‘Martin, you shouldn’t say things like that,’ admonished Doreen. ‘They were a very solid couple. He donated hundreds to the church restoration fund.’
Martin sniffed again, loudly. ‘Only so he could get lead mention in the parish magazine. He never did anything without an ulterior motive.’
Carlos paid attention. The general nods Martin’s comment attracted confirmed the late man’s lack of popularity. It appeared Harold may not have been the innocuous elderly gentleman Sophie thought he was. Certainly not according to some members of the historical society.
‘Was he also a member of your society?’ Carlos enquired.
‘Yes, he was,’ answered another man, smaller than the rest, with a shiny bald head that appeared as though it had been recently polished. ‘He was on every committee, for that matter, a member of every club and into everything, whether it concerned him or not.’
Carlos finished his tea in one gulp, trying not to retch at the amount of sugar in it. The woman serving had not asked him whether he took sugar, which he didn’t, but he hadn’t wanted to halt the conversation.
‘What about Meg?’
‘Under the thumb. Did as she was told. Too good for him by far,’ the man called Martin answered. ‘Mind you, I wish there were more women who did as they were told like that.’ Carlos watched as Martin glanced at a woman around the Milnthorpes’ age. She scowled.
‘I heard that, Martin Webb. You watch yourself,’ one of the women serving tea protested, but followed it up with a flirtatious smile, taking over from where Martin left off. ‘If you ask me, Harold Sissons was one of those male chauvinist “women should do as they’re told” types. Meg never went anywhere without him—’
‘She comes into my shop,’ another woman interrupted. She was younger than most around her, probably sixty rather than in her seventies.
‘Well that’s the only time, then,’ snapped the woman across the counter, clearly not happy at being corrected now she was in the spotlight. ‘She was totally dependent on him for everything. It wasn’t normal.’
The woman who had scowled at Martin joined in.
‘How is Meg?’ she asked Carlos
‘I’m not sure; my sister was with her this morning when the police went to tell her about the body,’ Carlos replied.
‘If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.’
‘Josie’s a nurse,’ Doreen introduced the woman. ‘That’s Clara behind the counter and this is Colonel Webb.’ She indicated to Martin.
‘Is it right he was last seen leaving here on the day he went missing? Was he with anyone in particular that day?’ Carlos asked.
‘Now you’re starting to sound like a policeman, surely there’s nothing suspicious?’ Martin was on to Carlos in an instant, seizing back control.
‘I’m not sure,’ Carlos lied. ‘I’m not a policeman, but I do work as a private investigator in the day job. Apologies, but I can’t resist asking questions.’
The tension disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and people returned to the conversations they were having previously. Perhaps they felt they had heard as much as they were going to from their visitor.
‘He did leave here a week ago yesterday. That’s the day we usually hold these meetings, but there was a memorial service this week, so we moved it to Friday.’ Barney was oblivious to the suspicion that the others had displayed a few moments earlier. ‘It was odd, as a matter of fact. He left without having tea, which was out of character. He was a rigid man, steeped in ritual and routine. Worse than a vicar in some ways,’ Barney laughed at his self-effacing joke. ‘Seemed a bit agitated, now I think about it. I’ve read that people can get like that before having a heart attack, you know.’
‘What makes you think he had a heart attack?’ asked Carlos.
‘I’m not sure, really, but he was the sort of person who was a coronary waiting to happen. Uptight and secretive. It can’t make for a happy life. He did create tension with some of the locals and my parishioners.’
‘Do you hold confessionals here, Vicar?’
‘No, that’s more Catholic. Parishioners do share secrets with men and women of the cloth, though. You’re not suggesting I share any of Harold Sissons’s secrets, I hope? I might talk, Carlos, but I hold my parish duties in high regard.’
‘I’m sure you do. No, I was just wondering whether there were any to share. I wouldn’t expect to hear what they were.’
Barney stroked his double chin before answering. ‘As a matter of fact, no. Harold Sissons, as I inferred, was a secretive man. If he did have anything hidden, it will have gone to the grave with him; sealed tight as a drum, he was. Let that be a lesson. Men should be much more open in my opinion. Women are so much better in that regard than we men.’
Carlos had to admit that, although he considered himself a modern man, he kept far too many things tucked away in the recesses of his mind. The persistent headache since his encounter with Masters the night before was a sure sign of unresolved anxiety, but would it really help to let it all out as so many seemed to do these days? He often joked about the fashion of having a mental health disorder. His army training baulked against the trend.
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But is it always a good thing?’
‘You pay for it if you don’t, you know.’ Barney’s voice drew Carlos in as if he could see inside him. Rachel would say it was divine intervention or guidance, but Carlos wasn’t convinced.
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He noticed Barney fixing him in his gaze. It felt uncomfortable all of a sudden.
I’m not here to get counselling, I’m here to investigate the death of Harold Sissons, he told himself. Why was his heart pounding? The headache throbbed and he felt an overwhelming desire to run. What the heck was happening to him?
‘As I expect you gathered, Harold wasn’t all that popular.’ Barney was now back on safer ground and Carlos listened while reining his heart rate in to a normal rhythm. ‘Doreen felt sorry for Meg. Clara was right. He did appear to rule the woman.’
‘Do you think he was abusive?’
‘If you’re asking if I think he was violent towards her, no, I don’t believe he was, but abuse can come in many forms. Doreen says he was controlling, both at home and in general.’
‘Hence his being on every committee and part of every club?’ Carlos suggested.
‘Yes. That sort of thing. He could be quite difficult if he didn’t get his own way. In fact, Colonel Webb would go so far as to say Harold occasionally resorted to bribes.’
‘Really? What makes the colonel think that?’
‘Votes would change at the last minute. Take this club, for instance. The colonel wanted to invite some of his old pals from the army to speak. He also has contacts in the wider community, extending as far as Chatsworth. The committee was open to it, keen in fact, but as soon as it went to the vote the following week, it was voted down. Word was that Harold had met with members at other meetings during the week and somehow persuaded them to veto any change. He and Colonel Webb didn’t get on at all. They didn’t speak to each other much, which could make things awkward.’