The Woman In Blue: The Dr Ruth Galloway Mysteries 8 (25 page)

Chapter 29

Tim’s hunch proves correct. A search through the dead man’s pockets (he is wearing jeans under the pink robes) produces a driving licence and a passport in the name of Thomas Novak. Tim calls the station and sits with the body until the coroner’s van arrives, trundling self-importantly over the grass. It strikes him as immeasurably sad that this young man, with all his life ahead of him, preferred to die rather than to live it without the woman he loved. Love, he thinks, is a very frightening thing.

Back at the now deserted station he rings the next-of-kin number given in the passport. Thom’s mother answers, and he gives her the news as gently as he can. What strikes him most is that she isn’t in the least surprised. ‘When he left the rehab place we were worried that he might . . . that he might do something stupid.’ Was it stupid to kill yourself? Tim supposes so, but Novak’s action has a tragic logic nonetheless. Mrs Novak seems comforted to hear that Thom had attended a religious ceremony before he died, so Tim makes a lot of this without expanding on the horror of the giant cross and the body hanging from it. ‘Thom was brought up a Catholic. I hope he got some help from that . . . at the end.’

‘I’m sure he did,’ says Tim.

Next he rings Chloe’s parents. Julie Jenkins listens in silence and then she says, ‘Poor Thom. He did love her really.’ ‘I think he did,’ says Tim. He can’t bring himself to say (as his mother would) that they are together again now. ‘I’ll speak to his parents,’ says Julie. ‘Maybe we can have his ashes buried with Chloe’s.’

‘That’s a nice idea,’ says Tim.

He feels rather depressed after the phone calls and could do with someone to talk to but the incident room is empty. Surely the boss and the others should be back by now? Tanya’s computer is on, its low insistent hum filling the silent room. Tim clicks on the screen and sees a journey planner app showing a route from the remand prison to Walsingham. Clough’s emergency Mars bar is still on his desk. Where is everyone?

*

Rainsford’s trousers are torn and there seems to be blood on the grass. But he’s alive and, when he sees Nelson, he shouts ‘Help’ in a feeble voice. Nelson gives the baby to Larry, grasps the spaniel’s collar and pulls her off. Becky comes forward to take Lulu from him, bending down to bury her face in the dog’s hair.

Rainsford struggles to sit up. ‘That dog,’ he pants, ‘it’s mad. It attacked me. Bit both of my ankles.’

‘Robin Rainsford,’ says Nelson, pulling the man to his feet. ‘You’re under arrest for the murders of Chloe Jenkins and Paula Moncrieff and the attempted murder of Daisy Westmondham. Do you understand the nature of the charge?’

‘It drew blood.’ Rainsford seems to be asking for sympathy.

‘You do not have to say anything,’ says Nelson. ‘However it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be taken in evidence.’

Clough is at his side. ‘She’s OK, boss. More shocked than anything. Tanya’s with her now.’

‘And the ambulance is on its way?’

‘Yes, but we ought to get to the road. They’ll never find us in the middle of a field.’

‘Where’s Daisy?’ says Larry. He too seems in shock. He gazes at Rainsford as if he’s never seen him before.

‘I’m here,’ says a voice. It’s Daisy, leaning on Tanya’s arm, shoeless, her skirt ripped but her smile miraculously intact.

Larry wraps his arms round his wife, sobbing. Samuel, in danger of being crushed between his parents, starts crying too. Becky stands silently, holding the dog in her arms. Nelson puts his arm round her. ‘It’s all right, love. Let’s get out of here. Where’s the nearest road?’

‘Our friends live there.’ Becky puts down the dog and points to a white gate, about a hundred yards away.

‘OK. Clough, have you got cuffs?’

But Clough has already handcuffed Rainsford, who is still trying to look down at his injured ankles.

‘Let’s go then.’

Tanya has recovered the pushchair and Larry puts the baby into it. Daisy reaches out to her daughter and gives her a hug. Together they walk towards the gate, with Larry following, pushing the buggy. Tanya hovers protectively at Daisy’s shoulder. Nelson and Clough bring up the rear with the handcuffed Rainsford between them. Lulu circles them excitedly.

‘That dog should be put down,’ says Rainsford. ‘It’s quite out of control.’

‘You should be put down,’ growls Clough.

*

Back at the cottage, Ruth finds it hard to settle. Kate, overexcited after a day of arts and crafts with Sandra, is whiny and irritable. Ruth cooks supper, plays several games where the Sylvanians go to prison and/or boarding school, gives Kate her bath, reads two Josie Smith stories and still Nelson hasn’t rung. What is going on? Why did Nelson and Clough rush off so suddenly? Nelson asked Tim something about a school. What did that mean?

