‘Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.’”
“An admirable view, vicar,” Mike said quietly. “Unfortunately, not a way that many people choose to live by. In this day and age, it’s more a case of throw stones first, then put out an apology when you get it wrong. By which time it’s usually too late.” Jonathon gazed at him in consternation, and Mike shook his head. Later, he mouthed.
Jonathon put his half-eaten cake to one side, his appetite dead. It seemed Mike hadn’t told him everything. Again.
“Oh!” Sebastian sat straight in his chair, his eyes bright. “What you said about the police being through with their investigating at the hall. I don’t think they are.”
Jonathon opened his mouth to speak, but Mike got there first. “What makes you say that?”
Sebastian raked his fingers through thick brown hair. “I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind. This afternoon I paid a visit to old Ben Threadwell. He lives in one of the cottages on the border of the estate,” he told Jonathon. “Ben’s not been very well lately, and I was taking him some soup, bread, and fruit that Melinda had put together for him. Anyway, we ended up talking about Dominic.” Sebastian appeared unhappy at the recollection. “It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, and I felt very uncomfortable.”
“Why?” Jonathon demanded.
“Well, it seems he’d received a letter from Dominic, regarding the cottage. Apparently so had all the people who rent the cottages. Dominic was informing them that he was selling off the land and that they had three months to vacate. Now that he knew Dominic was dead, Ben seemed almost… jubilant at the news.” Sebastian shook his head. “To feel so much pleasure at the passing of another human being is just wrong.”
“But what does that have to do with the police?” Mike asked gruffly.
“That’s the part I was coming to. When I came out of Ben’s cottage, there were two or three police cars heading up the lane toward the hall, followed by a white van. Now, why would they be going there if they were done?”
Jonathon glanced at Mike, who gave a perplexed shrug. Jonathon set his jaw. “That’s a very good question. Maybe we should pay the police station a visit and see if they have an answer.”
Mike’s mouth went down at the corners. “I can’t go now. I have to open the pub soon.”
“And let’s think logically about this,” Melinda interjected. “It’s nearly five thirty on a Saturday evening. Any investigations will have stopped for today. I doubt there’ll be anyone at the station except one constable on duty. You will gain nothing by going there now.”
Lloyd nodded in agreement. “And I sincerely doubt there will be any work done tomorrow. Sunday is a day of rest, after all. Best leave this until Monday morning. Jonathon can stay with you, Mike, for the foreseeable future?”
“He can stay as long as he wants.” Mike’s gaze flickered briefly in Jonathon’s direction. “And I’ll keep him busy around the pub. Keep his mind off things.” He gave Jonathon a half smile. “It would be good to have another pair of hands around the place.”
“Fine,” Jonathon muttered. “But come Monday morning, I will be at that police station.”
“And I’ll be right there with you,” Mike added. “I want to see where this investigation goes as much as you do.”
Something flashed across his eyes, a reminder that Jonathon needed to have a talk with him when they were alone.
What aren’t you telling me, Mike?