The Mills of God (10 page)

‘No, I'd agree with that.' From a briefcase that he had put on the floor beside his chair Tennant withdrew a piece of paper sealed in an evidence bag. ‘Have a look at this, would you?'

The vicar stared at it, tentatively putting out a hand.

‘It's all right. You can touch it.'

Nick scanned the words. His attention particularly drawn by the signature, ‘The Acting Light of the World'. ‘Where did this come from?' he said eventually.

‘From the dead man's house. It was pinned on the wall on the landing.'

‘Written by the murderer?'

‘It would appear so, yes.'

Nick handed the paper back. ‘Do you think it's the work of a religious maniac?'

‘Or someone trying to give that impression.'

The vicar looked thoughtful. ‘Um. I hadn't thought of that.'

‘Whatever, I find it terribly sinister. It sounds to me as if he or she intends to go on killing.'

‘I don't know if this will be of any interest,' Nick started, and then related the two incidents he had experienced in the church.

The inspector looked thoughtful. ‘Thanks for telling me, Vicar. Keep a watchful eye out. But no have-a-go stuff.'

After he had gone Nick went to his study and copied down the words he had recently been shown. ‘Second of the ten. Where next? The Acting Light of the World'. He stared at them but other than endorsing Tennant's idea that there was a serial killer on the loose, he could make nothing further of them. He was just about to put them away when there came another knock at his door. Of all the people in the world Kylie Saunters stood there, white as a sail and with panda-rings of mascara under her eyes.

‘Oh Vicar, Vicar,' she wailed. ‘My gran's ever so upset. They've taken Dwayne off to the police station in Lewes and we're all on our own with a murderer about.'

‘Wasn't there a policewoman with Mrs Noakes?'

‘Yes, but she's had to go. We've given our statements and the inspector said that he was finished with us for now. Would you come and talk to her, please.'

‘Well, if you think I'll be of any help I'll come, of course.'

They started off down the street but it was like getting through an obstacle course. Everywhere groups of women huddled in tight circles of gossip, talking in subdued voices of one and the same thing. All brightened up as they saw the vicar approach.

‘Good morning, Father Nick. Isn't it terrible? Poor Mr Riddell,' and so on and so forth were his constant greetings. The vicar pulled faces which he hoped were appropriate, all the time aware that poor little Kylie was pawing at his side like a nervous animal. Eventually he had run the gauntlet and found himself in Love Lane and opposite the cottage. Looking round he saw that the police had cordoned off the garden gate of Gerrard Riddell's house and that forensics were working on it. Bracing himself, Nick went inside, Kylie scurrying ahead of him.

Mrs Noakes was sitting in an armchair beside an unlit fire, not crying now but occasionally emitting a low sob which, in a way, was almost worse.

Kylie knelt beside her. ‘The vicar's 'ere to see you, Gran.'

Mrs Noakes did not look up. Nick squatted down on her other side.

‘Anything I can do to help, Mrs Noakes?'

She looked at him. ‘They've taken 'im away, Reverend. They've taken 'im orff for questioning.'

Nick shot an enquiring glance at Kylie, who whispered, ‘He was giving 'em cheek, Vicar. That's why they took 'im. It was to give 'im a lesson, like.'

He nodded, seeing the picture quite clearly and thinking that for all his good manners it wouldn't do to mess with someone like Inspector Tennant.

‘I expect he'll be back soon,' Nick said somewhat lamely.

‘I'll go and get a nice cup of tea while we're waiting,' Kylie put in, making Nick think that she wasn't such a bad kid after all.

‘Do you believe they're going to keep 'im in, Vicar?'

‘No, I'm sure he'll be back soon. It's only routine questioning, you know. They're doing it to everybody.'

He went on burbling the same remark over and over again with variations and had never been more thankful than when Mavis Cox rang at the front door and came bustling in. At this Nick rose, made excuses about parish duties, refused the cup of tea that Kylie waved under his nose, and left the house. Walking up Love Lane he almost bumped into Sonia Tate, who made the most terrible moue at him and batted her eyelashes.