When Kate is finally asleep, Ruth opens her computer and Googles Madonna Lactans. ‘A depiction of the Virgin Mary,’ she reads, ‘where the Virgin is shown breastfeeding the infant Jesus.’ So she was right about the breast milk. She hopes that Nelson remembers how scathing he had been about the missing glass phial. Why doesn’t he ring so she can say ‘I told you so’?

Ruth paces around her tiny sitting room, watched impassively by Flint. She thinks of Hilary forcing Justin to the ground. Hilary was certainly telling the truth when she said that she wasn’t afraid of her stalker. In fact she had seemed positively to enjoy the encounter. Cathbad, on the other hand, had seemed to feel that he had been personally betrayed by his friend, the man whose cat he had looked after. Thinking of the cat, Ruth goes back to her laptop.

‘G. K. Chesterton, English writer and Christian apologist. Best known as the creator of the Father Brown stories, Chesterton converted to Roman Catholicism in 1922.’

So that was why Cathbad had said that the cat’s name should have given him a clue. Scrolling through a selection of G. K. Chesterton quotations, she reads, ‘Reason is always a kind of brute force, those who appeal to the head rather than the heart . . . are always men of violence.’ She thinks of Justin’s letters, of the attempts to justify his views by twisted reasoning and quotations from scripture. She thinks of Hilary’s own arguments, so measured and confident. Perhaps it’s better just to believe things, as Cathbad does, without attempting to explain them.

Maybe Nelson won’t ring her at all. After all, she’s not involved in the case. She’s neither a colleague nor a wife. Nelson is under no obligation to tell her what happened today. She supposes she’ll hear it on the news, just like everyone else.

At nearly ten o’clock her phone rings.

‘Ruth. It’s Nelson.’

‘Nelson. I was hoping you’d ring. What happened after you left Justin’s cottage?’

‘A whole lot happened,’ says Nelson. ‘For one thing, we’ve arrested Robin Rainsford for the murders.’

‘Robin Rainsford? Oh . . . the man who led Hilary’s course. Why did you arrest him?’

‘Well, we caught him trying to murder Daisy Westmondham, for one thing.’

‘Who?’

‘She’s the vicar’s wife. Rainsford was obsessed with his mother.’

‘Whose mother? The vicar’s?’

‘Yes, a woman called Doreen Westmondham. She was a dinner-lady at Rainsford’s school. Apparently she befriended him, and he became jealous of her children and the children she looked after – she fostered hundreds of children, including Paula Moncrieff.’

‘What about Chloe Jenkins?’

‘Doreen was her childminder. When Rainsford met Chloe at the church, the whole thing started up again. He kept tabs on all of them. It seems that he asked Paula to come on the course specially. I remember her husband saying that she was surprised to be invited. She hadn’t been a priest very long.’

‘God. Poor woman.’

‘Yes. It just clicked when we were at Justin’s house. I remembered that Rainsford had been at boarding school near Walsingham. Then I thought about Daisy and realised that she might be in danger.’

‘Why didn’t he go after the vicar? After all, he was this Doreen’s actual child.’

‘He only attacked women, and I think it helped if they were blonde. It’s all very nasty. Uniform went round to his house, and it’s full of pictures of blonde women. He was also obsessed with a golden-haired statue of the Virgin Mary.’

‘When Justin confessed to writing the letters I really thought it might be him.’

‘Yes. The letters were a distraction really. All that stuff about the Madonna dressed in blue, weeping for the world. It turns out that it wasn’t the Virgin Mary that Rainsford was obsessed with but his own substitute mother, Doreen.’

‘I was right about the breast-milk link, though, wasn’t I?’

Nelson laughs. ‘Yes, you were right, Ruth. Is that what you wanted me to say?’

There’s a small silence while Ruth thinks about what she really wants Nelson to say. ‘I’d better go,’ says Nelson at last. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Yes. It was very kind of you to ring me. I was going mad wondering what was going on.’

Another silence, then Nelson says, ‘Ruth, I’m sorry about the other evening . . . the things I said.’

‘That’s OK,’ says Ruth. ‘Have you spoken to Michelle?’

‘Yes,’ says Nelson. ‘We’ve . . . well, we’ve straightened things out.’

‘I’m glad,’ says Ruth. ‘I really am.’

