Sunday 27th November, evening
Over coffee, David Moore asked, ‘Are we going into the bar again tonight, sir? We could maybe winkle something else out of the regulars.’ His face was hopeful.
McGillivray helped himself to another cup, and added sugar before he answered. ‘No, Sergeant, I don’t think it would work a second time, but I’ve been considering calling on the minister. I know he hasn’t been here that long, but he or his wife could have picked up a few odds and ends that might come in useful.’
The manse stood back from the High Street, in the glebe next to the church, and a neat woman, in her forties probably, opened the door to them. Mrs Valentine showed them into a large, rather old-fashioned room, the dark mahogany furniture probably having come with the house. The fire in the rather large fireplace was certainly not enough to heat the huge room, but a striking, well-built man with piercing dark eyes was sitting at a table some distance away from it. Papers and what appeared to be reference books were strewn across it, so presumably he had been writing his sermon for the following week.
He rose to greet them and came towards them, smiling, when his wife told him who the callers were. ‘Good evening, Chief Inspector. What can I do for you? I don’t for one minute imagine that you’ve come calling socially. Sit down by the fire there, it’s a cold night and this is a very draughty old house I’m afraid.’
His wife laughed. ‘Draughty and inconvenient, but it’s home.’
‘Thank you.’ McGillivray took over one of the large armchairs, while his sergeant sat on the piano stool to allow Mrs Valentine to have the other comfortable seat.
The Reverend Adam Valentine moved towards the big sideboard. ‘Would you care for a glass of sherry, Inspector? We were about to have one ourselves. I don’t really approve of strong drink but a little sherry never harmed anyone, and I need it on a Sunday night after two services.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
The minister turned to David Moore. ‘Sergeant?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ If it was all right for the inspector, he reasoned, it was all right for a sergeant, and he would be glad of something to heat him up.
Callum McGillivray settled back. ‘This is very pleasant indeed.’ He raised his glass. ‘Cheers to you and your good lady.’ Taking one sip, he became more serious. ‘I thought perhaps you could give us your opinion of some of the people involved in our case. We’ve uncovered a few pieces of scandal, as is usual in any small community.’
Mrs Valentine grinned. ‘That’s true. You can’t cut your toenails without the whole village knowing.’
‘Don’t be facetious, Muriel.’ The minister looked rueful. ‘It does seem that nothing anyone does goes unnoticed but I doubt if I can help you much. We’ve only been here for five years, and my wife knows the ladies in Honeysuckle Cottages better than I do.’
‘I don’t know very much about any of them, either, but I do know Miss Souter could be a very disagreeable woman.’
Her husband looked at her disapprovingly, but said nothing.
‘Did you have any trouble with her yourself?’ McGillivray leaned forward.
‘Nothing drastic, just niggly things mostly. But I was very annoyed at her a week or so back, when I was collecting things for our Sale of Work. She usually donates quite freely, but she was really awkward that day and said it wasn’t convenient because she had the chiropodist there. It wouldn’t have taken her a minute to give me whatever she had, that’s what annoyed me.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ The inspector smiled sympathetically.
‘It was raining heavily, and I’d been going round for quite a while, so I didn’t bother going back. Her house is at the other end of the High Street from ours, and it would have been another long trail. I’m not a very good Christian, I’m afraid.’
‘You’re only human, Mrs Valentine, like the rest of us.’
‘Thank you, but it’s no excuse for me being so childish. You see, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of having me traipse up there twice in one day.’
‘Do you know of anyone who had real cause to be angry with her? Someone she’d snubbed, or been spiteful to, or anything like that?’
She frowned in concentration. ‘There’s Douglas Pettigrew, but you’ll know about him?’
McGillivray nodded in encouragement.
‘And that madam, May White. She’s one of Adam’s failures, isn’t she, dear?’ She glanced at her husband and laughed.
He smiled wryly. ‘Yes, Inspector. I’ve tried several times to make Mrs White see the error of her ways, and advised her to be faithful to her husband.’ He fiddled with his glass, obviously debating on whether to say more, then he laughed. ‘She even tried to flirt with me, so I can fully understand why men lose their heads over her.’ He spread out his hands.
