Murder on the Old Road (12 page)

‘Care to tell me the reason for the victim's non-popularity?' The very mildness of Will's manner seemed to Georgia to underline the fact that he wasn't going to be sidetracked, but she still hesitated.

Peter did not. ‘The vicar was at the centre of a row over village development, chiefly because she owned the land and buildings that were the key to its success.'

How straightforward that sounded, Georgia thought, grateful she had left it to him. If she had been the one to tell Will, she would probably unwittingly have conveyed more of the angst invested in that subject. From Peter's lips it sounded a perfectly logical dispassionate situation. To listen to him, the heightened emotions towards Anne might not have existed.

‘I take it that as she was the landowner she was keen for development,' Will said.

‘Far from it. She led the opposition,' Georgia said.

Will looked surprised. ‘Strange,' he commented. ‘Usually it's the landowner who wants to make a killing—' He broke off at this unfortunate choice of words and made a face. ‘Sorry.'

So he had already sensed that Georgia felt emotionally involved. ‘Not in this case. She believed her duty was to oppose it.'

‘Duty to whom or duty to what?'

‘Twofold. The late Robert Wayncroft and Archbishop Thomas Becket.'

He groaned. ‘Say no more. I can see why matters clearly got heated. Feeling duty to the past, especially to a saint, is difficult to fight. Just give me a rough idea of who was on her side and who wasn't.' He must have noticed her look towards Peter for guidance. ‘This development,' he added, ‘I take it the Wayncrofts, being the bigwigs of the village, were also against it.'

‘No.' Luke took over to Georgia's relief. She didn't feel up to dealing with this. ‘You'll have to ask them, but basically they were in favour of it.'

‘Again, that's weird. Traditionally, the bigwigs fight tooth and nail to resist change. Or,' Will added dispassionately, ‘in this case perhaps they fought with hands.'

Georgia froze, not understanding why she felt so torn. She wanted Anne's killer found, and yet feared it coming too close to home. Someone here, someone she'd talked to, could have done this. She was getting too emotionally involved, and perhaps Luke realized because he stepped in again.

‘I assume it's a man you'll be looking for.'

‘Not necessarily. If the victim was taken by surprise from behind, it's possible it could have been a woman, although it's less likely. Now tell me what you were doing here yesterday, and why you're here today, Peter. None of you lives in Chillingham, so are you on a case, Peter?'

She had almost forgotten Hugh Wayncroft, Georgia realized guiltily. He, too, had been strangled. Was that coincidence? It must be.

‘Hugh Wayncroft,' Peter explained, ‘was murdered in Chillingham in 1967 on a stretch of the nearby Pilgrims' Way, north of the village, at the end of a pilgrimage just like this one. He had played Becket in the same play as that scheduled for next week in Canterbury by this group. His murder was never solved. Ask Mike Gilroy.'

A long pause. ‘Most interesting,' Will said at last. ‘I will ask him. Indeed I will. Any connection between the two murders, do you think?'

‘I've no idea,' Peter replied levelly. ‘Coincidence has a long arm.'

‘So does the law,' Will replied. ‘It seems we should pay particular attention to exactly what was happening during the pilgrimage yesterday, and the dinner yesterday evening. We know about you two, Georgia. Could any others have left the pub about the same time and caught her up, without your seeing them or without being noticed by the others?'

‘I didn't see anyone, but it's possible.'

Will looked at her. ‘Anything happen during the evening?'

He'd picked up her reluctance to talk, and so she had no option. ‘Another row broke out, but . . .'

‘Tell me,' he said when she stopped.

‘She refused point blank to open up the ruins of St Thomas's chapel and well to the public.'

The phone rang yet again, but to Georgia's relief Luke went to answer it. Will Whitton had released them to return home late in the afternoon, although the pilgrimage party was still being kept at the Dog and Duck. On the way home, Georgia had suggested to Peter that he should stay with them at Medlars overnight, and rather to her surprise Peter had agreed. She had in mind that it had been a long day for him, but he, apparently, had other ideas. They could discuss Anne Fanshawe's death in relation to that of Hugh Wayncroft.

