Chapter 5
Although it had been arranged at very short notice, the meeting of Berrywick Residents’ Association was well attended.
Julia estimated that about half the village had come out to hear what DI Hayley Gibson had to say.
Sensible folk had got to the hall early to reserve the best seats and have a leisurely chat, exchanging theories, observations and speculations relating to the investigation.
Tabitha had saved a seat for Julia and another for Sean, who had squeezed an extra appointment into his schedule to help a sick patient, which made the timing very tight.
Julia was waiting for him outside. Tabitha had asserted her claim to the chairs by draping a shawl over them and placing her handbag on top of it in a proprietary sort of manner.
She picked her bag up and waved when she saw them arrive, but left the shawl in place, just to be on the safe side.
Julia smiled back at her – she hadn’t seen Tabitha for a few days, and looked forward to hearing how her plans were going for her imminent trip to her niece’s wedding in Ghana.
‘Julia,’ said Sean, as they made their way towards the two seats, ‘I was thinking, we might go out for supper. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…’
His voice sounded earnest. She turned and saw his face serious and a little flushed. ‘Oh, yes, that sounds nice. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes, all good,’ he said with a reassuring smile as they reached their seats. He stood back to let her in first. ‘We’ll talk later.’
Julia sat down, wondering what was on his mind. She gave Tabitha a squeeze of thanks for saving the seats. ‘Sorry we’re late,’ she said. ‘Gosh, this is a big turnout.’
‘Well, people are angry. And scared,’ said Sandy, whom Julia knew from the padel courts, turning round in her seat in the row in front of them.
‘Have you read the Southern Times? The thefts, and old Mrs Evans’ gardening gloves gone missing from the shed, and now the Meadow Murder? It’s a crime spree, I’m telling you.’
‘I don’t know what the world is coming to,’ said Diane, who was sitting with Sandy and Wilma. ‘It’s one thing to rob a man, but why kill him?’
‘Maybe the person who killed him knew him, and didn’t want to be identified,’ suggested Wilma.
‘Well, then he shouldn’t have robbed him in the first place,’ said Diane.
‘Could be that he didn’t see the victim’s face until it was too late,’ suggested Sandy.
A regular crowd of Miss Marples, they were.
‘Word is that it was a professional hit,’ said Will Adamson, from the row behind Julia and Sean. ‘You know. Like the mafia.’
That gave the amateur sleuths pause. They looked like three wide-eyed owls.
‘Goodness,’ said Sandy. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘A professional hit? In the Cotswolds?’ said Wilma, each question ending in a high note of disbelief. ‘I would be very surprised if that were true.’
‘I tell you, in this day and age, there’s no telling,’ said Diane. ‘You won’t believe what I saw today on Facebook. This woman was on the train, right? Young woman, not bothering anyone. And out of the blue, this bloke—’
The admittedly rather intriguing anecdote was interrupted by Kevin Moore, the Chairman of Berrywick Residents’ Association, general manager of The Swan, and husband of chatty Nicky. He tapped his hand on the table to quiet the room.
‘Thank you all for coming. I know we called this meeting at short notice, but it’s three weeks until our next scheduled meeting, and DI Gibson and I thought, given what’s happened in the village, and the various theories and allegations, as well as the extensive media coverage’ – all heads turned to Jim McEnroe, who was sitting in the front row – ‘that we should meet sooner.’
There were some mutters of assent, and a louder voice saying ‘good idea’.
Kevin nodded in acknowledgement, and continued. ‘I’m going to hand over to the detective, who will tell you what she can about the investigation.’
Hayley got up, looking serious. ‘Thank you, Kevin. Good evening, everyone. Understandably, we are all shocked by the death of Basil Crow. I know you want answers, as do we. The investigation into Mr Crow’s death is ongoing, and getting to the bottom of what happened is an absolute priority for me and my team.
At this point, I can confirm that, based on the results of the post-mortem, Basil Crow’s death is being treated as a suspected homicide. ’
There was a small percussion of noises – a whispered comment to a neighbour, a hmmph, a scraped chair, a cleared throat.
Hayley let the noise die down and continued. ‘You will understand that I can’t comment too freely on the specifics, but unfortunately, some of the reporting around this case, and some of the conjecture among the public, have fuelled speculation and panic.’
Her eyes flicked over to Jim McEnroe. He held her gaze impassively, but Julia thought she noticed a slight flush creep up his neck to his cheeks.
