The Twisted Way (21 page)

Joyce Skillet had gone to visit her elderly mother in the cottage hospital in Brinton and Felicity had been left in charge of making the egg sandwiches for Peter. She had prepared them with a heavy heart, vile things, especially if they did not have salt in. She set the small table in the dining room as usual and Janet and Felicity waited for the guest. The clock in the hall struck half past four but there was no sign of the old man.

Janet became anxious. ‘I can’t understand it Felicity, he rarely forgets to come,’ she repeated many times until Felicity’s patience began to run out.

‘Don’t worry Auntie, something unexpected has probably come up and he has forgotten to let us know.’ She smiled smugly as she poured two cups of the foul-tasting Earl Grey tea which she made using an electric kettle in the dining room, and handed her aunt an egg sandwich. She helped herself to a slice of soft chocolate cake and one of Joyce’s delicious home-made iced sponge fingers. She spread one of the dainty Japanese napkins that her aunt liked across her lap to catch any unwanted crumbs and tucked into her tea with relish.

Felicity looked out of the windows at the white puffs of cloud that had begun to drift across the sky as the north-easterly wind strengthened. ‘It is probably too cold for him today,’ she said in a dismissive tone. ‘The sky is a nasty colour and it looks as though it may snow soon.’

Peter’s body was found the next day by the milkman when he delivered the milk, eggs and Janet’s favourite fruit yoghurts. Felicity, like many of the villagers, preferred the Everton supermarkets. She thought the milkman’s goods were too expensive but had to admit to herself that it was a relief that he had arrived early to find the body and for that she was thankful.

‘I am so sorry Auntie,’ she said to Janet. ‘Peter was such a good friend.’ She smiled inwardly and the thought that there was one less Mace to benefit from Auntie’s will was satisfying.

The police were called, enquiries made, and it was concluded that his death was an unfortunate accident. Detective Inspector Holmes from Brinton who had been assigned the case did not think it was an accident but no evidence could be found at that time to support his suspicions. He had placed the bloodstained stone that had been found lying a short distance from the body into a plastic bag and sent it to the local Police Forensic Science Laboratory but he was not optimistic about obtaining a positive and useful result. There was one smudged fingerprint which would not be easy to identify.

Peter Mace was buried in Enderly churchyard next to his wife Alice. A sprightly lady curate conducted the service. The church was filled to capacity with curious villagers, a few old clients and the small Mace family consisting of Jeremy and his son Matthew. Jeremy’s wife Betty had died three years earlier and Matthew, who was now in his late thirties, had so far shown no interest in getting married, though he did have a few girlfriends when he was in his teens. He was an attractive bachelor and Felicity was pleased to discover that he was not married; it would make things easier for her if she did not have too many of the Mace family to deal with.

Robbie drove Janet to the church and helped her with care into a pew at the back. She looked sad and bereft following the loss of her old friend and Robbie determined that he would try and discover what happened that fateful day. Like DI Holmes he found it difficult to accept the accident theory but without witnesses or some concrete evidence he knew that murder would be difficult to prove. Robbie had vowed to repay Janet and her mother’s kindness to him when he was a child and he was now very anxious and fearful with regard to Janet’s safety. He was a clever man, far more intelligent than Felicity realized at that time, though she appreciated that he was no fool. The fact that he intuitively suspected that she might have been involved in Peter’s demise was something of which she was blissfully unaware.

Janet had dressed for the funeral with conventional respect in her best black suit and thick woollen overcoat. She was not sure why but had been prompted by Joyce to wear black. She stumbled as she entered the church, though she was leaning heavily on Robbie’s arm, and looked with unease down the short aisle where she could see Peter’s coffin. There were white lilies draped over the lid and their sickly smell wafted towards her. A cheap coffin she thought, and wondered if the family were short of money. For a moment she forgot whose body was inside that horrid pine-coloured box, then she remembered and groaned. The sea of faces, a mixture of the firm’s clients and villagers, were almost all strangers to her. Many of the people she had known well in the past were dead or had moved away. She was convinced for a few moments that she had drifted into some alien world. Had she been in this church before? She was unsure. The cold grey stone walls and pretty stained-glass windows looked familiar.

