Screaming Yellow (32 page)

“Meinwen. It’s all over the ’net.”

Simon grunted. “Was it all over the ’net before she told you or afterward?” Her face fell and he gave her a hug. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. If the police have found Richard then I’m sure they’ll be able to clear him soon. If he really is innocent they won’t be able to prove otherwise.”

“I do hope you’re right.” Jennifer followed him into the kitchen. “When will we find out, do you think?”

“How should I know? You’d be better off asking Meinwen. It looks like she has the ear of the police, not me.”

“I will, as soon as she’s finished with that man.”

Simon sighed. “What man?” He began filling a mug with coffee from the pot.

“I don’t know who he was. He did seem vaguely familiar, but I could only see his back. That’s the trouble with the study window being at the back of the house. I can’t see anyone as they go up the drive to The Herbage, only when they get to the door.”

“Perhaps he’s one of her lovers. Or a devil she’s induced into service. They could be having passionate, illicit sex right now on the dining room table.”

“I doubt it. Firstly, she hasn’t got a dining room and secondly–” The doorbell rang. “She’s at the door.”

Simon laughed and answered it. “You’re up and about early. What can I do for you today?”

Meinwen bustled inside in her heavy black coat and fedora, two pheasant feathers wedged into its brim. “Is that coffee I can smell? May I have a cup? Hello, Jennifer.” She went into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. “Ooh, it’s fresh.”

“A bit like her,” Jennifer whispered to Simon.

Meinwen poured herself a mug of the coffee and bustled back out. “Mind if I take this with me? I’ll bring the mug back later.”

“Erm…” Jennifer raised a hand but Meinwen had already gone out of the door.

“Come on, Simon,” she called back. “We’ve work to do.”

“What?” Simon said. “I’ve got calls to make. My parishioners…”

“Do as you’re told,” said Jennifer, laughing at his discomfort as she fetched his coat. “You have to do as Meinwen says.”

“What if she tells me to eat my greens?” Simon grinned as he shrugged on his overcoat.

“Ugh.” Jennifer straightened his collar. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Simon hurried out, grabbing his briefcase and half-jogging to catch up with the Welsh woman.

* * * *

Nicole woke up cold. The cover Jean had thrown over her the night before had slipped off onto the floor.

“Good morning.” Amanda placed a cup of coffee within easy reach. “Mistress says you’re excused of duties this morning. She’s very pleased with you.”

“Mistress? Jean, you mean?”

“Of course I mean Jean.” Amanda smiled. “Take your time getting up. There’s no hurry, but she’d like to see you in her room when you’re ready.”

Nicole nodded and shifted position. Her movements were accompanied by the rattle of a chain, and she looked with dismay at the shackles connecting her ankles to the bed. “Have you got the key?”

Amanda grinned. “No.”

“Then how am I supposed to go to her room?”

Amanda smiled as she opened the curtains and went to leave. “That’s for you to figure out,” she said. “She didn’t mention it to me.”

Nicole watched her leave then sat up to drink her coffee, the chains rattling through the bars of the bed as she shifted position.

* * * *

Susan paused when she heard the Welsh woman calling her. She turned to see Meinwen striding along the sidewalk. “Are you coming to The Larches?”

“That’s right.” Meinwen nodded at the empty basket on Susan’s arm. “Going shopping?”

“No. I’ve been up to the church to put some fresh flowers in.”

They both watched the priest pound up to them and bend almost double, his hands on his knees, to catch his breath. “You run well for a vicar.” Meinwen cocked her head to one side and half-smiled.

“I keep telling you. I’m a priest, not a vicar. Where are we going?” He straightened. “Hello, Susan.”

“Just for a walk.” Meinwen’s stride belied her words as she fell into step with Susan.

“The Larches? Why are we going there again?”

“I need you to do something for me. Mrs. Markhew respects you when she won’t give me the time of day. I need you to ask them all to come to my house this evening.”

“That’s not really true.” Susan slowed her pace. “She just doesn’t know you yet. You’ll see, in time.”

“Your house? Why?” Simon fell into step. “This would be a quicker walk if we went through the woods.”

Meinwen shuddered. “I have some information that will shed light on the case and I need everyone to look at the murder with a fresh perspective.”

“Oh.” Simon fell silent for several minutes as they walked through streets still damp from the overnight rain. “Who was it at your house this morning? Jennifer saw a man knocking on your door.”

“Ah. He brought me some very important information. That’s why I want this meeting tonight.”

“You’re not going to tell me who it was, are you?”

Meinwen grinned. “And take all the fun out of Jennifer’s guessing?”

“And mine.” Susan looked at the woman. She was too full of secrets, that one. Full enough to burst.

They arrived at The Larches after a brisk twenty minutes, Simon red-faced and gasping like the world was about to end. He paused to regain his breath at the bottom of the drive. “Tell me why walking is better than driving again? My carbon footprint’s about to become a carbon ankle.”

“Because, A, walking is good for you, B, it saves burning fossil fuel unnecessarily and, C, I don’t have a car.”

“But I do.”

“And, D, I don’t trust your driving.”

