True Love Ways (12 page)

Drew was deep in conversation with Miss Pendragon,
whilst Peter Mortimer sat in a chair near to the fireplace, almost apart from
everyone else. He looked completely exhausted, but his expression changed
quickly when he saw Meredith.

“Are you feeling unwell, Reverend?” She asked him,
sitting down in the opposite chair.

“No, no, just a little tired, Meredith, that's all.”

“Perhaps we'd all be better getting home...”

“No...” His voice held a note of desperation. “No,
please don't leave yet. We've arranged fireworks.” He spoke like a man who was
about to be taken to the gallows, rather than someone looking forward to a
pyrotechnic display. “In fact, Clarice should be ready to start now. Let's all
go outside, shall we?”

“What's wrong?” Drew muttered to Meredith when
everyone was standing outside on the terrace.

“Why do you ask?”

“When you came back from the cloakroom, you looked
like you'd seen a ghost.”

“The ghost of Maud Patterson,” Meredith whispered,
as a firework illuminated the night sky.

“What?” Drew caught her arm and spun her around to
him.

“Shh, you'll have everyone looking at us.” Luckily
Edith was over the other side of the terrace, handing out drinks from a table.
“I'll tell you on the way home. I mean, that's if you'd like to walk me back.”

“I wouldn't trust you to anyone else.”

After the fireworks, Peter tried to persuade the
guests to stay on longer, but eventually, come midnight, everyone was ready for
their bed. Meredith insisted she had to get back to Peg.

“Give her our best, won't you?” said Clarice. “We
feel so guilty that she was hurt in this house, don't we, Peter?”

“Yes, most certainly. A dreadful thing to happen.
Tell her that we hope she's joining our dinner parties again soon, Meredith.”

“I'm worried about him,” Meredith told Drew as he
walked her home.  They walked along, hand in hand. “Did you notice how tired he
seemed? And yet he didn't want us to leave.”

“I know. He's kept me up talking late most nights.
Sometimes I've had to practically beg to be allowed to go to bed.”

“And yet he and Clarice seem happy enough, don't
they?”

“Yes, besotted with each other, I'd say. As far as I
can see, there's never a cross word between them.”

“Drew … You must have noticed the money spent on
tonight's dinner.”

“I certainly did.”

“You don't think...”

“Of course that's what I'm thinking, Meredith.
Remember, I'm a vicar too. I know how little we earn.”

“Unless Peter has a private income?” Meredith did
not realise till that moment how much she wanted that to be true. If a good man
like Peter Mortimer could not remain honest, what hope was there for the rest
of humanity?

“No, no private income. We looked into all that, of
course. Especially when we heard about the cruise. But forget Peter for a
moment. Whether or not he's stealing from the church is my job to find out.
What did you say about Maud Patterson?”

Meredith told him about the letter she'd found in
Edith's coat pocket.

“So Edith is Maud after all?”

“It would seem so,” said Meredith. “And Bert saw her
talking to Turner. So it really ties up with her being the killer, doesn't it?”

“You sound almost disappointed.”

“It’s just that tonight, when Clarice was playing
Princess Grace of Monaco, I felt a bit sorry for Edith. Obviously the meal was
her hard work, not Clarice's. It must be hard for her … Edith, I mean … loving
Peter Mortimer so much and yet being little more than a servant.”

“That doesn't justify murder. Why didn't you
confront Edith with the letter? That's what detectives are supposed to do.”

“Because I'm not convinced. It's almost as if
there's too much evidence against Edith.”

Meredith was prevented from saying more on account
that they had arrived at Peg's cottage.

“Drew!” Betty almost jumped out of the front door,
startling them both. “I've been waiting for you.” Meredith seriously wondered
if Betty lay in wait for Drew every night!

“Then why not try the vicarage?” said Drew.

“Meredith's aunty said I shouldn't go there, but to
wait for you. Drew, Bert has been run over. He's in the cottage hospital.”

“What?” Meredith and Drew looked at each other.

“Meredith, I'm sorry to run out again...”

“It's okay, Drew. Go to him. I can't leave Aunty Peg
again. Go on, Betty.”

“I can't,” said Betty, weeping. “I can't see him
like that. It's all my fault. He said he was going away because he knew I
really loved Jimmy.”

“Come on inside,” said Meredith, “and I'll make you
a cup of tea. Drew, will you come back and let us know how he is?”

“Of course, darling. I'll be back soon.”

Meredith led Betty into the drawing room, and
settled her in a chair. “Is it okay if Betty stays with us tonight, Aunty Peg?”

“Of course she may. She can sleep in the spare
bedroom.”

“That's very kind, thank you,” said Betty, her lips
quivering. “I'm such a dreadful person...”

“No, you're not,” said Meredith, sitting at her
side. “Whatever happened to Bert wasn't your fault. Tell me all about it.”

