A Death at the Church Page 8

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  10 Men’s garments are far easier for such an endeavour and I struggled in my attire.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘I cannot simply leave without a word again!’ Fitzroy shrugged and pressed on with his food.

  ‘My family were distressed enough before. Rory did not even tell them I had gone with you. Bertram worked it out by a gardener’s description.’

  ‘Which was?’ said the spy through a mouthful of scrambled egg.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I snapped.

  ‘Shame,’ said Fitzroy cutting up a sausage. ‘Always interesting to learn how others perceive you. Eat up. We have a bit of drive ahead of us.’

  ‘But I can’t!’ I repeated.

  ‘My dear Alice,’ said Fitzroy with a return to his sterner self, ‘You do not have a choice. I say jump and you jump. That is how this works.’

  ‘But it will look odd.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I find myself with unexpectedly free time today, and as I had been feeling a little uncomfortable about returning you to a house wherein there might be a murderer, I thought it was about time I made good on my promise to teach you some self-defence. Not going to get a lot done in a day, but we might manage enough to save your life.’

  ‘I see. So, I will be returning this afternoon?’

  ‘In time for dinner,’ said Fitzroy. ‘I am rather caught up in something, as I think I explained to you.’

  ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Still, I suppose I can suggest there are some details about the investigation that need to be worked out – or something.’

  Fitzroy nodded. ‘You must ask the cook what she adds to these mushrooms. They are remarkable. But, yes, ends that need tidying up is always a good excuse. Why did you tell them you had been away?’

  ‘Much the same,’ I said. ‘But I let them put it together.’ Fitzroy nodded and stuffed a grilled tomato into his face. If I didn’t know better, I would think he hadn’t eaten for days. His manners were barely on the right side of acceptable. ‘Excellent. Always better to let people answer their own questions. Lies are too easily found out. And they get far too complicated.’

  ‘You speak from experience?’ I said, smiling. Then I remembered. ‘I apologise. I did not mean to be rude.’

  Fitzroy appropriated someone else’s napkin to wipe his mouth. ‘Never mind that. I’ve been having a bit of a think about you and me. We haven’t got it right yet, have we? We can discuss it in the car. Get your coat and don’t let anyone see you. You can leave a message with Granite-face.’

  ‘Stone.’

  ‘Whatever. Now hurry up, Alice.’

  ‘Do I need anything?’

  ‘Only your wits and a sense of balance. I’ll meet you in the lobby.’

  I left a short message with the butler. Stone, notoriously stoic and unresponsive, asked me to repeat the message, so he was quite certain he understood. I felt like a small child trying to explain to their headmaster why their homework is in the dog and not on their desk. Without so much as him cracking a facial expression I was left in no doubt that his opinion of me had sunk a great deal lower – even lower than when I had been accused of murder. After all, I was leaving him to make my excuses to a group of people who would be justifiably outraged at my second disappearance.

  Fitzroy shot out the door and pulled his car round to the front. I got in and tied my hat with a scarf underneath my chin. It is not the most flattering of looks but having almost lost one hat before, I had determined to ensure I did not lose this one. Once satisfied, I settled down in my seat lost in thought.

  Sometime later, I cannot say where or when I was, so much absorbed by my thoughts, Fitzroy broke in on them, ‘Don’t sulk, Alice. Your family will forgive you. A day’s unexpected absence is a small thing in the scheme of things.’

  I shook myself slightly and turned to look at him. ‘I did not mean to appear to sulk. I was lost in my thoughts. Besides, don’t you need all your concentration to drive this fast?’

  ‘Hardly. Glorious day and a clear open road. They don’t seem to go in for hills here much.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Though it is not as bad as the Fens.’ ‘Your ultimate destination?’ I nodded.

  ‘You’ve seen White Orchards, haven’t you? Do you dislike it so much?’

  ‘I will struggle to think of it as home – or I would, if Bertram were not to be there.’

  ‘You have made up?’

  ‘Yes, but that didn’t stop me considering whether or not he was the murderer when he offered to search the church with me last night.’

  ‘Did you let him?’

  ‘Yes, but I took the part where the murder occurred.’ ‘A decent compromise.’

