Dark Undertakings (23 page)

Jodie was thinking ahead. ‘Only, it’s getting so close to the cremation.’

‘So maybe we should think about stopping him.’

‘And how do you suggest we do that?’

Philip shrugged again. ‘Any number of alternatives come to mind.’

‘Philip Lapsford! Are you suggesting we
kidnap the wretched man? Be reasonable, will you.’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. But it’s a tempting idea, all the same. Once the cremation’s over and done with, nobody’s ever going to prove anything, are they? And I for one would very much prefer it to be that way.’

‘Me too,’ she agreed forcefully. ‘Me bloody too.’

Sid and Vince often ran into each other on Saturday afternoons, usually in the company of their wives. Brenda liked Alicia, but the feeling was not reciprocated. Vince’s wife would do her best to vary their shopping routines, in an attempt to avoid the other woman, but somehow it nearly always failed to work. ‘You plan it in advance,’ she accused Vince. ‘It’s all a put-up job. Don’t you see enough of him all week? It’s not as if he’s a particularly nice person.’

‘He’s all right. You have to get to know him.’ Alicia didn’t notice that he hadn’t denied her accusation.

‘Well, he might be bearable, but Brenda is a monster. That woman has no humour, no charitable feelings towards anybody. She makes me want to wash after being with her.’

‘Come on,’ Vince demurred. ‘She works at
the hospital. She’s Secretary of the League of Friends. You’ve got her completely wrong.’

‘I haven’t. She’s a horrible old busybody. And she’s foul to Sid. I don’t know why he sticks with her.’

Vince said nothing. The mystery of people’s marriages was forbidden territory to him. Live and let live, he told himself.

‘Damn it, there they are,’ hissed Alicia, as they reached the end of the first aisle of Waitrose.

Vince shrugged. ‘We don’t have to speak to them. Where’s that list? Didn’t we want some Worcestershire sauce?’

‘She’s seen us. If this happens much more, I’m moving house. We’ll go and live in the Orkney Islands, and you can start your own funeral business.’

‘Shouldn’t think there’d be much custom,’ he remarked. ‘Sid, my old mate. Fancy meeting you here!’

The men nodded at each other, with a brotherly familiarity. Alicia watched them, trying for the twentieth time to understand the relationship between them. As always, she was distracted from her puzzlement by the overbearing Brenda, who habitually came too close and breathed too hard. She smelt of talcum powder inadequately masking a sour body odour. She looked perfectly clean – Alicia believed it was the smell
of Brenda’s unwholesome soul, overflowing into the physical world.

‘We’ve had such a busy day,’ Brenda began, in a complaining tone. ‘I don’t know where the time goes. Sid’s supposed to be stripping the paint off the banisters today. I never did like that yellow he put on them, and now it’s got to come off. Susie came over, unannounced, bringing a streaming cold with her, the little pest. Never thinks, that girl. Wanted to see her dad about something. Shut me out, they did. They don’t realise how hurtful something like that can be, having secrets from her mother. Always was very thick with Sid, pushing me away.’ She threw a spiteful look at Sid, who was studying the range of canned soups, with Vince beside him, seemingly quite relaxed. He gave no sign of having heard what she said.

Alicia tried to edge away, keeping her gaze on the back of Vince’s head, hoping to force him to choose some soup and move on. But he had charge of their trolley, which left her feeling superfluous and vulnerable. She didn’t even try to reply to Brenda’s monologue. There was nothing she could say that would make the woman stop.

‘I bet she’s thinking of throwing up her job, or something stupid like that. Though Sid says she’s too fond of Doctor Lloyd to walk out on
him. Mind you, if that’s true, maybe she ought to make a change. Get herself a bad name if she’s caught carrying on with her boss.’

Another of Alicia’s objections to Brenda was her lack of logic. She seemed to throw remarks together at random, whether or not they had any meaningful connecting thread. It was far from anything that could be termed conversation, and Alicia could think of no reason why she should be made to stand there and endure it. She took a deep breath.

‘Sorry, Brenda, but we’re running late ourselves. Vince wants to be home by three at the latest. Good luck with the banisters. Vince, I think we’ll have to get on.’ She was tense with the effort not to become shrill. Her husband caught the edge in her voice and obediently turned towards her.

‘Right then,’ he said. ‘See you, Sid.’