The organist played Handel’s
Largo
as the mourners took their seats. When the service started the congregation reached for their Order of Service and their voices became subdued. There were only two short hymns which had been Peter’s wish though Janet thought that the service continued for an eternity. She longed to get away from the musty damp smell coming up from the floor below the pews that reminded her of rotting bones. She had made the effort to say goodbye to her old friend but there was no way she could stand for more than a few minutes on her weak and wobbly legs to join in the singing. The curate’s sermon and somewhat tedious readings by Jeremy and Matthew drifted over her head without real meaning or understanding. Jeremy was slightly tipsy and his speech was slurred and muddled. Janet dreaded having to follow the family to the graveside and was glad of the support of Robbie’s strong arm to prevent her frail body from falling.

‘It’s all right Mrs Lacey,’ Robbie assured her. ‘I’ve borrowed a wheelchair to take you to the graveside.’

Janet was relieved but insisted on standing up, stiff and miserable, to watch when the coffin of her friend was lowered into the cold earth. The weather was raw and a bitter wind whipped round her thin legs. She uttered a pitiful sob and Felicity patted her arm with feigned sympathy. Felicity’s blue flecked eyes looked calm and expressionless. Robbie supported Janet as well as he could and Matthew also offered her an arm.

Felicity turned her attention to the other mourners with somewhat muted interest and then her thoughts wandered to what lunch in the Maces’ home would be like. She was hungry and her mouth, as usual, threatened to water. Felicity had scarcely noticed Janet’s obvious distress or her need to be supported by Robbie and Matthew. She was too busy wallowing in pleasure as she clutched her new thick black cashmere coat closer and tightened the pretty black fake-fur scarf around her neck in an attempt to avoid the effects of the cold whistling wind. Thank goodness she had purchased some new long fur-lined boots and a fur hat to match the scarf. She glanced down at her lovely leather boots and ran her hand down the front of the immaculate soft and voluminous handbag she had purchased to match. Quite perfect, hmm ... quite perfect.

Matthew and Jeremy threw a sprinkling of fine black Enderly earth onto the coffin lid and as it pattered down Janet thought for a moment that her heart would break. She removed a faded pressed rose from her handbag and watched as it fluttered down onto the coffin lid. It was a flower she had saved with care. She had kept it pressed between the pages of her Bible after Peter had given it to her when they were schoolchildren and there it had stayed until now. Peter dead! Janet tried to get her head around that concept. It was defeating her. Glimpses of the boy he had been at school and the friend who had supported her tirelessly over so many years passed through her mind then drifted away again like snowflakes melting on desolate ground. A fleeting memory of him as a small child in school, perhaps only about ten or eleven, came to mind. She had a hazy idea that they had been sweethearts for a while in their early teens, but she knew that she had never really loved him with any passion or thought of him as being more than a friend. She recalled with difficulty that his eyes had been greyblue with flecks of brown, more flecks in the left eye than the right, and had fine arched eyebrows which he told her many times with pride were inherited from some revered aristocratic ancestor, a lord somebody or other. Ridiculous, she had always maintained. Why should anyone care about something so trivial?

Janet’s short-term memory had become so poor that she soon forgot the funeral as she was helped by Matthew and Robbie to the wheelchair and taken to her car so that Robbie could drive her the short distance down the road to Jasmine Cottage. A spread of cold meats and salad and a selection of sweets were waiting together with wine to toast Matthew’s grandfather’s memory in a way that he would have wished. Janet was confused and forgot after a while why she was there but was enjoying the unaccustomed company. Robbie helped her to the dining room where she was able to sit on a firm high-backed chair next to a small table.

‘It is a lovely day,’ she said to Felicity as a blank and worried expression appeared on her pale, lined face. ‘It has made quite a change. I not sure who all these people are dear.’

Felicity’s thin mouth crinkled into a sardonic smile. Felicity gave the impression to many people that she was cold hearted, lacking in conscience and very intelligent. The latter was far from the truth but she was, for the majority of people, a difficult person to understand.