Georgia had rung Janie to suggest she joined them there, but to her dismay it turned out that Peter had forgotten to tell her that he'd be out all day. The museum was closed on Sundays and Mondays, and so today had been a free day for Janie. She had come over to Haden Shaw, had had a wasted journey, and, when Georgia rang, informed her that she had no intention of setting out again.

If it had not been for the fact that Anne Fanshawe was dominating her thoughts, Georgia would have tried harder to persuade her to change her mind, but she lacked the energy. There was always a question mark over including Janie when the primary cause of a meeting with Peter was work, chiefly because Janie would go to such lengths to make it clear that she didn't mind one bit being excluded from the conversation. That made it all the worse. How complicated relationships could get, Georgia thought. Another reason that she hadn't talked Janie into coming was that Peter had a face like a thundercloud when she suggested it.

Luke had been busy preparing his special spaghetti in the kitchen when the phone had rung.

‘What's the news?' she called when she heard the receiver replaced.

‘It was Tim.' Luke appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘They've just been told they'll be free by tomorrow evening, and so they can carry on with the pilgrimage on Tuesday. That's the Cuxton stop, and on Wednesday they'll be crossing the Medway on to the Downs and Boxley.'

‘Are the police marching with them?'

‘No. Tim said Val offered to keep in touch daily and to be responsible for keeping the group together. There are plenty of mobile numbers they can ring if Will Whitton wants to speak to any of them. Anyone leaving the group has to be reported.'

‘Soon they'll be reaching Mike's area,' Peter said reflectively.

Georgia realized with resignation that Peter would be planning close cooperation with him. Fortunately, Mike had his own ways of saying ‘no'.

‘How's Tim feeling?' she asked Luke. ‘Better?'

‘Worse. Can you imagine ploughing along the Old Road wondering whether there's a murderer marching behind you?'

‘Murder isn't unknown, even on the Old Road,' she pointed out. ‘There was Hugh Wayncroft.'

‘There's also the play. I know it seems a minor matter to worry about in comparison with Anne's death, but it means Tim's whole future, and Simon's too, so there's plenty for them to be worried about.'

‘But if this daughter inherits her estate and is as thought to be a chip off the old block, couldn't that be a good thing?'

Luke looked blank. ‘How? She won't want to open up the ruins either.'

Peter saw what she was implying, however. ‘You mean if the daughter takes the same position as her mother, the Becket ruins can't have been the motive for her killing. So unless someone present last night had more personal reasons for killing Anne, the group in the pub might be off the hook.'

‘Yes.'

‘Wrong,' he pointed out. ‘That would depend on who the murderer
thought
would inherit the land.'

‘No, I'm
right
,' Georgia argued. ‘It was generally known that Anne had a daughter, so she would be the obvious person to inherit them.'

Peter glared. ‘Perhaps. But –' a last ditch attempt – ‘it all depends what was in her will, if she made one,
and
in Robert Wayncroft's.
And
if it's true about its being generally known. If not, she could well have left everything to the church, which is a much easier target for the pro-development side.'

‘Call it a draw,' Luke said before Georgia could reply. ‘Supper's ready. Incidentally, do Georgia and I have to regard ourselves as suspects?'

‘No, assuming Whitton doesn't find trace evidence that implicates you, and it's hard to see how he could,' Peter said almost grudgingly. He was in a really bad mood, Georgia realized. ‘You didn't kiss her goodnight, did you, Luke?' Peter shot at him.

‘No, and nor did Georgia. Neither of us was on kissing terms with her.'

‘Good. Now about
our
case, Georgia.'

Back to square one. ‘Do you think Anne's death is linked to it?' she asked. What did she hope the reply would be? Yes or no? She couldn't decide, and nor could Peter from his answer.

‘I don't know. I usually have a good nose for such things, but in this case I don't. The only link I can see is Thomas Becket, and for the life of me I can't see that Anne's death is going to affect that much, if the daughter and half the village are still opposed to it. Including the Moons.'

