The Mills of God (15 page)

‘Almost.'

He picked up the receiver in his office and said, ‘Tennant.'

A voice answered, ‘Forensics here, sir. We've got something rather interesting to show you.'

‘He's left a trace,' Tennant exclaimed loudly.

‘Indeed he has.'

‘I'll be right over.'

He entered the laboratory building and almost ran to the department where he knew the sample was being tested. The girl looked up as he approached.

‘Hello, Dominic,' she greeted him. They had been in a production of
Me and My Gal
together.

‘Rosamund, my dear. What have you got for me?' he asked, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

She looked slightly scandalized. ‘I've managed to run some tests on the fibres obtained from the vicar's wound.'

‘And?'

‘They're a wool mixture. Probably from a coat.'

‘At long last. I didn't think our killer was human.'

‘Well, he is.'

‘The vicar said he caught a glimpse of a figure wearing a cloak.'

Rosamund nodded. ‘Cloak or coat. Bring me the garment and you've got your man – or woman.'

Tennant looked thoughtful. ‘The only snag is that half the population of that madhouse village probably go round wearing the damn things. Ceinwen Carruthers for one.'

‘Can't you ask all those who own such an item to come forward voluntarily for the process of elimination?'

‘I can ask,' the inspector answered, then he added, ‘How did those fibres get on the wood anyway?'

‘The assailant probably swung their arm back to get a better thrust and the wood would have picked up fibres from the shoulder.'

‘I see.'

Rosamund said, ‘I hear you've had to drop out of
The Corn is Green
.'

‘Yes, pressure of work as usual. I don't know why I bother to audition actually.'

‘Well, I'm glad you do.' She paused then added, ‘Are you busy on Saturday? Because if you're not I wondered whether we could meet for a drink.'

‘Normally you know I would say yes but this damnable case is proving such a nightmare that I'm afraid I might have to pull out at the last minute.'

‘I'll bear that in mind. Will you come if you're around?'

‘I'll be more than happy to,' Tennant answered with a smile.

Nick woke the next morning with a splitting headache but no other injuries that he could feel.

His doorbell was ringing loudly and non-stop. Pulling on a dressing gown Nick went downstairs and opened the front door to be greeted by a swarm of reporters. Lights flashed and his instant reaction was what would the Bishop think when he saw him standing thus, ill-shaven and with a sticking plaster on his head. He went to shut the door again fast but somebody or other had managed to wedge their foot in it.

‘How are you feeling, Vicar?'

‘Can you say a few words for television news, please?'

‘How much did you see of your attacker?'

‘I represent the
Daily Mail
. We're offering you ten K for an exclusive.'

Nick gaped at them and a bevy of lights flashed once more. Fortunately at this moment Kasper appeared in his car, jumped out and strode towards the vicarage, looking furious. All attention was turned to him and similar remarks were addressed. He whirled round.

‘Gentlemen, if you please. I am going to see my patient. Would you kindly move on.' He sounded like an actor playing a character part.

‘Dr Rudniski,' said the man from the
Daily Mail
, ‘we'll offer you five K for an exclusive.'

‘Not enough,' Kasper snorted, and rushed inside, shutting the door so hard that there was a yelp of pain from the owner of the foot.

‘Thank God you're here,' said Nick. ‘I couldn't think of a word to say to them.'

‘The village is swarming with journalists,' Kasper answered, pronouncing the word carefully and sounding terribly foreign as a result. ‘There's not a bed to be had in The Great House, the February Tea Rooms have let their only room and the villagers are making a great deal of money by taking in paying guests.'

‘Perhaps I should let out the vicarage,' said Nick.

Kasper took him seriously and shook his head. ‘I do not think that would be very wise.'

‘I was only joking. How's the wound?'

Kasper delicately removed the plaster, dabbed some antiseptic on it and put on a new dressing.

‘Very good. As you know I had to shave some hair off. You look more like a monk than a vicar.'

He laughed heartily at his own joke. Nick smiled weakly.

‘Well, tomorrow is Sunday so I've got twenty-four hours to make a recovery.'

‘I think you should rest for longer.'

‘Sorry, Doctor. I feel my place is with my parishioners.'

‘You must do what you think best. Now how am I going to get out of here?'

‘Through the garden and the lower gate.'

‘Can't do that. Forensic experts are working on it.'

‘Then you'll have to brave the press.'

There was a babble of voices as the front door opened but Kasper refused to say a word and this time nobody put their foot in the entrance. Nick went upstairs and decided to have a bath and dress.

Half an hour later he came downstairs and cautiously took a peek out of the living room window. The mob had disappeared and this time it was Roseanna Culpepper who was walking towards the vicarage. Nick opened the door with a smile.

‘Mrs Culpepper, how nice. Are you coming to see me?'

‘Do you have a spare moment, Father Nick?'

‘Indeed I do. Come in.'

As she walked past him he smelled that familiar scent she always wore and as she turned to look at him he was once again reminded of somebody.

‘Would you like some coffee?' he asked.

‘Yes, I would. Can I go into your kitchen? I always feel at home in that room.'

He did not ask whether it was his kitchen in particular or whether this was just a general remark. Following her in, Nick put the kettle on.

‘You don't mind instant?'

‘No, not at all.'

He sat down opposite her and studied her features, rather obviously, for she said, ‘I clearly interest you.'

‘Yes, you do. Very much. The fact is, Mrs Culpepper, I feel I know your face from somewhere.'

She laughed. ‘Do you have Sky television?'

‘Yes.'

‘And do you watch TCM films?'

‘Occasionally, yes.'

And then he made the connection. That was where he had seen her before. On black and white Hollywood epics – some made in early colour, he believed. Once upon a time she had been a well-known actress of enormous beauty. Yet he still could not quite place her name.