Felicity’s thoughts wandered when she entered Jasmine Cottage. She looked forward with increasing fervour to the lunch that had been promised but she found herself repressing a shudder when she looked at the dining room walls painted with dull beige emulsion paint that had seen better days and the thin, almost threadbare, faded, beige curtains chosen to match many years earlier by the late Alice Mace. She estimated that the curtains would benefit from a jolly good wash though they could fall to pieces if they were not handled with care. She considered that would be an appropriate end for the dreadful things. Two clumsy home-made wooden chandeliers hung at precarious angles from the ceiling, their skimpy imitation candle bulbs coated with thick dust which served to reinforce her initial feeling of disgust. The carpet below her feet was matted with wear and displayed numerous marks where blobs of food had splattered down over many years to penetrate the surface and had not been cleaned. She looked with disdain at the cheap prints that hung on the walls and then considered for a few moments how satisfactory and enjoyable it would be to be able to dispose of Jeremy and Matthew. That was more interesting to her than the tatty old furniture and fittings. One down and two to go ... She would certainly welcome their absence from her life. The aroma of cooked meats reached her nostrils and her thoughts switched to the food set out on a large dining table covered with a crisp white linen cloth. She moved forward as soon as it was announced by Jeremy that the guests should help themselves to the funeral lunch, and piled a plate high with meats, salads, new potatoes, quiche, three crisp brown rolls and several pats of butter. She continued to daydream whilst she tucked heartily into her meal. Hmm ... no more tasteless egg sandwiches or Eccles cakes now that the old man was out of her life. Hurrah! She was for a few moments almost as restless as she had been as a child although her turbulent nature was now hidden with cunning skill from those closest to her. Lavender-scented spray polish muffled the smell of cheap whisky that followed in Jeremy’s wake as he staggered round in a weak attempt to mingle with his guests. Felicity felt nauseous for a few moments when he passed by but she soon recovered her appetite and served herself with a slice of fruit cake and a portion of cheesecake. She had forgotten about Janet and when she remembered her just before she finished her sweet she was relieved to see that she was eating some lunch and was being waited upon by Robbie. For one moment she almost felt a tremor of regret for her thoughtless behaviour but soon dismissed any feeling of guilt. The old bird had enough people to run round her. No harm had been done.

Robbie however was uncomfortable. He saw Felicity as a disturbed and tormented woman and he wondered why. Perhaps something had happened during her childhood to twist her mind. Like most people he could not understand her but he would watch and wait. What a gluttonous woman she was. There was no real proof that she was involved in Peter’s untimely death. However, if she was, she would slip up sooner or later and he would be waiting to pounce. That thought cheered him.

Janet glanced round in a vague way with little interest but, like Felicity, did observe that the furniture in Jasmine House was cheap and old which surprised her. Most of it looked as though it had come from a second-hand shop. The dining-room chairs in particular were worn and scuffed and parts of the carpet, between matted patches, almost threadbare. She was puzzled. The Mace family had a good business, or did they? They were a typical middle-class family. It did not make sense.

Janet dismissed the poor surroundings as being of little consequence, indeed they would, at least for her, soon be forgotten, but Felicity continued to smirk with a cruel and satisfying feeling as she looked at the faded furniture, sagging settee springs and worn old rugs. No wonder they are after Aunt Janet’s money, she thought. They will not be lucky if I have anything to do with it. Greedy creatures! She drifted once again into her own private world and considered how she could eliminate the rest of the Mace family if she got the chance. She would enjoy that. Her mind raced and her heart beat faster as she mulled over the possibilities. The old grandfather clock in the hall struck a tremulous three and she stopped daydreaming about the demise of the Mace family and attempted to make some stilted conversation with a few of the uninteresting-looking mourners who were drifting around the room with bored expressions. They consisted mainly of a few of Peter’s very old friends from the village and some of his past clients. What a dull lot she thought and as for the wine ... ugh, cheap and nasty. After making an effort to take a few sips during the few minutes after Jeremy made a sad speech about his father and glasses were raised by the guests, she disposed of the wine that remained in her glass in a handy plant pot when she thought that nobody was looking. Ghastly stuff. Ugh, she told herself. I wonder where they purchased that rubbish! The food was not bad but she understood that had been provided by the Green Man and they had a good reputation. It was a pity they had not provided the wine. She knew that they had a good cellar and did not stock any junk. She was surprised that the Mace family could afford such a good spread if the contents of the cottage were a true measure of wealth but the meal, together with her new outfit, had made an otherwise miserable day worthwhile.