The Measby Murder Enquiry (34 page)

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. He could have been lurking in the back of the shop. Or gone to ground with his devious boss. Just because the blinds are down, it doesn’t mean they aren’t in the house. Oh, no, why am I saying this? I know what you’re going to suggest. Keep going and see what’s happening round the back?”

Gus smiled at her and nodded. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Best foot forward.”

They walked on, agreeing that they were probably under observation from behind the blinds. “Still, we’re not doing any harm. We have a perfectly good reason for being here. We shall say we understand Bernie was at one time a handyman at the Manor, and hope that Mrs. Osborne might have some information to give us on his wider family.”

“Glib, that’s what you are, Gus,” Deirdre said. “I can see why your secret department keeps you on a retainer. I bet you were top agent at one time?”

“Never mind about that,” he replied. “Isn’t that a figure standing in the shadows by the entrance to the stable yard?”

Deirdre gulped. “Yeah, it is. She’s sure to remember me. So can we turn and run, please?”

“Nope, carry on. It’s a woman. Maybe Doris May.”

As they drew near, the figure emerged from the trees and stood in the middle of the drive, confronting them. It was indeed Doris May, Deirdre saw, and she watched them approach with no trace of a welcoming smile.

“What do you want?” she said. “I am about to go out. I have to catch a train to London, and have very little time.”

Gus apologised for bothering her, and began to explain about Bernie Smithson. He was cut off almost immediately by Doris May.

“I have no time for that rubbish now,” she said. “And if you have any ideas about breaking and entering, I can assure you that the Manor is safely secured, with a direct line to the police if the alarms go off. So just go away, and I will do nothing more. If you insist on snooping around here suspiciously, I shall report you. I know who you are, and where you can be found, so you would be well advised to go away and not return. Now, I intend to see you off the premises before I leave.”

THE VILLAGE WAS quiet, as always on a Sunday morning, and Ivy and Roy made their slow way along the High Street towards the church, the chill wind causing Ivy to shiver. Katya had warned them that it was a beautiful day, so long as they were well wrapped up. Now Ivy was glad of her fur tippet, even if it did smell of mothballs, and had a malevolent looking fox’s head at one end. She bent down and gently adjusted Roy’s thick woolly scarf, and he looked up at her from his vehicle and smiled. “It’s only because I love you, Ivy, that I am breaking the habit of a lifetime and coming to church with you this morning. I do hope the vicar won’t be too warm in his welcome, in case I never darken his door again.”

“Oh, you will, Roy. Once you see how much good it does you to have a little talk with Him, you’ll be a regular. And in any case, I have no intention of going with you to a dingy registry office in Thornwell when the time comes. If you’re still keen on taking me to the altar, then the altar has to be there in front of us!”

It had rained in the night, and the church path was slippery. “Hold on to the back of my seat, Ivy,” Roy said, delighted that she was thinking positively about marriage. “Can’t have you hobbling up the aisle.”

The churchwarden had seen them arriving, and rushed out to give a hand. Roy said that he would manage perfectly well, but Miss Beasley could do with a supporting arm until they were safely in the church. This did not go down well with Ivy, but she swallowed a sharp comment and took the churchwarden’s arm with good grace.

There were the usual half dozen elderly parishioners, and two helpers from the home for autistic young people escorting the lad whose face lit up when the organ played. Ivy took Roy’s hand and led him to her front pew, and they sat down.

“Vicar’s away on retreat,” Ivy whispered. “Don’t know who’s coming instead. Hope it’s not that retired one who’s deaf as a post and loses his place in the book.”

At this point, the vestry door opened and the replacement clergyman appeared, tall and bearded and clad in a chalk white surplice.

“Looks as if he’s been rushing, Ivy,” whispered Roy. “We’re late starting, anyway.”

The service was conducted with great efficiency and, in spite of the delayed start, seemed to Ivy to finish at least ten minutes before the usual time. As they made their way to the church door, she saw the vicar was using the “passing on” technique. This had been explained to her by a nice young curate at Round Ringford as a firm moving-on motion as hands are taken for a farewell at the church door. Apparently it was recommended by the church for avoiding long chats with certain people known for delaying the rest of the congregation after a service.

“Wait a bit, Roy,” she said. “We’ll let the others go first.” When they were the only ones left, and the vicar’s smile had become rather fixed, Ivy led Roy to the door and extended her hand.

“Very nice service, Vicar,” she said. “We haven’t seen you here before, have we? Where do you come from?”

“Oh, from the other side of the county,” he said, smiling genially. “And am I right in thinking you are Miss Beasley?”

Ivy confirmed this, and was surprised that he knew her name. Perhaps their usual vicar had warned him! Ivy chuckled and said, “And you’re from Oakbridge? Such a pleasant town.”

“Well, not the town itself,” the vicar said. “A village, actually. A few miles into the country. Measby is the name. You know it, I expect?”

“I have heard of it,” said Ivy enigmatically. “Can’t think why. Something to do with some sort of scandal?”

“Good gracious me, no!” the vicar replied firmly. “Nothing so exciting happens in Measby. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going. Cares of office, you know!” he added lightly, and disappeared back into the church.

“Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it, Roy?” The two made their steady way back to Springfields. “Funny coincidence that the man should come from Measby. And even stranger that he should know my name. We must tell Deirdre and Gus tomorrow.”

