Smile and be a Villain (12 page)

‘Why?'

‘Because we thought perhaps other people who felt as she did might have talked to her about—'

‘No. Why do you care? You never knew him. You only found him dead. That's a shock, I can see. But why do you care what kind of person he was?'

I paused for thought. ‘I've heard that in some Asian cultures,' I said after a moment, ‘if someone saves a person's life, he or she becomes responsible for that person forever. There's a connection that can't be severed. Alan and I are discovering that to be true in this case as well. We didn't save his life, we found his body, but in some way we can't quite explain, we have a connection with William Abercrombie. He may not have had much in the way of family – at least the police haven't been able to trace anyone yet – but we have become something like family to him. It's important to us to get to know him. And if that sounds peculiar, well it feels peculiar to us, too.'

None of what I had said was untrue. I had more or less been making it up as I went along, because I didn't want to say we were looking into a possible murder. But as I said it aloud, I realized it was true. Some kind of bond had been forged between us and the late Mr Abercrombie, and we had some sort of responsibility to him.

Phil's reaction was a snort, or what would have been a snort if he hadn't been a courteous man. ‘Yes, it does sound peculiar, and I have to say I don't envy you a connection with that man. If you're looking for someone to tell you why some people didn't like him, you've come to the right place.'

My tea had cooled. Too much. I drank some of it anyway and settled back. ‘I'd be interested in anything you want to tell me.'

‘I don't know why Alice hated him. She wouldn't tell me. But I was there the first time he walked in the church door. She was clearing away after Morning Prayer, and I was waiting to take her for coffee. He was wearing his collar, and he came up and smiled at her and said something, I forget what. She smiled back. Then he said his name and put out his hand, and I never saw such a look on anyone's face. I thought for a minute she was going to be sick. She didn't say a word, just looked at him and turned around and left the church. I went after her, but she had her car there, and got in, and drove away. I tried to phone her, but she wouldn't answer.

‘The next time I saw her I tried to talk to talk to her about it, but she refused to say a word, and she'd changed. We'd been good friends, but it seemed she didn't want anything to do with me anymore. She was like that with everybody, I noticed. Cold and distant. And she'd always done volunteer work at the church, but she wouldn't stay in the building if he was there.'

‘How did he react to that?'

‘And that's the oddest thing of all. You'd think a clergyman, of all people, would try to talk to her, find out what was wrong, mend fences. He did nothing. He acted as if she weren't there.'

‘Hmm.'

‘He was always at the church, it seemed. Helping with this, doing that, suggesting the other. A finger in every pie. Most of the ladies thought he was wonderful.'

‘Was he good-looking?'

‘I thought you'd seen him.'

I shuddered. ‘He'd just fallen down a hill and hit his head on rocks. He was … not a pleasant sight.'

‘No. Well, he wasn't handsome, but he was pleasant-looking. Saintly, I heard one of the women say. The men in the church weren't quite so impressed. I don't know what they all thought, but there was one man who obviously despised him. I think you've met him. Robin Whicker?'

‘Yes, Alan and I like him very much. We had noticed that he seemed not to think highly of Abercrombie, though he didn't talk about him to us. Do you know why?'

‘He doesn't discuss his feelings readily. I think he had some idea that the man was hiding something, that he wasn't as much of a paragon as he tried to appear. I know no more than that.'

I sighed. ‘I see. It seems people either loved him or hated him. That's odd, if you think about it. Was no one neutral?'

He shrugged. ‘Most people, I suppose, even in the church. There are the volunteers who do everything, the ones who come to services every Sunday and sing in the choir and run the jumble sale and all the rest.'

I nodded. I suspect all churches are the same, all over the world.

‘And then there's the rest of the congregation,' he went on, ‘the ones who come to services on occasion, and go home and feel they've done their Christian duty for another week or month. I doubt they cared about Abercrombie one way or another.'

‘What about the townspeople, the ones who don't go to church, or go to the Methodist or the Catholic church?'

