A Cotswold Ordeal (13 page)

‘One of the Innes boys came over yesterday and shared it with us. I know quite a bit about poor Nick Franklyn now.’

‘Nicholas James Franklyn. Nineteen. Student. Home address in Cirencester. Only son, last seen on Friday last week. All that?’

‘Most of it,’ she nodded. ‘Plus he was a Rural Warrior, concerned to preserve the countryside, or
some such campaign. I forget the exact words.’ She watched his face, knowing she was being too flippant. ‘Have you seen his parents?’

‘Yes. The father’s identifying the body as we speak.’

Thea was effectively sobered. ‘Poor people. What a terrible thing.’

‘Mmm.’ The inarticulate sound contained a due measure of pity and concern, but Thea could also hear impatience. Well, she thought forgivingly, he is a policeman. His job is to find answers, explanations and rightful legal process, not to wallow in the grief and misery that went with most criminal activity.

‘I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ she said. ‘I thought he was a vagrant. What happened to his leg?’

‘He had some sort of bone condition as a child. The post-mortem spotted it, and we did a search of local doctors, to see if they had anyone on their books with that particular problem. It’s quite rare, apparently.’

‘What’s it called?’ Thea had a detached curiosity about medical matters, arising from a succession of friends who found themselves or their offspring afflicted with a variety of ailments.

‘Perthe’s Disease. Bet you’ve never heard of it.’

She grinned. ‘You bet right,’ she admitted.

‘Where’s your sister?’

‘Patrolling the homestead somewhere, I think.
She’s intent on befriending the geese, for some reason. I stay clear of them as much as possible. They’re beastly if they take a dislike to you.’

‘Anyway,’ he pursued with a brisk display of hand-rubbing, ‘I’ve come to warn you that the story’s going to be in tomorrow’s local paper, and the TV news for the region this evening. It’ll put you on the map, I’m afraid.’

‘Why? You won’t name Juniper Court, will you?’

‘No, but people will work it out.’

‘So does that mean I can talk about it now? I mean, it isn’t all a deep dark secret any more?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, your man, on Monday, told me not to say anything. It’s a bit difficult when people keep asking me what’s going on.’

‘All I can say to that is, use your common sense. You’ll appreciate that the actual killer could be one of these people.’

Thea raised her eyebrows. ‘I hope not. Anyway, I’ve already had most of the neighbours onto me about it.’

‘Oh? Anybody I should know about?’

After a quick inspection of his face for any sign of patronage, she gave him a serious reply. ‘We saw Frannie Whatever-it-is, last night. She seemed to want to warn us about something. Said Julia and Desmond weren’t very popular around here. She and her husband have been staying with his mother
in Chalford since Sunday – does that count as an alibi? Oh, and the mother is buddies with Cecilia Clifton. You’ll remember her.’

‘Indeed. And which Innes boy came to spill the beans about Franklyn – and when?’

‘Jeremy. Handsome lad. It was yesterday afternoon, three-ish. He’s joining the army, and is involved in an outfit called Rural Warriors, which is a very difficult phrase to say clearly. Luckily, he manages his r’s quite well.’

Hollis sighed with some melodrama. ‘So much for hoping to keep you out of all this. You know almost as much as I do, by the sound of it.’

Thea smirked. ‘People talk to me, you see. I’ve just got one of those faces, they can’t resist confiding their secrets.’

‘Seriously,’ he insisted. ‘Can you be absolutely sure not to say anything about the barn? I meant to warn you of that yesterday. As far as we can work out, nobody’s connected it with young Franklyn’s death, so the less we say about it the better.’

‘Aha!’ crowed Thea. ‘I understand. The first person to drop a careless reference to that being the scene of the murder is our man. Except,’ she frowned, ‘won’t they have noticed your men crawling all over the place yesterday? They were quite visible from the road.’

‘We’ll have to hope they didn’t. It seems to me that scarcely anybody other than the Innes family
use that little road anyway. Since it’s their barn, we’ve had to inform them that we’re examining it, of course.’

‘So if one of them did the murder, you’re sunk.’

He sighed again. ‘Thea, it really isn’t as simple as that. I’ve got twenty people or more working on this, every one of them following up different parts of the story. There’s all the forensic stuff, plus the background to these Rural Warriors, the link between the barn and your stable here – and dozens of other scraps of information, all having to be investigated. And all needing hard evidence before we can do anything as dramatic as making an arrest.’

‘You make it sound awfully boring,’ she pouted.

‘Most of it is,’ he confirmed. ‘But not entirely. I’m every bit as worried as before about you and Jocelyn staying here. And if you accidentally stumble on anything that might lead to an arrest, you’ll be in even more danger. A killer doesn’t have a lot to lose, remember. If attacking a second person assures his escape from being caught, he’s very likely to do it.’

