Evil Angels Among Them (19 page)

Becca blushed and turned her head away. ‘I can hardly bear him to touch me,' she confided in an agonised whisper. ‘I want him to make love to me – of course I do. I love him so much, and before . . . all this . . . it was wonderful. But now when he comes near me, I just cringe.'

‘Oh, Becca!'

‘I can't help it,' she gulped, near tears.

Lucy was appalled by the revelation. ‘Can't you see how important it is to tell him everything? That's the only way you're going to get through this with your marriage intact. Becca, love, you must tell him – right away!'

CHAPTER 15

    
O let not mine heart be inclined to any evil thing: let me not be occupied in ungodly works with the men that work wickedness, lest I eat of such things as please them.

Psalm 141.4

Lucy's conversation with David was destined to be delayed; David had plans for the early part of that evening.

He used the phone at Foxglove Cottage to ring Sergeant Spring, who was only too eager to accept his invitation to meet for a drink later on. ‘The Queen's Head?' Spring suggested.

The Queen's Head in Walston would be convenient, but David didn't want to risk being overheard by the villagers; he remembered, suddenly, that no one from Walston ever went to Nether Walston. ‘Is there a pub in Nether Walston?' he asked. ‘That might be better.'

‘The Crown and Mitre,' Spring supplied promptly. ‘Nice pub across from the village green – you can't miss it. See you in a bit, then.'

And so it was that John Spring, casual in an open-necked shirt, leather jacket and tight trousers, waited for David, ensconced in a booth, in the lounge bar of the Crown and Mitre. He professed himself delighted to renew the acquaintance. ‘Great to see you again, Dave,' he said, getting to his feet. ‘An unexpected pleasure. I'd heard that you'd left Norfolk for the big city.'

David took the proffered hand and shook it. ‘I was a bit surprised to hear your name as well. This is a bit off your patch, isn't it?'

‘That's a long story, mate, and it can keep for a minute.' Spring had already made inroads on his first drink and was thinking about a second; he picked up his glass and drained it. ‘What can I get you to drink? Whisky, as usual?'

‘Thanks.' David sat down and waited for Spring to return with the drinks, watching him in action as the policeman eyed up the women he passed coming and going from the bar. Some things never changed, David reflected wryly, and one of those was John Spring's insatiable appetite for the opposite sex.

‘Here you go, Dave.' Spring eased himself on to the opposite seat. ‘Cheers.'

David raised his glass. ‘Cheers.'

After a deep draught of his beer, Spring leaned back with a satisfied sigh. ‘Good beer,' he pronounced. ‘The local brew. And the scenery here is worth seeing,' he added, nodding towards a nearby table inhabited by a gaggle of young women.

‘You were going to tell me why you're so far from Fakenham?' David prompted, anxious to change the subject.

Spring grinned, unrepentant. ‘I've had a transfer to Upper Walston. A change of scenery is sometimes not a bad thing for a bloke, Dave. Truth is, the wife chucked me out. Didn't take too kindly to me screwing her best friend.' He shrugged philosophically. ‘Win a few, lose a few. I shouldn't have got caught, but there you are. So I may be needing your services again soon myself – another tidy little divorce, just like the last one you fixed up for me.'

‘I'll recommend someone local,' David said with haste.

‘Oh, but you did such a good job for me before. And it's always good to do business with a mate,' Spring said, giving him a wink. ‘If you understand me.'

David understood all too well: this was the
quid pro quo
for any information Spring might be willing to part with about the poisoning of Flora Newall. ‘I'll do what I can,' he promised, sighing.

‘Good.' Spring winked again. ‘How about you, Dave?' he went on. ‘Are you still with that smasher, the one with the reddish hair? 'Cause if you've finished with her, I wouldn't mind having a go myself.'

‘Lucy and I are still – together,' David said stiffly.

‘Married?'

‘Not yet,' he admitted. ‘But I'm working on it.'

‘Marriage.' Spring took another long drink, then went on in an expansive tone. ‘It's a great institution, mate. I highly recommend it. Just as long as you get a woman who's willing to give you a bit of – freedom. Trouble is, most women tend to get possessive.'

