Page 42 of The Chapel of Bones

‘I’ve already thought of that.’

A shadow of disappointment passed across Neil’s face as Wesley checked the time.

‘Look, I’d better get back. Gerry’ll be wondering what’s happening. He’ll be relieved when I tell him this latest body’s not our concern.’

‘I’ll let you know what else we find when we get round to excavating the well,’ Neil said as they began to retrace their steps to the chapel. ‘That’s if the Joneses don’t pull the plug on the dig.’

‘Are they likely to?’

He gave another secretive smile. ‘I fear all is not well in paradise. The husband wants to sell the place.’

‘Can’t say I blame him after the shock they must have had.’

‘And now we’ve got another body on the premises.’

Wesley hesitated. ‘At least this one isn’t in the house.’

‘Love to Pam,’ Neil called after him as he walked back in the direction of the car.

As he let himself into the driver’s seat, Wesley turned his head and caught a glimpse of a face at an upstairs window at Sycamore House. It was Helen Jones. And she looked as though she’d just seen a ghost.

Trish sat in the passenger seat with her mother in the back as they drove to Belsham. Luckily the cottage where Sue Potter had been murdered was on the other side of the village, so there were no police around. It was starting to drizzle and nobody seemed to be venturing out. The place was as quiet as the grave.

She’d been a police officer for a while, dealing with dangerous situations and even facing ruthless murderers. However, she’d never felt as nervous as she did that evening. Her father had already contacted the vicar, who’d promised to be there, watching discreetly from the vicarage window. He said that having the Reverend Fitzgerald involved somehow made them feel better.

The money had been removed from the safe in the vestry and placed in the church porch as arranged. They’d been instructed to park outside the vicarage, and await further instructions.

Five minutes after they’d parked the car, Mr Walton’s phone rang. As he fumbled to answer, Trish fought an impulse to snatch it from him. She heard him say a cautious hello before listening to the instructions he was being given. She noticed that his hands were shaking as her mother leaned forward to try and hear what was being said.

When the call was over, Mr Walton delivered the verdict. ‘They say we’ve got to wait until they’ve gone off with the money, and we’ll find Bella in the churchyard. If we get out of the car or if there’s any sign of the police, the deal’s off and we won’t see her again.’

Trish heard her mother sob.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. We’ll just do as they say. Be patient.’

‘Promise you haven’t told anyone at work. Promise there’s no police waiting round the corner.’

‘I promise.’ Trish crossed her fingers. She knew that the main risk would come if the vicar or his wife decided that theperpetrators shouldn’t be allowed to get away with their crime and took it upon themselves to do more than merely observe what was happening. Or, worse still, called the police. But so far she hadn’t seen any sign of obvious interference, which came as a relief. Trish had plans of her own for ensuring justice was done.

They’d arrived ten minutes before the appointed time, but the wait seemed more like an hour. The area around the church was as silent as the overgrown graves in God’s Acre, as the churchyard used to be called.

Suddenly a dark van appeared, crawling slowly down the lane between the church and the vicarage. It had doused its headlights, and Trish swore under her breath. It wouldn’t be easy to take down the registration number, so her best intentions had been foiled. This called for quick thinking.

‘Is this them?’ Mrs Walton said in an anxious whisper.

‘I think so.’ Trish twisted round and saw her mother’s hand move towards the door handle. ‘No, Mum. Stay where you are. Leave this to me.’

The van came to a halt outside the lychgate, the covered entrance where coffins had once rested on the way into the church. For a minute or so nothing happened and Trish kept her eyes fixed on the vehicle.

‘What’s going on? Where’s Bella?’

‘Quiet, Mum. We’ve just got to wait.’

‘Trish is right, love,’ said Mr Walton. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

Suddenly a shadowy figure leapt from the van’s passenger side and ran through the lychgate, heading for the church porch. This was it. It was impossible for Trish to get a clear view of the person. All she could make out was that they were dressed all in black, with a black hood covering their head. She had the impression that it was a woman, but she couldn’t be certain.She waited until the figure had disappeared into the depths of the porch before getting out of the car, careful to close the door gently to avoid making any noise.

‘Be careful, maid,’ her father said in a loud whisper, using the familiar Devon address she’d known since childhood.