Murder on the Hour (24 page)

“No, Thomas. Think about it. This could be a Significant Development.” She emphasized the words “significant” and “development” as if each merited a capital letter. “We'd better call Gareth Davies so he can decide if this is important or not. And what's more, he won't want people trampling all over the scene, so we'll have to close the churchyard to visitors until he's seen it. And anyway, as you say, it's a safety hazard. So I suggest we post a sign saying the churchyard is closed until one o'clock. How about that? That will give people who want to visit time to do something else this morning, have a bit of lunch, and then come back this afternoon.”

Thomas put his arms around her. “Whatever would I do without you?” he said. “Now I suggest that you and Robbie forgo your morning walk and you come home with me and we have breakfast whilst we wait for Gareth. Fortunately I haven't made the coffee yet, so we'll make a bigger pot in case he and his team, if he brings one, would like some.”

*   *   *

“Yes, very glad you called,” said Davies. “And quite right not to let anyone into the churchyard until we've had a chance to assess it. See you in a few minutes and the coffee would be most welcome.” Davies hung up the phone in his office, slipped on his jacket, and walked down the hall to the canteen where PC Chris Jones had just joined the breakfast queue.

“Sorry, Jones, no breakfast for you. At least not here. I'll explain on the way, and the good Mrs. Evans will have coffee waiting for you.”

They arrived a few minutes later at the rectory, where a hand-written sign on the padlocked gate apologized for the inconvenience but the churchyard was closed for the morning. Just as he was getting ready to ring the rectory to let Thomas know he'd arrived, the kitchen door opened and the rector himself scurried toward them. When he'd unlocked the gate Thomas held out his arm in the direction of the clockmaker's grave.

“Yes, I can see the digging from here,” Davies said. “Well, Thomas, I would say that at the very least we've got a case of vandalism. I wonder what else we'll find. Come on then, Jones. Let's check it out.” Jones murmured something that the rector didn't quite catch. “He's desperate for coffee,” Davies said to the rector. “We'll send him over to the house to ask Bronwyn to pour him one and he can join us in a couple of minutes.”

Davies and the rector walked to the grave and contemplated the holes that surrounded it. Each one was about one foot across and of the same depth. The dirt that had been removed from the hole was piled up beside it. They walked slowly from one hole to the other, peering into each one.

“It must have taken someone a fair bit of time to do all this,” Davies said to the rector. “And they couldn't have done all this in the dark—they would have needed lights. You didn't hear anything in the night? See any strange lights moving about?”

The rector shook his head. “No, sorry. Wish I had. Our bedroom overlooks the river, so we wouldn't have heard or seen anything in the churchyard. I'm a sound sleeper but if Bronwyn had heard anything, she would have woken me up.”

A few minutes later, carefully holding one of Bronwyn's kitchen mugs to avoid spilling any of its precious contents, a smiling Jones glided across the churchyard and joined them.

“We're going to need every one of these holes examined,” Davies said, “and the dirt piles as well, obviously, in case someone left something behind. A button, a hair, a fingernail, a glove, a tool. Hell, maybe even a phone. I doubt we'll be that lucky, but stranger things have happened.”

Jones set his coffee mug on a nearby slate chest tomb and pulled out his notebook. “And request a photographer, too,” said Davies. He sighed. “Of course the real problem is we have no way of knowing if they found what they were looking for. Whatever that might be.”

*   *   *

“There's something going on at the church this morning,” Eirlys told Penny as she slipped on her pale pink smock.

“What do you mean, ‘something going on'? This early on a Monday morning? They can't be having a fete or something like that. That would be held on a Saturday.”

“Oh, no, not that kind of something. Something different. I could see some people in the churchyard milling about when I walked by this morning. So I walked down past the almshouses to get closer and there's a sign on the gate that says the church is closed this morning.”

“Oh, well, maybe it's a funeral. Although come to think of it, of course not. Why would they close the church for a funeral?”

