A Grave in the Cotswolds (21 page)

The loss of Maggs’s respect was not to be contemplated. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am. It’s this bloody business here, sent everything else out of my head.’

‘I realise that, Drew. But you can’t afford to just forget your obligations. Too many livelihoods depend on it.’

She often addressed me as if she were a schoolmistress and I a disappointing pupil, but there was generally a jokey edge to it. Not this time. Miserably, I apologised again, and ended the call.

Thea had heard it all. ‘Problems?’ she asked gently.

I told her the whole story. ‘It’s unforgivable,’ I concluded. ‘That poor woman.’

‘Well, it’s not beyond salvation,’ she judged. ‘He can still have the funeral he wants. You missed an appointment, that’s all. Phone tomorrow and tell them you’ll reduce the costs and give them the sunniest spot in your burial ground. That should mollify them.’

I stared at her, my heart lifting. How was it possible to assuage my self-disgust so quickly? ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I feel better already.’

She smiled girlishly. ‘It’s what I’m good at,’ she admitted. ‘Putting things into perspective.’

‘Well, it’s a great gift,’ I said, somehow feeling she’d helped me to get away with something – that I had escaped punishment that was due to me. She spent a few minutes reminding me about her past encounters with murder, as if to show me how serious life could get. Not that she said anything that really outweighed my transgression, but at least it was a distraction.

Then I began to worry about where I would spend the night. ‘Technically, I suppose I could claim the right to stay in Mrs Simmonds’ house,’ I said, without thinking.

She looked at me, eyes wide. ‘Say that again.’

‘The police told me this morning. She left it to me in her will,’ I muttered. ‘But I don’t expect I’ll get it, and I can hardly pretend it’s actually mine for ages yet. What about you? Are you going back to Witney?’

‘Wait!’ she held up a hand. ‘Don’t let’s change the subject. This is a serious development. Why on earth didn’t you tell me right away?’

I tried not to wriggle or look sheepish, with not much success. ‘I didn’t know what you’d think.’

‘I think,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘that it would be a great motive for the Talbots to murder you, but I can’t see how it links to Mr Maynard. Except there’s something we still haven’t grasped about
Mrs
M and ownership of the house. Something she knows about, that wouldn’t be good news for the Talbot family.’ She lifted her chin triumphantly. ‘I know! Greta must have told her she was leaving the house to you. That’ll be it. And she’ll have told Gavin, and he’ll have thought it was the worst idea he’d ever heard and gone out of his way to prevent it.’

‘And so I had to kill him to protect my inheritance,’ I supplied. ‘Right. That’s what everybody’s going to think.’

‘So we have to prove them wrong,’ she asserted stoutly.

Speaking to Maggs had activated my conscience to a painful extent. I had deserted my post as undertaker, husband and father. I was having a pleasant time in the thoroughly gorgeous Cotswolds, with a very nice woman. I might be in trouble with the police, but for the moment, it felt as if I was playing hookey while other people shouldered my rightful responsibilities.

‘I don’t see how we can,’ I said. ‘And for the moment I need to settle the question of where to sleep.’

‘I should go home, I suppose,’ she said, without enthusiasm. The dog, forever at her side, gave her a slow wag, as if expressing an opinion on the matter – though I couldn’t tell where its preference lay. ‘But then you’d be stranded. I brought you here – by rights I should take you back again.’

‘Not at all,’ I assured her. ‘I can get a bus or train or something. Besides, we don’t know when I’ll be allowed to go. I have to check in with the police again tomorrow. Actually, they probably want to know where I’m staying tonight. I’m out on bail, remember. I’m surprised they didn’t put one of those electronic tag things on me.’

We had turned round after my phone call, and were walking down the uneventful street of Broad Campden, and it was approaching half past three in the afternoon. The gardens were full of cheerful daffodils and little blue things. Almost no traffic passed by.

Thea didn’t respond to my comment about tagging. Instead, she directed my attention to our surroundings, pointing out footpaths that ran in various directions, to Chipping Campden one way and Blockley another. I asked a bit more about the Arts and Crafts business and she rattled off some stories about artists and others who had lived in the village a century ago. Only slowly did I begin to wonder whether she was merely keeping me company out of pity for my situation, thinking I’d be hopelessly bored on my own. If so, she was right – I would. But I could hardly expect her to give up days of her own life simply to entertain me.