David could see that they'd be there all night if he didn't turn the conversation away from Spring's favourite topic. ‘Can I get you another drink?' he suggested.

‘Wouldn't say no – ta very much.'

‘About this Newall case,' David said hastily on his return from the bar, shoving a foamy glass in front of John Spring. ‘As I told you on the phone, I've just come into it, and don't have any idea what's going on.

I was hoping you could fill me in a bit. Off the record, of course.'

‘Of course.' Spring's wink was exaggerated. ‘You know me, Dave. Always willing to give a mate a helping hand.'

‘What can you tell me? All I know is that the woman is supposed to have been poisoned.'

‘She was poisoned, all right.' Spring wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand and prepared to talk business. ‘Digitalis, it was. At first they thought it was a heart attack, and that's what the postmortem showed. Heart attack, end of chapter. But the local doctor bloke rang up the pathologist and asked him to run a test for digitalis poisoning. Seems that a routine test won't show digitalis poisoning – you have to be looking for it. So they looked for it, and there it was.'

David frowned, perplexed. ‘But why on earth would the doctor ask for the test? Why would he even think of it? If it looked like a natural heart attack, that is?'

Spring shrugged. ‘He said that he'd had a tip-off that it might be digitalis. And he had enough doubts himself to ask for the test. Seems he was right.'

‘Who tipped him off, then?'

‘Don't know,' Spring admitted. ‘He won't say – some sort of ethical rubbish about professional confidentiality. But don't worry, we'll sort him out. I'll put the heavies on him tomorrow and get a name out of him one way or another.'

‘And so you've been questioning my client, Mrs English. Because she was the last person to see Miss Newall alive, presumably?'

Taking a prim sip, Spring looked at him over the rim of his glass. ‘It's worse than that, mate. The pathologist reckons that she must have taken the digitalis no more than thirty minutes or so before she died. Which means that she was at Mrs English's house when she took it.'

David stared at him, stunned. ‘But that's outrageous! Are you suggesting that my client deliberately poisoned her?'

‘Hold on to your hair, Dave.' Spring grinned, ‘I didn't say anything about deliberate, did I? The powers that be reckon that some foxglove leaves could have got mixed up in that herbal tea muck that she served the lady. Seems she grew all the stuff herself, so it could have happened. That's why I took away her jars of leaves – so they could be tested.'

‘But I don't understand.' David thought aloud. ‘Why wouldn't it have affected anyone else? That doesn't make any sense to me. Either Gillian English gave her poisoned tea or she didn't, but if she did I can't see how it could have been accidental.'

‘You said it, mate, not me.' Spring drained his glass. ‘Trouble is, there doesn't seem to be any reason for your Mrs English to poison Miss Newall – not on purpose, anyway. And until someone comes up with a reason, we don't have anything but circumstantial evidence to go on.'

‘So what exactly is her position?'

‘Let's just say,' Spring stated in a self-conscious police voice, ‘that we'd prefer Mrs English not to leave the area. Not until we've had a chance to ask her a few more questions. And until we get the results of the tests on those tea leaves. Funny woman, your Mrs English,' he added in a more normal tone, shaking his head. ‘I just don't get it.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Not a bad looker. And she's had a bloke, or she wouldn't be a Mrs and have a kiddie.'

David understood what he was getting at. ‘Ah,' he said noncommittally.

‘I know that there are women like that, who prefer other women, just like there are blokes who go with blokes, but I don't understand it. What a waste. Maybe,' he added with a speculative look into his empty glass, ‘after this is all over I could have a go. Get her to change her mind, do her a good turn. Maybe she's just never had a good bloke.'

David registered the empty glass. ‘Another beer, John?'

‘My round.' Spring looked at the nearby table, where the gaggle of girls was reduced to just two, a delicate blonde and a robust brunette. ‘And maybe it's time for some company,' he said, rising and going to the table before David could stop him. ‘Hello,' he addressed the girls. ‘Could I buy you two lovely ladies a drink?'

‘Yes, please,' said the dark-haired girl as the blonde shook her head. ‘I'll have a pint of lager, thank you very much. And my friend is drinking lager shandy.'

‘Cynth!' the blonde whispered frantically. ‘I said no!'

