‘Alice came to see me,’ she said, ‘to discuss something Heather had told me in confidence.’
‘I don’t suppose you could let me know what …?’ he fished.
‘No. I said, “in confidence”, and that’s what I meant.’
‘But now Heather’s dead, surely the situation is different and—’
‘In that particular respect, the situation has not changed.’
Bob Hinkley sighed. ‘It’s so difficult to find out anything in this place. I did contact the police, and I told them it was important that I, as vicar, responsible for the whole parish, should be kept up to date with developments. They were very unhelpful.’
Jude clucked sympathetically. She herself, on many occasions, had had cause to regret the unwillingness of the ‘proper authorities’ to share their findings with amateurs.
‘So, what you’re saying, Jude, is that you can’t give me an inside line to Alice Mallett?’
‘No. I can give you her mobile number if you like – you’ve probably got the landline number on the Shorelands Estate – but I can’t do more than that.’
‘I’m sure the poor girl must be in a terrible state …’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘… and it’s just at such times that people need spiritual support, they need to know that people are thinking of them, that people are praying for them.’
‘Maybe,’ was the strongest affirmation of this view that Jude could come up with.
There was a silence, then the vicar started on another approach. ‘Did you hear that Alice’s fiancé, Roddy, had disappeared?’
‘I did hear that, yes.’
‘Suspicious, don’t you think?’
‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’ She reckoned – though a considerable underestimation of the truth – that was only a white lie.
‘I feel so bad,’ said Bob despondently. ‘Saturday was such a happy day. So full of hope.’
‘I agree. I think we’re all feeling bad.’
‘I’m a solutions man myself,’ he confessed, ‘always have been. Where I worked before, in my previous employment, if there was a problem, I didn’t sit around thinking about it. I’ve never been a navel-gazer. I always took practical steps to improve the situation. I was proactive. Then I received the call to follow Christ and to further His work, and I tried to apply the same thinking to this job. And it just doesn’t work the same way. I keep setting up initiatives and … the energy just keeps slipping away.’
‘It’s difficult,’ Jude sympathized, ‘to get anything new happening in a place like Fethering.’
‘I’m not trying to introduce anything new! I’m trying to reacquaint people with something that’s been around, that has transformed the world, for over two thousand years. But I just don’t seem to be doing it right.’
‘Have the difficulties you’ve encountered,’ asked Jude gently, ‘had any effect on your faith?’
‘Have they weakened it, do you mean?’
‘Yes, exactly that.’
‘Good heavens, no! They’ve made it stronger. Let me tell you, if the early evangelists had let minor setbacks put them off, the Christian Church wouldn’t exist. No, Fethering is a challenge that has been set for me. God is testing His servant. And His servant will, in time, prove equal to the test.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ said Jude soothingly.
Another silence. Then the vicar said, ‘The music for the wedding on Saturday was wonderful, wasn’t it?’
‘It was.’
‘It just shows, if everyone pulls together, if everyone makes an effort, anything can be achieved.’
Jude nodded. She approved of the principle, though she had not always seen it work out in practice.
‘And I don’t suppose the experience of singing with the choir on such a splendid occasion made you think that you might like to participate on a more regular basis …?’ His words slowed down as he spoke them.
‘I’m sorry, no.’
‘No,’ he echoed, sounding disappointed. Jude was afraid that the Rev. Bob Hinkley was doomed always to be disappointed. ‘I wonder whether I’ll still have a church choir six months from now.’
‘Oh, I do hope so.’
‘So do I. But …’ His tone grew angry. ‘Heather starting up the pub choir with that layabout guitarist was a real body blow to me. Bet Harrison, who’d only just joined us, left straight away. Which meant that her son Rory went too. And at the wedding, Heather implied she might be doing the same thing. She made me so furious when she said that! She was deliberately trying to undermine everything that I was trying to set up for the parish!’
Jude was surprised by the vehemence of his anger. Surely, the animus he felt against Heather Mallett wasn’t sufficient for him to have killed her …? It couldn’t be a case of ‘the vicar dunit’ … could it?
Jude, as a shrewd observer of human psychology, knew that stranger things had happened.
SIXTEEN
‘Friend of Jude’s.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Jude from the Crown & Anchor Choir.’
‘Right.’
‘We met Monday before last. In the pub. After your choir session. My name’s Carole.’
‘OK.’ KK Rosser still didn’t sound convinced he knew who was at the other end of the line.
‘I was ringing about Heather Mallett’s death.’
He groaned. ‘You and everyone else.’
‘Oh?’
‘The bloody cops have been pestering me like I was a paedophile. And most of the pub choir lot have been on to me.’
‘Oh, has Jude?’ asked Carole, fearful that her friend might be sharing with others the secrets she was withholding from her.
‘No, she’s one of the few that hasn’t. They’re all the same, pretending to share condolences, but in fact just trying to find out if I know any more about the subject than they do. Everyone round here’s so bloody nosy. One of the big drawbacks of country life. Are you calling on the same mission?’
Carole hotly denied the truth of his assessment. ‘I would like to meet up and talk to you, though.’
‘About Heather?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘When?’ he asked cautiously.
‘As soon as possible.’
He backed off. ‘Bit tricky today. I’m having a new amp delivered, ordered it from Gear4music. Means I’ll have to stay in the flat until it arrives.’
Whether this was true, or just a device to put her off, KK was clearly taken aback when Carole said, ‘That’s not a problem. I could come to your place.’
As she got into her immaculately clean Renault, she remembered Ted Crisp’s warning about KK Rosser. But Carole was undaunted. She reckoned she could deal with ‘ladies’ men’. And, anyway, she told herself, not even the most desperate ‘ladies’ man’ wasn’t going to look at her more than once.
Carole didn’t know exactly what she was expecting to be the habitat of an itinerant musician who embraced the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle, but it certainly wasn’t a first-floor flat in a Victorian terrace, whose exterior was painted in smart wedding-cake white. Worthing was full of surprises. Despite its image as a dowdy, bungaloid ‘God’s waiting room’, there were little pockets of architectural splendour.
KK buzzed her in on the entryphone. When she got up to the landing, he had already opened the door for her. He was in his uniform denim, and he looked at her with a mixture of defiance, curiosity, and something else which might have been fear.
He stood back for her to enter the narrow hall and gestured towards the sitting room. She had been anticipating hippy chaos but found the level of tidiness to be almost up to High Tor standards. The flat’s ownership was defined by a row of six guitars fixed neatly on the wall which faced the broad front window. There was a smell in the air of recent smoking, not quite like tobacco, sweeter and more herbal.