Читать книгу Murder in the Graveyard - Don Hale - Страница 19

I heard the clock strike noon and I stopped clipping grass and took out the pocket watch I had borrowed from my father. I gathered my tools and returned to the unconsecrated chapel where I had my lunch and a cup of coffee. I followed this with a cigarette and reluctantly pulled myself away from the fire’s inviting warmth to tinker with an old Allen mower. I took out my father’s pocket watch again and saw that it was about 12.55 p.m. I then lit another cigarette and went to smoke it standing by the steps to the right of the unconsecrated chapel. I noticed a woman walking up the path towards the junior school. I had never seen her before, so I continued to watch her until she went behind the hedge surrounding the Garden of Remembrance. There had been some damage caused to some of the graves, nothing too serious, just childish vandalism, so I was asked to look out for any such behaviour. By the time she passed behind the hedge I had finished my cigarette and, realising she would not be the kind of person to do any damage, I went back inside the chapel where I stoked up the fire. I then put on my jacket and picked up my lemonade bottle with the hope of getting to the shops before they closed for lunch. By the time I left the unconsecrated chapel it would be about 1.05. The shop I was heading for normally closed at 1 p.m., but had on occasions been known to stay open for a few minutes longer if they had customers in already being served. As I walked along the main drive I soon noticed that the woman, who I later learnt was Wendy Sewell, was walking along the bottom footpath that runs alongside Catcliff Wood. She was a little way ahead of me and seemed to be in no rush. She appeared to be looking from side to side at the inscriptions on the headstones. I estimate that it would have taken around two to three minutes to cover the length of the path, with the woman disappearing behind the consecrated chapel moments before I drew level with the building. As I went past she did not continue on her journey and I naturally assumed that she had turned around to retrace her steps. I didn’t turn around to look. When I came level with the lodge I saw Wilf Walker and his wife at the door. I don’t think his wife acknowledged me, but Wilf and I nodded to each other. I turned left outside the gates and passed Peter Moran crossing the road on his way back to work. We both said hello to each other without stopping. As I got nearer to the shop I passed Charlie Carman, also on his way back to work. We both greeted each other and again neither of us stopped. Moments later, I realised the shop had already closed so I went home.