‘Oh, don't be such a spoilsport.' The dark-haired girl shrugged and reached for her handbag. ‘Let's join them.' She arrived at their booth just as John Spring returned with the drinks, sliding in next to him. ‘My name's Cynth,' she announced.

‘I'm John, and this is my mate Dave,' Spring said, clearly delighted.

David was appalled; joining John Spring in picking up girls was the last thing he wanted to do, tonight or any other night. He wondered how on earth he could get out of it.

The blonde girl seemed to share his feelings; she hung back at the other table, joining them only when it was obvious that her friend would not be returning.

‘This is Lisa,' Cynth said. ‘Lisa, John and Dave.'

Lisa gave a jerky, shy nod and perched on the end of the seat as far from David as she could manage. ‘Cynth, I really need to get home,' she said quietly but urgently.

‘Oh, don't be so silly.' Cynth's voice was scornful; she was evidently enjoying herself and had no intention of being moved in the immediate future. ‘You got a light, mate?' She took a cigarette from her handbag and leaned closer to John Spring.

‘You bet, sweetheart.'

David looked across at the girl. She was not unattractive, he decided, though that coarse sort of beauty appealed to him not at all. Her hair was thick and shiny and dyed a deep purplish shade of brown, and the lavish mouth which held the cigarette was painted purple to match. She was well-endowed, and dressed to show it, in a low-cut ribbed black body under which she clearly wore nothing at all, and a short leather skirt revealing well-muscled legs.

Her friend, on the other hand, had a face which would have looked more at home in a Gainsborough painting than in a country pub: Lisa was fine-boned and pale, with a luminous beauty that her shyness couldn't disguise. Her downcast eyes were a shade between grey and blue, and her fair hair was as fine and straight as silk thread. She looked about twelve, though she was surely at least eighteen, and David didn't have a clue what to say to her.

Cynth took a deep drag of her cigarette, then put it in the ashtray while she concentrated on her lager and on smiling at her admirer. ‘Do you come here often, John?' she asked, ignoring David.

‘Not often enough, sweetheart.' He inched closer to her; the two of them might have been alone for all the attention they paid their companions.

‘I didn't think so. I would have remembered if I'd seen you before – a real man like you stands out a mile from all the local lads.'

‘Cynth, I really do have to get home,' Lisa interrupted yet again, tucking her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. ‘I told Mum that I'd be back in time to read Janie a bedtime story.'

Cynth frowned, turning to her friend. ‘Let your mum read the bloody story,' she snapped. ‘I'm not ready to go. Besides,' she relented, ‘you don't get out of the house enough, Lisa. You deserve a night out.' She swivelled to face Spring again. ‘I had to practically drag her out,' she explained virtuously. ‘All she wants to do is stay at home with the bloody baby. The girl needs a bit of fun. And I'm the one to see she gets it. Me, her best friend.'

Embarrassed, Lisa averted her head over her shandy. ‘That's not fair,' she protested. ‘Janie is my responsibility.'

‘That's what your mum says, isn't it?' Cynth felt called upon to explain to Spring, as though Lisa weren't there. ‘She's got this baby, see. Made a mistake, and now she's stuck with it.' She took another drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke at him provocatively. ‘She didn't take my advice, see. I always say, “if you can't be good, be careful.'' Well, she wasn't good, and she wasn't careful either, and what's she got to show for it? A bloody baby. Now me, I may not always be good, but I'm always careful. If you understand me.' She patted her handbag in a meaningful way. ‘Be prepared, that's my motto. Just like a bloody boy scout, that's me.'

‘You don't look much like a boy scout to me,' Spring murmured; Cynth giggled.

David cleared his throat, wondering how on earth he could escape from this nightmare, then inspiration struck. ‘I really must be going as well,' he said. ‘My girlfriend will be expecting me. Perhaps,' he addressed Lisa, ‘you might allow me to see you home?'

Lisa seemed doubtful, but Spring was delighted at the opportunity to solve all their problems. ‘You don't have anything to worry about with Dave,' he assured her. ‘He's a perfect gent, is Dave. I don't know where he's gone wrong,' he added for Cynth's benefit, squeezing her thigh.