The Mills of God by Deryn Lake Page A

don’t want to go to no bloomin’ station.’
    â€˜Right then. You’ll put a shirt on and come downstairs. Stay with him, Potter.’
    In the small front parlour, reserved for special occasions, Mrs Noakes, the grandmother, fortified by a brimming cup of tea provided by the WPC, sat controlling her tears as best she could. The inspector took a seat beside hers, waved away an offer of tea and said gently, ‘Could you tell me how Mr Riddell’s house was when you entered it, Mrs Saunters?’
    She bristled very slightly.
    â€˜It’s Mrs Noakes, sir. My daughter would insist on marrying Dick Saunters’s son – and a bad lot he turned out to be. But, there, one mustn’t speak ill of the dead, must one.’
    â€˜They were killed in a car crash, weren’t they?’
    â€˜Always drove too fast, he did. A reckless fool. But my daughter – Wendy, her name was – she was attracted to uniforms, see.’
    Tennant didn’t, but decided not to be led down this path.
    â€˜Tell me, if you wouldn’t mind, Mrs Noakes, everything you noticed about the deceased man’s house this morning.’
    The grandmother took a deep swig of tea, then put the cup down and launched into a story which, Tennant had the feeling, she would soon tell with relish to any passer-by who cared to listen.
    â€˜Well, as you know, I got up early and went across to get him his breakfast. I do that every morning except on Sundays when he has a lay in.’
    â€˜Do you have a key to the house?’
    â€˜To the garden door, yes. I go through the gate and across the garden and let myself in that way.’
    â€˜Quite so. Now tell me as clearly as you can what exactly you saw.’
    â€˜Well, nothing at first. I went into the kitchen and switched on the light and . . .’
    â€˜Before then. Did you notice any illumination coming from upstairs?’
    â€˜Yes, now you come to mention it, I did. There was a flickering light, like he’d left a candle burning in front of that Buddha of his, and there was a dull glow coming from his bedroom.’
    â€˜I see. So you switched on the kitchen light. What happened next?’
    â€˜I turned to put water in the kettle – and then I saw him. All huddled up at the bottom of his stairs, he was. There was blood – and stuff – oozing from his head.’
    Tennant shook his head and made a sympathetic noise. ‘Poor you. What a shock. So what did you do?’
    â€˜I ran out of the kitchen, still holding the kettle, and into the lounge. Then I come over all queer and had to sit down.’
    â€˜I see. Tell me something, Mrs Noakes, did you see anyone in the house or garden? Did anything at all arouse your suspicions?’
    â€˜No, sir, it didn’t. I think the murderer – whoever he or she was – had been long gone.’ She rolled a fearful eye in his direction. ‘Is this connected with the killing of the Patels, do you think?’
    â€˜It’s too early to say,’ Tennant lied, thinking of the message signed The Acting Light of the World. ‘I take it it was you who went to the mobile police station?’
    â€˜No, sir, tell the truth I was too afraid to stay in that house a moment longer. I run all the way round to the vicarage. I thought the vicar would know what to do.’
    Tennant suppressed a smile. ‘And did he?’
    â€˜Oh yes, sir. He was ever so good. He made me a cup of tea and went to the police pantech-thing straight away.’
    â€˜Was he dressed?’
    Mrs Noakes shot him a peculiar look. ‘Yes, he was. Why?’
    â€˜No reason,’ the inspector answered vaguely.
    The door opened and the unlovely Dwayne entered the room wearing a T-shirt with the logo ‘None of Your Firkin Business’ emblazoned across his chest.
    â€˜Get us a cuppa tea, Gran,’ he ordered.
    Tennant gave him a sweet smile. ‘Your grandmother is answering a