  ‘Yes, but the thought that I could suspect him made me uncomfortable. I have been having a lot of uncomfortable thoughts.’

  Fitzroy turned to look at me and my heart almost stopped, as he only glanced back at the road in time, or so it seemed, to make the bend. ‘I expect you have,’ he said. ‘Was that what you were thinking about? If so, I acquit you of sulking. Adjustment to this side of the looking glass is not easy.’

  ‘I believe I have begun to think like you.’

  ‘From my perspective that is an excellent thing. Not so much from yours, I presume.’

  ‘If I ever had a moral compass, I feel it is spinning and freefalling at the same time.’

  Fitzroy kept his eyes on the road, but I saw his wry smile spread across his face. ‘What a charming image of me you must have.’

  ‘I didn’t mean -’

  He interrupted. ‘Bertram will be your moral compass. He can return the favour.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Didn’t you once tell me that it was your strictures that made Bertram wake up to the idea of giving justice a helping hand if it was in his capabilities – and even that he should stop sponging off the blood money of his family?’

  ‘Which is when he ran off and bought White Orchards,’ I said miserably. ‘Not a tale that ends well.’

  Fitzroy gave a little chuckle. ‘You made him a better man and he will keep you a better woman – or at least a better person than me.’

  ‘What about you? Who is your moral lodestone?’

  ‘I did not have one before I met you.’ He grinned. ‘See what a responsibility you have, Alice – you have to ensure I stay within the bounds of decent human behaviour.’

  ‘I don’t see how I can do that,’ I said tartly, ‘when I am not allowed to speak my mind.’

  I expected him to snap at me, but the grin softened to a smile. ‘That’s what I have been thinking about. We are friends, aren’t we, Alice?’ ‘We were.’

  ‘Before I got all heavy-handed about being your trainer, you mean?’ I kept silent.

  ‘Well, your unspoken criticism is well founded. This is the first time for me that an asset, who has also become a friend, has become my trainee. You have so little experience of my world, and there are so many pitfalls, I constantly fear – perhaps wrongly – that you will tumble into one and do yourself real harm.’

  ‘Are you staying you are trying to protect me?’

  ‘In a roundabout sort of way. Shall we agree you can speak with me much as you once did when we are alone, but in the presence of other agents you will show at least a modicum of respect towards me.’

  ‘And if the situation is ever difficult, I will follow your directions without question,’ I added.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Am I forgiven?’

  ‘You always manage to get me to forgive you,’ I said grumpily. ‘No matter what you’ve done. However, I do admit I missed having someone with whom I could talk about anything – you remember promising me that years ago?’

  ‘Of course, but you have Bertram.’

  ‘Yes, and much as I adore him, there are countless subjects that I could never see myself raising with him.’

  ‘You should work on that,’ said Fitzroy seriously. ‘Now, tell me everything that happened, as much as you can re
call, from your time at Muller’s estate.’

  ‘There isn’t much.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I want to see how your ability to observe is improving as well as your ability to report coherently.’

  I told him in nauseating detail what had happened. He laughed at Hans’ dilemma. ‘To think I used to believe he was a halfway decent human being,’ said Fitzroy. ‘It’s almost reassuring to learn he is just like the rest.’

  I continued on. At the end of my tale he asked me, ‘Two things stand out for me. Obviously, I want to see that notebook, but who was the guest your mother referred to?’

  ‘I assume one of the wedding guests. Or a friend of the Bishop.’

  Fitzroy tut-tutted. ‘Never assume, Alice. Things nearly always go to the bad when one does.’

  A while back we had turned into a network of country lanes. I had been too taken by our conversation to pay attention to where we were, but when I looked out over the fields, I saw no familiar landmarks. The spy steered the car down a narrow tree-lined track and pulled up outside a large old Tudor-beamed farmhouse. He shut off the motor and jumped out.

  ‘This is it,’ he said, leaving me to scramble down on my own. ‘Let’s go in and see who is around.’

