She couldn’t see Gavin or Carys, and presumed they were spread somewhere within the building, also watching the congregation.
She settled into her seat and peered over the heads in front of her to the front row, where Matthew and Diane sat, their heads bowed. Across from them, on the right-hand side, were the Hamiltons. Blake appeared to be lost in thought, staring up at the stained glass window behind the altar. Courtney’s attention was directed at her son, and the pair appeared to be talking in hushed tones.
A door opened behind Kay, and she glanced over her shoulder as Duncan Saddleworth emerged from the vestry, and crossed to the main door to the church as the funeral director led his colleagues who carried Sophie’s coffin.
The two men conferred for a moment, last minute instructions were issued, and then Duncan led the short procession down the aisle towards the altar.
Sniffing and soft sobs trailed in Sophie’s wake, and Kay dug her fingernails into her palms, determined to steel herself against the emotions of the next few hours.
She knew she would be emotionally and physically drained by the time the day finished, and tuned out the dulcet tones of the pastor as he began to guide the congregation through the ceremony.
She stood when the people in the pews ahead of her raised themselves from their pew, mimed singing words to hymns she vaguely recognised from school, and checked her watch during the eulogy.
Her head snapped up as Duncan introduced Matthew Whittaker.
Sophie’s father walked towards the pulpit as if he wished time could slow down, and Kay began to take deep breaths.
She fully understood the pain he was in; it was in the way his shoulders sagged, how his hands gripped his notes before he placed them on the wooden frame that surrounded him, and how he took a deep breath before leaning down to the small microphone.
Kay blinked and tried to fight down the urge to join in with the wailing that began from the front row and travelled through the congregation as the gathered people lost their resolve at a broken-hearted father’s words.
She sniffed, and then turned at the sound of the door to the church being edged open.
‘Crap,’ she muttered under her breath.
On the threshold, his eyes wide, stood Peter Evans.
Tears streaked down his face, and he wore a cheap suit that hung off his skinny frame, accentuating his hollow cheekbones.
Kay launched herself out of the pew and crossed the aisle.
It took him a few seconds to notice her, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. Instead, she grabbed his arm and shoved him, hard.
‘Outside. Now.’
Forty
‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
Evans grimaced. ‘I gave it up. Sophie didn’t like it.’ He tapped the end of the cigarette, but didn’t take another drag. ‘Why haven’t you found out who killed her?’
‘We’re doing our best, Peter. It’s a complicated case.’
He snorted. ‘Too many suspects to choose from?’
Kay narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Care to elaborate?’
‘Oh, come on – she fooled them all, didn’t she? The Hamiltons, and her own family. None of them had a clue about me.’ He raised the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply before blowing a smoke ring to one side. ‘So, you have to ask yourself – which one of them was more pissed off about it, and who else wanted to kill her?’
Kay folded her arms across her chest. ‘And I suppose you have a theory about which one of them is the murderer.’
‘It doesn’t matter if I have a theory, Detective. The question is – do you?’ He dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and squashed it under his foot.
‘I could fine you for that.’
‘Yeah, but you won’t. Mitigating circumstances.’
‘What?’
In response, he jutted his chin towards the church behind her.
The double doors had been opened wide, and the sound of the piped music from the church organ filtered through the opening, moments before Duncan appeared, his attention taken by the funeral director who began to lead the procession back to the hearse.
Kay turned back to Peter. ‘All right, go. Don’t turn up at the burial though, okay?’
His bottom lip quivered.
‘Peter, please. Visit her grave tomorrow, when it’s quieter.’
‘Okay.’
He turned and hurried away across the graveyard, weaving between the ancient stones, and then left through the lych-gate.
Kay made sure he kept walking down the lane where she assumed he’d parked his van, and then wandered back to the church and stood at a respectful distance as the congregation filed past.
Barnes joined her.
‘Where did you go?’
‘Peter Evans turned up.’
‘When?’
‘Halfway through the last hymn. I managed to get him out the door before anyone saw him.’
Barnes snorted. ‘Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone down well. What did he have to say for himself?’
‘He suggested there might be a number of people responsible for Sophie’s death.’
‘Not a great help.’ Barnes nudged her arm and pointed. ‘We need to make a move. Everyone else is heading off.’
They hurried back to the car, and Kay let Barnes take the keys from her.
Lost in thought, she clipped her seatbelt into place as he manoeuvred the vehicle out into the lane and began to follow the funeral procession towards the cemetery south of the town.
Peter’s words echoed in her mind.
Both Blake and Josh Hamilton had been cleared of any wrongdoing – for the moment. Unless new evidence came to light, it was unlikely that charges could be brought against either of them.
Kay rubbed at her right eye as she considered the other options.
Courtney Hamilton had made it clear that she hadn’t agreed with Josh marrying Sophie, but how far would she be prepared to go to stop an engagement going ahead? Was she desperate enough to kill?
As for Matthew and Diane Whittaker, the pair had seemed distraught – in fact, Kay wouldn’t have been surprised if Diane had been prescribed some sort of tranquilliser. The woman certainly seemed distant when Kay had spoken to her since the night of Sophie’s
