A Crowded Coffin Page 12

  She gave him a brief outline of John’s story, about his wife’s sorry end and about his theories regarding Brendan.

  ‘Hmm,’ was all he said as he held the door open for her.

  ‘You’re as bad as Harriet,’ she scolded him. ‘Why can’t you two just believe he’s a decent kind of guy, who has lost his wife and is trying to distract himself by doing his job, reading up on history and so forth? And that that’s all there is to it?’ The trouble was, she admitted to herself, that pretty much everyone was beginning to look suspicious to her, even the vicar.

  ‘You could be right,’ he surprised her, but there was no time for more discussion. They’d arrived at the hospital. Edith explained who she was and the nurse nodded.

  ‘Miss Quigley just needs rest,’ she said, checking her notes. ‘She won’t be on her own, will she? Good. There’s just one thing,’ her voice was lowered. ‘When she first came in she kept insisting that someone pushed her car deliberately into the quarry….’

  She looked startled at their outcry. ‘Oh, yes, didn’t you know? It’s a miracle that she wasn’t killed. Has to have been a drunk driver, of course, nobody would do such a thing on purpose, but somehow or other she ended up going through the barrier and landing in the trees.’ She dismissed them kindly. ‘You’ll find her in the day room,’ she said.

  ‘Shh, this isn’t the time to discuss it.’ Rory grabbed her hand as Edith opened her mouth. ‘Come on, let’s go and rescue her.’

  Harriet had been leaning back in her chair, her hand to her head, and wondering whether her throbbing headache would ever go away. At Edith and Rory’s approach she opened her eyes and managed a smile of greeting.

  ‘I’m fine, Edith, don’t make a fuss, just—’ Her eyes widened as she saw John Forrester hurrying into the day room accompanied by the staff nurse on duty. ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she muttered and caught Rory’s eye. ‘Follow my lead,’ she hissed, to his bewilderment, reaching for his hand and shutting her eyes.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard,’ John told them, bending over to look at Harriet. ‘How is she? Hasn’t she come round yet? Has she said what happened?’

  The staff nurse fluttered round him, and Edith eyed her with distaste. Is that how I was last night? she wondered, and frowned at the idea. The frown deepened as she spotted the undeniable interest in his eyes as he smiled down at the nurse. Never looked at another woman indeed, she fumed.

  ‘She can’t remember much,’ Rory said firmly, glaring at Edith as she turned to him in surprise. ‘Except that it must have been a drunk going too fast.’ There was an approving pressure on his hand and he glanced down at Harriet. ‘Of course, she’s getting on, and at her age, memory loss is quite terrifying,’ he added, deciding to embroider the story. ‘And it’s very upsetting for her not to recall anything about her accident.’

  ‘Whenever she’s ready.’ The nurse nodded coolly to Edith and turned to the vicar. ‘Can I ask you to come and talk to one of our other patients?’ she suggested. ‘He’s very agitated and I’m sure he’ll calm down if you have a word.’

  John nodded goodbye and followed in her train, leaving Edith puzzled, Rory amused, and Harriet torn between laughter and annoyance.

  ‘How dare you suggest I’m going senile,’ she snapped, opening her eyes and tapping Rory lightly on the hand. ‘That wretched man will patronize me now for the rest of my days.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Harriet.’ Rory was contrite. ‘It was the best I could think of at short notice when you did your dying swan act. But what’s this about someone driving at you deliberately? The nurse said that’s what you claimed when they brought you in here.’

  ‘Quite true.’ Harriet gathered up her handbag. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, not here, though.’ She thought quickly then, ‘Edith, do me a favour, will you? Rory will drive me home, I’m sure, but I’d be really grateful if you would run after the vicar and ask him to give you a lift to my cottage when he’s done here. I’ll need some clothes.’ She made a face. ‘Sam’s been on to me and the nurse was adamant that I’m to go to the farm till he’s able to look after me. Yes, thanks, Edith,’ she grinned as her former pupil spoke eagerly. ‘I’ve rather taken it for granted, I’m afraid, that I can cadge a bed from you for tonight and I’ve written a list of things I’ll probably need. Here you are, and please, not a word about what I just said, to the vicar or anyone else. Keep to the story that it must have been a drunk driver. I don’t want anything else to get out.’