“I’m hurt. Very well. What time do you want them?”

“About nine?” Meinwen shrank back into the laurels bordering the gate. “I’ll be right here.”

Simon nodded, straightened up and took a deep breath. “Right. Wish me luck.”

“Luck is an external influence denied by your God. But have some from mine.”

“Thanks, I think.” He took a last look at her and walked up the drive to the door.

“I’ll leave you here, Father. Best we’re not seen together. People might talk.”

“As you wish, Susan. Good day. ” He pulled the antique doorbell as she strode to the back of the house, but once around the corner Susan paused to listen.

“Father Brande.” Amanda’s voice trilled. She sounded nervous. “The day just wouldn’t feel the same without one of your visits. What can we do for you this time? Sing songs? Perform a dance?”

“I need to see Mrs. Markhew. It is rather urgent.”

“Of course it is. I’ll see if she’s available. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

“Tea would be nice. I missed my chance this morning with having to dash out.”

“I’ll see if there’s anyone in the kitchen.”

Susan scurried to the back door.

* * * *

Susan dried her hands on a tea towel as Amanda arrived in the kitchen. “Yes, love?”

“Would you make Father Brande a cup of tea, please? He’s in the hall.”

“Sure. Have you seen Catherine today? She’s not in her room.”

“I thought she was leaving?”

“She is, but her bags are still there.”

Amanda shook her head. “If I see her I’ll mention you want her. I have to go up to Mistress. Father Brande wants to see her.”

“This early in the morning? She’s not going to be pleased. I doubt she’s even dressed.”

* * * *

Meinwen hoisted herself onto the low wall opposite the drive of The Larches and took the coffee mug from her pocket. Not a single drop had spilled and it was still hot, despite the walk from the rectory.

She rested it on the wall and waited.

* * * *

Nicole used a metal nail file from her bedside drawer to unscrew the top rail from the foot of the bed. Taking out the screw at one side enabled her to lift it just far enough to slide the chain free. She hurried to the bathroom, enormously relieved.

* * * *

“Father Brande.” Jean had dressed in black again. It was always good to be on the right side of the priest, even if she did consider him overly pompous.

“Jean.” Simon stood and offered his hand. “It’s good of you to see me.”

“Yes, it is. What is it you want today?”

“Meinwen would like you to all come to The Herbage this evening. She has a matter of great importance to discuss with everyone about the murder.”

“Oh?” Jean narrowed her eyes. “What might that be?”

“I’m afraid she wouldn’t tell me.”

“So you are her lapdog now, running errands for her. Very well. Tell her we will come.”

“Thank you.” Simon hesitated. “It has to be everybody, though.”

“Of course. Except Richard, naturally. Is it true that the police have captured him? I know Mary couldn’t believe it. I had to ask Nicole to verify it with the inspector.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s innocent.”

“I expect he is. I don’t know why he was boarding the Eurostar, though.”

“Nor I.” Simon folded his hands in a gesture of prayer. “I’m sure the police will clear him.”

“Let us hope so.” Jean ran her finger across the Pieta. “I must say that I wasn’t keen on Mary and Richard marrying if he was a murderer but assuming he’s innocent I look forward to the match.”

“Richard will be very well off. At least Mary won’t have to steal any more to buy clothes.”

“My daughter didn’t steal anything. It was just a small matter of her not wishing to disturb Robert when he was working, otherwise she would have just asked him for money he’d have been happy to give.”

“I’m sure that’s the case. No one thinks less of her, Jean. She’s a lovely girl.”

“Exactly.” Jean shook his hand and motioned for Amanda to see him out. “Good day to you.”

* * * *

Jean smiled at the half-naked woman. “That’s a very sweet picture. Well done for having the initiative. What did you do? Take your bed apart?”

Nicole smiled back. “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I did.”

Jean looked at her carefully. From the waist up she was every inch the business woman in her smart blouse, perfect makeup and hair tied neatly into butterfly clips. From the waist down, however, she was a naked slut.

“That image works for me,” Jean said. “I might have you at your desk like that taking conference calls. It would amuse me.”

“If you wish, ma’am.” Nicole’s cheeks weren’t the only place heated with embarrassment at the scenario. “May I ask something, though?”

“Of course.” Jean waited.

“How was I supposed to get out of bed to meet you in your room?”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “I left you your phone, didn’t I? You could have asked me for release.”

* * * *

“How did it go?” Meinwen strode back toward the rectory, leaving Simon to catch up with her again.

“They’ll be there. She called me your lapdog for doing your dirty work, so thanks a bunch for the loss of respect.”

“My dirty work?” Meinwen smiled. “Does that make you a dirty vicar?”

“That’s C of E,” said Simon. “Anyway, in the popular vernacular, I believe it makes me your bitch.”

Meinwen stopped and looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “Language, Father.”

He grinned and carried on. “You should have seen Jean Markhew, all dressed in black again. I can’t help wondering if it’s for the sake of decorum or if it’s her preferred color. She either owns a lot of black clothes or else she goes to a lot of funerals.”

“A bit of both, probably. My mam wore black more often than not.”