Georgia had to force herself to visit Chillingham again. It was only five days since Anne's murder, and she still felt raw inside about it. The pilgrims, so Tim told Luke last evening, had reached Boxley and were doing the short seven mile haul to Hollingbourne today, Thursday. He had said that Simon was planning on returning to Chillingham, which meant he might even be back by now.

The publicity for the pilgrimage was ironically all Tim could have longed for when they'd first set out. Now it was unwelcome as the murder dominated every interview, and the play and its longer term objectives had slipped into second place even amongst the cast.

She could not bear to park by Chillingham church with its memories of Anne, and so she drove on to the Three Peacocks – only to find the car park full again. Good news for Simon, although she doubted if his present customers would be gastro diners, and even more whether they would be regular customers. She found a spot to park on the street and went into the bar, which was also packed. Some were obviously from the media, but many seemed to be curious sightseers. Chillingham as well as Wrotham had been much photographed and filmed in the press and on TV.

Derek was behind the bar, and she could glimpse Simon in the kitchen, but there seemed no sign of Lisa. Then she spotted her sitting at a corner table with a smartly dressed woman in her early thirties, with long blonde hair and sharp features. She set her down as an interviewer and was surprised that Lisa was cooperating.

Even more to her surprise, Lisa beckoned to her to join them. There seemed no trace of the hostility or defensiveness that Lisa had shown her earlier. It was as if she had relaxed her guard, and from her face and body language, Georgia could at last see why Simon referred to her as a gentle soul. What had made the difference – the news of Anne's death?

‘Georgia, this is Stella Hales, Mrs Fanshawe's daughter,' Lisa introduced her. ‘I've been telling her about you and how you're interested in the village history.'

Point noted. How, Georgia wondered, had the subject arisen? She was aware that as she greeted Stella alert eyes were summing her up. This, she decided, was one high-powered lady. She could easily believe that she was a chip off the old block, perhaps more to be feared than Anne herself.

Stella rose to greet her. ‘Do join us,' she said. ‘Simon told us that you were talking a great deal to my mother the day she died. I'd like to hear about it.'

Georgia began to think she'd judged too hastily. There was a humanity in Stella's face as there had been in Anne's, and she told her as much as she could about her talks with her mother. Excluding that final row she had overheard. ‘I liked Anne very much. I wish I'd known her better,' she finished.

‘So do I. Isn't that what daughters always think when they lose their mothers? That they never really knew her as a person, only as a mother?'

Georgia thought of her own mother, Elena, happily not dead, but living in France with her second husband. Georgia had been on strained terms with her after she had walked out on Peter, but they had been reconciled over the discovery of what had happened to Rick. Elena had listened to the explanation and accepted it. Georgia was relieved at that, but an unexpected ache persisted. It was almost as if, with that settled, Elena had broken the last tie not only between herself and Peter, but with her daughter too. She lived in another country, and had another life. Georgia was sure that if she visited her there, Elena would be delighted to see her; if she needed help, Elena would give it as far as possible, but the tie had been broken. If she had a grandchild . . . Georgia stopped herself. She must face the probability that she would not. She and Luke had agreed that if IVF did not work, they would share their lives, they would love, they would move on. But would it work like that? Perhaps just one more session . . . With great effort Georgia pushed it from her mind. Stella had just lost Anne, and that was what mattered now.

‘You must have a lot to do here,' Georgia said. ‘Do you need help?'

‘There's no date for the funeral yet. I'm still waiting to hear when that can take place, and so no, there isn't, thanks. The house belongs to the church, and Mum owned the house in Blackheath that I'd been renting. So it's only the personal possessions, the car and so forth to be sorted, and then I can go.'

‘But the land—' Georgia said without thinking.

‘What land?'

Lisa was unperturbed. ‘Georgia will be talking about St Thomas, his land, his well and his chapel. She doesn't know, you see.'

‘Nor did I until the solicitor told me, but I thought the whole world knew by now,' Stella apologized. ‘News usually travels fast.'

‘Knew what?'

‘My mother bequeathed them back to the Wayncrofts.'