Eirlys shrugged and turned her attention to the small bag she had taken with her on Saturday to Jessica Hughes's home manicure. She pulled out a couple of bottles of polish and set them on her worktable.

“If anybody's looking for me, I'll be back soon,” Penny said. She crossed the town square and turned toward the church where a small crowd had gathered outside the gates.

“Nothing to see here,” a uniformed officer told them. “Move along now.”

“What's happening?” asked Penny, catching a glimpse of Davies near the church. The area around the clockmaker's gravestone had been cordoned off with blue and white police tape.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” said the police officer. “Just carrying out a routine investigation.”

“Would you please tell DCI Davies I'd like a word with him,” she said. “My name's Penny Brannigan.”

“Know him, do you?” he asked.

“Yes, I do. I'm sure he'll talk to me.”

The officer walked off to the grave where several people, wearing white protective overalls, were working. He spoke to PC Jones, who accompanied him back to the gate where Penny was waiting.

“Morning, Penny,” he said, and then explained to her they were investigating the mysterious overnight appearance of several holes in the churchyard. “We don't know what they were looking for, or if they found it,” he concluded.

Penny thanked him and returned to the Spa. The morning passed quickly and at noon Victoria, Eirlys, and Penny gathered in her office to discuss creating a mobile wedding unit so they could deliver that service while keeping the Spa open.

“I'd like to work the mobile unit,” Eirlys said. “It's fun to get out and see other people's houses and I like being part of the wedding excitement.”

“Was Jessica Hughes a particularly difficult bride?” Penny asked Eirlys.

“No, I don't think so. I had to work really hard on her hands, though. They were so rough and I don't think she's used to wearing makeup. She was nice to talk to. If you like horses, that is.”

“What was her room like?” asked Penny.

“Really big. About the size of my parents' room and mine put together. Filled with trophies and rosettes. She's won a lot of competitions. She said it runs in the family. Her mother doesn't ride, but her grandfather and great-grandfather did. There was a picture of her great-grandfather, I think she said it was, on a horse during the war.”

“I don't think they used horses in the Second World War, so must be the first,” Victoria said. “Great-great-grandfather, possibly.”

Penny shuffled some papers on her desk and pushed them to one side in a neat pile and set her phone on top of them.

“Oh!” said Eirlys. “You've got one, too!”

“One what?” asked Penny.

“One of those papers with the funny drawings on it.”

“What do you mean, ‘too'? Who else has one?”

“Jessica. I saw a drawing that looked just like that in her room.”

 

Thirty-six

“I wasn't snooping or anything,” Eirlys continued. “Jessica left the room at one point so I looked around for a bit.”

“The way you do,” encouraged Victoria.

“Well, it's not like it was in a drawer and I opened it,” said Eirlys. “It was just sitting there on the table. There's a little seating area in a kind of alcove and it was just there. I thought the drawings looked like something from
The Hobbit
.”

“Do you know where Jessica is now?” Penny asked.

“Well, on her honeymoon, I guess. She told me they were going to Ireland to look at horses.”

Eirlys looked first at Penny, then shifted her gaze to Victoria. A small line appeared between her eyebrows.

“Why are you asking me all these questions? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn't,” Penny reassured her. “It's just that the paper you saw might be important, that's all. We might have to tell Detective Chief Inspector Davies about it because it may be connected to a case he's working on. One thing, though. The paper you saw. Was it a photocopy, do you know? Did it have a smooth edge like this?” She pointed to a paper on her desk.

“I don't know about the edge, but it couldn't have been a photocopy. I'm pretty sure it was written in pencil.” Her head tilted back slightly and her eyes moved up and to the right. “It was written on lined paper, like you get in a school notebook.”

Penny paused for a moment while she considered the significance of what Eirlys had just said.

“I think we'd better leave the discussion about the mobile wedding service for later,” she said. “Eirlys has given me a lot to think about.”

“In that case, can I go now?” Eirlys asked. “I was hoping to meet a friend for lunch.”

