Chapter 19
On Sunday morning, the church bells were ringing merrily as Wesley and Gerry walked to the hospital to witness Sue Potter’s post-mortem.
Wesley felt slightly queasy about the prospect.
He’d formed a mental picture of her as a pleasant, lively person who’d supported the local community and knew how to have fun, and now he would have to watch Colin cut up her lifeless body.
But if they were to find the individual responsible for ending her life, it was something he had to face.
When they arrived at the mortuary, Colin was ready to begin.
As usual, he kept up a commentary, and once the examination was over, he gave his verdict.
Sue Potter had been a well-nourished woman in her sixties.
She’d been in general good health and the cause of her death was strangulation by something soft.
A woman’s silk scarf had been found on a chair near the body and was currently being examined at the forensic lab.
If it turned out that it was the murder weapon, and that it belonged to Sue, this meant that the killer had used whatever was to hand.
He – or she, because Colin hadn’t ruled out the possibility that the killer was a woman – hadn’t come armed.
Once he’d taken off his protective clothing, Colin led them to his office. He had some new biscuits he wanted them to try. They were in for a treat. Colin’s hospitality always took the sting out of the unpleasantness of the post-mortem.
‘Aleric Donnal appears to have had an interest in medieval beasts, and Sue Potter received a note containing an illustration of something similar. Could there be a connection between the two deaths?’ Wesley asked once they were settled with their refreshments, voicing the half-formed ideas that were flitting around his mind.
Colin nodded thoughtfully. ‘Donnal was stabbed in the back and Sue Potter was strangled. The only thing they appear to have in common from a pathologist’s point of view is that they were both attacked from behind; taken by surprise. But apart from that . . .’
‘Thanks, Colin. You’re a star.’ Gerry drained his teacup and patted his large stomach as though he’d just enjoyed a good meal.
‘So I’ve been told,’ said Colin. ‘Have the next of kin been informed?’
‘The sister’s coming down tomorrow. We’re hoping she’ll be able to tell us more about the victim’s background.’
‘Poor woman.’
Colin usually kept a professional detachment from his lifeless patients, so Wesley was rather surprised at this comment.
‘My sister knew Mrs Potter,’ he said. ‘She spoke well of her.’
‘Then I hope you find the person responsible,’ said Colin.
Wesley looked at Gerry. At that moment they had no idea who would want to murder Sue Potter. But they needed to find out sooner rather than later, before the killer struck again.
Sunday was a busy day at Belsham vicarage.
Mark had a service to take at Belsham, as well as three more at the other churches under his care.
Maritia needed to prepare for work the following day and get Dominic’s things ready for school.
On top of this, she was feeling a little nauseous.
It had been the same when she’d been expecting Dominic; quite normal.
The doorbell rang just as they were finishing their lunch of pizza followed by ice cream – full Sunday lunches were a thing of the past, tackled only with Maritia’s mother’s help when her parents came to stay.
Interruptions were so common at the vicarage that Mark gave his wife a rueful look and stood up automatically.
As vicar, he never knew when he’d be needed.
Maritia heard voices coming from the hall: a man and a woman. She hurried out to join her husband, leaving Dominic happily munching on an extra slice of pizza. She didn’t recognise the couple standing talking to Mark; they were in their sixties, respectable-looking and clearly worried.
‘This is Mr and Mrs Walton,’ Mark said by way of introduction. ‘They left a carrier bag in the church porch last night and they wanted to know whether it had been found.’ He gave Maritia a meaningful look.
They had discussed whether they should have told Wesley about the money, but Mark’s discovery of Sue Potter’s body had driven the matter from their minds. Now it looked as though the puzzle was about to be solved.
‘We thought it might have been an anonymous donation to our church restoration fund,’ said Maritia sweetly.
Linda Walton looked sheepish. ‘Er . . . I’m afraid not.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘Although we’d be glad to make a donation, of course. It was . . .’
‘Ransom money,’ said Mr Walton. He nodded to his wife. The dognappers had said no police, but they hadn’t said no clergy. ‘You see, our little dog’s been kidnapped, and whoever took her is demanding money to give her back. They told us to leave it in your church porch. That’s why . . .’
‘I see.’ Mark scratched his head. The situation was completely new to him and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. ‘Have you told the police?’
‘Our daughter’s a detective,’ Mrs Walton said with a hint of parental pride. ‘I felt I had to confide in her, but I told her not to tell any of her colleagues.’
‘Is it Trish?’ said Maritia. ‘My brother’s DI Peterson. He’s mentioned her.’
Linda Walton smiled. The two women had found common ground. ‘That’s right. Our Trish thinks very highly of him.’
‘What did she say about you leaving the money?’
Linda hesitated. ‘Not much. She’s only just got married and she’s been busy at work. But I know she wants Bella back as much as we do.’
Mark took a deep breath. ‘OK. This is what we’re going to do. If these people call again, say we’ll leave the money in the church porch as previously arranged. Then hopefully little Bella will be back home with you soon.’
Maritia frowned. ‘I don’t know . . .’
‘We’ll keep a discreet lookout, and once your dog’s safe, we’ll give the police a description of the people and their vehicle. The important thing is to get Bella back. Agreed?’
Maritia laid a warning hand on her husband’s arm. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself in any danger, Mark.’
The Waltons nodded in agreement. ‘That’s right. You mustn’t take any risks, Reverend.’
Mark gave the reassuring smile he usually reserved for mourners at a funeral. ‘Of course I won’t.’