  He opened the front door and entered yelling, ‘How now!’ There was no immediate response. I followed him into a dim hallway, surrounded by doors with a staircase leading up on the right. ‘Go through that door, Alice,’ he said pointing. ‘And take off your hat. Never wear anything around your neck. It’s asking for trouble.’

  I went forward, hoping there would be a mirror somewhere in this strange, quiet farmhouse. Fitzroy ran up the stairs. I thought I heard him mutter to himself, ‘Got to be someone...’ Then he was gone. I opened the door and found myself in the oddest room. In it stood not one single stick of furniture. Nothing hung on the walls. The only noticeable aspect of the room was the pale, woven matting under my feet that spread across the entirety of the room. A large window at the back gave out onto a small copse and afforded some much-needed light. Making do with what little I had, I used my reflection in the window glass to unpin my hat. Of course, this meant my hair tumbled down. I could have been no more than half way through re-pinning it when Fitzroy returned towing a younger man behind him. ‘This is Cole,’ he said. ‘I trained him. He’s agreed to give us some time.’

  Cole moved forward into the window’s light. I thought he would offer his hand, but he did not and so I did not offer mine. Fitzroy turned to shut the door behind. ‘Quiet as the grave here today,’ he said.

  Cole studied me openly, so I returned the favour. Slightly less tall than Fitzroy, he had a slender build and jet-black hair. He was clean-shaven and did not sport even the smallest of moustaches. His eyes were of a strange, sparkling blue that shone with an intensity I found disturbing. Not least because they were entirely cold. His lips were thin and pink, his cheekbones high, and his chin and neck well-formed. He was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen, but I did not find him in the least attractive. Every hair on my body stood on end and every instinct told me to run. Cole gave me a tiny, unfriendly smile – quite as though he could read my thoughts.

  ‘As I was saying, Cole, this can’t be one of our typical training exercises. The Suffragettes have been using jujitsu to remarkable effect. I think a basic variant on that, don’t you?’ He looked at me. ‘We have two things to consider. On the negative side, if you were ever attacked, Alice, it is likely you would be dressed as you are now. Both Cole and I are considerably less constrained by our clothing and have a multitude of defence manoeuvres available to us that I do not think you would find possible. On the positive side, unless you are marching in Suffragette colours, and perhaps not even then, men don’t, in the general scheme of things, expect women to fight back. Fast, simple responses that allow you to escape the situation are our first best option.’

  ‘She will need to cause them pain.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Fitzroy. ‘There are some men who pain emboldens. We can assume,’ here he turned and slyly winked at me, ‘that any man who attacks a woman is not typical of our gender.’

  ‘Or is a thug or spy,’ said Cole. ‘Someone who knows all too well what they are doing.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Fitzroy, ‘We don’t have that long, so while I would prefer you did not break Alice, I do not want you to go easy on her.’

  ‘As if I would,’ said Cole. Fitzroy laughed, but I felt a spasm of fear shoot through me.

  ‘Right, let’s start,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Watch us, Alice, and then you get to repeat my part with Cole.’

  ‘Don’t you need to be wearing a skirt for this, boss?’ said Cole.

  ‘I have an excellent imagination,’ said Fitzroy, entirely unruffled. ‘Now come at me and try and choke me.’

  Cole marched up and took Fitzroy by the throat. Immediately the spy pushed his two hands together up and out through Cole’s arms, breaking his grip. He then brought his outstretched arms down on each side of Cole’s head. ‘At this point,’ he said, ‘you clap your hands over his ears as hard and fast as you can. It’s called a thunderclap for obvious reasons. Often breaks their eardrums. Come here and copy what I did, but don’t actually deafen Cole.’ He stepped back.

  I moved forward and before I could even signal my assent Cole had his hands tight around my neck. His blue eyes stared unflinchingly into mine. I wanted to cry out that the grip was too strong, but I could not speak. My vision began to swim.

  ‘Anytime, Alice,’ said Fitzroy. I realised he did not know how hard Cole held me in his grip. I pushed my arms up and through his, breaking the grip, and stopped short of clapping my hands over his ears by no more than an inch. I stepped back breathing heavily. More than anything I was astonished I had broken his grip.

  ‘Good first attempt,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Go again.’

