A Crowded Coffin Read online

  ‘Edith and I googled Saxon jewellery,’ Harriet told them. ‘And came up with the Middleham Jewel that was found some years ago. It was sold privately at first and then there was a public subscription to keep it in the country, to the tune of more than two million pounds. And that was a while back, so heaven knows what prices have done since.’

  Harriet and Karen were in the Great Hall, which Walter Attlin had decreed was the proper place for a celebratory lunch. As Karen straightened place mats and cutlery, Harriet eyed her keenly.

  ‘Don’t overdo things, will you, Karen? There’ll be a lot going on in the next few months and I rather think you’ll be busy. Just take care, that’s all.’

  ‘We always did say you were a witch, Harriet.’ Karen stared at her former headmistress almost in awe. ‘How on earth did you know? Nobody knows except my husband and Mr and Mrs Attlin.’

  ‘Lucky guess,’ Harriet grinned, looking smug. ‘You’ve been looking a bit peaky lately and I did wonder about the sickness and migraines you suddenly seemed to be getting. Congratulations! Will you be staying on here?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Karen nodded. ‘Mrs Attlin’s had a brainwave and as long as Edith is happy about it, I’m sure we can sort things out.’

  As they tucked into roast pork, bred on the farm, Edith had a sudden thought. ‘Didn’t you say you’d gone off bacon and pork, Rory?’

  ‘I did.’ He glanced down at his laden fork. ‘When I was in prison I was very ill with food poisoning – some bad pork, they reckoned. Anyway, it put me off all things pig-related for a long time. But this,’ he smacked his lips and raised his fork in a toast to Walter, ‘this isn’t just pork; it’s the food of the gods. I guess I’m pretty much cured now.’

  When they had finished lunch Walter Attlin called for silence. ‘I won’t stand up,’ he said, ‘Penny will kill me if I do. But I wanted to thank you all for your efforts over the last few days. I’m sorry Professor Porter couldn’t stay but perhaps it’s better to keep it in the family.’

  He smiled round at them. ‘I don’t need to tell you all that it’s driven me mad, having to stay in bed for the past couple of days, just because I had a bit of a dizzy spell.’ He directed a frown at his wife, who smiled serenely. ‘Missing all the drama probably set me back worse than ever, but all anyone would promise was that they’d “tell me later”. Still,’ he glanced at Rory, ‘in the end I wasn’t the only one packed off to bed. I gather Harriet insisted on going home when it was all over, only for the doctor to send her off to be tucked up and sedated, and then Rory followed suit by flaking out with exhaustion. So,’ he held up his hands, ‘here we all are. Let’s have a brief rundown of what went on.’ He nodded to Sam. ‘If you hadn’t managed to sneak in now and then for a chat, I’d have gone stir crazy.’

  Sam took up the story. ‘We all know now what happened on the roof, but I don’t believe you’ve heard it from my angle. I couldn’t get to sleep. My mind kept going over and over everything we’d discussed and I tossed and turned and dozed all night. It wasn’t till I went downstairs at about five o’clock, to make a cup of tea, that I heard my mobile beeping with Harriet’s text message.’ He grinned at his cousin. ‘I could have killed you, Harriet,’ he said with a heartfelt scowl. ‘Of all the stupid things….’

  He waved aside her protest that she and Rory had, on the contrary, been extremely careful, and went on. ‘Oh well, never mind. I was in a bit of a fix because my cam belt snapped on the way to the dinner last night and I hitched a lift back with a friend. Needless to say, I had no idea Harriet and Rory were in such danger. I hadn’t liked to call Harriet back in case something was up but really I just thought you’d have done something sensible, like take photos and maybe go back to bed. At least,’ he looked rueful, ‘I hoped that was what you’d done.’

  For once Harriet tightened her lips, merely looking at him reproachfully. Sam carried on, ‘I knew there was an old bike in the shed, left behind by the previous owner, so I wheeled it out and belted off up to the farm. I had to decide whether to check out the fields first but in the end I thought I’d better see if you were back at the house. I hoped it was all a storm in a teacup.’ He looked sternly over his glasses at his cousin, but his glance was affectionate.

