Ann Cleeves - A Day in the Death of Dorothea Cassidy

‘Come in!’ he said, with some desperation. He was obviously afraid of being left alone. He led Ramsay into his study, then stood, looking aimlessly around the room. The photographs he had shown Ramsay so proudly, earlier in the day, had been removed from the album and were scattered over the desk. One caught Ramsay’s eye and he remembered where he had heard the name of the staff nurse Hunter had spoken to on the cancer ward. He said nothing but saved it for later.

‘I’m so worried, you see,’ Cassidy said. ‘I couldn’t stand it if there was another tragedy.’

The words seemed prophetic and Ramsay wondered if he must know something about the death of Clive Stringer, then saw that the vicar was preoccupied with his own family, his own security. Cassidy looked up at the policeman and said simply, ‘I don’t think I could bear to be all alone. Not now.’

Then he sat heavily on the chair by the desk and stared out to the garden.

‘I’m afraid,’ Ramsay said, ‘I’ve more bad news.’

The clergyman turned his head slowly to face him. He was very frightened.

‘Why?’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’

Ramsay answered the unspoken question first. ‘It’s nothing to do with Patrick,’ he said. ‘Clive Stringer died this afternoon. I understand he was one of your parishioners.’

Cassidy leaned back in his chair.

‘How dreadful!’ he breathed. ‘ Poor Clive.’ But Ramsay was disturbed to find in the words a sense of relief and almost of satisfaction. Cassidy showed no curiosity about how Clive had died.

‘He was murdered,’ Ramsay said. ‘Almost certainly by the same person as your wife.’

‘Murdered?’ He spoke the word slowly, even calmly – as if the news was too much for him to take in. ‘I don’t understand…’ Ramsay was afraid he would break down. With an effort he pulled himself together and continued. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I have to know,’ Ramsay said, ‘what connection there could be between Clive Stringer and your wife.’

‘Connection?’ The man repeated the word automatically. ‘I don’t think there was any connection. Not in that sense. Dorothea brought him to church. She befriended him and his family. She was good with children…’

‘Was Clive made welcome in church?’ Ramsay asked. He tried to remember his last visit to an Anglican church. It was to a family baptism and the regular members of the congregation had seemed affronted by the invasion of strangers who stole their place in the pews and sang the hymns with unseemly gusto. The church had not seemed a particularly democratic organisation and it was hard to imagine Clive Stringer mixing on equal terms with either the Walkers or Walter Tanner.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Inspector,’ Cassidy said sharply, sensing the implication behind the words. ‘Everyone is made welcome. The Church of England isn’t a social club for the middle classes.’

But as he spoke them the words seemed trite and meaningless.

‘All the same,’ the inspector said gently, ‘Clive can’t have been an easy person to accommodate. His language, his appearance, his delinquency must have made him an object of attention.’

‘Oh,’ Cassidy said, suddenly irritable like a bad-tempered old woman, ‘it was hard to ignore him. At times he was awfully disruptive. He seemed to find it impossible to sit still and would wander around the church during the service. Really, we had less trouble with the toddlers.’

‘Did that cause problems?’

‘Not for me!’ Cassidy said grandly. ‘ But there were complaints from other members of the congregation who found it hard to concentrate on the worship. I was sympathetic but in a difficult position. I couldn’t tie the boy down, there was little I could do.’

‘Was there ever any question of excluding Clive Stringer from the service?’ Ramsay asked.

‘It was suggested to Dorothea that Clive might like to go into the hall with the Sunday school children. To help, of course.’

‘Who suggested that?’

‘One of our church wardens, Walter Tanner. He’s something of a traditionalist. I don’t altogether share his views but I could see that he felt very strongly about this.’

‘And what was your wife’s reaction to the idea?’

‘She dismissed it out of hand,’ Cassidy said unhappily. ‘It provided rather an argument at the parochial church council meeting. Walter Tanner threatened to resign.’

Dorothea would have been magnificent, Ramsay thought. He wished he could have seen her.

‘And the rest of the congregation?’ he asked. ‘Who did they support?’

‘I should say that support was fairly equally divided,’ Cassidy said. ‘Dorothea had a lot of admirers… She introduced a lot of new people to the church. Young people. Families. They supported her.’

‘And you?’ Ramsay said. ‘What did you think?’

There was a shocked silence and for a moment Ramsay was made to feel that the direct question was an impossible breach of manners.

Then he answered bitterly: ‘I didn’t think anything. I just wanted to stop the unpleasantness and bring people together. Besides, my opinion didn’t seem to count.’

He lapsed into silence again, then with something of the old charm he turned to Ramsay and smiled.

‘I’m sorry, Inspector. That wasn’t fair. I suppose I’m saying that I saw my role as a conciliator. Besides I never had Dorothea’s courage…’

Ramsay sat forward in his chair. ‘I’d be grateful,’ he said smoothly, ‘if you could tell me something about Mr Tanner. I’d like your personal opinion of his standing in the town. Was he well thought of, for example? Were there any rumours concerning his private life?’

‘Of course Walter’s well thought of,’ Cassidy said. ‘ He’s been church warden for years. He’s highly respected. You mustn’t take Dorothea’s opposition to him too seriously. She was young, impatient. And the worst she ever said of him was that he was stuffy.’

‘We found your wife’s car in Walter Tanner’s drive this morning,’ Ramsay said. ‘And Clive Stringer’s body in his house this afternoon.’

‘Have you arrested him?’ Cassidy demanded. ‘Do you think he murdered Dorothea?’

Ramsay shook his head. ‘ I don’t know,’ he said, honestly. ‘I haven’t reached any conclusions yet. But you can understand my interest in Mr Tanner’s relationship with your wife and Clive Stringer.’

Cassidy seemed not to have taken it in. He shook his head in wonder.

‘When was this acrimonious committee meeting?’ Ramsay asked.

‘Friday,’ Cassidy said. ‘Last Friday. A week ago.’

‘Would you say that Mr Tanner had taken an active dislike to Clive Stringer?’

‘I suppose I would. He talked about principles but there did seem to be a degree of personal animosity in his reaction to the boy. Dorothea seemed to think it was a matter of ignorance – Walter had never met anyone like Clive before, she said, and was frightened by him. She thought if they got to know each other the problem would go away. She asked them both here for tea on Sunday afternoon. I couldn’t see the thing working but she was excited at the idea. She wasn’t a great one at domestic matters but she spent all Saturday getting ready, making cakes, you know. Patrick and I had to promise to be on our best behaviour.’

‘Did they come?’

‘Clive did. Walter, rather rudely, phoned up at the last moment to say that he had another appointment. Clive had made a real effort – I’d never seen him so smart and I think he was very upset. He sat for an hour in the kitchen thinking Tanner might change his mind. Dorothea, of course, was furious.’

‘Was there any reason for Clive Stringer to be in Mr Tanner’s house this afternoon?’