In the Light of Madness (19 page)

“No worries. See you tomorrow.”

She watched him through the window as he crossed the car park, his face briefly illuminated as he lit a cigarette. After watching him pull out onto the main road, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass. Her hair was barely contained in its chignon, and her mascara and eyeliner had converged under her lower lashes and in the corners of her eyes. With a resigned sigh, she switched off her office light and bit into a chocolate bar as she headed for her car. She checked her mobile for any messages before starting her engine.

Heading towards the hospital with the melancholic tones of Joni Mitchell drifting in and out of her mind, she wondered what kind of state her mother would be in. Mercifully sedated was her hope. It was probably Oliver who would need the proverbial shoulder.

Chapter Fourteen

Wednesday’s head throbbed through lack of sleep, and her skin lacked the lustre of youth, taking on the patina of someone older than her thirty-seven years. She clanged the kettle onto the Aga and rattled the cutlery drawer, before turning up the radio.

“Good god, sis, you could wake the bloody dead,” Scarlett said, tossing her matted auburn locks over her shoulder. She opened the fridge and took out the carton of orange juice, spilling a few drops as she sloshed it into a tumbler.

“Where were you last night?” asked Wednesday.

“I was at the office, putting the finishing touches to my article. Why, where were you?”

“At the hospital being the dutiful daughter to our mother.”

“Good for you, how is she?”

“How do you think? She’s sedated due to her high state of paranoia and anxiety. She was asking after you in her more lucid moments.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said you’d been caught up at work, but you’d visit her as soon as you could.”

“Cool.”

Downing the last few drops of coffee, Wednesday was about to throw Scarlett a curt comment, when the doorbell rang, and Scarlett escaped to answer it.

“Can’t keep away from me, eh Jacob Lennox?” she said on opening the door.

“I’ve come for Eva actually.” He waited to be invited in out of the pelting rain.

“She’s in the kitchen.”

He followed her through the hallway, noticing that she was wearing silky blue pyjama bottoms, a faded denim-coloured sweatshirt, and silver satin ballet pumps.

Wednesday checked her watch when she saw him, thinking she must be running late for him to be there.

“I thought you might be tired after yesterday, so I thought I’d drive.” Raindrops glistened on his navy coat.

“What a courteous colleague you have,” Scarlett said in a child-like sing-song voice, fluttering her lashes at him.

Wednesday clamped her lips together as they left. Climbing into Lennox’s car, her mobile rang.

“We’re on our way. Domestic at the Wrights’ house,” she informed Lennox as he started up the engine.

“Nothing like a quiet start to the day,” he replied with a wry smile.

Screeching to a halt outside the Wrights’ residence, Wednesday noticed the net curtains moving in the neighbour’s windows; the ones who had undoubtedly decided to finally call it in.

Striding up the front path, they heard raised voices coming from inside the house; doors slamming and crockery shattering.

Lennox found the front door locked, so he hammered on it with his fist and shouted through the letterbox. After a few minutes, the commotion subsided, and Judith’s voice travelled through the door, informing them that everything was okay.

Wednesday looked at Lennox before insisting to Judith that they were let in. Muffled sounds were heard from the other side before the lock was slowly turned and Judith’s crimson face peered from behind it.

“Can we come in please?” asked Wednesday, determined to shame Des for his cowardly behaviour. “We have a warrant to search your property.”

Reluctantly, Judith opened the door but focused on the floor. Lennox followed Wednesday into the hallway.

“Where’s Des?” Wednesday asked, looking over Judith’s shoulder.

Judith pointed towards the kitchen then let the pair brush past her. Entering the kitchen they found Des standing by the sink, rolling a cigarette. He had dried blood streaks around his mouth and nose, and a couple of missing buttons on his shirt which was hanging out of his trousers. He looked towards them with darkness in his eyes.

Wednesday surveyed the kitchen and noticed the debris of broken crockery scattered across the floor. Coffee and wine stains dribbled down the walls.

“I’m going to ask your wife if she wants to press charges,” said Wednesday.

Des laughed and then lit his roll-up. He inhaled deeply before blowing smoke into her face.

“You can ask her all you want, but I know she’ll say no.”

“Why, have you threatened her if she dares betray you?”

Des continued to stare out the window, smoking his cigarette. He saw his wife enter the kitchen in the reflection in the window.

“What’s the warrant for,” she asked.

It was as she spoke that Wednesday noticed the smell of alcohol on her breath. Perhaps it was the domestic violence that drove her to drink, she thought to herself.

“We need to search your property for wellington boots and a travel blanket.”

Judith gave her a blank look, then walked over to the table and picked up a mug. “You can look where you want. We ain’t got nothing to hide.”

Wednesday and Lennox wasted no time and began searching from room to room. The rooms were already in disarray, making the search more arduous. They came across numerous overflowing ashtrays and empty bottles and cans, but no travel blanket or boots. Lennox climbed into the loft, but only found a few boxes containing old records and tatty Christmas decorations.