  ‘I was just about to park the bike round in the yard when all hell broke out and, as you know, I managed to throw myself off and into the open doorway.’ He winced and made a face. ‘I’m black and blue but that’s a small price to pay.’ His expression sobered suddenly. ‘I’m never going to forget what I saw when I managed to peer round the door jamb. Harriet clinging to the roof and screaming like a demented banshee; Rory – even at that distance – looking like something the cat dragged in and John Forrester falling, his arms outstretched, almost flying, in a kind of horrible mimicry of the heron that distracted him. The police arrived about then, thank God.’ He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. ‘It goes against everything I believe in to rejoice at the death of a fellow human being,’ he said gravely, ‘but it’s hard not to be grateful to that heron for startling the vicar as it did.’

  Harriet looked up sharply and slid a questioning glance at Rory, who was also looking thoughtful. ‘A heron?’ he said slowly.

  ‘I don’t remember seeing one so close to a house with those huge wings flapping like that,’ Sam went on. ‘But I don’t know, you might call it providential, I suppose. It gave John Forrester a way out, and saved everyone a lot of unpleasantness.’

  They digested this in silence, then Edith spoke up. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive any of you for leaving me to sleep through it all,’ she pouted. ‘The first I knew about it all was when I ambled down to breakfast and found the place crawling with police, Grandpa packed off to bed with Gran playing Florence Nightingale, and Rory and Harriet, both bandaged and bruised, also shipped off to rest for twenty-four hours.’ She was sitting next to Rory and with a shiver she reached out to take his hand. Harriet, observing, was pleased to note that their misunderstanding seemed to have been cleared up.

  ‘I can understand, in a way, why John did the things he did.’ Edith frowned as she spoke. ‘At least, I kind-of understand. He wanted money and there’s a certain logic in his actions – if you haven’t a conscience, that is. First ransacking the archive, then getting rid of his wife because divorce would be a death knell to his ambitions in the Church. And I can see where Harriet’s idea might be true, about him being a psychopath. But I do wonder what dirt Brendan Whittaker had on him.’

  ‘Probably saw him sneaking out of somebody’s wife’s bedroom,’ interposed Sam to everyone’s surprise. ‘It wasn’t till I started investigating last week that I learned that Forrester was known to have a mistress, the wife of a big name at Westminster with a country place north of here. And no, I’m not telling you who, Harriet; very risky business altogether but it didn’t seem to have any relevance to the matter in hand so I kept quiet. Would have scuppered his chances anyway as it was known in high places and didn’t go down at all well. Her Majesty prefers her bishops to have at least some notion of morality.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Edith’s face was burning as she remembered John’s sincere brown eyes gazing into hers. ‘All right, but what about you, Harriet? Who do you think pushed you into the quarry?’

  Harriet took a deep breath and felt a spasm of shame. She was enjoying this too much, she told herself, being placed centre stage. ‘Your news about the vicar’s lady friend, Sam, makes me wonder if he nipped out to see her after dropping Edith off at the farm that night. I’m pretty certain it was John Forrester who hit me. I had an impression of a long, low-shaped car, which fitted with his. It might have been Brendan’s, of course, but I believe the police have run checks and that night his car was up on ramps in the repair shop having some work done on the sump. The garage people will swear to it that they were actually working on it late that night.’

  Walter looked grave. ‘That does rather narrow it down,’ he agreed. ‘But what about the American chap? Did he have
a hire car?’

  ‘He did,’ Harriet nodded. ‘But it was a red Mazda from Hertz, wrong shape altogether. I don’t know why John did it. Serendipity, probably. He must have been coming south down the Stockbridge Road and recognized the Mini when I turned off across the fields. I suspect he just took a chance and made certain I wouldn’t recognize him because he switched off his lights. I bullied my mole at the police station about it and he rang this morning.’ She grinned. ‘It’s always who you know.’ There were flakes of paint from the Mini embedded in the wing of John’s car.’

  Walter Attlin began to rise to his feet but, obedient to a stern shake of the head from his wife, sat down again.

  ‘I begin to be grateful that I did miss everything,’ he smiled ruefully. ‘It’s exhausting just hearing about it. However, I just want to say something. I won’t dwell on the danger that Harriet and Rory found themselves in, or on the fact that it was only by a fluke that Sam wasn’t murdered in the cathedral. It will all be rehashed at the inquests and until then I suggest we let it lie. Time enough to think about it when it can’t be helped. But I am most sincerely grateful that you are all sitting safely at my table today, and I thank you.’