“Well you know he went missing this morning. I still
don't know why. I thought it was because he was mad at me for not making up my
mind. Then they found him, and he'd been hit by a car. A hit and run they
called it. He was lying there in the roadside for hours. People just drove past
him, because he was down in a ditch and they couldn’t see him. A man walking
his dog found him, around eight o'clock tonight.” Betty gulped back a sob. “The
thing is now I don't know if I love him or not. I wouldn't feel this bad if I
didn't, would I?”

“I think your emotions are all over the place at the
moment, what with Jimmy and ...” Meredith hesitated.

“It's alright, dear,” said Peg. “Betty told me about
the baby, and the good advice you gave her.”

“That's okay, then,” said Meredith. “I didn't want
to speak out of turn. As I said, Betty, your emotions will be all over the
place. Just wait until you're calmer, and Bert is better, then you'll be better
able to decide.”

Betty nodded. “Yes, you're right. I just feel bad
for him at the moment.”

“Betty, I need to ask you. About what Bert saw on
the train. Drew said that Bert saw Edith Sanderson talking to Mr Turner. The
man who was killed.”

“We didn't know her name. He said the woman with the
scarf, and Drew said her name.”

“The head scarf?”

“No, not on her head. Bert told me it was around her
neck. Like yours.” Betty pointed to Meredith's  neck. “She was talking to him
outside the loo.”

“Oh God,” said Meredith. She stood up.

“What is it, Meredith?” Aunty Peg asked.

“I'm afraid we've made a dreadful mistake. Aunty
Peg, I have to go. Take care of Betty, will you? And when Drew comes back, tell
him where I've gone.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the vicarage. I think Edith Sanderson might be
in great danger.”

Chapter Nine

When Meredith reached the vicarage, it appeared to
be in darkness. On closer inspection, she saw that there was a dim light coming
from the drawing room. She paused near to the front door. What should she do?
Knock the door and demand entrance? The worst of it was that she had no real
evidence. Only a hunch that could be wrong.

What had Aunty Peg said? Don't believe or trust
someone just because you liked them? And Meredith had been taken in like
everyone else. No, not everyone else. Peter Mortimer may have been fooled to
begin with, but his demeanour at dinner pointed to a man who had had the scales
removed from his eyes.

She hesitated. Perhaps she would be better calling
the police. But what could she tell them? And anyway, that would take time, and
she wasn't sure if she had time. Turner was already dead, and Bert had been run
over. Edith was in danger, Meredith was sure of it. She imagined the scene in
her mind's eye. Edith picking up the post from the mat, and seeing the letter
addressed to Miss M Patterson. She'd have known no one of that name lived
there, but maybe she had her own suspicions. Albeit based more on love and envy
than evidence. So she'd read it and hidden it in her coat pocket. Why? Why not
tell someone about it? Perhaps because it contained some proof. Then, when
Meredith had come out of the cloakroom, the letter had been sticking out of the
pocket even more. Because someone else had looked at it. But why not destroy
it? Because Meredith opened the cloakroom door at that very moment.

Meredith crept around the side of the vicarage and
onto the terrace at the back. The back garden still smelled of saltpetre, from
the fireworks. The back door was unlocked, so Meredith tiptoed into the
passageway, and passed the deserted kitchen. She could hear someone talking in
the drawing room, so she pressed her ear against the door.

“You do see it's the best thing for all of us, don't
you?” said Clarice.

“Yes.” It was a man's voice. Peter Mortimer. Once
again he sounded like a man about to go to the gallows.

“We couldn't have let her stay. She'd have come
between us, Peter.”

“Where has she gone?”

“Away. Forever. She won't come back. Now drink your
milk, darling, then we can get some sleep.”

“Stop!” cried Meredith, bursting through the door.
“Don't drink it, Peter.” He already held the glass of warm milk up to his lips.

“It's alright, Meredith,” he said. “Please, go away.
While you still can.”

Clarice laughed. “That sounds a bit ominous. What
are you doing here, Meredith?”

“I came to find Drew,” Meredith lied. “He was
supposed to come and see us, to tell us how Bert was.”

“Bert?” Peter raised an eyebrow. It seemed to take
him all his strength to do so.

“He's been run over by a car. I'd hazard a guess
it's your car, Peter.”

“Now why would that be?” said Clarice. She stood up
and placed herself between Meredith and Peter Mortimer.

“Because you took it after Drew brought it back to
the vicarage. I imagine you found out he mentioned seeing you talking to Mr.
Turner on the train. Where's Edith?”

“She's gone away.”

“I don't believe you. I think she's upstairs in her
room and that you've done something to her.”

“Why on earth would I do that?”

For the first time, Meredith saw the madness in
Clarice's eyes. It was so obvious, she didn't know why she hadn't noticed it
before. “Because you're Maud Patterson. Isn't that right, Peter?” Meredith
appealed to the Reverend. Still holding the glass, he ran one hand over his
face, as if he hoped to wipe away all the pain and anguish.

“Yes. I swear I didn't know, Meredith. Not until we
returned from our honeymoon last Saturday. She told me it all. How she'd killed
Turner. Why she killed her mother and Colonel Trefusis. Even about pushing Peg
down the stairs. I swear I didn't know about that till then.”