Hayley went on. ‘I would like to put your minds at ease on a couple of points. The idea that this was some kind of hit carries no weight. Professional killers – of whom there are very few – would not use this kind of modus operandi. The usual weapon for a hit would be a gun, not a heavy blunt object. I also know there has been some concern that this was a robbery, and a lot of people, older folks, especially, are fearful of walking about the village, or of drawing money from the cash machines. Again, there’s no evidence to back up this rumour.
In fact, Mr Crow’s wallet was on him at the scene, and the money in it was untouched.
I think we can put to rest the idea of a mugging, or a robbery gone wrong. ’
This time, her eyes rested on Julia. Walter Farmer must have let on that Julia had noticed the money. Silly chap, he should have just kept quiet, and let the boss think he’d checked.
‘I hope that the police are investigating everything very carefully,’ said a large blonde woman sitting at the back of the room.
‘It’s very suspicious, a body turning up in that meadow like that.
Not sure that I’d want to go to the shops there, after all that.
Don’t like the idea at all. I’d rather not shop there, that’s for sure.
They shouldn’t really build those shops, in the circumstances.
’ A few voices murmured in assent, and Hayley had to raise her voice to be heard over them.
‘Berrywick police would like to assure residents that they can continue to go about their business as usual. As always, practice caution and be sensible, particularly when drawing money or carrying large amounts of cash. Keep an eye out for your friends and neighbours. As I said last time, don’t leave your bits and bobs lying about or on your windowsills.
And if anyone has any information that might be helpful to the investigation, or any concerns for their or others’ safety, please speak directly to me or to DC Walter Farmer. ’
Hayley’s voice lightened, as she endeavoured to end on a high note. ‘Thank you for coming out. Now, I wish you all a pleasant evening. I know we’re all enjoying the lovely early spring weather we’ve been having recently.’
As she ended her sentence, a loud rumble of thunder shook the room, and drowned out the final few words.
In the row ahead, Sandy jumped at the sound. Lightning flashed in the window.
‘Ooooh my,’ came a voice from the crowd.
The timing certainly seemed curious, in fact rather ominous.
Diane turned round and caught Julia’s eye. ‘Told you so,’ she whispered with a smile. ‘It’s my fault. I put away the winter coats.’
They didn’t hang about after the meeting. Tabitha got up quickly. ‘I’m going to be getting home. It’s been a long week. Bit of a rough one, actually. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, but we’re both so busy.’
Her friend had been a bit quiet and, come to think of it, she didn’t look as fresh and cheerful as usual.
Julia felt guilty for being less than attentive.
‘Oh, Tabitha, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We’ve hardly had time for a chat.
And you’ll be going away soon. How about tomorrow?
We could have a walk or a bit of lunch?’
‘I’d like that.’ Tabitha smiled. ‘Chat in the morning about arrangements?’
‘Yes. Wherever you fancy. My treat.’
Sean was eager to get away, too. ‘Let’s go quickly before the rain comes,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you out for supper, like I said. Somewhere nice. Your choice.’
‘I’d love to, thank you.’ Sean wasn’t known for his spontaneity, and Julia was rather pleased to have an off-the-cuff arrangement. ‘How about the Topsy Turnip? Just this morning I was thinking how I’d fancy one of their pot pies.’
‘You were? Well, the Topsy Turnip it is.’
The pub was less than a quarter full, but Sean led her to a table tucked away in a dark corner.
As they perused the menu, who should come in but Jim McEnroe.
He didn’t see them, but headed straight to the bar, shaking the first drops of rain from his shoulders, and ordered a large golden drink – whisky, Julia thought. A double, at least.
‘The thing I wanted to say to you, Julia…’ Sean began.
She pulled her attention back to him. What was going on with the man?
He looked flustered. Nervous. Was he going to break up with her?
Julia wondered suddenly. She’d not imagined for a moment that he wasn’t happy.
They got on so well. They communicated well.
In fact, they were getting on better than ever.
They were even planning a holiday with all the children.
Surely he didn’t mean to call the whole thing off? In public?
Now it was her turn to be flustered. Her heart raced as her brain scrambled for answers. Had she misjudged the situation between them? Had she taken things for granted, and let the relationship get stale?
His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket.
Oh God. No. He wasn’t going to ask her to marry him, surely? A proposal? At their age? Was he going for a ring? In public? This was possibly worse than a break-up!
Julia felt her face flush crimson. She let out an involuntary ‘Oh!’