Nonetheless, she appeared perfectly happy to remain at my side. ‘Mrs Maynard would be a useful person to speak to,’ she mused. ‘But we can hardly just walk up to her front door and demand an interview.’

‘We don’t even know where she lives.’

‘We could find out.’

I stared at her. ‘No,’ I said at last. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Besides, she hates me. She more or less said so when she phoned me on Monday.’

‘I expect she was just in shock. You know as well as I do – better, if anything – that you can’t judge people by what they say in a moment of crisis.’

‘That’s true,’ I conceded. ‘And she did mellow at bit, as we talked. But I still don’t think we can just descend on her unannounced.’

Thea sighed impatiently. ‘I’ve done it before and it usually works out all right. She’d probably welcome a friendly visit, if we said we’d come to pay our respects.’

‘But I’m the chief suspect for her husband’s murder. How can I possibly face her?’

‘How would she know that?’

‘I imagine everyone knows by now. My reputation is in tatters.’

‘All the more reason to do your best to clear your name.’

‘I agree. But I can’t face Mrs Maynard. I’m sorry, but there are limits. What in the world should I say to her?’

‘Well, all right. But I think it would be fine, when it came to it.’

I stood my ground. ‘No, Thea, it would not. Especially as she’s probably got a houseful of friends and neighbours already commiserating with her. That would make it even worse. Besides, she’s already angry. I might set her off on a full-blown tantrum.’

‘You said that before. You think she really is angry? Not upset?’

‘You saw her for yourself.’ I had forgotten until then that Mrs Maynard had visited Thea. ‘What did you think?’

She thought about it. ‘Well, she was frustrated at being stalled by the police. I got the impression she felt sidelined, as if she expected to be consulted more. And she doesn’t approve of me.’

I grimaced. ‘Ditto. When she phoned she seemed to find your presence in the village unsettling. She knows a lot about the legality of the house, because she works for the solicitor who looked after Greta’s mother’s affairs.’ I was dredging up as much detail as I could from the phone call. Monday felt a very long time ago.

‘Yes – so she probably did know you’d inherited the house. She probably typed up the will that had it in.’

I thought hard. ‘You know, I think she must have done. She made some sharp little remark about “Mr Nephew”, meaning Charles, implying she knew something about the future of the house. That was quite witty, in a way, the Mr Nephew comment.’

‘Do the widows of freshly murdered men often crack jokes?’ Thea asked sharply. ‘I know I didn’t, when my husband died.’

‘Sometimes,’ I told her. ‘It’s the shock. It makes some people say terribly inappropriate things. You should hear them at the funerals.’

‘Hmm. Well, she strikes me as a hard woman, from what I’ve seen of her.’

‘I’m starting to think she’s got some crucial information,’ I said. ‘She could be a direct link in the whole story. She might even know who killed Gavin.’

‘She might even have done it herself,’ said Thea. ‘After all, it usually is the spouse.’

I humoured her, rather against my better judgement. ‘Perhaps she thought she’d get the house, on the grounds of her long friendship with Greta. But when Gavin let Greta know how much he disapproved of her plans for her burial, she changed her mind and left it to me. Which infuriated his wife so much that she murdered him.’

‘But it would be just as likely to make
him
want to kill
you
. Besides, he obviously had no idea of Greta’s plans for her burial. If he had, he’d have told her the field wasn’t hers in the first place, and she would have to think again.’

‘And Judith or Charles Talbot would be the aggrieved parties, whichever scenario you take. They should really have murdered me, as well. Heavens, I’m lucky to be alive.’

‘Maybe they will yet, now they know you’re getting the house. It is a nice house,’ she added inconsequentially. We were approaching it, as we spoke, having meandered some distance past it, heading east, and then turned back when the road became narrower and steeper and less appealing altogether.

‘Can we go and have another look at it?’ I said on an impulse. ‘Just so I can dream for a few minutes. I’m certain it never will be mine. The conditions are impossible.’

‘OK,’ she concurred. ‘But it’s getting rather chilly, and it’ll be dark before long.’

It was four o’clock, and I knew I would have to find somewhere to sleep very soon. The prospect of returning to the Chipping Campden hotel for a long lonely evening and potentially sleepless night was more grim every time I contemplated it.