‘I know,’ she said, clasping herself tightly with crossed arms. ‘And I admit I wouldn’t be here without Joss. But I’ve just promised Julia I’ll stay a bit longer. Poor thing, she seems in a real old state, with her holiday falling apart.’

‘When was this?’

‘Just now. Half an hour ago. And Cecilia Clifton phoned as well. I’m sorry – am I supposed to report every conversation to you? Should I be taking notes?’

They were still standing out in the yard, where the sun was gaining strength and the sky was a promising blue. He took her questions manfully, treating her to one of his forward leans and intent examinations before nodding. ‘I think you probably should, yes.’

Thea dropped her gaze. ‘I really am a cow, aren’t I. I’m not taking this half as seriously as I should be. It’s not like me to be so flippant, honestly. Put it down to the weather, or something.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll opt for
or something
, then. Thea – you must realise—’

‘Yes, I expect I must,’ she dodged, her heart pounding. ‘But not now. Everything’s too muddled already. Shall I get coffee? Do you want to sit on the lawn for a bit?’

‘Fifteen minutes, that’s all,’ he said, accepting the gentle rebuff. ‘And then I have to be somewhere.’

‘See what I mean,’ she said, going briskly for the coffee.

They parted lingeringly, Thea following him to the car, and talking to him even when he was in the driver’s seat.

‘Thanks for coming,’ she said. ‘I know how busy it must all be.’

‘A pleasure,’ he smiled. ‘Thanks for the coffee. And remember – don’t say anything about the barn.’

‘Sir,’ she saluted. ‘My lips are superglued.’

‘It’s a bit late to ask you this, but I’m assuming you didn’t have any more trouble during the night,’ he went on. ‘That’s the main reason I came over, after all – to check that you’re both safe.’

‘Not a squeak. Even the peacocks seem to have gone quiet.’

‘The breeding season’s over now. They don’t do that cry all year.’

‘Maybe not, but they were pretty raucous on Sunday. Frightened the life out of me. And again yesterday. Poor Jocelyn got the full treatment.’

‘What about the geese? They’re meant to be splendid alarm systems.’

‘Not these. They seem to have their own inscrutable notions as to who they like and dislike. Hepzie’s their main hate figure, poor love. And I think they might be pining for their people. They seem a bit droopy.’

He started the engine, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. ‘I’m late,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget to watch the news. And call me if there’s anything to report.’

Thea’s arm twitched as she began another mocking salute. But then she caught his eye, and the motion aborted. ‘Bye,’ she murmured, horrified to find tears prickling behind her eyes as she watched him go.

She stayed outside, trying to regain her equilibrium, wandering towards the field behind the house. ‘Aren’t you supposed to feed that wretched pony?’ Jocelyn called, from the back door. ‘It’ll die of starvation at this rate.’

Thea remembered the phonecall from Cecilia Clifton after she and Jocelyn had had some soup and slightly stale bread. A brief discussion about shopping and future menus prompted the memory. ‘We were asked out to lunch,’ she told Jocelyn. ‘Tomorrow, probably.’

‘Who by?’

‘A woman called Cecilia Clifton—’

‘But I know her,’ said Jocelyn, wide-eyed. ‘Quite
solid. Square head. Wide hips. Sergeant-major delivery.’

‘That’s her. How do you know her?’

‘She was one of my tutors. We did textiles with her, if I remember rightly. She was terribly keen on William Morris.’

Thea considered this for a long minute. Another apparent coincidence, which might not have been so surprising when looked at logically. The area was big on Arts and Crafts, and Jocelyn’s university wasn’t so terribly far away, at Bath. A tutor passed a great many students through her hands, after all.

‘Will she remember you?’ was all she could think to say.

‘I doubt it.’ Jocelyn sounded rueful. ‘I’m three stone heavier now, and my hair’s a different colour.’

‘Did you like her?’

‘Terrified of the woman. More than once I stayed up all night finishing off a piece of coursework for her. I never was any good at deadlines.’

‘I was. I loved them. Concentrates the mind.’

‘Wow! Wouldn’t it be funny if she was the murderer! Old Cissie Clifton. She must be
really
old now.’

‘About sixty, I’d guess. Retired, anyway, but certainly not
old
.’

‘Heavens! She seemed at least sixty twenty years ago. Isn’t that weird, the way it goes? The way the age gaps seem to get smaller.’

Thea merely smiled. ‘Well, we’d better have that lunch, then, so you can catch up with each other.’

‘I’d much rather not. She never liked me – or any other students. We used to wonder why she’d ever gone into teaching, when she so obviously despised young people.’

‘Research, probably. The teaching would be an annoying side issue from what she saw as her real work.’