As she clicks off the phone she thinks that, if Hilary’s God can make those words come true, she might even start believing in Him.

Chapter 30

20
^th
April 2014, Easter Sunday

‘Will he be all right on his own?’

‘He’ll be fine. He’s got his blanket.’

‘I’m not sure. He’s so little.’

Nelson and Michelle both look fondly at the puppy. He looks back up at them, head on one side, stumpy tail wagging. He has no idea that they’re planning to abandon him for the morning. Nelson feels his heart contract.

It was Lulu’s bravery on Good Friday that had finally convinced Nelson to get a dog, but the thought had been forming in his mind ever since his last meeting with Jan Adams and Barney. He’d rung Jan late on Good Friday evening and she’d said that she knew of a rescue place that had some German Shepherd puppies. ‘They’re all vaccinated and chipped, ready to go to new homes.’ Nelson and Michelle had driven over to the rescue centre on Saturday and had fallen in love at first sight.

Nelson had wanted to call the puppy Jimmy, after Jimmy Armfield, a legendary Blackpool player. If he’d had a son he would have insisted that the name Jimmy featured somewhere on the baptismal certificate. But Michelle had said that the puppy just didn’t look like a Jimmy, though Nelson is sure that she would have had the same reservations in the case of a son. Nelson’s previous and much-loved dog was called Max, but now he dislikes the name. Michelle suggested Rocky, but, although Nelson likes the idea of naming the dog after a boxer, it still reminds him too much of PC Roy ‘Rocky’ Taylor. ‘Roy was really sweet,’ Michelle had told him after the policeman had steadfastly guarded her on Friday afternoon. ‘I don’t know why you’re always so nasty about him.’

It was Laura who christened the new pet via her weekly Skype call from Ibiza. ‘He’s so fluffy and gorgeous. He looks like a bear. Let’s call him Bruno. Bruno the bear.’ Nelson had acquiesced. It could have been worse, knowing his daughters. Rebecca once had a hamster called Fluffykins. At least there was a boxer called Frank Bruno.

Robin Rainsford has confessed to the murders of Chloe and Paula and to the attempted murder of Daisy. He confessed while still in hospital having his dog bites treated. Perhaps he knew that DNA evidence would link him to the crimes; perhaps it was being caught attacking Daisy or perhaps he was just too tired of lying. ‘How did you guess it was Rainsford?’ asked Tim, when Nelson finally arrived back at the station. ‘I remembered he’d been at school in the area,’ said Nelson, as he had to Ruth, ‘and it just clicked suddenly.’ But, in fact, it was something else, words that had been running in Nelson’s head ever since Stanley Greenway’s taped confession: ‘And I was just lying there in the grass the birds blackbird thrush robin looking at her so pretty then she was dead I loved her but she was dead . . . ’
The unintelligible babble had, in fact, contained a witness statement. Some time on Good Friday Nelson’s brain had unscrambled this and added punctuation:

‘And I was just lying there in the grass, the birds: blackbird, thrush. Robin looking at her, so pretty, then she was dead.’

Stanley had actually seen Robin Rainsford looking down on Chloe’s dead body, but, in his drug-addled state, hadn’t been able to connect this with her murder. Stanley’s first conscious memory was of finding himself beside Chloe’s corpse and this convinced him that he must be the killer. He had carried Chloe back to the Slipper Chapel, intending to pray to his beloved Madonna. But the chapel had been closed and, in terror, Stanley had laid Chloe’s body in a ditch, placing his rosary on her chest. He had then staggered back to the Sanctuary and managed to block out the whole thing.

‘It’s fairly typical of the drugs he was on,’ said Fiona McAllister. ‘They can cause blackouts and paranoid delusions. I told you that at the time.’

Yes, she had told them, but they hadn’t listened. Stanley had confessed to the crime and Nelson can’t acquit himself or his team of the assumption that Stanley must have been the killer because he simply looked the type. He knew that he had doubts – there was never anything linking Stanley to Paula, for example – but he had suppressed those feelings. And he hadn’t trusted Robin Rainsford from that first meeting in the room smelling of incense. Robin must have been at the Slipper Chapel that evening, along with Justin and Larry. And, walking back through the fields, he had encountered Chloe Jenkins, wandering back from a visit to her beloved childminder’s grave. Robin, recognising Chloe from church and knowing her to be linked to Doreen, had killed her, leaving her body where it lay. Paula, too, was a marked woman from the moment she was invited on the course. Robin had attacked Michelle in the graveyard, thinking she was Paula. But Paula was out with the other priests and all Robin had to do was to wait for her to come back to St Catherine’s. He had heard her return, had heard her announce her attention of walking in the grounds and he had gone to meet her. Then he had returned to his room and, by his own account, slept peacefully until the police came to rouse him in the early hours of the morning.

