Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson Page A

quite voluble.
     
    "Sarah saw the chance of a comfortable life, being a respected member of the community instead of a lonely old spinster with people sniggering behind her back about her not being able to get her man."
     
    The vicar checked himself, realising that he was becoming rather careless in what he said.
     "You seem to feel very strongly about it," Amos remarked dryly. He saw that the vicar was hesitating and hoped to provoke him into indiscretions.
     
    Thornley spoke more slowly now.
     
    "It saddens me greatly," he said with a sigh, "that people who profess to be Christians can be rather unfeeling. Sarah has been a great servant of God and this church. Heaven knows where I would get another organist from if anything happened to her."
     
    Amos saw to his regret that the clergyman was going to be more discrete with any further insights into Sarah Miles's character.
     
    "How did she get to know Ray Jones so well? Was it through mutual faith?"
     
    “They met originally at church, I believe. It was before I became vicar here. But it went beyond that. Mr Jones helped her out when she was in financial difficulties.
     
    "She paid him back as soon as she could," Thornley answered hastily. "Sarah was extremely grateful. It was fine until Mrs Jones left him. Then the roller coaster began."
     
    Thornley again checked himself.
     "Where was the roller coaster in the last two weeks of Mr Jones's life? Up, down, or somewhere in between?"
    "I really don't know. It hardly matters. Ray was talking to his wife about getting back together so it was all immaterial. I didn't want to get involved so I kept well out of it."
     
    "You knew Jones was in contact with his wife?" Amos asked in surprise.
     "He saw her the Sunday before he died and he was going to see her the following Sunday."
     Amos was incredulous. "You knew he had seen his wife days before he died? Why on earth didn't you come forward straight away to tell us?"
     
    "Nobody asked me," Thornley protested self-righteously. "You knew where I was if you wanted to talk to me. Is it important that Mr Jones was seeing his wife? It isn't a crime."
     
    Amos saw little point in stating how keen he had been to know Jones's movements so he contented himself with asking: "How did you know?"
     
    Thornley raised an eyebrow to indicate that he did not know what all the fuss was about.
     “Sarah Miles told me a couple of days ago.”
    “And how did she feel about it? From what you have told us she can hardly have been best pleased.”
     
    “I don't suppose she was. I really don't know. After she told me I kept well clear.”
     
    “How was she on the Sunday - the Sunday Jones was supposed to see his wife again?”
     
    “A bit distracted. She played one or two wrong notes, which wasn't like her at all. But otherwise she seemed quite calm.”
     
    “And at the end of the service?”
     
    “I assume she went home. She left immediately after playing the recessional.”
    A sudden thought struck Amos.
    “Your wife,” he asked. “Is she by any chance called Joan?”
    “Well, yes,” Thornley replied cautiously. “Is that relevant to anything?”
    “It may be,” Amos said enigmatically. “Do you by any chance know Kate Leach? Is she a member of your congregation?”
    “No,” Thornley said perfunctorily. “I know all my congregation personally.”
    “You would know this woman,” Swift ventured. “She is in her early 20s, unmarried and heavily pregnant. She lives in Killiney Court.”
    “Still no,” Thornley replied easily.
    Swift persisted: “Perhaps Mrs Thornley knew her. Maybe visited her to offer support. Could she have gone there last Friday when Miss Leach was very close to going pop.”
    Thornley ignored the crude euphemism for giving birth.
    Instead he replied with the hint of a wry smile: “Supplying succour to an unmarried mother who wasn’t even a parishioner? I somehow doubt it. Anyway, she certainly didn’t visit her on Friday. We were together