Page 24 of The Chapel of Bones

‘That’s what our pathologist thinks,’ said Gerry as the two detectives sat down opposite. ‘What we really need from you is some information about the victim. What do you know about her background?’

‘Sue and her husband, Phil, moved here from Manchester five years ago. They’d always come on holiday here, so when they both retired from teaching they decided to make the move because they had no children to keep them up there. Phil died of a heart attack just over six months ago. I conducted the funeral.’ Mark bowed his head as though in respect. ‘Sue once told meshe had a cousin who used to live in the area but she went abroad a long time ago, so the poor woman was left completely alone down here. However, she made the most of the situation by throwing herself into church life, arranging the flowers and singing in the choir.’ He looked at Maritia, who was filling the kettle at the sink. ‘You liked Sue, didn’t you, love?’

‘Yes, I did. I admired her for the way she soldiered on after Phil’s death. She never seemed to feel sorry for herself. She loved that re-enactment society she joined. Told me she played the part of the ale wife.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Joked that it was typecasting. That was typical of Sue. She had a sense of humour. Unlike some.’

‘Had she made any enemies that you know of?’

Maritia seemed to find the suggestion amusing. ‘Of course not. She was a nice woman. Everyone liked her.’

‘So you’ve no idea who would want to kill her?’

‘None at all,’ Mark and Maritia said, almost in unison.

‘Had she mentioned anything out of the ordinary happening recently?’

The couple looked at each other. Then they both shook their heads.

‘Not to us,’ said Mark. ‘But she might have mentioned something to Lizzie Prothero. She’s the next-door neighbour who alerted me after she found the cat outside. It was meowing at the door as though it had been locked out, so Lizzie thought something might be wrong. She’s gone home now. Poor woman’s very shaken.’

‘We’ll certainly be speaking to her,’ said Wesley as his sister placed two mugs of tea in front of them and sat down.

‘Didn’t know whether you took sugar, Gerry.’

‘Two. I’ll help myself.’ Gerry leaned over to grab the sugar bowl in the middle of the table. The movement made him wince.

‘It’s bad for you, you know,’ Maritia said, a smile playing on her lips.

Gerry looked sheepish. Whenever he was told off by a medical professional for unhealthy habits, he felt like a schoolboy being hauled up in front of the headmaster for bad behaviour. ‘You’re absolutely right, Doctor,’ he said pushing the bowl away. ‘I need to keep my sylph-like figure.’

His joke seemed to lift the mood in the room.

‘Are you OK?’ Maritia asked. ‘You look as though your back’s troubling you.’

‘I’ve had a bit of trouble with it. Anno Domini and all that.’

‘Exercise is good,’ Maritia said, suddenly turning professional. ‘Or I can recommend a good physio.’

‘That won’t be necessary, thanks, Doc. I’ll be fine.’

Maritia caught Wesley’s eye. Both of them knew that Gerry was reluctant to admit to any weakness, particularly since the chief super had started leaving leaflets about pensions on his desk. He’d tried to cover them up, but Wesley had spotted them. And he knew Gerry would resent any attempt to put him out to grass.

Once they’d finished their tea, Wesley stood up. ‘Let’s go and have a word with Lizzie Prothero.’

Gerry hauled himself painfully out of his chair. ‘You’re right, Wes. Mustn’t get too comfortable. Thanks for the tea.’

‘I presume you’ll need to contact Sue’s relatives,’ said Mark.

‘Do you know anything about them?’

‘I know she has a half-sister up in Manchester; she came to stay with her for a couple of weeks after Phil died. But I don’t have her contact details, I’m afraid.’ Mark looked worried about the omission.

‘That’s no problem. We have ways of tracking people down. But a name for the sister would be helpful.’

‘Judith. Judith Peachy, I think.’

Wesley wrote it down. Notifying her would be a job for Greater Manchester Police.

Wesley kissed his sister and they made their farewells. They needed to speak to Mrs Lizzie Prothero. Sue Potter’s house didn’t appear to have been ransacked for valuables by an intruder, and he’d noticed her handbag on the kitchen table still with purse and credit cards untouched, so it didn’t seem that robbery was the motive. If Wesley had to put money on it, he would have said the murder was personal in some way. Mark had insisted that she wasn’t the type of woman who made enemies, but then he had always seen the best in people. He said it was part of his job.