‘The shopkeepers loved him. He spent bags of money. Most of the island knew who he was, of course.'

Of course. Everyone knew who we were, and we'd been there less than a week.

‘To most of them, I suppose he was just another American tourist.'

‘Tourist? I had heard he planned to stay here, perhaps buy a house and live here.'

‘Perhaps. He said a lot of things.' Phil picked up his teacup, sipped, set it down again with a grimace. ‘You've asked me your questions,' he said. ‘Now I have one for you? Why are you so interested in who loved him and who hated him?'

‘I told you, we wanted somehow to get to know the man—'

‘I know what you said. Now I'll tell you what I think. I think you believe the man was pushed down that hill, and you're trying to work out who might have done it. And I'll tell you one more thing. I didn't push him, and Alice didn't, and if someone else did, I hope he's never caught.'

I
t was a good thing Alan and the constable showed up just then, because I had no idea what to say to Phil.

He lost interest in me, of course, the minute he saw the men. He stood up so abruptly he knocked over his chair. ‘Did you find anything? Do you have any idea where she is?'

Constable Partridge put a hand on Phil's shoulder. ‘We found nothing. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. There was no evidence of a struggle, nothing to indicate that she was taken away forcibly.'

‘She wouldn't have left Sammy with no food!'

‘I agree. Incidentally, there was plenty of food for him in the larder. Mr Nesbitt gave him food and water, and he's now blissfully sleeping it off. But it does seem as if Alice left voluntarily. We found her handbag, with her car keys inside, and no sign that anything had been removed. I called the library. She didn't come to work this morning.'

‘Then she's been hurt! An accident—'

‘We would have known immediately about a road accident. Now, Phil, I know you're upset, but what I want you to do is think carefully about where she might have gone. We know she was upset in her mind. Was there a place she liked to go to think, to be peaceful?'

He righted his chair and collapsed into it. ‘The church, usually. But not of course recently. That bastard had ruined it for her. She liked to walk the cliffs.'

‘We saw her in the – what do they call it? The Wildlife Bunker. Could she have gone there?' I suggested.

‘Why wouldn't she have come back?' said Phil.

The constable cleared his throat. ‘Phil, did she ever talk about exploring the tunnels?'

‘Tunnels?' I asked.

‘Oh, God, not the tunnels!' Phil turned as nearly white as I've seen a human being look.

I glanced from my husband to Phil to the constable, trying to understand.

‘Part of the German fortifications,' said the constable. ‘Some are safe to enter. Some … are not.'

I felt the blood drain from my own face. One of my deepest horrors is of caves and tunnels. My claustrophobia isn't nearly as bad as some people's, but the very idea of an enclosed underground space is enough to make me weak in the knees. Even reading about it in a book … and now we might be faced with the possibility of someone lost in one of those places.

‘Are they … deep?' I forced myself to ask.

‘Not so very,' replied Partridge. ‘The danger is that they are unstable. The timbers holding them up rotted long ago, and there have been collapses …'

I swallowed hard. ‘Then we'd better start looking for her, hadn't we?'

Constable Partridge phoned the police station to organize a search. Phil started frantically phoning his friends. Alan and I stood by, wondering what we could do to help.

‘One thing you will not do, Dorothy,' he said in a low, but firm, voice. ‘You will not go into those tunnels.'

‘But I feel so helpless! There's poor Alice, maybe trapped—'

‘I do not often issue orders, my dear. You know that. But this is an order. You can't help by going inside. You can serve coffee for the searchers, you can provide snacks, you can aid in any way you like,
except
in the actual search.'

I said nothing.

‘If for no other reason, look at it this way. If you were to freeze with panic in a tunnel, you would have to be rescued. That would take searchers away from the reason they're there. You don't want that.'

‘In short, I'd be more of a nuisance than a help.' I suppose I sounded bitter. I was.

‘In short, yes. And you know that without my telling you.'

