The Killer in the Choir. Simon Brett

feel it’s my duty to sing with the church choir. I was professional, you know, Glyndebourne way back, but …’ She brought a hand up to her papery neck ‘… the nodules.’

      ‘Ah,’ said Jude.

      ‘Cut my career short at a terribly early age.’

      ‘I’m so sorry.’

      Elizabeth Browning left a tragic pause, too long to prevent the younger woman from muscling in and introducing herself as Bet Harrison. ‘Only moved down here a couple of weeks ago,’ she said, providing the instant explanation of why they hadn’t recognized her.

      ‘You didn’t take long to get into the choir,’ said Jude.

      ‘The church community is welcoming wherever you go.’ Somehow Bet managed to avoid making her words sound sanctimonious.

      ‘And we’re always glad of new voices adding their strength to ours,’ said Ruskin. ‘Bob’s particularly pleased. He gets very worried about dwindling numbers.’

      This echo of Jonny Virgo’s words made Jude suspect that the size of the All Saints choir was a real issue for the vicar. Perhaps he saw in it a reflection of declining attendance in the main body of the church. And maybe a reflection on his own competence.

      ‘And it is good,’ Bet went on, ‘to know when you go to a new place, there’ll be a church, where you can quickly find a group of like-minded people.’

      Carole shuddered inwardly at the idea. She thought, for herself, the prospect of finding ‘like-minded people’ anywhere was pretty distant. She treasured her anonymity and exclusivity. When she’d moved permanently to Fethering, raw after her divorce and premature retirement from the Home Office, she hadn’t wanted to make contact with anyone. She’d only bought Gulliver because she didn’t wish to appear lonely when she walked on the beach. And if she’d had a neighbour with a less outgoing and persistent personality than Jude, that relationship wouldn’t have flourished either.

      ‘Of course, normally you’d hope to make friends at the school gate, too,’ Bet went on. Jude was beginning to wonder whether she was usually this forthcoming, or if the drink had relaxed her. ‘But my son Rory goes to the comprehensive in Clincham, so he gets a bus there and back. It’s been difficult for him starting there in the middle of term, but that’s just down to the logistics of when we could move. The English system of house purchase doesn’t take notice of details like school terms.’

      ‘Have you moved down from London?’ asked Jude. Most of the people who ended up in Fethering had.

      ‘No. Evesham. That’s where Rory was born and brought up, but then my marriage broke down and … well, I wanted to get as far away from the place as possible. But, you know, house purchase … you think you’ve got somewhere sorted, then the chain breaks down, and … quite frankly, it’s been a nightmare.’

      Carole was beginning to think that they were being granted too much information. Was the woman going to provide her entire life story within minutes of meeting complete strangers? Was she equally revealing with everyone she met? Such behaviour went against Carole’s every instinct.

      Fortunately, at this moment Ruskin Dewitt re-entered the conversation. ‘Did you know Leonard Mallett well, Carole?’ he asked.

      ‘Hardly at all.’ And she mentioned the Preservation of Fethering’s Seafront committee.

      ‘Yes, well, I’m on that.’ He screwed up his eyes and inspected her. ‘Oh, I do recognize you now.’

      ‘Good,’ said Carole, with some acidity.

      ‘And were you at the church hall earlier in the afternoon when things got rather ugly?’

      ‘I heard Alice Mallett having a bit of a go at her stepmother.’

      ‘“Having a bit of a go”? You have an enviable talent for understatement, Carole.’

      ‘Yes, being new to the area,’ said Bet, ‘I was quite shocked. Are accusations of murder common events in Fethering?’

      The group laughed at the idea. Carole and Jude exchanged covert looks. Each knew that accusations of murder had featured rather more in their lives than they had in that of the average village resident.

      Elizabeth Browning, who hadn’t joined in the communal laughter, said gnomically, ‘Tragedies are not unknown in the village.’ But the other choir members had heard her narratives too often to invite further explanation.

      ‘Does anyone actually know anything about the circumstances of Leonard Mallett’s death?’ asked Carole. ‘We’ve heard that he “had a fall”, but that’s it.’

      Shirley and Veronica Tattersall regretted that they couldn’t provide any more detail, but inevitably Ruskin Dewitt did have a contribution to make. ‘I don’t want to be telling tales out of school, and let me tell you, having spent most of my professional life in schools, I’m fully aware of the meaning of that expression … but I did hear something which might have some bearing on the subject of Leonard Mallett’s death.’

      ‘What was it?’ demanded Carole, irritated at the orotundity of his narrative manner, and wanting to hurry him along a bit.

      He looked a little piqued, as he said, ‘Very well. A couple of months ago, on a Friday … you know, usual choir rehearsal night … Heather had a problem with her car. Should have been back from the garage late afternoon, but there was a part they couldn’t get till the Saturday morning, something like that. So, since I come from Fedborough and virtually drive past the Shorelands Estate, I had a call from her asking if I could pick her up for rehearsal. No problem for me, and I have to confess I was rather intrigued. You know, Heather kept herself so much to herself, and I thought I might get the opportunity, on the car journey, which was only ten minutes, but I thought I might find out a little more about her, get to know her a bit. In a way, though, perhaps I got more than I bargained for.’

      He took another suspenseful pause. Carole had great difficulty in stopping herself from telling him to get on with it.

      ‘I knocked at the door, expecting Heather to come scuttling out, but it was opened by Leonard. I mean, I knew who he was, I’d seen him around the village, but I wouldn’t say I knew him.

      ‘Anyway, he wasn’t particularly gracious to me … In fact, that’s putting it mildly. He was damned rude – pardon my French. He said, “Oh, you’ve come to take her off for her bloody choir, have you?” And then he called off into the house, “For Christ’s sake, Heather, your lift’s arrived. What are you faffing around at? No amount of titivation is going to make you look any better at your age.” Which I have to say is not the way that I was brought up to speak to a lady.’

      ‘Did Heather say anything back to him,’ asked Jude, ‘you know, when she came to the door?’

      ‘No, she seemed to be completely cowed. Shrank away when she passed him on her way out.’

      Carole was immediately aware of the contrast with the cheerful woman she had seen drinking in the church hall. The woman with new glasses, the woman who’d let her hair grow.

      ‘And did Leonard have any parting shot for her?’ asked Jude.

      ‘Yes. He said, “Off you go to church then. Maybe God can help sort you out. He’s supposed to have a decent record with lost causes, isn’t he?” I remember the words exactly, because … well, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard a husband be so rude to his wife.’

      ‘Makes you understand the level of relief she must have felt …’ said Carole, ‘you know, when he was no longer on the scene. It must’ve been absolutely ghastly for her, the whole marriage.’

      ‘You never know,’ said Jude, who had had a lot of marital secrets shared from her treatment couch. ‘It may have been what worked for them, what turned them on. You can never look inside another marriage.’

      ‘I agree.’ Carole had certainly never wanted