His audience sat spellbound, not daring to move. Harriet slid a sidelong glance at Rory and shook her head very slightly. No point trying to rush John, not in their present state of physical exhaustion, and not with that gun, still held lightly in his hand.
‘You’re a rare kind of woman, Miss Quigley, or may I call you Harriet?’ John suddenly broke out. ‘They talk about you in the village you know, a mixture of respect and awe: “A good, strong woman, that Harriet, a sharp tongue on her but kind as kind if you need a helping hand. But certainly she’d have been drowned as a witch in times gone by,” that’s what they say.’ He looked at her, a puzzled expression in his light-brown eyes. ‘Tough as old boots, is another one and by God, after today, I can believe it. I know you’re the sort that believes in a stiff upper lip, but to go on as though nothing had happened….’ He turned to look at Rory, ‘She does know, doesn’t she? About her cousin? You did tell her?’
Harriet stared at him, fear beginning to dawn in her eyes.
‘They did tell you Canon Hathaway died yesterday afternoon, didn’t they?’
chapter fourteen
‘S-S-Sam?’ His name hung in the air as Harriet’s world trembled on the brink of destruction. Pain; she hunched over, feeling the pain, like a burning in her stomach, rising to her throat, as a scream of denial gathered. Then Rory, ignoring the gun, staggered over and put his arms round her.
‘Shh, Harriet, it’s not true.’ He held her tightly, whispering urgently in her ear. ‘He means Dr Sutherland – he thinks it was Sam.’ She was shuddering now and he whispered again, ‘Sam rang me last night, about half past ten. He’s safe, Harriet, he’s safe. Believe me.’
John Forrester had delivered his bombshell, and was now strolling along the gallery, peering at the portraits. He seemed unconcerned that Rory was no longer semi-conscious or that Harriet, though still grey with shock, had subsided quivering in her chair. ‘You’re sure?’ she breathed and sighed with relief at Rory’s surreptitious nod.
She was too shaken at first, the imagined loss of Sam, dearest friend, most beloved companion, making her weak and hollow. Out of John’s eyeline, Rory gave an infinitesimal nod and held his finger to his lips. ‘Don’t let him know,’ he breathed, then, as John sauntered back towards them, Rory slumped on the floor beside Harriet, apparently close to collapse.
‘I was sorry about Canon Hathaway.’ Speaking in a conversational tone, John nodded towards Harriet. ‘I hardly knew him but he didn’t like me much, which did rather make him stand out.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I’m used to people thinking I’m a pretty straight kind of guy. Didn’t bother me too much, though, his not taking to me, but when he started asking questions recently, I had to take notice. He was such a dogged old devil too, and clever with it, asking the right questions of the right people. Very inconvenient for me.’
He shrugged as he looked over at Harriet. ‘And then when I realized he’d got you at it as well, playing detectives, that was the last straw. Meant I had to take steps to stop him.’
For a moment Harriet felt indignant at the assumption that Sam had been encouraging her, when it had been all her own idea, then the sinister implications of what John had said struck her. She shivered and sat back quietly, not daring to meet his eyes.
‘What, what did you do?’ That was Rory, half whispering.
‘Mmm? Oh, it was simple enough and quite painless, I do assure you, Harriet. I got Mike Goldstein to keep an eye on your cousin for me. We had a little transaction to carry out so I’d chosen the cathedral as our meeting place, nice and anonymous, you see. The other two, Mike and Brendan, knew I was getting irritated by Sam Hathaway, so when Mike spotted him on the High Street, he texted me and followed him at a discreet distance. I kept a lookout and spotted him, fast asleep, dozing under that ridiculous panama hat that all the locals know by sight. He didn’t notice me when I sat down beside him and neither did anyone else. We were just two of several devout worshippers.’
He let out a short, mirthless laugh.
‘An injection of potassium solution brings about a quick death with all the appearance of a heart attack and of course it has the advantage of being undetectable at a post mortem, or so I understand. He’d even got a couple of scratches on his wrist and I injected into one of them so there’d be no puncture mark. I had the hypodermic ready in my pocket – it was left over from when Gillian…. I had to be incredibly quick, in and out of the chapel in less than three minutes. I assure you, Harriet, he didn’t feel a thing, barely stirred when I did it because he was so sound asleep.’