Condemned R.C. Bridgestock (good fiction books to read TXT) 📖

Tell ’em, there’ll be a charge for filming ’ere, too.’ Standing, with Annie’s assistance, Lily looked towards the figure of Christ, which stood next to one of the burning altar candles. She put her head on one side and her face softened. ‘One way or another, you’ll find He always provides.’

With the donation boxes, which would have benefited from a coat of varnish, in their arms, the three women walked through the arched chapel in a slow procession. Turning to walk up the aisle was like heading into a wind tunnel. By the time Charley had reached the outer door of St Anne’s, she could feel that the chill had reached her bones. Maybe the old woman was a witch of some kind, for how else had she survived on these moors in winter, alone for so many years? Charley was glad to put the boxes down at the top of the aisle. In an attempt to feel the benefit of her jacket, she grabbed its lapels and pulled them together with one hand. With the other hand on the door handle, she stopped and turned to face Lily. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to share with us? Anything that you think might help us with our investigations?’

Charley followed the direction of Lily’s eyes and, for a moment, was distracted by the dramatically beautiful design on the ceiling. The shiver that ran down her spine broke her reverie. ‘For instance, have you seen anyone acting suspicious around here, recently?’

Lily pondered for a moment, paused, and then a thought struck her. ‘A young man knocked at the church door, I wouldn’t say recently, it must be at least a couple of months ago now.’

‘Is that unusual in a church?’ said Annie.

‘As it ’appens clever clogs it is, especially when he wasn’t from around here,’ she said with a smirk on her face.

‘What did he want?’ Charley asked.

‘He wanted to know if I knew the Dixons, and what was the best time to catch ’em in.’

‘He didn’t say why he was looking for them by any chance did he?’

‘No, and contrary to Mr Raglan’s beliefs, I’m not a mind reader,’ Lily said, with a flash of impatience in her eyes.

Charley was not to be distracted from the job in hand. ‘What did this chap look like?’

Again, Lily’s eyes rose to the ceiling. ‘Smart. In fact, I thought he might ’ave ’bin a police officer. Although, come to think of it his English wasn’t too good.’

Charley frowned. ‘Where did he come from?’

‘How do I know?’ Lily paused. ‘I suggested he speak to the estate agents, and he thanked me and went on his way.’

‘So apart from looking smart, is there anything else that you can tell us about him? His name?’

‘I don’t think he told me his name, if he did, I don’t remember. He was polite. He had a strange accent. He wasn’t from round ’ere.’

Annie opened her mouth to speak. ‘Do you know if he saw the estate agents?’ said Charley, before Annie could get the words out of her mouth. Lily’s facial expression, and the rolling of her eyes, told Annie the question she was about to ask was another stupid one. ‘No!’

‘Would you recognise him if you saw him again?’

‘I don’t know.’

Lily Pritchard stood at the door watching the two detectives walk down the church path. Purposely, Charley chose to avoid the graveyard, and chose to walk down the path and along the road. They now had Lily Pritchard’s contact details and new leads to follow up. Charley strode out like a woman on a mission, and Annie found herself running to keep up with her.

‘Tell me, if the church is in such a bad way, why don’t they sell some of that gold?’

‘How should I know?’ said Charley.

Annie fell silent. A few steps later she spoke again, her breathing heavier and harder as she walked at Charley’s side. ‘According to Lily,’ she said, ‘the tunnel is bricked up…’ Annie turned and her eyes fixed once more on the church door, in the distance. ‘Did you see the jug of milk outside?’ she said, with a giggle.

Charley nodded.

‘A woman of God, and yet she believes in the Hobgoblin?’

Charley shrugged her shoulders, a smile on her face. ‘I suspect most of her generation wouldn’t dare upset the Hob!’

‘Bet that cat has a field day,’ the younger woman sniggered.

Charley stopped and spun round on the ball of her foot. ‘You’re daring to doubt the existence of the Hob, my girl?’

It was Annie’s turn to shiver. She stopped. ‘Oh, no! I wouldn’t! I do believe, I do believe, I do believe,’ she called into the wind.

When the detectives reached the main road with Crownest in their sight opposite, Charley couldn’t mistake Annie’s sigh of relief.

‘You okay?’

Annie nodded. ‘Pretty damn surreal this. Working here feels like I’m taking part in a reality show,’ her voice took on a hint of excitement. ‘Have you ever watched any of those Most Haunted programmes on the TV?’

‘Most Haunted?’ Charley shook her head. ‘You mean you actually believe in that sort of rubbish?’

‘Methinks you protest too much!’

Charley stopped to face her.

Annie swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. Had she overstepped the mark? ‘Ma’am,’ she said quietly.

Charley walked on.

‘You mean you’ve never seen any of them?’ Annie hurried to walk at Charley’s side. ‘Frightened myself half to death watching it on a Friday night when I was younger, and the folks were out.’

‘Well, all I can say is that if you like that sort of thing, maybe you’d like to be the one to volunteer to go back and sift through the church records with Lily?’

Annie stopped. Her face paled, ‘On my own?’ Seeing Charley nod her head, she hurried to catch her up.

‘You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?’

Chapter 12

Walking always enabled Charley to think; not as much as when she was horse riding, but it was the next best thing when time was scarce.

‘I’ve decided to link the two