  She and Rory watched as Edith disappeared after the vicar.

  ‘So?’ He looked at her. ‘Were you deliberately pushed into the quarry?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed, looking weary. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I’ve gathered my wits, but just now I really want to get out of here.’ She glanced at him with a speculative eye. ‘Can I persuade you to take me back to my place?’ she asked and made a face as he shook his head. ‘I thought not. The farm’s the best bet really; my closest friend in the village has just set off on a family trip to Cornwall and Sam is in the throes of packing up his flat. I suppose I can’t really stay with him among the tea chests but I’ll try to persuade him to move in with me. He’s due to do that next week. No,’ she rubbed her eyes, ‘I’m getting confused, it’s tomorrow the sale is due to be completed, so he can do some decorating in his new place. Meanwhile he’s got to report back to the office today on his Belfast trip, so a night or two at the farm will have to do.’

  ‘So, Harriet.’ Rory packed his cargo tenderly into the front passenger seat. ‘What is it that you want to talk to me about that you don’t want Edith to hear?’

  He concentrated on navigating the hospital car park and headed for the hills. Harriet was frowning, so he asked again. ‘Well? I have no idea what the hell’s going on in Locksley but it doesn’t look good.’

  Harriet shook her head. I don’t want to involve these two kids in whatever’s happening, she thought. Then she glanced at Rory. Nonsense, woman, she sighed. He’s a grown man, they’re both adults, come to that, and they’re involved anyway.

  ‘I think we covered everything yesterday morning,’ she told him. ‘Cousin Walter’s accident; the missing man, Colin Price, and his job at the archive; the news that valuable, if not priceless, items from the archive have turned up in European auctions. And now there’s someone messing about in a field where it’s been rumoured for centuries that a Roman ruin exists. Just because you recognized them it doesn’t follow that they aren’t simply treasure hunters out on the off-chance, doesn’t have to be something more sinister. God only knows.’ She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Sam has some more news,’ she said flatly, as she subsided into silence.

  After a few minutes she perked up and smiled at her driver. ‘You’re a restful kind of man, Rory,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for not nagging me for an explanation. I just needed to gather my thoughts.’

  He felt absurdly flattered at her commendation; praise from Harriet Quigley was something to respect. ‘I’m still convalescent myself,’ he explained briefly. ‘I know it’s hard to think straight sometimes. So, what did your cousin Sam have to say?’

  ‘He rang just after breakfast to check up on me. Apparently he’s been making some calls while he’s stuck at the airport, doing some digging around. He’s come up with a report that’s just come in; the clergy can be astonishingly indiscreet sometimes, thank goodness. Anyway, the European police have produced an identikit picture of a man believed to have been the vendor of the missal that was sold recently.’

  She paused dramatically. ‘Guess.’

  ‘Colin Price, I presume?’ Rory sounded excited.

  ‘None other.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s good news and bad, I’m afraid. Interesting in that it ties Price in with the disappearances from the archive but bad news in that nobody has the slightest idea how to find him. Leaving aside the theories flying round the village, that he’s been done away with, this part of the world is awash, literally, with inlets and harbours, boats,
marinas, yacht clubs, all making it easy to get out of the country in a hurry. And that’s not even considering the commercial traffic, ferries, airports, etc, which he could have used.’

  Rory turned into the farm drive and drew up at the front door. Karen, jazzy today in a 1960s psychedelic-print shift dress, came running out.

  ‘Harriet, you poor thing. Come on in; coffee’s ready, decaf in the circumstances or you can have tea or hot chocolate if you’d rather. Then you can either go to bed straight away or go and relax with Mrs Attlin. She’s upstairs and looking forward to seeing you.’

  ‘Rory?’ Harriet smiled her thanks to Karen and turned to her chauffeur. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I promised Sam you’d pick him up from Southampton airport at midday. He has to check in at the office but before that he says he’ll buy you lunch and give you a quick unofficial tour of the Stanton Resingham archive if you’d like?’ She shot him a conspiratorial glance. ‘No need to mention it to Edith till you get home.’