Father Bill was right, in a way, Nelson thinks. The clue was the Madonna. Not Our Lady or the Virgin Mary or the Madonna Lactans. It was the mother, the foster mother, the extraordinary, ordinary Doreen Westmondham, who had enough love in her heart for her own children and for a hundred foster children, yet still had time to befriend a little boy at boarding school. As an adult, Robin Rainsford championed the cause of women in the Church, perhaps because he remembered the kindness of his surrogate mother. But, unlike the millions of pilgrims who flock to Walsingham every year, he was not willing to share the love of his mother. He was jealous of anyone she had cared for. Even Daisy Westmondham, who had never met Doreen, wasn’t immune. She was her daughter-in-law, and had had the temerity to have a photograph of Robin’s ideal mother stuck to her kitchen noticeboard. Robin must have seen it when he came to dinner at the start of the course.

And now Larry Westmondham has invited them to this Easter service. ‘Please come, Detective Chief Inspector. All of you. It’ll be a way of putting the past behind us and making a new start. That’s what Easter morning is all about. Resurrection, new life, a new start.’

Nelson passed the message on to the team. Clough and Cassandra will both be there. Tim, who is leaving after Easter, was vague about his plans. Tanya, on the other hand, was keen. She’s keen about everything these days, especially since Nelson has recommended her for a permanent promotion to detective sergeant. It was well deserved, too. It was Tanya who had spotted Stanley Greenway and Justin Fitzroy-Jones on the CCTV. And it was Tanya who, running like the wind through the rapeseed fields, found Daisy first. Nelson wonders if Tanya will bring her partner to the church. If so, Nelson prays that Clough won’t say anything too embarrassing.

But Michelle is clearly having second thoughts. ‘I don’t think we should both go, Harry. Look at Bruno’s little face. He’ll be so sad.’

Nelson looks at Bruno’s little face. He knows that he is going to the service on his own.

*

Ruth, too, is on her way to church. In her case, it was Hilary who did the emotional blackmail. ‘Please come, Ruth. It would mean so much to me.’

‘I don’t believe in God,’ said Ruth. ‘You know that.’

‘I understand,’ said Hilary, though she still sounded as if she didn’t. ‘But come for me, for all of us. It was such a shock about Robin. It feels important to leave Walsingham on a positive note.’

‘What about Kate?’

‘Bring her too,’ said Hilary. ‘I’d love to meet her. They’re giving out Creme Eggs after the service.’

Ruth had sighed and given in. Maybe Hilary’s right and they do need some sort of ceremony to mark the occasion. And you might see Nelson, says that unwelcome, but insistent voice in Ruth’s head.

It’s a blustery morning, and, as Ruth drives over the marshes the wind makes the long grass undulate like the sea. Kate is eating a chocolate egg (Ruth hopes she’s remembered wet wipes) and clutching a woolly lamb, an Easter present from Nelson and Michelle.

‘Why are we going to this place?’ she asks, rather indistinctly.

‘Because it’ll be fun,’ says Ruth. ‘There’ll be singing and . . . er . . . candles and . . .’

‘Candles? Is it a birthday party?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Christmas is Jesus’s birthday, isn’t it?’

In a way, thinks Ruth. She remembers Cathbad saying the Christians picked the date of the 25th December for Christmas because it coincided with a pagan feast. ‘And it’s traditional, of course, to have a feast in mid-winter. Light in the dark, warmth in the cold.’ At least Cathbad will be at the church today and then Ruth and Kate are going back to his and Judy’s house for lunch.

‘Easter is celebrating life,’ she says, ‘and spring and lambs and all that.’

‘And chocolate,’ says Kate.

‘And chocolate,’ agrees Ruth. She hopes that there will be enough Creme Eggs for the adults.

*

Michelle listens to Nelson’s car driving away; he’s accelerating too much as usual and has to brake noisily at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. But Nelson will always drive like he’s involved in a pursuit, even when he’s doing something as innocuous as going to church.

Michelle looks down at Bruno, who crinkles his nose engagingly. ‘You’re going to like me best,’ Michelle tells him, ‘be a real mummy’s boy.’ ‘We mustn’t start referring to ourselves as the dog’s mummy and daddy,’ Nelson had said last night, ‘that really would be the beginning of the end.’ Too late, thinks Michelle, the process has already started in her head. ‘Mummy loves you,’ she says defiantly to the puppy, who looks back at her with absolute adoration.