Sid raised a hand in a little wave. Brenda paused in mid sentence, mouth slightly open. Alicia wanted to hit her, and cut those thin lips. The depth of her dislike disturbed her.

‘Milk, yoghurt, cheese, spaghetti—’ she read in a gabble from the list she was holding. ‘Let’s get on with it.’ As they trundled the trolley away, she muttered, ‘I could kill that woman. If this happens one more time, I won’t be responsible. I’m warning you.’

‘Don’t blame me. I can’t help it if we bump into them.’ Vince was all innocence.

‘Well, you’d better help it. Find out where they’re going, and be sure we go somewhere else. I mean it. She ruins my whole day.’

‘You’re paranoid. Anyway, I like old Sid.’

‘I know you do, though God knows why. I’ll never understand men.’

‘You try too hard. What you see is what you get, as Daphne often says.’

‘That’s rubbish. If that was true, there’d never be any adultery or embezzlement or slow poisoning of old people.’ She was shouting, and shoppers thronging the aisle were giving her hostile glances.

‘Keep your voice down,’ Vince snapped, cuffing her lightly on the arm.

She flushed with embarrassment. ‘Well, I just don’t see the point of wasting time talking to somebody like Brenda, when all she does is moan and complain. And I don’t see any point, either, in you going out of your way to meet Sid, when you’re with him all week.’

‘There isn’t any
point
, Ally. It’s just normal life. It’s what people do. You see someone you know, and you stop for a few minutes to chat with them.’

‘Well, I’m all jangled and cross now.’

‘So it seems.’ He was huffy himself. ‘Shall we get on with the shopping?’

Alicia didn’t want to let it go. Grabbing milk and cheese from the chiller, she reran the conversation with Brenda. Everything about the woman offended her, and she still blamed Vince for the encounter. She held her tongue until they’d loaded the shopping into the car and were driving home.

‘I don’t want to be rude to Sid – but I really don’t think I can bear any more of Brenda. It might seem stupid, but it’s true.’

‘It’s all right for you,’ he said angrily.

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘It never seems to occur to you that ordinary casual chat doesn’t come easily to someone in my job. That anything that isn’t about death or coffins or hearses is a breath of fresh air for me.’

She paused. He was right – it never did occur to her. ‘But—’ she began, more gently. ‘In that case, why
Sid
? Why not somebody who’s got nothing to do with the funeral business?’

‘Like who? When do I ever get the chance to meet ordinary folk?’

‘Oh, Vince,’ she sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised it was like that. Maybe it’s time you started looking for another job.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, much to her surprise. ‘Maybe it is.’

Drew got home just as Karen was shredding red cabbage and slicing cucumber. ‘Salad for lunch,’ she told him superfluously.

‘Am I late?’ he ventured.

‘You didn’t say what time to expect you, so it wouldn’t be reasonable to accuse you of that. It’s fifteen minutes past our usual lunchtime, that’s all.’

‘Don’t be cross. Wait till I tell you what I’ve found out.’

‘You do know what today is, don’t you?’ She glared at him, her eyes full of reproach. He had no difficulty in following the apparent change of subject.

‘Yes, my angel. I know what today is. And the best thing, as we both know, is to try not to think about it.’

‘I don’t feel like I normally do.’ The gleam of optimism was all too familiar.

‘Darling, you know how irregular you are. Day twenty-nine really isn’t so significant.’

‘I know. But knowing what day it is, I’d advise you to just do everything you can to humour me. Stay on the right side of me. That sort of thing. Now, sit down and eat. And tell me about this woman you’ve been talking to. She must be quite something – you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.’

He crunched valiantly through the fibrous
salad, trying to talk at the same time. He summarised everything he could remember of Roxanne’s disclosures, but made no reference to his own confession about the dead baby, nor to Frank and Lorraine Dunlop.

‘So, does that mean we pack it all in, and take her word for it that some unholy combination of stimulants finished him off?’ Karen asked when he’d finished. ‘Bit of an anticlimax.’

‘What do you think we should do?’

‘She might be protecting somebody. Or playing a game with you. Dropping Sid’s name like that was mischief-making, if ever I saw it. It doesn’t sound as if she’s suffering from any pangs of guilt over her part in all this. Surely she’d be absolutely distraught if she really thought she’d accidentally killed him with some herbal potion she’d made. No, I vote for at least another try at working out what really happened.’