‘Yes,’ McGillivray agreed. ‘I said, after we saw her, that she was a man-eater. But can you recall anyone else who might have got on the wrong side of Miss Souter?’
After a minute’s deliberation, Mrs Valentine said, ‘Not that I can think of, offhand, but I’ve never met a soul with a good word for her.’
‘You shouldn’t be saying that, Muriel, though I’m inclined to agree with you.’ The minister drained his glass. ‘I’ve never met such a consistently provoking woman before. She was absolutely impossible, at times.’
‘You weren’t surprised to learn she’d been murdered?’
‘Not really. The surprise was that it hadn’t been done long before.’ The man absented-mindedly rose and refilled his glass.
The inspector addressed himself to Mrs Valentine again. ‘From what I’ve heard about her in the past two days, I’m quite surprised about that myself, but how did you get on with the ladies in the other two cottages?’
‘They were a pleasure to talk to, Inspector, very obliging and helpful. A complete contrast to Janet Souter.’
‘Hmmm. I’m afraid we have reason to suspect two of these very nice ladies.’
‘What?’ Both the minister and his wife looked staggered by this information.
‘Surely not,’ Adam Valentine said at last. ‘They’re so gentle, all three of them. Could I ask which two are . . . ?’
‘I shouldn’t be saying anything without proof, but, in strict confidence, Mrs Wakeford and Mrs Skinner.’
‘But . . . my wife and I thought . . . what about the two nephews? They were the obvious suspects to us.’
‘That would seem natural, but there are many different factors involved. We are keeping them in mind.’
Adam Valentine shuffled the papers in front of him. ‘This makes one think, Inspector.’
‘We’ve been told that Miss Souter had unearthed some scandal about Mrs Wakeford, which that lady might not have wanted to become public knowledge.’ McGillivray looked grave.
‘If it was the fact that she was illegitimate, everyone knew anyway. Janet Souter had already broadcast that.’ Mrs Valentine spoke angrily.
‘I’m afraid there’s more to it than that, but I’m not at liberty to tell you.’ The inspector took his cigarettes from his pocket, then looked enquiringly at her.
She smiled. ‘I don’t mind if you smoke. Neither of us indulge, but we’re not against people who do. We all have our little vices – mine’s chocolate. But what about Mrs Skinner? What reason would she have had to kill Janet Souter?’
‘The arsenic that the old lady laid out in her garden to get rid of rats killed their dog, and I believe Mrs Skinner thinks it was deliberate.’
‘My God!’ Adam Valentine let out the expletive without realising it. ‘That really was despicable, if it’s true. No wonder you think Mrs Skinner’s got a motive.’
An uncomfortable silence fell.
At last, McGillivray stood up and laid his sherry glass on the high mantelshelf. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you in the middle of your work.’
‘Not at all, Inspector.’ The minister rose and opened the door. ‘I’m only sorry that we haven’t been able to help.’
‘It’s those two poor women I’m sorry for,’ his wife said sadly. ‘Whichever of them is guilty, if either of them is, she deserves a medal for ridding the world of that obnoxious old . . .’
‘Muriel!’ admonished her husband.
‘I entirely agree with you,’ laughed McGillivray, ‘but the law won’t regard it in that light.’
‘By the way, Inspector,’ Adam Valentine said, when he was showing them out, ‘her funeral is set for tomorrow afternoon at three. Everything’s been cleared, and I will be officiating.’
‘Ah! Then we’ll have them all here at the same time. Good.’ McGillivray bade the minister goodnight, and Moore thanked him for the sherry.
The two detectives walked along the High Street in silence until they had almost reached their hotel, then the inspector said, ‘How about a wee snifter before we pack it in for the night?’
‘Great.’
Unfortunately for the sergeant, who had been hoping for some fresh revelations from the locals, the bar was practically empty, and only a young man appeared to be serving.
McGillivray leaned his elbow on the counter. ‘What’s happened to Joe tonight?’
‘It’s his night off.’ The stand-in served them, then went to the other end of the bar to speak to a young girl, probably his girlfriend, and their conversation was far removed from the murder of Janet Souter.
‘Sunday night in Scotland!’ McGillivray sounded disgruntled.