Michelle takes out her phone. ‘
He’s gone
,’ she texts. No need for more words. A guilty text if there ever was one. Except she’s not guilty, she tells herself, as she goes into the kitchen to prepare the lamb joint for lunch. She is going to do everything she can to save this marriage, it’s just that she thinks she owes herself this meeting first.

Tim arrives ten minutes later. She watches him walking to the house, having left his car at the top of the road as instructed. Her next-door-neighbour is mowing his lawn, but he doesn’t look up as Tim, sober and unremarkable in jeans and a grey jumper, goes past. A people-carrier parks across the road bearing her opposite neighbours’ grandchildren and, under the cover of their joyful exclamations of welcome, Michelle lets Tim into the house.

He hasn’t been inside the house since the time, three years ago, when Michelle cooked him lunch to welcome him to the team. She wonders if he’ll think of that now, smelling the garlic and rosemary from the lamb. She always lays the table for Sunday lunch, even if it’s just for two of them, but she hasn’t done it today. She thinks that seeing the two places, the wine glasses, the mats showing Norfolk scenes, would be too much for both of them.

‘Do you want a drink?’ she asks. ‘Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’

‘No, thanks,’ says Tim. ‘Is this the puppy?’ He bends down to talk to Bruno, who flattens himself onto the carpet, in a posture that’s half-welcome, half-abasement. ‘Clough was telling me about him.’

‘He’s called Bruno,’ says Michelle. ‘We only got him yesterday but he’s been so good. He didn’t cry at all last night.’ She doesn’t add that this was because they took him into their bedroom at the first sign of a whimper.

Tim straightens up. He looks out of place in her sunny sitting room; too tall, too serious, too intense. He’s not as big as Nelson, but he’s still a rather intimidating presence. He also looks, Michelle realises with a shock, too young for a room that has matching sofas and a dining alcove. Tim is ten years younger than her, but it has never seemed to matter before. Now he almost looks like he could be one of her daughters’ friends.

‘Nice house,’ he says.

Michelle shrugs, though, in truth, the house is her pride and joy.

‘Be careful the dog doesn’t chew the furniture,’ says Tim. ‘My brother had a German Shepherd that did that. Mind you, I think that was because it was bored. Rick didn’t take him out much.’

‘I’m going to take Bruno for a long walk every day,’ says Michelle. ‘It’ll be better than going to the gym.’

They stare at each other. Eventually Tim says, ‘I’m sorry my text scared you.’

‘That’s OK. It was just that it was an unfamiliar number.’

‘I always used to call you from my other phone. In case the boss saw the texts.’

The message, ‘
I’m coming back for you
’, had turned out to be from Tim. When Michelle found out she was almost more frightened than when she believed it was from a madman threatening to kill her. What did Tim mean, he was coming back for her? What if she didn’t want him to? What if she did and the knowledge meant that she could never again live happily with Harry? Michelle hadn’t slept at all last night, lying awake, listening to Harry and Bruno snoring in unison.

Now she says, ‘What did it mean? The text.’

Tim spreads out his hands. ‘I still love you, Michelle. I’m sorry, but I do. I know you want to stay with Nelson and I respect that. It’s just . . . well, if you ever need me, you know where I am.’

It occurs to Michelle that she actually has no idea where Tim will be. She says so.

‘My transfer has come through,’ says Tim. ‘I’m starting with Essex CID after Easter. The boss has been very fair, given me a good reference.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ says Michelle. At that moment she wants, more than anything else, to fling herself into Tim’s arms, to drag him upstairs so he can make love to her on the king-sized marital bed with French Colonial-style duvet. Why not? she thinks wildly, I might never see him again. Why shouldn’t I have this to remember? But she doesn’t move.

‘Goodbye, Michelle,’ says Tim.

‘Goodbye, Tim.’

She doesn’t go with him to the door. She stands still in the middle of the room, listening to the metallic hum of next-door’s lawnmower. After a few minutes Bruno comes to her side and she buries her face in his fur.

*

The first person Nelson sees is Clough. He looks unusually smart in a blue suit and is standing with Cassandra by the church porch. Nelson is early as usual, but he’s surprised to see a stream of people walking through the graveyard and into the church. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Doreen Westmondham’s tombstone, very white in the spring sunshine.