  It was soothing, Harriet decided, to sit in a pretty, old-fashioned bedroom-cum-sitting room and be served with lunch – even though it was only soup and a cheese sandwich – and later, afternoon tea, in company with a pair of delightful elderly relatives. Not something you’d want to do every day, but once in a while it was like stepping back in time. She smiled her thanks as Karen bustled in bearing more tea and Penelope Attlin leaned forward to pour out.

  ‘I was just thinking,’ Harriet observed, ‘that I feel as though I’m in a period drama.’ As Penelope glanced at her in surprise, Harriet explained. ‘You know, tea that I haven’t had to make myself in a mug, and served in beautiful old china. Karen is a perfect treasure!’

  ‘She is,’ agreed Walter, slathering butter on a crumpet. ‘She says much the same, Harriet. She told me she likes to pretend she’s the senior parlour maid in a period piece on television, Downton Abbey, perhaps, though that’s way out of our league.’ He looked thoughtful, a lurking twinkle in his eye. ‘I can just see Karen in a maid’s outfit, complete with frilly cap and apron.’ Mrs Attlin gave him a wifely look and he grinned, ‘Seems a harmless kind of daydream to pass the time and as you say, she’s very good to us. I find it a little less convincing though, when I try to picture Elveece in the role of the perfect butler.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re recovering, Walter,’ Harriet changed the subject as she looked across at the old man. ‘Your colour is much better and I notice you’re moving about more comfortably. Have you had any further thoughts about what happened the other night?’

  ‘No.’ Walter Attlin spoke sharply, then clearly felt the need to apologize. ‘I beg your pardon, Harriet, I know you mean well, but I don’t want to talk about it. No harm done in the end.’

  His wife rolled her eyes at Harriet and turned the conversation to the Test Match, so cricket occupied them until Rory turned up, accompanied by Sam Hathaway. Sam shook hands with the Attlins while his eyes checked out his cousin. Satisfied with what he saw, he nodded to her and came across the room.

  ‘Silly idiot,’ was his fond greeting, as he bent to give her a hug. ‘I hope you weren’t playing detectives?’ This last was in a lower tone and he grinned at her indignant expression. ‘Okay, okay, keep your hair on. Rory told me what you said. It seems incredible but a lot of peculiar things seem to be happening around here lately. And you didn’t manage to get a look at the car or the number plate?’

  She answered in a similarly low voice. ‘No, I didn’t, but I’ll tell you one thing, I think it was someone from the village.’

  ‘What?’ Mindful of the other people in the room, Sam’s exclamation had to be muted, but he frowned at her. ‘How do you make that out?’ he demanded. ‘And come to that, what were you doing near a quarry on some farm track anyway?’

  ‘Oh, of course, I forgot you wouldn’t know about it yet. It’s a short cut,’ she explained. ‘Hold on a minute, we can’t stay here whispering.’

  She rose and spoke softly to her hostess who turned her head at the movement. ‘I’m going to lie down for half an hour, Penny, do excuse me. Sam will make sure I don’t fall over on the way.’

  Safely in her room, she dismissed Sam’s attempt to make her lie down. ‘Nonsense, it was just an excuse, I’ll be fine sitting here in the quiet; I just didn’t want to disturb Walter and Penny. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, the short cut. It cuts off a long meandering corner if you avoid the road to the village and nip across. It’s Walter’s land but he’s never minded and most people in the village use it to save time.’

  She turned eagerly to him. ‘But that’s my point, Sam. Nobody else would use it, because it doesn’t go anywhere, apart from the village. And I know it wasn’t somebody who spotted me on the main road and for some reason decided to follow me, because I’d only just started up again when whoever it was came up over the brow of the hill. I had to stop to take a phone call from one of the people at the meeting I’d just been to in King’s Somborne. That took ages, so I reckon I was parked up there for a good ten minutes.’

