Chapter Nine
"In my head there's only you now."
Father Brown had clearly been expecting him.
"Do you rememeber what I told you when we last spoke?"
"Yes, about the least likely," Inspector Sullivan answered.
"With that in mind, perhaps I should pay a visit to the crime scene? Fresh eyes couldn't hurt."
"Absolutely out of the question!"
Father Brown licked his lips, "Well then maybe it's time you take another look at the scenes yourself."
He didn't need to look at the B&B. He went over that place extensively. No evidence was left there he could be sure. The Weaver farm was another story.
"Thanks for your time, Father." Sullivan said in parting.
He grabbed his hat and turned to go, bumping into Sid who had apparently slipped in unnoticed.
"Carter." he acknowledged him and then he was gone.
Father Brown and Sid stared after him. The Father had a bad feeling. There was an evil scent hanging over Kembleford, and he feared the Inspector was in over his head.
Tom took himself back to the office to go over the priest's words. He plopped down heavily into his head was pounding. He felt a migraine coming, but there was work to be done. He knew he wouldn't find the answers he was seeking by sitting here in his office. He stood and fetched his jacket and hat.
"Goodfellow, come on." he beckoned his sergeant.
"Where to sir?" Goodfellow walked around the desk.
"Back to the Weaver Farm."
They walked out into the blaring sunlight, a rarity in Kembleford.
"I want to go over that place with a fine toothed comb," Sullivan said as they got in the car.
"We already have," Goodfellow offered.
"No, you and I had a look around, and looked at the body. We didn't analyze the scene."
It was true enough. The other officers gathered the evidence, and there wasn't much of it to be had. That made Sullivan uneasy. He had to see for himself if they missed anything. He needed to set his own eyes on the scene once more.
"Fair enough," Goodfellow answered.
They scoured the perimeter first and found nothing. Less than nothing. Then the team moved inside. Sullivan took the bedroom and Goodfellow took the kitchen. Half an hour ticked by with neither of them speaking. Both diligent in his pursuit for evidence.
"Goodfellow!" Sullivan bellowed.
In an instant the sergeant was there in the doorway in time to see Sullivan placing something in an evidence bag.
"Did the DCs check this room?" Sully stood with a scowl on his face.
"They should have," Goodfellow answered him quietly.
"I don't believe they did," Sullivan spat out through gritted teeth.
He stood and shoved the bag in front of Goodfellow's face.
"This is a hair. A long hair. A hair that I suspect came from a woman. To my knowledge Mr. Weaver was not married. Am I correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, where did this hair come from? It could be nothing, or it could belong to the killer."
"A woman?" Goodfellow sounded skeptical.
"Yes, sergeant a woman." Sullivan said. "I've been suspicious of that fact for a while now."
"Why didn't you mention it before?"
"I had no evidence. Just the musings of a dubious priest." Sullivan rolled his eyes and Goodfellow nodded in understanding.
"Well, with that being said, come see what I found in the kitchen."
Tom followed him and watched as he pulled a teacup from the sink. Dark purple lipstick stained the edge of the cup. Tom felt a cold fear wash over him because he knew he'd seen that color before. That combined with the long black hair he pulled from the bed confirmed enough for him.
"Follow me, and bring that cup!" he ordered.
He ran to the car with Goodfellow on his heels. Unlike the first time he believed Emma to be in danger, he was cool and calm. He rationally explained to Goodfellow what was happening as they sped towards the B&B.
"Emma has a new guest staying. A woman. She showed up the day after Donald Weaver's murder. She has black hair and wears dark purple lipstick. She's been hanging around, and watching us I think."
"Watching you what?" Goodfellow asked innocently.
Tom shot him a look, "Just...watching us."
Goodfellow wasn't convinced, but now wasn't the time to bring it up.