‘Forgive me,' he said. ‘Of course I have seen you in many films and I simply adored you. But weren't you called something else?'

‘I used to be Rose Indigo. The Americans thought that was a catchy title. I started my career in rep – in Sidmouth of all places – and one of David Selznick's people was there on holiday, tracing his Devonian ancestors. To cut a long story short he signed me up and I was a big star for a while with the Selznick Studios.'

‘Good lord,' Nick answered, and stared at her open-mouthed.

‘They billed me as the new Greta Garbo.'

The vicar could see the likeness. The great moody eyes, the long straight nose, the drooping lips that could suddenly lift into a glorious expression. They lifted now as Roseanna smiled at him.

‘Does anybody else know this?' Nick asked.

‘I never talk about it but occasionally if somebody asks I put them out of their misery. And in case you're wondering, I am seventy-two.'

‘You look nothing like that. I had thought you were sixty at the most.'

Roseanna appeared a little rueful. ‘I suppose we must all accept the fact that we are getting older.'

‘But you do it with such charm,' Nick answered, and he wasn't flattering her, he meant it quite sincerely.

‘I must go,' she said, and put down her coffee cup.

‘One thing before you leave.'

‘Yes?'

‘I hope you don't mind my asking but did you actually have an affair with James Pitman? You acted with him in so many films and you always looked genuinely close.'

Roseanna giggled. ‘Actually we couldn't stand one another. He used to mutter obscenities at me. He married Jane Glynde, poor little innocent.'

‘I remember her – I think.'

That spectacular smile appeared once more. ‘Poor Jane, she never got any further than those kind of roles. I recall that she was madly jealous and really thought sshe'd backed a winner when she married James.'

‘What happened?'

‘They divorced, of course. Then she faded out. I don't really know what became of her. I expect she's quite an old lady by now, like me.'

‘You will never be old, Mrs Culpepper.

‘Please call me Roseanna.'

‘Thank you,' Nick answered solemnly, and kissed her hand.

He had had scarcely time to go through the
Guardian
, which contained a small item on what it called inexplicable killings in a small Sussex village, when there was another ring at his door. Peering cautiously through the window Nick saw that standing outside were Inspector Tennant and his faithful Potter. He hurried to answer it.

‘Hello, Inspector. Do come in.'

‘You're sure we're not bothering you?'

‘Not at all.'

They stepped inside and Nick, thinking he might as well open a coffee shop, offered them a cup which they accepted with alacrity. He led the way into the kitchen.

Tennant sniffed the air. ‘Mitsouku,' he said.

‘Not mine,' said Nick with a wry smile. ‘Mrs Culpepper just called.'

‘An enigmatic woman that,' answered Tennant.

‘Did you know that she was once a famous film star?'

‘
Was
she?' exclaimed Potter, clearly astonished.

‘Apparently so. She acted under the name Rose Indigo and was very big in the fifties and sixties.'

‘How very interesting,' said Tennant thoughtfully. ‘Potter go and google her will you.'

‘Certainly, sir.'

And excusing himself to Nick, the sergeant put down his cup and made his way to the mobile headquarters. Tennant regarded his host with those magnetic green eyes of his.

‘Are you quite recovered from your attack last night?'

Nick fingered his head gently. ‘Kasper says I ought to take things easy for a day or two.'

‘And I suppose you will ignore that completely.'

‘Not completely.' Nick gave a feeble grin.

‘And you're pretty certain your attacker was a man?'

‘Well, they wore trousers. But as your police officer remarked last night that could apply to anyone these days.'

‘Yes. But the leaping suggests somebody reasonably young and it also suggests a bloke to me.'

‘I think you're quite right,' answered the vicar.

FOURTEEN

P
otter was having a ball on the one and only computer in the mobile headquarters, the rest being in the incident room in Lewes. The Internet had yielded up a mass of material on the former Rose Indigo, with even an entry in Wikipedia. He read:

‘Roseanna Jane Austin (Rose Indigo) was born August 15, 1937, at Chelmsford, Essex, first daughter of Michael Austin, architect, and his wife Francesca. On the outbreak of war her father was called up and later killed at Tobruk. She moved with her mother and elder brother, Liam, to the West Country in 1941, where she attended Torquay High School until the age of eighteen. She had meanwhile joined the Torquay Players where she shone in younger roles such as Juliet and Titania. On leaving school she auditioned for the Sidmouth Repertory Company and was immediately accepted. She spent two years at Sidmouth playing leading parts in
The Constant Nymph
,
The Importance of Being Earnest
and
Hedda Gabler
, but her career in films began when Scott Levinson, a talent scout for David Selznick Studios, came to Devon and saw her act.

Her first role for Selznick was in 1958 as Chloe in
Pull Down the Stars
. Though only a minor part her luminous beauty raised her performance to the highest level and hailed as ‘The New Garbo' she took the lead in twenty more films made for Selznick. Perhaps her greatest achievement was the part of Ondine in
The Water Nymph
for which she was nominated for an Academy Award. Finally, though, Rose Indigo gave up the stage and retired from films in the late 1970s. Since then she has slipped out of the public view and is now living quietly in Sussex.

Rose Indigo married three times:

She has one child, a son, Luis Nagel, who lives in America.'

‘Good God,' said Potter and had just printed off a copy when there was a roar of activity outside the mobile unit. Tennant was trying to get in through a barrage of reporters.

‘I have no statement for you at this time,' he was heard bellowing as he dived into the pantechnicon.

‘I say, sir, look at this,' said Potter, thrusting the sheet of paper under his boss's nose.

Tennant took it and read it through twice, the first time speedily, the second time slowly and with concentration.