  Sam’s blue eyes were narrowed in anxiety as he sat, waiting for the end of the story. ‘I feel sick when I think about it,’ she confessed shakily and was glad of Sam’s warm hand clasping her own. ‘I’d just started up the engine and set off, still only doing about ten or fifteen miles an hour – it’s a bit rough up there – when this car appeared. It seemed to slow down for a minute, then the lights blazed at me and he came straight at me and hit the side of the Mini as he swerved away at the last minute. I’m quite sure it was deliberate.’ She paused and whispered, ‘You see what I’m saying? He wasn’t following me; he was heading for the village via the short cut and when he recognized me, he decided to kill me.’

  chapter eight

  ‘Well?’ Edith nodded her thanks as Rory handed her a cappuccino. Winchester was always a popular call for tourists, particularly on a sunny morning in summer, and two or three coachloads had already crowded into the cathedral refectory. The groups of visitors were refreshing the body after traipsing round the city; shortly they would be disappearing into the cool, dark peace of the cathedral to refresh the soul.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ he hedged,.

  ‘We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday,’ she said. ‘What with Harriet staying and Gran inviting Sam to stay for supper. He took you round the archive, didn’t he? Did you find out anything?’

  Rory shook his head. ‘Nothing new,’ he confessed. ‘It was an interesting experience, though, and just a brief glimpse of some of the documents made me itch to get stuck in and delve deeper. I might volunteer to help with the research when I’m settled – they’re short-handed. Mostly though, Sam was worrying about Harriet and wondering what she’s got herself into that someone would go for her like this.’

  He paused, then continued, ‘I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to talk to her, but you ought to know what’s been going on.’ He ran through the background and then filled her in on Sam’s most recent brief history of the missing researcher and the vicar’s tenuous connection with him.

  ‘The police asked Forrester about Colin Price but they seem to have been pretty gentle with him, from what Sam told me.’ He responded to her questioning look with a shrug. ‘They had no reason to press him anyway, but the thing is, the night Price was last seen in the village was the night before Mrs Forrester’s funeral. The police asked the vicar if Price had told him anything that might suggest he was about to abscond with his ill-gotten gains, but the vicar said he had no recollection of seeing Price at that time, let alone talking to him. Who could wonder at it? The poor bloke must have been in a complete state the whole time.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ she said. ‘I thought you didn’t like him.’

  ‘I don’t, but that’s no reason not to feel sorry for him. Anyway, Sam doesn’t like him either, but that’s doesn’t stop him giving Forrester an alibi for when someone was knocking down your grandfather.’

  She looked up, startled. ‘What do yo
u mean?’

  ‘On the night in question, Sam was at a diocesan discussion, attended by a dozen-or-so local clergy, including John Forrester. The meeting didn’t go smoothly and things got heated – nothing to do with Forrester or Sam – so what with having to calm everyone down, Sam said it was late finishing. And then one of the others suggested they go back to his place for a nightcap. About eight or nine people accepted, including John Forrester, though Sam says he never actually got to speak to Forrester that night, partly because he barely knows him and mostly because he, Sam, was drawn into a debate with a couple of friends. Anyway, by the time the vicar left Winchester, even driving his flashy car, he’d hardly have been in a position to run down your grandfather out in the fields.’

  She nodded slowly and he glanced at her in surprise. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I suppose so, it’s just….’ She hesitated and sipped her coffee. ‘Ugh, it’s gone cold.’ She pushed her cup aside, shaking her head when he offered her another. ‘It’s just that yesterday, when John ran me home via Harriet’s place, I fed the cat and then left John in her sitting room while I went upstairs to collect the things on her list. When I came down again, he didn’t hear me at first, and I found him in her study, flicking through some papers on her desk. He straightened up at once and moved away, making some comment about having picked up the papers from the floor. He said he’d gone in there by mistake while looking for the loo and that it must have been the cat that scattered them, unless Harriet was very untidy and he didn’t think that for a moment.’

  She tried to remember. ‘He went to put Harriet’s bag in the car while I locked up, so he didn’t see me take a sneaky look at the paperwork on the desk. The first thing I saw was the name, Colin Price. It jumped out at me from what looked like a précis of the problems at the archive, something Harriet must have written down to try and make sense of it.’

  She stood up as Rory glanced at his watch. ‘I don’t believe John is involved in anything shady,’ she said as they made for the exit. ‘But, but if he is,’ her voice faltered and she hunched her shoulders anxiously. ‘If he is, he knows now that Harriet has been nosing around about the Stanton Resingham archive and she can only have got that information from Sam.’