‘That must have been it. I wonder if she’s mellowed at all.’

‘I thought she was rather pleasant. She seemed interested in me.’

‘Of course, she would be, with all your guff about canals and woollen mills. She must have thought you were wonderful.’

‘She says we should go and look at Daneway House.’

Jocelyn sighed. ‘No need. I’ve already been there. We had to do an essay on the pesky place. I still dream about it.’

Thea tilted her head back, eyes closed, and received the heat of the sun full blast. She could feel her skin tingling with it, the cells rushing to protect themselves.

‘I should go home,’ Jocelyn said, as she was repeatedly saying, but sounding sufficiently detached for Thea to ignore her. ‘What do I think I’m doing?’

‘Having a holiday in the sun. Helping me. Strengthening our relationship. Teaching your kids to be self-reliant.’

‘Escaping my responsibilities. Hiding from my husband. Avoiding the issue.’

‘All of the above. But there are worse places to do it all in, when it’s like this.’

The place was uncannily silent. No vehicle had passed the gate for a good fifteen minutes. No breeze rustled the treetops. No cow bawled for its stolen calf, or flock of confused sheep for their lambs after a mass migration to new pastures. No dog barked.

They were slow to notice Valerie Innes, as she stood by the fence watching them. Hepzibah gave a single muted yap, which Thea ignored. Only when the visitor skirted the fence to the small gate opening onto the further part of the yard, did they realise she was there.

‘I’ve been knocking for five minutes,’ she said crossly. ‘I thought there was nobody in.’

Jocelyn and Thea looked first at Valerie then at each other. Thea could read her sister’s mind easily.

‘Sorry,’ she said calmly. ‘What can we do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing much. I just thought I’d come and see how you were. I don’t think I’ve met…’ she indicated Jocelyn with a jab of her chin.

‘This is my sister. She’s been here for most of the
week. It’s been nice to have some company.’

Jocelyn did not stir from her prone position on the grass, but flapped a limp hand in greeting. ‘Hello,’ she said.

‘You shouldn’t lie on the bare grass like that. It’s bound to be wet.’

‘You sound just like our mother,’ Jocelyn smiled forbearingly.

The woman appeared not to hear this remark. ‘It’s bad for you. You ought to have a rug or something.’

‘I’ll risk it, thanks.’

Thea tried to conciliate, getting up from her garden chair. ‘Isn’t it hot!’ she said.

But this strategy worked no better with Mrs Innes than any others had done. ‘Not for long. They say it’ll rain tomorrow and Friday. Thunderstorms.’

‘Oh, well. Better make the most of it, then.’

‘I gather Jeremy came to see you.’

Thea rubbed a hand across her brow, trying to think. This was Jeremy’s mother, she recalled. And Jeremy had been fond of the cat, which had died in the road. Furthermore, she owned the barn which Hollis had asked her not to mention.

‘That’s right,’ she confirmed, with a stifled sigh.

‘How did he seem to you? I’ve been worried about him, to be honest. He’s waiting for his A-level results and seems very tense about it. I had hoped he’d have a nice relaxed summer, but it doesn’t seem
to be happening.’ There was a thwarted look in her eye which gave Thea a fleeting satisfaction.

‘Is he going to university?’ Too late, Thea remembered what Jeremy had said about his future.

‘Oh, yes.’ Thea heard the unspoken
of course
in the tone. ‘He’s got a scholarship from the MoD, actually. But he has to get good grades before he can take up the place.’

‘My daughter’s just graduated,’ she offered. ‘She’s going into the police.’

‘Fancy,’ said Valerie Innes, with a softening expression. It was enough of a connection to smooth much of the ensuing conversation.

‘What’s all this about Rural Warriors?’ Jocelyn demanded, inserting a sharper note. ‘Is your Jeremy part of it?’

Valerie huffed a rueful
Don’t ask me, I’m only his
mother
laugh. ‘I think they’re all in it, to some extent. Even young Flora Phillips seems to be involved.’

‘Did you know Nick Franklyn?’ Thea asked, in spite of a small warning voice. Something about Valerie Innes inspired a need to compete, to score points and keep one’s end up. And why was she here anyway?

‘Everybody knows him,’ was the reply. ‘Knew him, I should say, poor lad. He’s a bit of a legend around here.’

‘Not your sort, surely?’ Thea challenged.

‘What makes you say that? I heard him recently,
when he addressed a meeting. Very articulate for his age, very thoughtful. Made quite a few of us change our minds about some things.’

Thea felt herself to be corrected. ‘What sort of things?’ she asked.

