Rhys Bowen - The Twelve Clues of Christmas

“My God,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley exclaimed. “It looks as if part of the roof has fallen on him.” On the floor beside him was a large chunk of masonry that seemed to have come from the top of the vaulted ceiling.

Someone was dispatched to the police station. Lady Hawse-Gorzley rapidly escorted her guests away from the scene. “Monty, take them back to the house and give them a brandy,” she said. “I’ll have to stay until the police get here.”

I couldn’t take my eyes from the dead man. We had known he was in danger. We had put a police guard on him and nevertheless the killer had struck at will again. It was almost as if he were a supernatural being who could move among us invisible and undetected. I was shaken from my troubling thoughts by Miss Prendergast’s gasping sobs.

Lady Hawse-Gorzley patted her on the back. “Nasty shock, I know. You’ll be all right,” she said briskly. “What you need is a stiff drink.” She saw me. “Georgie dear, why don’t you take Miss Prendergast to your mother’s cottage? She shouldn’t be left alone and the police will want to talk to her when they get here.”

“All right,” I said. I took the woman’s arm. “Come along, Miss Prendergast.”

She allowed herself to be led out of the church, along the path to my mother’s cottage. I explained briefly what had happened and brought her inside. My mother had been sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. I thought she wouldn’t want a strange older woman in her cottage but she instantly switched into full Florence Nightingale mode.

“You poor dear thing. What an awful shock,” she said. “Come and sit down. Daddy, get her a glass of brandy.”

“Oh, no spirits, thank you,” she said as the glass was placed in her hands. “I rarely touch alcohol.”

“Go on, down the hatch,” Granddad said. “It’ll do you good.”

“If you insist.” She gave him a wary glance before sipping it.

“I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, love,” Mrs. Huggins said. “Your face is as white as a sheet.”

“So would yours be if you’d just found someone lying dead in the church,” Mummy said. She still had that caring smile on her face and I realized that she was playing the part because she wanted all the ghoulish details. She was finding these murders thrilling. For her it was a big game.

Miss Prendergast shuddered. “I still can’t believe it was real,” she said. “I saw him lying there and I thought he’d fallen asleep and I went to wake him and my hands were all sticky.” She held them up, showing the dried blood on them. “So awful. I warned the vicar about the state of that church. The masonry is crumbling in several places. It was only a matter of time before it fell on someone. But poor Mr. Barclay.” She looked from one face to the next, imploring us to understand what she was feeling. “I must say we didn’t get along very well. He did like his own way, you know, but I would not have wished that on anyone. And he did play the organ very well, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” I said.

“I feel so guilty. All those unchristian thoughts about him. Especially about the holly around the crib. And now he’s gone.”

“Here’s your tea, my ducks,” Mrs. Huggins said. “And a slice of my good plum cake. That’s what you need right now.”

“You are too kind,” Miss Prendergast said. “I don’t know what’s going on here. I moved to this place thinking it was a little haven of peace after looking after my dear mama for so long. And now so many tragedies at once. It almost seems as if the place is cursed, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure it will all stop soon,” I said. “The police have found out who is behind these deaths and they are hot on his trail.”

“Behind the deaths? You mean they were not accidents?”

“Absolutely not. Horrible murders, every one.”

Miss Prendergast clutched her hand to her breast. “Murders? In Tiddleton? It’s not possible. I can’t live here any longer. I shall never feel safe again.”

“Don’t you fret, ducks. The police will get him,” Granddad said. “It’s only a matter of time. And then everything will be right as rain again.”

“But I will have so many dreadful memories, won’t I? Miss Effie, Mrs. Sechrest, Mr. Protheroe, and now Mr. Barclay. I shall never sleep again.”

I noticed that Noel Coward had come in to join us. He also enjoyed good drama.

“So where did you come from, my dear?”

“Bournemouth. Mummy had a nice house there. We lived very happily together until she died.”

“Bournemouth? I know it well. Where exactly did you live? Did you go to the theater much? I once performed there.”

Miss Prendergast tried to get to her feet. “Look, I know you’re all being awfully kind, but I’m too upset to chitchat right now.”

“Of course. We understand,” Mummy said.

“I think I should go home. The police will want to talk to me, I expect.”

“I’ll walk you home,” I said.

There was a great amount of activity going on outside the church. An ambulance. Two police motorcars. Several policemen, one with a dog. Miss Prendergast shuddered. “It’s like a nightmare, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “You go inside and lock your door, just in case.”

As we reached her gate, a man in uniform was just coming out. I thought it was another policeman until I saw it was only the postman.

“Oh, there you are, Miss Prendergast,” he said. “I was trying to deliver another parcel for you. Didn’t just want to leave it on the step. Another late Christmas present, I expect.”

“Yes, I expect it is. Thank you.” She took the package from him.

I watched with interest. I thought she said she had no one in the world. Then I saw that the package came from a firm in London. Maybe she’d been ordering little gifts for herself.

“Thank you again,” she said to me, then she almost ran up her front path and I heard the bolt being shot on her front door.

* * *

ALL OF LADY Hawse-Gorzley’s guests were assembled at tea, but I noticed that nobody felt much like eating.

“I’ll never get these awful images out of my mind, as long as I live,” Mrs. Upthorpe said. “First poor Mrs. Sechrest and now that organist. I think we should go home now, Arthur, and not wait for the New Year.”

“Oh, but we have to stay for the last event, Mummy,” Ethel said, her eye on Badger. “Only one more day.”

“How do I know that we’ll be safe? I can’t believe that they were accidents.”

“They weren’t,” I said and felt all those eyes upon me. “We now know that it was one of those escaped convicts behind all these deaths. They were all clever murders. But don’t worry. The police will soon have him.” I sounded more optimistic than I felt. If he had evaded us all so far, what chance did the police have now that there were no more people left to kill? If he had fulfilled his mission and killed off his jurors, surely he’d be out of this area right away.

“I’m so sorry this had to spoil your lovely holiday here,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said. “After we went to so much trouble to make everything perfect for you.”

There were murmurs of understanding from those around her. Mrs. Wexler even patted her knee, which brought an astonished look from Lady H-G. I took a scone and went to sit beside Darcy. “Am I forgiven for worrying you?”

“Now do you see why I was worried?” he said. “That man couldn’t have been killed long before we arrived in the church. The blood was still running. That meant that the murderer was probably still somewhere close by, watching us. He may even have been in the church somewhere.”

“I don’t know why nobody has seen him,” I said.

“If he adopted various characters as part of his stage act, then he is probably a master of disguise. We may have walked right past him and not recognized him.” His gaze went across the room to the colonel, now sitting eating calmly beside his wife. She did not look so serene. She looked decidedly pale, in fact. Had she realized what he was doing, perhaps?