“Yes, off you go,” said Penny. “And take your full lunch hour.”

“Well,” said Penny when she had gone. “Now we have to work out what to do next.”

Victoria slid her phone over to her.

“It's not that difficult. You phone him and tell him what Eirlys just told you about Jessica.”

“I don't think it's that simple. If Jessica's in Ireland, she couldn't have dug up the cemetery last night.”

“So how did the map get on a table in her room, then?”

Penny thought for a moment. “Could one of her parents have left it there?”

“Well, I don't know about that. But I do know this for sure. You have to ring Gareth. If this map is somehow connected to the death of Catrin Bellis, as you keep telling me it is, he needs to know. And what's more, there could be fingerprints on it, that could crack this case wide open.” She picked up the phone and held it out to Penny. “Go on. You know you want to. And if you don't want to, you have to.”

“Oddly enough, for some reason I don't want to. There's something missing.”

“Oh, yes? And what's that?”

“The first half of the map that belongs to Haydn Wiliams. The left side. If someone in the Hughes family does have the right side of the map, well, it's useless without the other half. That's the whole point of tearing the map in two. So each person who owns a piece of it is an equal partner in whatever the map is concealing because both halves are necessary to finding it. And if it was a Hughes family member, whether it's Heather or Evan or Jessica, he or she couldn't have known to dig in the churchyard unless he or she had the first part of the map.”

“Well, that's easy, then. Haydn Williams and his friend and neighbour Evan Hughes are in it together.”

“Oh, I don't think so. Haydn is so naïve, and I certainly can't see him being part of a plot to kill Catrin Bellis for a piece of paper. Besides, I think he fancied her. I think he was looking forward to getting to know her better.” Penny shook her head. “But of course you're right about telling Gareth about the map in Jessica's room. I'll do that now and he can sort it.”

“That's right,” said Victoria. “That's his job, so let's leave him to it. And meanwhile, let's get on with ours.”

A few minutes later the man himself rang to tell Penny that police had found nothing of interest in the churchyard holes. “But someone was definitely looking for something,” he added.

“I found out something,” she told him. “Eirlys saw what could be the other half of the original map at the Hughes farmhouse.”

*   *   *

“Oh, I know that look, Mrs. Lloyd. You've got something to tell me.”

Mrs. Lloyd dipped her hands in the soaking water and beamed at Penny.

“Indeed I do,” she said. “You'll never guess. I've only just heard myself. They were trying to keep it quiet, I guess.”

“They? Who were keeping what quiet?”

“The Hughes family. Their daughter, Jessica, was married on Saturday. Such a big to do for such a horsey girl, in my opinion. Anyway, apparently the marriage didn't take and she came home that very night to her parents.” Mrs. Lloyd laughed. “You don't hear of that happening very often these days!”

“But what about the honeymoon in Ireland?”

“There was no honeymoon. There was no nothing. She's back at home with her parents and I have no idea what happens next. Can they get the marriage annulled, do you suppose?”

“Well, maybe once she's had a bit of time to think it over, she'll give it another go,” said Penny.

“Well, I suppose that's possible,” said Mrs. Lloyd doubtfully. “But I've been wondering why she agreed to marry that man in the first place. I think her parents, her father in particular, must have pressured her into it. Apparently the fields of the two farms adjoin and he liked the idea of one big spread.”

“I'm not sure you're right about the parents pressuring her, though. I don't know about the father, but Heather told me she wasn't keen on her daughter marrying him. Still, what interests me right now is the honeymoon. Are you sure Jessica didn't go to Ireland?” Penny asked.

“Well, I can't be sure,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “I'm just telling you what I heard.”

“Of course.” Penny worked in silence for a moment, and then, changing the subject, inquired after Florence Semble. “How's Florence getting along? Still getting used to the idea of owning all that wonderful art?”

“Oh, not much has changed with her,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Still the same old Florence. She does spend a bit more time out of the house, though. She's become quite chummy with Jean from the library. You know, the lady who found Catrin Bellis's body.”