Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) (4 page)

“Those insensitive police,” muttered Shona disapprovingly. “They’ve only got their minds on their work and never think of how it affects people.”

Annabelle smiled sympathetically.

“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said, half to Shona and half to Dougie. “Whoever is buried there died a very long time ago.”

Shona brought the tea and biscuits to the table.

“What makes you say that, Reverend?”

“Well, they’ve been digging like a bunch of hyperactive moles all evening,” Annabelle said, craning her neck to look out the window at the bright glow emanating from the woods, “and it looks like they’re still at it. Whatever is in the ground, it’s firmly planted there.”

“The murderer could have dug a hole and put him in there last week! I saw it in a movie!”

“Dougie!”

Annabelle chuckled.

“Possibly, but then you would have tripped over a fleshy arm – not a bone, Dougie.”

Dougie made a disgusted face and shook his head in an exaggerated motion. “Eurgh!”

“I’ve lived here for fifteen years,” Shona said, thoughtfully, “and I’ve never heard of anybody going missing in the woods.”

Annabelle shrugged.

“Maybe they’ve been there even longer than that. Or maybe it was a poor homeless person who froze to death.”

“Makes me shiver to think what could be lying in the ground. Just on your doorstep.”

“Maybe it’s the ghost!” Dougie shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Hush now, Dougie,” Shona scolded, “whatever it is, it’s none of our business now.”

“Wait a minute,” Annabelle said, a curious expression on her face, “did you say
the
ghost, Dougie?”

Dougie nodded, afraid to speak in case it resulted in more admonishments.

“You mean, there’s rumors of a ghost in those woods?”

Dougie nodded again, his lips visibly pressed together, as if they would be compelled to speak if he didn’t suppress them. He looked at Aunt Shona, who shrugged her permission for him to talk to Annabelle.

“Miss Montgomery’s sister! She went missing in the woods a long, long time ago. Everyone thinks she died. Jack said he saw her running through there one time wearing a white dress. She looked much younger than Miss Montgomery, because she was only young when she disappeared. Ryan said it’s because she went to see a film with a boy, but Angelina says that’s rubbish because girls go to see films with boys all the time. She even dared Ryan to go to see a film with her to see if—”

“Miss Montgomery, your teacher?” Shona asked, knowing that unless she interrupted, Dougie would spin a story without an ending, forever and ever, amen.

Dougie nodded, gulping down air to catch his breath, so fast was his speech. “The one who told me off for doing my homework about Professor Xenomorph instead of the book she gave us. I didn’t even read the book. Frank’s teacher said that so long as you read, it doesn’t matter what it is. Reading is itself a–”

“Okay, Dougie,” Shona said, placing a hand over his arm and drawing him close to calm him down, “don’t go getting all excited again. You’ll never get to sleep. Why don’t you go brush your teeth? I’ll be up to read you a story as soon as I finish my tea.”

“Bye Reverend!” Dougie shouted quickly, as if in an incredible rush, his energy eager to be channeled into something, but his mind racing too quickly to find whatever that something might be.

Shona chuckled softly at the sound of his feet thumping quickly up the stairs.

“That boy has a mind that goes places as quickly and as randomly as his feet.”

“Perhaps,” uttered Annabelle slowly, lost in her own thoughts, “but I doubt he was lying about those rumors.”

“Reverend, surely you don’t think there’s any value to them. They’re just idle ghost stories! The kind of thing that children make up all the time about their teachers.”

Annabelle nodded her agreement, but her eyes were still fixed somewhere in the distance of her thoughts.

“I suppose. Though even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Annabelle and Shona sipped the last of their tea simultaneously, before the Reverend slapped her knees and stood up.

“Well, I should get going. I’ll drop by soon to see how you’re getting on – though I’m sure you won’t be bothered any more by all of this. It’s purely a police matter now.”

“You’re welcome here anytime Annabelle. It was nice to see someone that wasn’t wearing a uniform today.”

Annabelle chuckled as she made her way to the door. Before she opened it, she turned and clasped Shona’s hands in hers.

“Send my best wishes to your sister.”

Shona nodded respectfully.

Annabelle stepped outside and began the long walk across the dark, open field toward her beloved blue Mini, guided by the flashing police lights and bright glow of the woods, her mind rolling with thoughts that were as lively as the young boy she had just left who was right now tossing in his bed trying to get to sleep.

Though Annabelle felt weary and ready for a good night’s rest by the time she pulled into the yard that separated the church of Upton St. Mary and the small white cottage she called home, her mind was spinning with possibilities and theories.

She turned off the engine and stepped out of her car, bristling a little as a cold gust blew through her cassock. When she looked up, she noticed the small figure of Philippa, the church secretary, braving the wind as she ran with almost comically tiny steps toward the Reverend.

“Philippa! It’s rather late for you to still be here, isn’t it?”

Philippa clutched her coat around her as she drew close. “Hello, Reverend. I’m very sorry, but I was rather hoping you would give me a lift home. I completely lost track of time.”

Though Annabelle was tired herself, she could never leave her most loyal friend to face the cool night alone. Philippa didn’t live too far away, and in fact, it was a rather pleasant walk in the summertime. In unpredictable weather and cold snaps that emerged at other times of the year, however, it felt twice as long.

“Hop in,” Annabelle said, with a good-natured shake of her head.

“Thank you, Annabelle,” Philippa said, as she got in and placed her hands primly on her lap.

Annabelle reversed the car and pulled back out onto the country road.

“This is terribly unlike you, Philippa. Whatever were you doing that you lost track of the time?”

“Just my usual duties.”