Roy got out of his vehicle when they arrived at Springfields and took Ivy’s arm. “You’ll have to be careful with all this investigating, dearest,” he said. “You’re beginning to see spies round every corner. I am sure that vicar was as innocent as the day is long.”

“Possibly,” said Ivy, and unhooked her fur tippet, stroking the fox’s head with an affectionate hand. “Do you think Tiddles would like to play with this?” she said.

DEIRDRE HAD, FROM force of habit, since it was Monday and her mother had always washed on a Monday, put her small amount of washing in the noisy machine, and set it going. As a result, she did not hear the other team members at the door and was greeted by a frowning Ivy when she finally opened it.

“About time, too!” Ivy said, and marched in and straight up to the Enquire Within office. “Right,” she continued, taking off her coat and folding it onto a chair. “Now we’re all here, let’s start.”

The others quickly settled and, with Deirdre operating an unfamiliar coffee machine and attempting to take the minutes at the same time, the meeting got off to a shaky start.

“That’s new, isn’t it?” Gus said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “The coffee machine, I mean, Dee-Dee.”

Ivy noted the affectionate version of her cousin’s name but said nothing. She was not at all sure of Gus’s reliability, but Deirdre was a toughie herself, and it was no good worrying about their relationship.

“Yes, well, it was reduced at the kitchen shop in Thornwell, and I reckoned it would be just the thing for our meetings. Second cups, and all that.”

Ivy lost patience. “For goodness’ sake! This is not a mother’s meeting, you know. Who is going first? You two have lots to report, I expect and hope, from your visit to Measby?”

“Quite right, Ivy,” said Gus firmly. “Shall I report, Deirdre?” She nodded, and he continued. “When we arrived, we parked a little way outside the village. We had agreed a plan, which took in visiting the vicar, the graveyard, the Reading Room archive and the Manor. We hoped to speak to Doris May.”

Roy had perked up when the vicar of Measby was mentioned. “Did you talk to the parson?” he said.

“Let him finish, Roy dear,” said Ivy.

“Well, yes, we did. He wasn’t all that helpful, but we discovered that the old gambler’s name was Bernard Smithson, and he had no known relations. The vicar was quite pleased in the end that we’d turned up, actually. He was clearly hoping we’d pay for a headstone.”

“Your fault, Gus,” Deirdre interrupted. She turned to the others. “Our Gus came up with this story that we were Bernie’s long-lost relations, researching the roots of the Smithson family.”

“Well, it worked,” Gus continued. “The vicar sent us round to the graveyard to see the grave.”

“Very creepy and shivery,” said Deirdre, ignoring Ivy’s frown. “And there were two really mangy little wreaths of dead flowers.”

“One was from a Bill and Jean, the old boy’s neighbours, apparently. But the other had a most interesting label.” Gus was now determined to stick to his task. “It said ‘Bernie—Gone but not forgotten. D.M.O.’ ” He paused, waiting for Roy and Ivy to catch on. He hadn’t long to wait.

“Doris May Osborne,” said Ivy. “Go on, Gus.”

Gus then described how the kidnapper Margaret had tried to ambush Deirdre in the Rolls, and he added their discovery of Doris May’s wedding details in the Reading Room.

“And guess what?” Deirdre could not resist the punch line. “Her maiden name was Wilson!”

Ivy and Roy looked at each other. “Alwen,” Roy said. “Oh, dear.”

“So then I wanted to come home,” Deirdre said. “But Gus said that our plan had included a visit to find Doris May. He was going to use the same story about tracing Bernie’s family, and said I could stay in the car. But I was really spooked by then, and went with him up to the Manor.”

Gus took over. “This is probably the most important thing we discovered. Doris May knew exactly who we were, where we lived and how to find us. She gave us a nasty, vicious warning that unless we stopped snooping it would be the worse for us.”

The silence that followed this revelation seemed to go on forever. Finally, Ivy said could she have another coffee, and this triggered second cups all round. Then she cleared her throat and said that she thought it had become clear that their next move would be vital to their investigations.

“So, what shall it be?” Roy said, gazing at Ivy with admiration.

Ivy looked at Gus, and said, “
You
know what it is, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “You are quite right, Ivy. We must find out right away what is going on in Measby that is so sensitive to discovery. They are quite clearly operating a scam of some sort, and Bernard Smithson was a victim. But one impoverished old man is not going to be worth their while. It’s a ring, involving some we already know. Doris May, Margaret and hubby—”

“—and possibly the vicar,” said Roy. “Go on, Ivy, tell them about church yesterday.”

“That vicar you called on,” she said. “He took the service yesterday. After the service, we had the usual word at the church door, and he addressed me by my name. Then he tried seeing what we knew about Measby. It wasn’t much, but enough to make me suspicious. Now,” she continued, “Roy says I’m seeing spies round every corner, but don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence that he turned up here? I’ve enquired around, and apparently he’s never been to our church before.”

“But how would he know our vicar was away, and how would he get to replace him?” Deirdre was frowning.

“I expect there’s a list of vicars willing to fill in,” Roy said. “He was probably a last-minute volunteer. And from what you said about Doris May, she probably knows about Ivy and me, and the likelihood of our being in church. You bet she’s got her hooks into that vicar and he was obeying orders.”