Tom sped towards the B&B. He parked a block away and ran. He ran towards what he feared was danger. It's what he signed up for so long ago. Being a police officer was all he ever wanted. He was a fool back then. He really thought he could have it all. A wife, a family, and the job. The war showed him that life, such as it is, takes no prisoners.
He came back broken. He fought for so long to overcome the thoughts, the images that tormented him. A suspect once mused that he came to Kembleford to escape an overbearing father, but that was never the case. He came to Kembleford to escape himself.
He would run forever.
He didn't want to arouse suspicion so he walked right through the front door. Like he had hundreds of times before he hung his hat and jacket on the rack. He went upstairs, quietly. The door to Augustina's room was closed. He laid his ear against it and listened. It was all quiet. No sound of movement.
He walked downstairs in search of Emma. He needed to get her out of the house if at all possible. It seemed too quiet. It was never loud, but something about this silence was sinister.
"Is that you Inspector?" a voice called.
He wasn't one to get nervous, but in that moment he felt unsure. He followed the voice down the hall and into the kitchen. Emma was sitting at the table with her back towards him. Her guest was seated opposite of her, facing him head on.
"You're home early," she told him.
He swallowed hard, "I just came to see Emma,"
"I'll bet," Augustina winked wickedly at him.
As he entered the room he saw the scene before him was not what it seemed. Emma's hands were bound in her lap. Tears streamed down her face. Augustina held a gun pointed towards her on the table.
"As it so happens you're interrupting our little chat," the evil woman said smoothly.
"Put the gun down," Sullivan cautioned her.
She ignored him, "You don't look surprised."
"I'm not."
"Tell me, what was it that gave me away?" she waved the gun carelessly.
He was starting to sweat. His eyes flitted to Emma. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," she answered quietly.
"She is perfectly well. We're just having a chat. Woman to woman." Augustina patted her hand, "Isn't that right, dear?"
"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this!"
"On the contrary, she saw me coming out of your room. She thought she was going to call you, so...as you see I couldn't let that happen. However, here you are anyway." she shrugged, "Now tell me..."
Sullivan tried walking closer to Emma, but each time he stepped she raised the gun to Emma's head. He couldn't take that chance. He'd told Goodfellow to wait outside so he could escort Emma to safety, but that was before. Now he was alone with a killer, and no back up. With Emma's, not to mention his own, life in the balance.
"Firstly, I was suspicious when you called me out as a police officer. I never said I was."
"Your slut could have mentioned it," she said with a smile.
"But she didn't, did she?"
"She didn't mention much at all. At first I was doubtful there was anything going on between the two of you. You hid it so well," she shook her head in awe.
"You were in my room. Am I right?" he wiped the sweat from his brow.
She stood from the table. The gun still aimed on Emma.
"I just wanted to do a bit of snooping, dearie. No harm done." she chuckled.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
"No. Turns out you didn't have much on me,"
"Please just, just let Emma go."
His eyes locked onto Emma's. He'd put her in danger and he'd never forgive himself.
"You do exhaust me Inspector. I already told you I can't let her leave." she swung the gun towards him, "Nor you, I'm afraid. Although I must say...what a waste." she looked him up and down.
"Why?" he asked.
"Dominoes." she shrugged.
"Jeffrey Weaver was just one in a line of projects. When his brother decided to stop by he saw what I was up to. There was no love lost between them, so he couldn't have cared less."
"Then why kill Donald?!" Sullivan demanded.
"Little rat decided to try and blackmail me into sleeping with him. It was easier all 'round to be done with him."
"So you followed him here."
"I did, and I decided to stick around."
Tom looked from her to Emma, "Why?"
"I wanted to see what the local coppers had on me, if anything. Couldn't believe my luck when I discovered you lived in this very house!" she cackled.
"So you started snooping in my room, and spying on Emma and I,"
She shrugged, "But, now I fear it is time for me to move on."
She slowly swung the gun back toward Emma.
"No!" Sullivan shouted.
She pulled the trigger.
Oh those poor babies.