“We’ve got nothing of interest here and no evidence of Darren hiding back here either. Do you want to try Judith Wright again to see if she wants to make a statement against her husband?” asked Lennox as he dusted cobwebs from his hair.

“I suspect she’ll decline the offer. Come on, let’s go to the vicarage, we might have more success there.”

The Wrights hardly acknowledged the detective’s departure; and when they had gone, the detectives imagined the drinking and brawling would soon recommence.

They arrived at the vicarage in time to see Reverend Olong heading for his car.

“Good morning, Reverend. I’m sorry but we need to speak with you inside,” said Lennox as he stood between the reverend and his car.

“I was just on my way to a pastoral meeting, could it possibly wait? Vera’s inside. Perhaps she can help you?”

“I’m sorry, Reverend; we need to speak to both of you.”

Olong exhaled before returning slowly to the front door.

Vera jumped slightly as the three of them entered the kitchen. “Heavens, I thought you’d gone to your meeting. Hello Detectives.”

In his perfunctory manner, Lennox explained what they were looking for, and requested they search the house, garage, and cars. He also explained that afterwards they would be taking the reverend to the station for questioning.

“This is outrageous. I’m a patient man, but you are indeed trying my resolve. I have nothing to hide and nothing to fear.”

“Good, then you have no problem with our requests,” said Wednesday, scanning the kitchen. Her eyes fell upon a rather troubled-looking Vera.

“Shall I take you to the garage, DI Wednesday?” Vera asked.

Wednesday could see she needed to talk, so she left Lennox with the reverend and departed with Vera.

“This is all rather like
déjà vu
, Detective. All this is causing me great concern. I’m worried for George.”

“He’s not been charged with anything.”

“That’s true, but mud sticks and I’m not sure George could take much more. This parish is perfect for us both. It offers the tranquillity we both desire.”

“Your husband claims he has nothing to fear, but you seem troubled. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“George and I have a happy marriage, but we don’t partake in the physical aspect of marriage, if you take my drift?”

“I don’t see the relevance, Mrs Olong.”

“What I’m trying to say is just because we sleep separately and he’s a reverend, doesn’t mean he’s gay or fancies choir boys.” She visibly shuddered at speaking the words, and her face turned a delicate shade of cherry.

“I’m not in the habit of being judgemental. Your home is not the only home being searched, and your husband is not the only person being questioned, so please don’t try and second guess our motives.”

Wednesday noticed Vera wasn’t appeased by her words. It was the first time Wednesday thought how the name
Vera
did not suit her. To begin with, the name sounded older than Vera looked and acted; she had only recently turned forty-one, although her husband was fifty and looked much older. Deep down, Wednesday was not surprised they no longer slept together.

Wednesday spied some wellington boots in the far corner of the garage. She took out the photocopy of the sole of the boot and walked over to the corner. Bending down, she compared the patterns, and although one pair was made by Hunter, they were a size too small. For a brief moment, Wednesday wondered whether Digby Hunter had a pair, simply because they had his name printed on the front.

“May I check your car?”

Vera obliged but Wednesday found nothing of interest.

“Do you visit parishioners as part of your duties? Only I was wondering if you offered advice and support to women in need.”

“I sometimes get involved in that way. Why, who are you thinking of?”

“Judith Wright. Not only has one son gone missing and the other son is in prison, but I suspect she may be a victim of domestic violence. I presume I can talk to you in confidence about this matter?”

“Of course. I don’t know the Wrights very well; they rarely attend church and they don’t belong to the choir. I have little reason to interact with them, but I could pop in if you think it might help.”

“I’m not sure what will help, to be honest, Mrs Olong.”

Wednesday decided that she had nothing left to see there, so they returned to the house where they found Lennox and the reverend in the utility room, looking through the laundry basket.

Having had no luck with boots or blankets, the detectives drove the reverend back to the station, leaving his perplexed and anxious wife standing in the doorway.

Arriving at the station, they were in time to see a rather indignant Stewart Cleveland being escorted in, followed by a red faced Des Wright who was muttering under his breath. All three saw one another and quickly averted their eyes.

Each was placed in an interview room, and left to brood over their situation whilst staring at the two empty chairs opposite them. Hunter had given the team orders to leave them alone with their thoughts, which sometimes facilitated an outpouring of truths when the time came.

Wednesday and Lennox began with Stewart Cleveland. On entering the room, he searched them out with an indignant look on his face.

“This is an utter nuisance. I do have an important job to do. I’ve already told you I have nothing to do with these crimes.”

“We were wondering what Dick Pennymore wanted with you. He looked rather angry,” began Wednesday.

Cleveland’s eyes closed slightly, beads of sweat accumulating on his brow. In his lap, his hands formed fists and his breathing became shallow.

“It’s a totally unrelated matter to your cases. It’s a private matter and I’d like it to remain that way.”

Wednesday sat forward and raised an eyebrow. “When murder is an issue, there are no private matters, Mr Cleveland.” She sat back in her chair before continuing. “What you should remember is that we already know the answer to our questions, so if you’re lying, we’ll know that you are.”