‘To start with, this business with the canal – it’ll cost millions, and take decades to achieve. And everybody knows canals were never very successful. You can see there’s a case for saying they never should have been built to start with. That’s what Nick said – that they were a mistake from the very outset. Now the woods have grown back, it seems vandalistic to cut them all down again, just for a few tourists. I mean – it’s rather an odd way to spend your time, chugging along at four miles an hour, mostly in the pouring rain.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ muttered Jocelyn.

Thea was speechless. She had never even considered there could be arguments against restoring canals until these past few days, and now suddenly it seemed to be the majority opinion.

‘Do you know anybody else who’s directly involved in these Warriors?’ she asked.

‘I’ve already said – they all are. Our Dominic, for one. The Cravens, as well. Various people from Oakridge and Chalford. There must have been nearly a hundred at the last meeting.’

‘They have meetings?
Public
meetings?’ Thea asked faintly.

‘I
told
you,’ snapped Valerie impatiently. ‘Why don’t you listen? Making me repeat everything twice. And why are you still here, anyway, with all this going on? Haven’t the police given you orders to leave? You must be just another burden for them, when they’re already stretched to the limit.’

Thea bristled. ‘We’re not causing any trouble to anybody. Why should you worry?’

‘You’re causing complications,’ said Valerie. ‘Upsetting Jeremy, telling him about the cat like that.’

Thea just stared at her, lost for words. The brief silence gave Jocelyn the opening she’d been waiting for.

‘Thea,’ she said, sounding very meaningful. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be going out?’

Thea was quick to take the hint. It had, after all, been a day slightly too full of encounters and revelations. A nice normal trip to a supermarket would be very therapeutic for them both.

‘Gosh – yes. What time is it?’

‘Half past three,’ said Jocelyn. ‘We’ll be late.’

‘Going where?’ demanded Valerie. ‘Isn’t this rather an odd time to be going out?’

Mind your own business
, Thea wanted to scream. But she controlled herself for a few more moments.

‘We need some shopping,’ she said. ‘If that’s all right with you.’

‘No need to be rude,’ came the predictable, infuriating response. ‘I only came to be friendly.’

Jocelyn slowly got to her feet. ‘You haven’t been, though, have you?’ she said, her head on one side, her voice mild. ‘You started by telling me where I should sit, then you told us we were wasting police resources, and finally you stick your nose into our business. If that’s friendly, then I’m a waterlily.’

Without a hint of hurt feelings or damaged dignity, Valerie took her leave. Thea was bursting by the time the woman was out of earshot.

‘A waterlily!’ she exploded. ‘Why a
waterlily
?’ Jocelyn shrugged complacently. ‘Why not?’ she said.

Thea drove them to Chalford, and they spent an hour exploring the little town set on the steep-sided hill to the north of the river, with Hepzie on the lead. ‘I’m not leaving her there on her own again,’ vowed Thea.

‘It feels so strange,’ Jocelyn said, as they found themselves in a narrow street, with a high wall on one side, holding back the gardens of the houses above them. ‘I can’t imagine who would live in a place like this.’

‘All sorts, I suppose,’ said Thea. ‘Probably even some descendants of the weavers and clothworkers, who made the place what it is, a century or two ago.’

‘Don’t start giving me a history lesson,’ Jocelyn pleaded. ‘I want to know about
now
.’

‘I’m not very good on now,’ admitted Thea. ‘You’ll have to work that out for yourself.’

Failing to locate a supermarket, they found instead a small high street grocery store where they bought fruit and bread and other necessities, and started back to the car with a carrier bag each. ‘I’m tired,’ said Jocelyn. ‘This country living is exhausting.’

‘You got up too early.’

‘I know I did.’

‘Well, we’d better get back. We need to catch the news at six.’

‘Do we?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? There’s going to be an appeal for information about the murder. If you think we’ve had a lot of visitors up to now, you ain’t seen nuttin’ yet.’

‘What?’

‘Honestly – you’ll see I’m right. All the neighbours who haven’t caught on yet will swarm on us like locusts.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what people do. They’ll pretend to be offering moral support, and advice and home-baked cakes, but really they’ll just want to gawp at the place where a murder happened. It’s human nature.’

‘You don’t sound very bothered.’

‘No point in fighting human nature,’ Thea shrugged. ‘It’s understandable, when you think about it.’

‘How?’

‘Well, because a sudden death is just about the biggest thing that can happen. It shakes up everybody’s world, and they want to satisfy themselves that they’ve got to grips with it. Something like that, anyway.’

‘So you think people who slow down on motorways to have a good old look at crashed cars and ambulances are okay, do you?’

‘I absolutely do, yes. If the alternative is to speed on, pretending nothing’s happened, then certainly I do. Did I tell you about that woman who rang me after Carl was killed?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘She said I might want an eyewitness account of how it had all looked, a few minutes after it happened. She was really nice. It helped a lot.’