The second reason was money. Hetty was in the deeply embarrassing position of being unable to pay for her husband’s funeral. She had been horrified to discover exactly how much it would cost. Her only savings, just over two hundred pounds, had been penny-pinched from the housekeeping over the years. Occasionally there was a pound or two left at the end of the week; mainly there was nothing.
Candy was still showing great distress if Hetty as much as left the room so Ann Lawrence suggested she brought the dog to work with her. Ann drove down to the end of the lane, Hetty carried the dog to the car wrapped in her blanket and Candy spent the day in an old armchair by the Aga.
This was where she was lying, fast asleep, when Barnaby and Troy arrived. Barnaby noticed the garage was empty and was not entirely displeased. Presumably Jackson was driving the Reverend Lawrence about his business, which meant that Mrs Lawrence would be by herself.
He recalled their first meeting. Her shocked recoil when she understood who they were. Her extreme wariness during their questioning and hasty willingness to show them out. This time he would have a button to press. And he would press it. Hard.
But it was Hetty Leathers who opened the door and explained that both the Lawrences were out. She was very apologetic.
‘We’d also like a word with you, Mrs Leathers.’ Barnaby smiled, suddenly in the hall. ‘If that’s all right?’
‘Well.’ She stared anxiously at Sergeant Troy who was closing the heavy front door behind him. ‘I am working.’
‘Kitchen, is it?’
Now they were just as suddenly in the kitchen. Troy exclaimed with genuine pleasure at the sight of the little dog.
‘She’s getting better?’
‘Yes. The vet said . . .’
Barnaby let them run on for a moment. It would relax Mrs Leathers, which might help when it came to answering questions. For himself, he was not really interested in animals unless well-stuffed, preferably with sage and onion and a nice strip of crackling on the side.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Both policemen said yes and sat round the long, worn deal table to drink it. There was a plate of biscuits too. Hetty, looking puzzled but interested, passed the sugar bowl. Troy took several spoonfuls, stirred then discreetly removed his notebook from his jacket pocket and placed it on his knee.
‘What did you want, Inspector? Is it about Charlie again?’
‘Not directly, Mrs Leathers. I’d like you to tell us, if you would, about the young girl who was recently staying here.’
‘Carlotta?’
‘I understand she ran away.’
‘Good riddance,’ said Hetty. ‘She should never have been here in the first place, a girl like that.’
‘Was she here long?’ asked Sergeant Troy.
‘Too long,’ said Hetty. Then, when Barnaby smiled encouragingly, ‘A couple of months.’
‘What sort of person was she?’
‘Two-faced. Talked to people like dirt unless the Rev was around, then butter wouldn’t melt.’
The performance sounded familiar. Barnaby picked up the connection and followed it through. ‘What about Jax, though? Two young people - I presume they got on?’
‘No.’ Hetty, deeply grudging, added, ‘It’s the one good thing you could say about the girl. She couldn’t stand him.’
‘Not one of your favourites either, then?’ asked Sergeant Troy.
‘Gives me the creeps. Mrs Lawrence won’t have him in the house and I don’t blame her.’
‘Has that always been the case?’
‘Pardon?’
‘I mean, did something specific happen to cause it?’
‘No. She put her foot down right from the beginning. Mind you, he got in the other day - Wednesday morning, I think it was. I went into the dining room to clear and there he was, leaning up against the door as if he owned the place. And poor Mrs Lawrence trembling and shaking like a leaf. I soon saw him off, I can tell you.’
Troy wrote Wednesday’s date down, catching the chief’s eye. It was gleaming with interested curiosity.
‘Did she say what he wanted?’
‘Something about the connecting phone not working. Load of rubbish.’
Barnaby waited a moment but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming on the subject so he turned the conversation back to Carlotta.
‘Do you know anything about this girl’s background? Where she originally came from, perhaps?’
‘She come from where they all come from. That charity trust what the vicar’s involved with.’ Hetty drank some of her own tea and pushed the hazelnut biscuits in Sergeant Troy’s direction. ‘Ask me, it’s money chucked down the drain. Why can’t it go towards decent kids trying to make their way in the world?’