‘I love you,’ he told her. ‘You always say exactly what I hope you’ll say. Now, before you change your mind, we’d better plan what we’re going to ask the neighbours.’

As they turned into Primrose Close, Karen was chattering nervously. ‘Are you
sure
they invited you? What exactly did they say?’

‘Calm down,’ he begged her. ‘We’re just
going to let them talk. We want to know as much as possible about the Lapsfords, that’s all. It’s normal practice – the police always interview the neighbours. They probably feel cheated because nobody’s been to interrogate them and give them a bit of excitement. We’ll ask when they last saw Jim, whether they ever heard arguments going on – that sort of thing.’

‘It feels like such an awful
cheek
,’ she protested. ‘We really don’t have the right to nose about like this.’

‘It was their suggestion,’ he reminded her again. ‘We’re just responding to an invitation. I thought you’d enjoy it.’ He glanced at her reproachfully. ‘If you’re really against the idea, you can stay out in the car.’

She sighed. ‘No, no. I’m right behind you.’

Once inside number 22, welcomed in by a bustling Sarah, the couple stood patiently while Dottie cleared newspapers and knitting off the sofa. ‘We weren’t at all sure you’d come,’ she burbled happily. ‘We didn’t think you’d even remember our little chat.’

‘Of course I did,’ said Drew, his natural charm rising effortlessly to the surface. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, ever since.’

‘Well, now,’ interposed Sarah, coming through from the kitchen with a tray of tea and biscuits. ‘We don’t want to stir up anything
unpleasant, of course. The whole business is obviously very … delicate. Have you been interviewing anybody else?’

‘In a way. Just informally, you know,’ Drew smiled. ‘After all, I’ve got no official standing whatsoever. It’s just that—’

‘Oh yes, we quite understand,’ Dottie picked up the thread again. ‘We’re quite relieved about it, aren’t we, Sarah? I mean, if there had been something amiss, and we never had a chance to do our bit, we’d feel terrible. Wouldn’t we, Sarah?’

Sarah tossed her head impatiently. ‘The whole thing seems clear enough to me. A man dies suddenly, after showing every sign of being in excellent health, and the doctor issues a death certificate without a second thought. Nobody informs the police, the man’s cremated, and his family carry on, possibly rather better off than before in several ways. As I see it, young man, you’re doing a public service by trying to learn more. And I for one am more than happy to help you.’

Drew gave an appreciative laugh. ‘Well, thank you,’ he said. Karen passed him a cup of tea from the tray.

Dottie spoke more hesitantly. ‘He
did
seem very well on Monday. We – well,
I
, actually – saw him come home, at about ten, trotting up
the garden path like a man half his age. Waved to me as he went indoors. It’s awful to think that he was dead just a few hours later.’ She shook her head dolefully.

‘He doesn’t sound like the sort of man who’d have a heart attack?’ prompted Karen.

‘Oh, no! He didn’t ever seem worried –
stressed
as they call it these days. He’d go out with a cheerful whistle, often walking rather than using the car. And come back with a big smile, too, most of the time. Always light-hearted. As if life sat easily on his shoulders. I often said, “that man has a clear conscience” – didn’t I, Sarah?’

Sarah nodded slightly. ‘They never had rows,’ she contributed. ‘Nothing like that at all. In my opinion, it was one of those marriages where the partners have drifted apart, each with their own life. The only real problems centred on the younger son, David. You’ve seen him, I presume?’ Drew nodded. ‘He isn’t really
right
, even now. Volatile might be the word for it.’

‘So I understand,’ Drew agreed. ‘We are hoping to go and talk to him, but we don’t know where he lives.’

‘Oh, we can tell you that,’ chirped Dottie. ‘Monica left his address and number with us at Easter, when she and Jim went to Paris for a
few days. In case anything went wrong with the house, you see. Philip was away, as well. Here it is—’ she flapped a large dog-eared address book which had been lying on a small side-table. ‘David Lapsford, Flat 1, number 5 Froggett’s Way, Garnstone. You know where that is?’ she added helpfully. ‘It’s part of Woodingleigh, really. You turn left at the main road, and then left again.’

Drew rummaged for a piece of paper, but was forestalled by Karen, calmly taking a diary from her handbag. ‘5, Froggett’s Way,’ she repeated. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘I don’t feel we’ve told you anything very useful,’ said Sarah, doubtfully. ‘There is more, but somehow, it sounds so stark, listing possible motives for killing a man.’