‘Just for a minute,’ I promised her.

I hadn’t properly taken in the house on my earlier visit. I’d been far too engaged with the people to notice room sizes or furniture, or the immaculate thatched roof. I was even momentarily puzzled as to how to find it.

‘Down here,’ said Thea, turning into a small street on the right.

‘Oh yes.’ My confusion of Saturday came back to me. The place was perfectly straightforward on the map, but there were odd turnings and a closed-in feeling, which meant you couldn’t see anything further ahead than a few yards in some places. The house was on our right, bigger than I remembered. I looked up at it. ‘How many bedrooms are there?’

‘Four, although one is very tiny. The thatch is nice, isn’t it?’

‘Gorgeous. And this little garden must be wonderful in summer. Look at all the roses, and laburnum.’

‘Ceanothus, wisteria, clematis, peonies – she certainly liked a lot of colour,’ Thea observed knowledgeably. For the first time in hours, I thought of Karen and how she loved a garden.

‘I suppose it’ll sit empty now for ages, while everyone wrangles over it,’ I said wistfully.

‘It should by rights stay in the family, don’t you think?’

‘Except none of them wants it.’

‘The boy does. Jeremy. Nobody listened to him, but he loves it here. There’s a room which is more or less his. He’d been coming here a lot since Mrs Simmonds came back from her commune thingy.’

‘Ah yes – the co-housing people. None of whom came to her funeral, even though it’s only been a year and a bit since she left them.’

‘I suppose because she left them in a huff – it sounds as if she fell out with them in a big way.’

I thought about it, again ransacking my poor brain for anything Mrs Simmonds might have said about them when she came to my office. ‘I have got the address,’ I said. ‘She was living there when I met her.’

‘They’d be easy to find, anyway. I don’t suppose there are many places that call themselves co-housing communities in Somerset. I could look them up on the Internet.’

Which made me wonder exactly where Thea intended to stay the night. She’d surely have to head back home before much longer. Somehow I didn’t feel able to ask her, despite the apparent opening she’d given me already.

‘You know what,’ she said, as if reading my thoughts, ‘I think I could get in here quite easily, and we could use it as free accommodation tonight. You don’t want to spend money on a hotel again, and I’m in no rush to get back. I’ve got all I need in the car.’ She looked at the long-suffering dog that had trailed after us on our meanderings around the village for the past two hours or so. ‘I’ve even got my new Blackberry.’

When I worked out how long we’d been walking, I immediately felt tired. And thirsty. But much more strongly, I felt apprehension. ‘The neighbours will see us, and tell somebody,’ I objected. ‘We’d be trespassing.’

‘They know I’ve been here. They’ll just assume the family want me to stay on. I don’t think they’ll want to get involved, anyway. They’re too rich and busy to bother with what’s going on here. It’s amazing, you know, how these villages operate nowadays. A lot of the properties are second homes, for one thing, so they’re empty most of the time. The rest are people who’ve moved here from somewhere else, and haven’t established a proper sense of community. It’s the same everywhere – except Blockley. They do seem to do a lot of social stuff in Blockley.’

‘And what will they think about me?’

‘They won’t think anything.’

‘But…but…there’s been a
murder
half a mile away. They’ll be acutely aware of anything unusual or suspicious. Won’t they be scared, as well?’

She shook her head firmly. ‘I doubt it. Anyway, I’m not unusual or suspicious. I’m ordinary and familiar, and I’ve got a dog. Trust me, nobody will take the slightest notice of us.’

‘So how do we get in? Didn’t you have to give the key to someone?’ The idea was making me more and more nervous, not only because it was almost certainly illegal. ‘If anybody finds out, we’ll be in real trouble.’

‘I don’t see why. We won’t do any damage. We can just act dumb if anybody comes.’

‘The key?’ I prompted.

‘There’s a spare one in a flowerpot round the back. I shouldn’t think anybody knows about it.’

I sighed with slight relief. At least she wasn’t proposing to break in. But I did not understand exactly why she was making the suggestion in the first place. The idea that she wanted somewhere quiet and private to be alone with me was dismissed as soon as it occurred – she had given no indication of any such notion, and my experience with women was that they seldom regarded me in that sort of light. Karen had been special in that respect, right from the start.