“Hmm,” replied Annabelle, unconvinced, “you must have checked the accounting ledgers four times in the past week alone. And if you sweep those steps any more you’ll wear them down to a ramp!”

“I’m just being thorough, Reverend.”

Annabelle shook her head as she eased the car around the corners of the village’s buildings.

“Believe it or not, yours isn’t even the strangest behavior I’ve witnessed today. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something in the air.”

Philippa remained silent.

Annabelle parked the car outside Philippa’s well-maintained front garden and broke the silence with the click of her handbrake. Philippa promptly undid her seatbelt.

“Before you go,” Annabelle said, turning in her seat to face her mousey friend, “I want to ask you something.”

“Yes, Reverend?”

Annabelle frowned, seeking the right words. She didn’t want to go spreading police business around – especially to someone as prone to gossip as Philippa – but she felt that she had to know more. And there was no better person to ask.

“Have you ever heard any rumors regarding a ghost in Upton St. Mary?”

Philippa’s face stretched itself into an expression of such shock that all her wrinkles disappeared and she looked a full five years younger. She clasped a hand to her chest and stared at Annabelle as if she had transformed into a werewolf before her very own eyes.

“I… What.... Why would you ask me such a thing, Reverend?!”

Annabelle squinted at her colleague’s overly dramatic reaction.

“Are you alright, Philippa?”

“Yes!” Philippa affirmed, sharply. “I’m absolutely perfectly fine! I just have no idea why you would ask me about a ghost!”

Annabelle opened her mouth to question Philippa’s strange tone before thinking better of it. Philippa was a wonderful friend, but she had a habit of harnessing on to strange notions that caused her to act weirdly at times.

“Forget I asked. It was just a rumor I heard.”

“What rumor?” Philippa blurted, almost before the Reverend had finished her sentence.

“Ah… Well…” Annabelle stuttered, suddenly feeling that she was the one put on the spot.

“Now you’re the one acting strangely!” Philippa said triumphantly. She leaned forward, taking the initiative. “What’s going on, Annabelle?”

“Nothing! Just… Well…”

For a few moments the two women exchanged odd looks with the rapidity of a tennis match, their expressions flickering between suspicious, annoyed, defensive, and frightened.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” exclaimed Annabelle finally, throwing her hands in the air.

Philippa turned away, seeming relieved that whatever danger she had perceived from the Vicar’s line of questioning was gone.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Philippa,” Annabelle said, adding a shake of her head to her tone of defeat.

“Bye, Reverend,” Philippa responded in a monotone as she got out of the car and made her way to her front door.

Annabelle watched her fumble for her keys and go inside before turning the car around and heading back to the church.

Ordinarily, Philippa’s bizarre behavior would have been cause for concern enough. Today, it was just another strange event to add to the others. Almost everyone she had spoken to was exhibiting peculiar reactions, and Annabelle could not bear the feeling that she was standing on the edge of not just one, but several mysteries.

As a child, her father, a London cabbie who adhered to the profession’s stereotype by having an opinion on everything, had a saying for certain kinds of drivers: ‘They take a pound to start, and a pound to stop.’ Annabelle felt that the saying could easily be applied to Upton St. Mary. A good event in the small village seemed to spark a snowball of positive feeling and good fortune that spread to everyone within its vicinity. Unfortunately, it worked the other way around too. If the behavior of DI Nicholls, Philippa, and Constable Raven were anything to go by, soon the whole village would be enraptured by the dark intrigue and paranoid speculation that seemed to be swirling around her.

She drove her Mini expertly along the winding roads. It was an experience that she usually savored as one of life’s most underappreciated and satisfying pleasures. To drive along these elegantly arranged country lanes guided solely by the headlights of her car was, to her, heavenly. Tonight, however, it was a time of solitude and quiet during which her mind ran rampant with growing worries and concerns over the events of the day.

Top of the list had to be the identity of the body that young Dougie had discovered. Though she had become as much a staple of village life as the annual cake competition, Annabelle had only been in Upton St. Mary for a few years. Usually her closest friend would fill her in (a little too eagerly, and with a little more information than was strictly necessary) when she found her knowledge of Upton St. Mary’s past, or its inhabitants, was lacking. But with Philippa acting in a manner that was so out of the ordinary, Annabelle would have to find another long-time resident and expert gossip to aid her in the investigation to find out who the body might be.

Of course, the question of whether Annabelle should even be getting involved with this police matter never occurred to her. She regarded the unveiling of the village’s mysteries as part of her Godly duties. The maintaining of the villagers’ peace of mind was a matter of course for the church vicar. That’s how she saw it.

After all, it would by no means be the first time police work had overlapped with her churchly responsibilities and on those previous occasions her diligence, curiosity, and astute intuition had borne rather satisfying results. Already, she felt she had gained some insight that had not yet reached the admirable Inspector Nicholls: The ghost of Miss Montgomery’s sister.

There’s no way Dougie would have divulged playground hearsay to DI Nicholls. The Inspector was much too intimidating and abrupt for that. And even if he had, it’s the sort of thing the detective would have dismissed out of hand even on his better days. Annabelle, however, was a strong believer that  “out of the mouth of babes comes truth.” A slightly distorted truth, perhaps, but a truth worth considering.

Just as she was engrossed in these deepest of thoughts, something darted across the road.

“Crikey!” Annabelle cried out, slamming on the brakes.

The car jolted to a halt, flinging Annabelle forward, then thumping her back against the seat. When she looked up again the road was empty. She had seen foxes cross the road before, and on one occasion a lone sheep, but this had looked more like a pig.

Surely not, thought Annabelle. Pigs were fenced in. They rarely roamed. She shook off the incident, too tired to add another question to her growing pile, and continued homewards.