She loved the man, but she hadn’t imagined for a moment that either of them were contemplating that.
Sean looked up and frowned at her exclamation.
Just then, Jim McEnroe turned towards them and raised his glass, which was definitely a double, maybe even a triple, thought Julia. Unusual for Jim, who wasn’t much of a drinker. He started walking in their direction, bearing his generous glass of whisky carefully.
Sean had a funny look on his face. Relief? Disappointment? The hand that had been fumbling in his jacket pocket emerged, empty, and reached into the bread basket for a roll.
‘Hi, Julia, hello, Doc,’ said Jim.
Grateful for the interruption, Julia cried a rather too enthusiastic, ‘Hello! That was quite a meeting, wasn’t it?’
‘People are getting rather het up about the crime, and your stories were the talk of the town,’ Sean added.
‘I’m doing my job,’ said Jim tetchily.
‘Of course,’ said Julia. ‘But it’s odd to hear all this talk about how dangerous Berrywick is, when actually, none of us even lock our doors.
I feel perfectly safe walking around, a middle-aged lady, on my own.
’ Julia hoped that she wasn’t pushing things, calling herself middle-aged rather than old.
‘And you are safe,’ said Sean. ‘If the death at the meadow was murder, as the police are saying, it was probably a targeted attack.’
‘True, it could have been someone who knew him,’ agreed Jim. ‘Something personal. A crime of passion.’ Jim looked cheered by this idea.
‘It usually is, isn’t it? Revenge, love, what have you,’ Julia said.
‘And judging from what I heard at Second Chances today, Mr Crow had rather a complicated past. Exes, and so on. And some less than glowing reports of his performance as a husband. And generally, for that matter. People say he was difficult.’
‘Who did you hear that from?’ Jim was in journo mode, his eyes bright and eager. A pen had appeared in his hand as if by magic, and he reached for a paper napkin.
‘Oh, come now, Jim,’ said Julia. ‘It was all chatter and hearsay. Nothing of significance, I’m sure.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Jim. ‘Come on, Julia. You and me, let’s solve the Meadow Murder together.’
Julia laughed and flapped her hand at him, ‘Oh, go on, Jim.’
‘Jim, was it you who coined the term the “Meadow Murder”?’ Sean asked.
‘It was.’
‘Very Agatha Christie. Or like something off the television,’ said Sean, nodding approvingly.
Jim allowed himself a tiny smile of pride. ‘It does have rather a ring to it.’
Julia’s pulse quickened at the word ‘ring’, but Sean didn’t seem to react. She imagined a gold ring glowing in his pocket, like the one in The Lord of the Rings.
‘And I see the other local newspapers are using it,’ said Jim. ‘My story has been picked up by a few of them.’
‘Well, it sounds as if that’s good news for you, Jim. Well done,’ Julia congratulated him warmly. She was pleased to hear that something good had come from the tragedy.
He looked at her gratefully. ‘Thanks, Julia. I need this story. It’s the kind of thing that could get the attention of the bigger news outlets.
It’ll be good for me if a story of mine gets syndicated to the regional or even national papers, maybe even the TV.
Just what I need to get my name out into the wider world of news media.
’ Jim leaned in and added earnestly, ‘Between you and me, I’m after a job on a bigger paper.
I can’t be here at the Southern Times all my life covering dog shows and boundary disputes. ’
He looked so pained that she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh Jim! I didn’t realise. I thought you liked being the big fish in the small pond of the Cotswolds news media.’
‘I do. I mean, I did. It’s been great.’
‘And you’ve broken some big stories on that paper.’
‘A few,’ he said. He couldn’t help smiling at the recollection of some of his successes. ‘Some of them with your help, in fact. But I need more of a challenge, a bigger profile. Most of all, a better salary. Moira and I… We’re talking about getting married and having a kid.’
‘What? That’s exciting news!’ she exclaimed.
‘Marriage, hey? Well, that’s wonderful,’ said Sean, beaming. He caught Julia’s eye. She felt herself blush.
‘It’s not official, mind,’ Jim said, looking around as if someone might be hiding behind the red velvet curtains, eavesdropping.
‘We won’t say a word,’ said Sean, who seemed to have accepted that the conversation had moved on from whatever he had been trying to say, and now involved Jim.
‘Well, anyway, I’m going to have to make more progress in my career, if I want to have a family. And I’m ready to make that happen,’ Jim said, with grim determination.
‘We have faith in you, Jim,’ said Julia. ‘Good luck!’