‘Oh Vicar,' she said in a little-girl voice. ‘I am quite frightened by what is happening. Where is it all going to end I keep wondering.'

‘I wish I knew,' he answered solemnly.

She produced a small diary from her handbag. ‘Now that I have you on your own, Father Nick, when can you have supper with me? I am sure that I can give you a lot of background information on the personalities of Lakehurst.'

‘Including the murderer?' he said without thinking.

She flushed uncomfortably. ‘I keep puzzling as to who it can be. But was Mr Riddell's death perchance an accident? Are we jumping to conclusions?'

Thinking of the note left at the scene of the crime, Nick shook his head. ‘I don't think so. I believe there might well be a religious maniac on the loose.'

Sonia gave him a penetrating glance. ‘What makes you say that?'

Thinking he had revealed too much, Nick answered vaguely, ‘Oh, just a feeling I have.'

‘Then it must be a regular churchgoer. Oh dear, oh dear.' She closed her eyes and staggered a little where she stood so that the vicar was forced to put out a reluctant arm to support her. Her eyes flew open and she gave him what might once have been a spectacular look. The eyelashes batted again. ‘Now Father Nick, when can you come to dine?'

He smiled. ‘I'm afraid my diary is on my desk at the vicarage. May I telephone you?'

‘Oh please do.' She wagged a finger with an extremely long red nail on the end. ‘Now don't forget.'

‘I won't,' the vicar answered, and hurried away.

The Great House was packed that evening, everyone feeling in need of a little Dutch courage to cope with the all-pervading sense of fear that had fallen over the village of Lakehurst, to say nothing of the house-to-house enquiries that were now taking place. There was not one person present who was not discussing the murders – for though the vicar had said nothing about the note left above the place where the great Buddha had once stood – rumour was out and blood had run cold.

The vicar stood in a little group with Dr Rudniski, Giles Fielding and, for once on his feet and not sitting in his corner, Jack Boggis. He was looking taciturn and his ill-fitting false teeth were hissing slightly as he spoke.

‘It's a rum business, this. Well rum.'

‘I must say that I'll be quite glad to get into my car and be off to Speckled Wood at the end of the evening,' said Giles.

‘Is it true,' asked Kasper of everyone in general, ‘that Mr Riddell was murdered with the statue of a Buddha?'

They all looked blankly at one another, then Giles answered, ‘I don't know about that but he certainly had a statue – and a bloody big one it was too – on his landing. And he used to light candles in front of it and all. I know because I delivered a sheep there one Christmas and I got a chance to look round.'

‘The sheep was dead I trust?' said Kasper seriously.

Giles made a clucking sound. ‘Of course it was dead. He had a lot of his gay friends coming down for Christmas and he wanted it for Christmas Day.'

‘I never eat at Christmas,' put in Boggis. ‘It upsets my digestion.'

‘But it's a time for celebration,' protested Nick. ‘We're celebrating the birthday of our Lord.'

‘Lord or no Lord, all I eat is a helping of cauliflower cheese.'

‘That'll make you windy,' said Giles, grinning broadly. ‘They'll hear you thundering down in East Street.'

Everybody laughed but underneath the sound Nick was sure he could detect a hollow quality, an urge to escape the horror and bloodshed.

‘But tell me, Giles, surely you don't seriously believe that Gerrard worshipped the Buddha? After all, he came to church.'

The craggy countenance took on a straight-faced expression. ‘I'm telling you, Vicar, for all his appearances in church and his lusty singing and all, he did worship that statue. One night I called late to his place and the front door was open. I'd come for my money actually – but that's another story. Anyway I wanders into the house and into the kitchen, calling out his name like, and then I sees 'im. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the thing and he was moaning to it.'

‘Moaning?'

‘He was making sounds like Um and whispering prayers to it.'

Nick stared, astonished. ‘Are you trying to tell me he was a Buddhist?'

‘Yes. At least that's what I thought at the time.'

‘Extraordinary,' Kasper said.

‘Was he a patient of yours?' Jack Boggis asked in a slightly condescending manner.

