A Day in the Death of Dorothea Cassidy by Ann Cleeves Read Free Book Online Page B

shabby, much of it remaining from when his parents had moved to the house in the thirties. The Tanners had been respected in the town then, they had mixed on almost equal terms with the gentry who came to the grand shop in Front Street. He had been a child and his mother had sent him to elocution lessons, insisting that if he grew up with a ‘ common’ accent he would be no use to her in the shop. While his school friends went to the Sunday school in the Methodist chapel his mother took him to matins at St Mary’s. You get, she’d said, a better class of congregation there.
    Now Walter Tanner felt as old and shabby as the furniture. A small, dumpy man with thinning grey hair and a sad moustache, he was dressed in the same suit as he had always worn to the shop, before he retired and sold up. He was pleased he had changed from his slippers into black shoes. He felt vaguely that it would be disrespectful to mourn Dorothea in carpet slippers.
    ‘You won’t mind if I smoke,’ he said, stuttering over the last word. He felt in his trouser pocket and brought out a packet of cigarettes and a box of matches.
    ‘This has all been a terrible shock.’
    ‘Yes,’ Ramsay said. ‘ Of course. It must have been.’
    ‘When I saw the car, you see, I didn’t know she was dead. I thought she had called for a visit …’ His voice tailed off. He held the cigarette lightly between his fingertips as if to show them that he was not a regular smoker, as if it were almost medicinal.
    ‘Was it usual for Mrs Cassidy to visit you without prior arrangement?’ Ramsay asked.
    ‘Oh, Dorothea never made appointments to see me,’ he said. ‘She turned up out of the blue when she felt like it.’ He realised, too late, how bad-tempered that sounded and added: ‘It was always a pleasure to see her, of course. Always a great pleasure.’
    ‘What is your position at St Mary’s?’ Ramsay asked.
    ‘I’m church warden,’ the man said. ‘And secretary of the parochial church council.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Ramsay said, ‘I thought Major Walker was church warden.’
    ‘He is. There are two of us. It’s a lot of work, you know. More work than people realise. Major Walker lives out of the town and has a number of other commitments. They rely on me for day-to-day management.’
    He spoke with resentment and Ramsay thought it must be a long-standing grievance. The Major, confident and articulate, would attract the attention and have the power, while Walter Tanner did all the work.
    ‘Yes,’ Ramsay said slowly, ‘ I see, Mr Tanner. What exactly was the nature of your relationship with Mrs Cassidy?’ He found it impossible to imagine that Dorothea would have chosen to come to this gloomy house to speak to this nondescript little man. Tanner looked up sharply and inhaled frantically on the cigarette.
    ‘Relationship?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You say that Mrs Cassidy called to see you occasionally,’ Ramsay said. ‘Why did she do that?’
    To make my life a misery, Tanner wanted to answer, but he paused and considered.
    ‘She was young and enthusiastic,’ he said. ‘She had a lot of new ideas. I think she wore Edward out with them and then she would come to me.’
    ‘Did she expect you to help her?’
    ‘No,’ Tanner said. ‘Not in any practical way. I think she just wanted my blessing.’
    ‘Did she get it?’
    Tanner paused. He felt it impossible to explain to the policeman the ambiguity of his contact with Dorothea, his inability to stop her in full flow, his constant lack of courage and conviction in front of her.
    ‘No,’ he said at last, trying to sound firm. ‘I’m afraid I considered most of her schemes were unworkable and badly thought out. And she seemed to hold none of our traditions sacred.’
    ‘Was there antagonism between you about this?’ Ramsay asked. ‘Did she come here to make a fuss?’ He was still trying to discover what had drawn Dorothea to the man.
    ‘No,’ Tanner said. ‘Of course