‘Right. And just how am I supposed to make this feast? You're forgetting I have no kitchen just now.'

‘You don't have to cook anything. The moment the word goes out, I'll wager every household on the island will move into action. This won't be the first time something of the sort has happened. Just stay available to help in any way you can.'

I fought against the common sense in what he was proposing. Finally I sighed. ‘Oh, you're right, as usual. I do get so tired of you always being right.'

He ignored that as the cry of a petulant child, which is exactly what it was. I hate feeling that I'm not in control. ‘I wish we'd never found the dratted man! I wish we'd never come to this dratted island!'

And that, too, was sheer petulance, and it wasn't helping. I pulled myself together. ‘Sorry, love,' I muttered. ‘I'll behave. Where do you want me to go?'

‘With me, as soon as Derek has the search organized. Then we'll see.'

It didn't take them long to get things rolling. As Alan had predicted, a search was a well-rehearsed part of island life. Everyone knew his or her role in the effort, and stepped into it without much fuss.

Both Alan and I were kept well away from the tunnels.

‘With all due respect, sir,' said Derek, ‘you don't know this island as we do. There are all sorts of hazards once one leaves the established walking routes. I would like you, and your wife if she wishes, to go to the Wildlife Bunker. Alice went there once; she might go again. I'll have someone drive you as far as the road goes; that will save some time.'

Alan accepted his marching orders without a word, which made me ashamed of my little fit of pique.
Get a grip, Dorothy
, I admonished myself.
This isn't about your feelings. It's about a woman who's in deep distress, and is missing.

None of us wanted to even think about the other possibility.

We didn't pause to admire scenery or wildlife on our way to the bunker. We walked as fast as we safely could, and talked not at all. Alan held my hand when the path was wide enough to walk two abreast.

We broke into a near-run as we approached the bunker and heard voices, though we couldn't make out words. We must have startled the two people there as we rushed in, breathless.

They were tourists. After only a few days on Alderney, I could spot them. They had been looking at the exhibits and exclaiming over them, but when we entered they stopped and looked at us blankly.

Alan recovered his breath before I did. ‘Good afternoon,' he said quietly. ‘We're sorry to disturb you, but we're looking for a friend who may have come this way. Have you seen anyone else here?'

The woman looked helplessly at the man. ‘
Pardon
,' he said. ‘French.' He pointed to himself and then to the woman. ‘No English.'

‘
Ah, je vous demande pardon, monsieur. Nous cherchons une amie. Avez-vous vu une femme ici, une femme Anglaise de peut-être cinquante ans?
'

I was filled with admiration. My high-school French had deserted me years ago, and I could no more have inquired about a fifty-year-old English friend than I could have flown out of the bunker. I thought I was doing well to understand most of what he said.

I couldn't understand a word of what the couple said in reply, but from the gestures and head-shakings, I gathered the answer was no. Alan thanked them politely, and we stepped out of the bunker.

‘You got that?' he asked.

‘Not the words. They talk so fast! But I could understand “
non
”. What shall we try now?'

‘We report back, and do whatever Derek wants us to do.'

‘You're a lot better about following orders than I am.'

‘Years spent in an organization run along quasi-military lines will do that to a person.' He pulled out his phone and made his call. I could make little of his end of the conversation and waited till he punched off, looking despondent. ‘There's very little we can do without transport,' he said. ‘Nearly all the places that need to be searched are reached on foot, but from a nearby road. It would take us too long to walk to them, even if we were sure of where we were going.'

‘This is so
frustrating
!'

‘I agree. Derek said he'd call if he thought of something, but I doubt he will. He's busy dealing with people who
can
help.'

‘Well, then, we might as well get ourselves back up to civilization. At least then if someone does turn up with a car, we can climb right in.'

‘You're right. But wait one moment.' He went back into the bunker and spoke a few words to the French couple. I understood only ‘
neuf, neuf, neuf'
, but that put me more or less in the picture.