  There was a murmur of assent and, looking slightly sheepish, they raised their glasses to each other.

  ‘It was odd, wasn’t it,’ suggested Rory a few minutes later, ‘that the rumours about looking for oil turned out to be true.’

  Edith shot a slightly disapproving look at her grandfather. ‘Yes, you’ve been a bit sneaky about that, haven’t you, Grandpa?’

  The old man nodded. ‘Maybe. The only person I’ve discussed it with, apart from your grandmother, is Sam. I needed to toss ideas about with someone sensible and discreet and Sam fitted the bill perfectly.’ Sam made a mock bow, and Walter continued. ‘I wasn’t going to broadcast the possibility of a mineral water supply on our land – and that reminds me – negotiations are still going on about that, so please keep it under wraps. They believe there’s still a market for a superior brand and that our water is particularly pure, so they want to sink an exploratory bore hole.

  ‘I imagine some inkling of that business got out and that was the foundation for the local gossip. The fact that Gordon Dean or, as we are led to believe, his henchman, was in fact pussy-footing around checking out the oil options, seems to be a complete coincidence, though it could simply be that he got wind of the water deal, which might have set him (or them) thinking. We’ll never know. In any case, I suspect he would have drawn a blank on that option; my contacts in the mineral water company were very sceptical about the suggestion of oil deposits here when I brought up the subject.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ he looked over in Sam’s direction, ‘any news on our erstwhile neighbour?’

  ‘Gone to London,’ Sam told him. ‘I hear the house is going on the market, though rumour has it that he’s squeaky clean. But who knows? Word is that his daughter’s taken herself off back to New York, so I imagine the police have nothing on her.’

  Karen brought in more tea and coffee and when they were settled, Walter Attlin called his audience to attention once more. ‘Something else to discuss,’ he said. ‘Penny and I have been thinking for a long time that we ought to move downstairs. The stairs are getting too much and my accident has made the decision for us. Our plan is that we turn the downstairs rooms into a flat for ourselves, leaving Karen and Elveece where they are, which they’re happy about. There’s plenty of space, we don’t need more than a couple of rooms as long as we can squeeze in a bathroom somewhere. There are a couple of small rooms that will do for that, and a tiny kitchen – just a kettle and a microwave, really, for snacks, as Karen will continue as housekeeper.’

  Edith was looking thoughtful and her grandfather smiled across at her. ‘I know Gran’s already floated the idea by you, so what’s your verdict? We thought you could take over the upstairs,’ he said. ‘I think the gallery will have to be accessible, possibly to the public if we go down that route, but in any case there will certainly be a procession of experts tramping up and down.

  ‘However, there’s plenty of room for you to tuck in a kitchen of your own, along with another bathroom or two, and Rory can stay on as your lodger if he’d like to. I know his original plan was to look for a place of his own and of course we’ll give him every assistance if that’s what he wants, but I’d just like to say that we’d be only too happy to have him stay on at the farm.’ He hid a smile as Edith shot a startled glance at Rory and blushed. ‘I propose we give it a try at any rate, for a year, say. Karen’s going to be pretty busy – I’m giving away a secret here – but she insists she can manage with the catering if we all muck in. In a few months I think we’ll insist on getting some help for her, but she won’t hear of it just now.’

  Afterwards, when the plan had been discussed and approved, Harriet noticed that the old man was looking weary and his wife anxious. ‘One more thing,’ he said, ‘It’s all right, Harriet, I know when I’m defeated – but before I’m bullied into going for a nap in a minute, I’ll hand over to Sam to tell you what we’ve been discussing.’

  ‘You might not all know,’ Sam began, ‘but I’ve been thinking of a change of direction for some time now. My office job is coming to an end; I’ve been co-ordinating a three-year project, and it seems a good time to reassess my options. I don’t feel called to take on another parish so I’m going to continue as a kind of trouble-shooter, parachuted into parishes short-term, where the incumbent is ill or incapacitated; I also like being on call to conduct funerals at the crematorium. Not everyone’s cup of tea but I enjoy the human contact.