‘No, he went to the older doctor.'

‘Wise bloke,' Boggis answered with a smile which, or so it seemed to Nick, was masking the fact that he meant every word he said.

But at this moment all further conversation ceased as a loud voice spoke from the doorway. ‘I told 'em to fuck off good and proper, I did. Evening all.' Dwayne had returned from Lewes.

He strolled into the bar in what he considered to be a nonchalant manner but which actually resembled a loutish slouch, his clothes creased and mucky looking, his tee shirt with its unlovely slogan stained with an unpleasant yellowish mark. The lads playing the fruit machines tucked away round the corner hastened towards him.

‘Hello, me old mucker, 'ow d'you get on then?'

‘All right, Dwayne?'

And so on.

The hero of the hour said loudly, ‘Bleedin' cops. I never said nuffink to 'em and they had to let me go. I just played it cool and 'ere I am.'

His voice died down as he followed his companions towards their stamping ground, kicking a bar stool on his way.

‘What a creep,' said Giles, and there was a general murmur of assent.

‘Another round, gentlemen?' asked the doctor, and for once everyone agreed.

It was strange, thought Nick, as there was a moment's silence while they all took a sip, how people left the pub in pairs, almost as if there were an unwritten agreement that no one should walk alone. The tension in the village was everywhere, the population was frightened.

The doors opened again and much to Nick's surprise and delight Olivia Beauchamp stood there. She was somewhat out-of-breath and decidedly flushed. She looked round, saw her group of friends and hurried to join them.

‘What's been going on?' she demanded.

Jack Boggis gave a flash of his mighty false teeth. ‘There's been another murder, my dear,' he said in what he considered to be a manly voice. ‘But there's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.' And he attempted to pat Olivia's hand.

She took it away and gave it instead to the doctor, who squeezed it warmly. ‘What will you have to drink, Olivia? It is my round.'

‘Thanks Kasper. I think I'll have a large gin and tonic in view of the news.' She turned to Nick as Kasper went to the bar. ‘My cleaning lady told me that old Riddell was murdered last night. Is it true?'

‘Aye, it's true, bumble bee,' Giles answered familiarly, rather annoying the vicar.

‘But who is doing it?' asked Olivia, going from pink-cheeked to white very suddenly.

‘That's the million dollar question,' Nick said grimly. ‘If we knew the answer to that we'd all be a lot better off.'

‘Are the police on the scene?'

‘They are everywhere. They've got a mobile headquarters parked in the High Street and they're going from house-to-house making enquiries. And, Inspector Tennant would like to speak to you.'

Olivia nodded. ‘I'll give him a call in the morning. I'm playing in Brighton so I'll be around for a few days.'

Nick looked anxious. ‘Did you drive here?'

‘Yes, of course.'

‘Then I will escort you back.'

‘No need for that, Vicar,' put in Giles, in his rollicking Sussex accent. ‘I'll drive behind Olivia and see her into her house.'

She turned from one to the other of them. ‘Are things that serious?'

Before anyone else could answer Jack Boggis piped up. ‘Now then, little lady, if you're looking for someone to walk with, I'm your man. This bloody murderer doesn't scare me I can assure you.'

Kasper, who had consumed several vodkas and obviously had a touch of the fighting spirit as a result, said, ‘With respect, Mr Boggis, I would have thought someone younger and fitter would have been a better protector.'

Jack burst out laughing. ‘Oh, you would, would you? I could down you any time, young man. I was in the army I'll have you know.'

The vicar felt that this was the moment to intercede. ‘I think it is beholden on us all to keep very calm at the present time. There is enough evil stalking this village without us adding to it.'

‘Hear, hear,' said Jack loudly.

Giles spoke up. ‘Well, my offer still stands, Olivia. I'll see you home and then you must lock all your doors.'

‘Thank you, Giles. I accept. I wouldn't dream of bothering the rest of you.' She downed her gin. ‘Shall we go?'

Fielding drained his pint. ‘Are you in the car park?'

‘Yes.'