The Scribbler, Iain Maitland [inspirational books TXT] 📗

one or the other. They took him out for lunch while they were over here. They didn’t come back again before they went back home. I don’t know why. Perhaps they didn’t have time.”

She looked around, as if nervous, and then continued.

“There were occasional visitors from his church in the early days. I remember a church warden who came and read the bible with him on Sundays for a while. I don’t know what happened to him. He may have moved away. And a couple of lady parishioners visited on and off some weekends, but I think one of them passed over and the other didn’t come back after that. I don’t think he had any visitors since his niece, thinking about it.”

She paused and turned her head and looked around the reception area as if to check she could not be overheard. She then leaned towards them.

“There is something I didn’t mention before. To your Indian gentleman. It didn’t seem relevant. But there was a young man, in his early thirties, I’d say, who came very often, two or three times a week, for the first few months Mr Lodge was here.”

She hesitated for a second or two.

“There was some light-hearted talk that he might be the reverend’s secret son. They were both tall and slim and … I don’t know, there was something about the way they stood, slightly bent and stooping almost, that made people stop and wonder. But there was some sort of argument and the reverend was left in tears when the young man stormed out – and he never came back. The reverend never talked of it and, by and large, it was forgotten about.”

She looked over her shoulder and then spoke in a low whisper.

“I think he might have been the reverend’s, um, special friend … if you know what I mean.”

Carrie spoke. “So this … friend of Mr Lodge … he’s not been seen for a while now? He wasn’t at the fete?”

“Goodness me no, but, funnily enough, Mr Lodge did receive a letter from him, out of the blue, well it must have been a week or two before the fete. Sally or Jen, they were his favourites, so we tried to match them up as often as possible, read it to him. It was just a polite note really, in a little thank you card, saying he was going to France, I think it was, to start a new job and wishing the reverend well. It upset him though. The reverend.”

Before either officer could say anything, the doors into the reception area opened, and they all turned to see who was coming through.

Mrs Coombes stopped talking and looked up expectantly as a short Asian man in his forties, immaculate in his dark-grey suit, white shirt and cuffs, came through the doors into reception. He stood there smiling at them.

“This is Dr Khan,” she went on, getting to her feet and doing the introductions. “He was here at … after … Mr Lodge’s … demise.”

Dr Khan looked from DI Gayther to DC Carrie and then spoke in impeccable, clipped English. He sounded as though he was enjoying himself, thought Gayther.

“You’re going to ask me if the Reverend Lodge fell out of the window or killed himself? Let me give you the answer.”

* * *

Dr Khan sat in the remaining empty armchair and smiled warmly at them all as he put his leather bag down by the side of his feet. He then reached into his pocket, took out his mobile phone and touched several buttons. A long pause, as he read what was on the screen, scrolled down and read further, and then, after a second long pause, smiled again. He looked at DI Gayther and spoke.

“Would you like me to summarise my statement to the coroner? It gives you the key facts.”

“No,” answered DI Gayther, irritated by the man’s theatricality. “I have your statements, both from my colleagues and the coroner’s report. I’d just like to ask you, and Mrs Coombes, a few questions, first of all, to get the timeline of the vicar’s death straight in my head.”

The doctor and Mrs Coombes both nodded and smiled as Gayther continued.

“Mrs Coombes, Reverend Lodge had his evening meal with some of the other residents, as usual, on Monday 1 October and, after sitting in the residents’ lounge for half an hour, was taken back to his room afterwards by a Sally Reece at 7.45pm? All very normal.”

She nodded her agreement and started to say what it was that Reverend Lodge had eaten, but Gayther hushed her gently – “Please just correct me if I’m wrong or miss something you think is significant” – and moved on.

“Sally helped him to get ready for bed and was joined by Jennifer Coates just after 8.00pm. About 8.10pm. The three of them chatted together, settling him down, and then Reverend Lodge was left alone to read from about 8.25pm, 8.30pm. He seemed calm and relaxed at that time—”

“That’s right,” interrupted Mrs Coombes. “We’d made a slight change to his medication to calm him, with Doctor Khan’s approval, and he seemed much happier.”

The doctor nodded his agreement as Mrs Coombes went on.

“He liked to read for about an hour before he went to sleep. The girls had to prop him into place and put his book, a large-print book, on a stand with a lamp light on it. One of them would go and check on him at half-nine or ten and help him put everything away, back in its place. He was a very tidy man. As often as not, he’d be fast asleep when they went back in.”

Carrie went to speak, to ask something, but Gayther waved her down with his hand. He noted the flash of irritation that crossed her face as he did so.

DI Gayther carried on speaking to Mrs Coombes and the doctor. “So, Mrs Coombes, he was alone from just before 8.30pm until … Sally went in at 9.55pm. She