  ‘So, while I’m not ready to hang up my dog collar yet, I’ve been looking for a challenge to replace the office, something where I can be of use. Walter has now suggested I help him out with the admin, and so forth, attached to these new developments. I can deal with the tax ramifications regarding the potential sale of the portrait, look into grants that might be available and co-ordinate the investigations into the Roman ruins, among other things.’

  ‘As you know,’ put in Walter, ‘they had to call in an archaeologist from the university when they pulled that poor young American out from the hypocaust and Sam’s going to oversee their further efforts down there, which will be a load off my mind. I gather there’ll be a great influx of experts descending on us anytime now.’

  ‘Then they’ll have to compete for space with the reporters already swarming round the front door,’ commented Mrs Attlin in a dry voice. ‘Dear Sam.’ She turned to him with a warm smile. ‘It will be quite wonderful to have you take charge of all these developments, and living on our doorstep too. I’m so glad.’

  After lunch Sam went into a huddle with Walter and started sketching out ideas, until his host held up his hands.

  ‘I’m pooped, Sam,’ he confessed. ‘Penny’s got her eagle eye on me and I have to admit I can’t get through the day without a nap these days, specially after a feast like the one Karen just served up. I’ll be happy to go along with pretty much everything you’ve come up with so far. Why don’t you get it all down on paper, then I can go over it in my own time. Meanwhile I’m off to have a snooze.’

  Edith and Rory wandered out into the garden.

  ‘What do you think?’ She sounded diffident. ‘This plan of theirs?’

  ‘It’s a great idea from their point of view,’ he nodded. ‘No stairs for them and much easier for Karen to manage. But what about you? If you’re worried about me, I can always go back to plan A and look for somewhere in town.’

  ‘I’m not, not worried, exactly.’ She was looking shy. ‘I think it could work out okay, provided we don’t—’

  ‘Don’t take things too fast?’ His voice was gentle and she nodded. ‘Fine by me. I’m not really in a fit state yet for romantic moments, so let’s just be friends and family? To start with?’

  He dawdled along the gravel path and stopped to look up at the roof. ‘I promised myself I’d come here one day,’ he rema
rked. ‘The day before my dad was killed he was telling me about the family, or at least as much as he knew, which wasn’t a lot. Just that they lived near Winchester in a very old farmhouse and that there’d been a quarrel. He said we’d have a trip in the school holidays and introduce ourselves. Trouble was,’ his voice was sad, ‘he never came home again. There was a motorway pile-up, some moron driving like a maniac in fog, and Dad’s car caught fire.’

  Edith reached out and clasped his hand in silent sympathy.

  ‘It wasn’t till Mum died too that I thought about mending fences with the only family I had left, but … other things got in the way.’

  ‘That’ll be why Gran’s been looking sad,’ Edith realized. ‘Both of them, your dad and mine, dying so horribly. That, combined with the family likeness, would have brought it all back to her. Still,’ she tucked a friendly hand in his and grinned at him, ‘things can only get better.’

  Harriet and Penelope Attlin sauntered out into the sunshine.

  ‘Come and admire my roses,’ offered Penelope. ‘We can compare notes and later perhaps we’ll go and look at the old greenhouses. Elveece has very shyly suggested that we look into hydroponics – you know, growing salad plants in water. Apparently he has a friend who knows all about it and wants to get him here to check it out. Can you manage that tray with your stiff shoulder?’

  The sun was beating down but Harriet set the coffee cups down on the garden table and pulled a couple of chairs into the shade of a parasol.

  ‘Well?’ Penelope looked at her.

  ‘Very well, I suspect,’ Harriet nodded agreement. ‘Rory is looking a lot more relaxed than when he first arrived last week. Edith seems to have no regrets about leaving the States and is ready to plunge into working here full-time. Lots of plans in the pipeline. Let them get on with it; at least they’ll be company for each other.

  ‘And if you meant me, well I’ll be fine too. I’m limping from all the bruises, my shoulder is giving me gyp and I don’t know when I’ll manage a whole night’s drug-free sleep without waking up with the screaming habdabs, but I’ll get there, don’t worry. Sam being next door will be a huge help. How about you, Penny?’