The Mills of God by Deryn Lake Page B

few questions at the moment, Mr Saunters. Perhaps you could go to the kitchen and make yourself a cup.’
    The youth trembled on the brink of giving a rude reply but was somewhat intimidated by the arrival of Potter who loomed behind him in a menacing manner. Giving the inspector a black look he turned on his heel and could be heard distantly trying to chat up the female police constable who was clearly having none of it.
    â€˜You must forgive my grandson, Inspector. He’s a bit unruly.’
    Tennant made a non-committal noise. ‘Have you anything else to tell me, Mrs Noakes? Anything that struck you as out of the ordinary in any way?’
    She paused, clearly thinking back. ‘There was just one thing, sir.’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜There were two glasses on the table in the lounge – and one of them had a lipstick smear on it.’
    Tennant nodded. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Noakes. We’ll leave you in peace now.’ He stood up.
    Potter muttered in his ear, ‘What about the boy?’
    â€˜We’ll leave him till later,’ the inspector answered, and made his way towards the front door.

NINE
    T he Reverend Nick Lawrence sat at his desk, staring through the french doors at Radetsky who was playing with a fallen leaf in the garden. To say that he was worried would have been an understatement. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Lakehurst housed within its apparently tranquil and unsinning walls, a vicious serial killer. Not that he could be certain that Gerrard Riddell’s death was anything more than an unfortunate accident. Yet surely that would be stretching the arm of coincidence too far. The sudden murder of the Patels followed by Mrs Noakes banging on his door in an extreme state of distress to say that her employer was lying dead at the bottom of his stairs had thoroughly unnerved Nick. So much so that he found it hard to concentrate on the paperwork that was spread out before him. In fact he had just picked up a magazine and was starting to flick through the pages when there came a sudden knock at his front door. Glad to be called away from his boring task Nick went down the hall and threw it open. Dominic Tennant stood there.
    â€˜Ah, good morning, Vicar. Do you have a spare moment?’
    â€˜Certainly,’ Nick answered, and followed the inspector into the living room.
    â€˜I won’t keep you long. I expect you’re busy.’
    â€˜Fairly. As you know I was called at the crack of dawn by Mrs Noakes shrieking that she had found Gerrard Riddell lying dead at the bottom of his staircase. It was me who rushed to your mobile headquarters. By the way, is it really necessary to have that thing parked in the High Street?’
    Tennant smiled at him charmingly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. The incident room has been set up in Lewes. It was much easier to do that because of the computers, you see. However, a great many police personnel have been drafted into the village – which I trust you won’t find inconvenient – but they must have somewhere central to report to. I hope you understand.’
    Nick felt thoroughly wrong-footed. ‘Yes, of course. Quite so. I wasn’t implying any criticism.’
    â€˜Absolutely not,’ the inspector answered, still continuing to smile. He changed the subject. ‘Tell me, what did you think when Mrs Noakes came rushing in?’
    â€˜Quite honestly I thought it was murder.’ Nick paused and two pairs of eyes, one like sun ripe gooseberries, the other more like the calm blue sea, locked together. ‘Was it?’
    â€˜Yes, I think so.’
    The vicar clasped and unclasped his hands in a hopeless gesture. ‘But who can be doing it? What kind of a lunatic are we up against?’
    Tennant paused, thinking, and said eventually, ‘I’m going to take a risk.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜You do realize, Reverend Lawrence, that even a man of the