  We continued in this vein until Fitzroy felt I was fluent in the move. ‘It’s a start. Cole, here. Choke me.’

  Cole did as he was bid. Fitzroy turned his body, lowering it slightly as he brought his right arm crashing down on Cole’s arms. Then he somehow trapped Cole’s left arm, and using this, flipped him onto his front on the ground, still holding the left arm, which he forced up towards Cole’s shoulder until he tapped twice on the ground. Fitzroy released him and stepped back. ‘That’s the next stage,’ he said. ‘We don’t have time to do that today, but I wanted you to see that we are showing you basic building blocks of self-defence that can be built into more sophisticated moves that even allow you to trap and hold your assailant.’

  ‘What if someone grabs my neck from behind?’ I asked.

  ‘Ah, there’s a nice easy one for that. Cole?’

  Cole’s expression grew somewhat resigned. He put his arm around Fitzroy’s neck and pulled backwards. The spy dropped his weight and threw Cole over his head. Cole landed on the mat but rolled neatly to a standing position.

  Fitzroy gave me an apologetic look. ‘Can’t teach you how to fall dressed like that, I’m afraid. But do try your luck throwing Cole. He’s not that heavy.’

  I tried, but I could not shift him. The move was nowhere near as easy as Fitzroy made it look. On my tenth failed attempt, Fitzroy sighed. ‘Stop. Stop. You’re not getting it. I think we need to go back to something more basic.’

  ‘Break, stun, and run, boss?’ said Cole.

  Fitzroy nodded. ‘OK. Cole, choke me.’ Cole repeated the action of putting his arm around Fitzroy’s neck. ‘Right,’ said Fitzroy, ‘first you stamp down as hard as you can on his instep – here.’ He stood on Cole’s foot, but did not stamp. ‘If you wanted to be clever you scrape the edge of your shoe down his leg as you do it. Then you put your head back sharply.’ He moved his head back slowly. ‘You’re aiming to break his nose. It will hurt the back of your head, but not as much as it hurts his nose. Then run. Got it?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said. ‘But what happens if he picks me up off my feet.’

  ‘Raise your leg and go fo
r the knee,’ said Cole. ‘It takes only a few of pounds of pressure to make it bend the other way.’ He flashed another grin at me. His eyes remained as cold and dead as ever.

  ‘Come and have a go,’ said Fitzroy. ‘I didn’t you show you this first because it’s all done in slow motion. You’re not actually trying to hurt your partner. It’s not the same as practising something in real time.’

  I managed to repeat the move successfully, several times. ‘Good enough,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Let’s hope you remember to do it faster if you ever need to use it.’We continued in this vein for some time. Fitzroy showed me how to break out from a hand grip by putting pressure against the thumb when pulling away. He and Cole ran through the weak spots that took only a minimal amount of force to be effectively damaged. ‘One that works well for women is to grab the lower lip tightly and drop to the floor.

  Bit bloody, but still...’

  ‘I like the way people follow their ears, boss,’ said Cole. ‘Grab them and twist the head. Very dramatic.’

  Fitzroy shook his head. ‘Let’s not get carried away. Alice is going to be shorter than most men she encounters. Probably an idea to give you some basic stick training.’

  ‘I don’t carry a stick,’ I said.

  ‘Most men do,’ said Cole, ‘and it’s surprising how few have learned to use them.’

  ‘Even if you are not in a position to take the cane away from your opponent,’ said Fitzroy, ‘knowing what it is possible with it will help you evade it. I think we should move on to dodging and evading after lunch.’

  ‘Only bread and cheese in the kitchen, boss.’

  ‘Well, that will do for you. I’ve got stuff in the car for us. Take her through to the kitchen and I’ll bring it in.’

  Fitzroy disappeared off. ‘This way,’ said Cole leading me back into the hallway. Behind him, in the dimly lit lobby, I rubbed my throat. He’d used a hard grip on me, and it felt tender. I pulled my collar up tightly.

  The kitchen looked like an average farmhouse one except for its cleanliness. I sat down in a chair at the large wooden table and waited for Fitzroy. ‘Are you not going to make my sandwich?’ said Cole.