~ DEATH IS JUST THE BEGINNING ~
 JM Dragon

© 2003 by JM Dragon
Email: jmdragon@jmdragon.net

---

Love/Sex:..This story features strongly implied consensual relationship between adult women. If this bothers you, is illegal in the State, Province or Country you live or if you are  under the age of 18, find something else to read. There are loads of general stories out there.

Language:..Some strong language.

Violence:..Some violence in this story.

Hurt/Comfort:..There are scenes of heartache to be dealt with by the characters.

Dedication:..This story could have been my final one, but isn’t. Thank you to all those readers who offered genuine support and continue to read, not only my stories, but others too, we all appreciate your wonderful feedback. This story is simply for you.

Acknowlegement: My beta readers, Alice, Packer and Mel thank you as always, special thanks to T and Ephany for reading over the final draft as a double check.

Part Five

Charlie and Pru walked slowly towards the small café after they agreed that the pub wasn’t the place for a serious discussion. The Olde Tea Shoppe’ opened shortly after church and they had a good reputation for delicious coffee, flavoured teas, not to mention a decent selection of savouries and cakes.

Walking inside, the bell above the door tinkled making Pru smile. She’d forgotten what it was like here in the countryside, having spent the best part of the last ten years of her life holed up in London where smog and traffic were the order of the day. Except for her favourite haunt when she wasn’t working, Carnaby Street. It was alive with all the new fashions and the bright young things that came to the city hoping to become overnight sensations like the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Twiggy, along with the other talented people who made the headlines at the moment. She wondered what Charlie would make of the new scene in the big city if she lived there. Pru, having only been a young child when the country was war torn, relished the new wave that appeared to be storming Britain. Not so sure her parents did and she suspected Charlie wasn’t that keen either. However, it would be interesting to see her in the modern lifestyle.

Charlie pointed in the direction of a small table set for two beside the window just far enough away from the next table for them to have a private conversation. She’d been one of the few people in the village to support Marge Scott’s opening of a small teashop in the village and over time she’d been right to do so. Marge was doing really well. Tourists to the area stopped and some of them even remained in the village spending money in the other establishments because of the friendly approach inside the cafe.

“How are you today, Charlie?” Marge Scott, a cheerful woman with a ruddy complexion and an amiable demeanour, asked as she popped her head around the small kitchen to seek out her first customer of the day.

“I’m fine thank you, Marge, and yourself?” Having spent many an hour chatting with this woman about this and that over the last five years since Marge’s arrival in the village, they had become friends; not close friends, but certainly close enough to go to the odd movie together in the nearest town.

“Good. Did I tell you young Polly has finally taken that job in Birmingham? I’ll be on the look out for another waitress soon.” The woman grinned and popped her head back to her oven pulling out the scones before they burnt.

“No, but I’m glad for her. She’s a very clever woman and her father was being ridiculous to stop her taking the position.  I take it you had a hand in talking him around?”

“Well…yes. For someone of Alistair Bentley’s standing, he lives in the dark ages. Anyway, what can I get you? I recommend the scones today, fresh batch out of the oven as we speak? I have your favourite plum jam too, if you care to partake.”

Smiling warmly at her friend, Charlie wondered if she dared. Her Sunday lunch would be waiting for her when she arrived home and she did love her Sunday roast with all the trimmings. “Let me see what Pru wants first and I’ll let you know.” Leaving the counter and walking back to the detective who was staring out of the window; apparently pre-occupied with her own thoughts.

“What do you want to drink, Pru, and something to eat perhaps? I can recommend… everything here?” Smiling as she commented. It was true. Her friend was a great cook reminding her of her mother’s baking when she was young.

Pru pulled herself out of her reverie with a slow thoughtful glance at the sizeable woman. No contest…London would never be the place Charlie would remotely enjoy, therefore, there would be no chance of her ever going to live there and change her present lifestyle. “Everything?”

“Yes, Marge, who owns the place, is a personal friend of mine and I’ve tried all her wonderful concoctions.”

For a moment Pru was struck by a stab to her heart at the comment, once again wondering about what it was that called to her whenever Charlie was near. “I’m starving, I had to leave breakfast at short notice and it will be evening before I can have another meal at the pub. I’ll have anything for a hearty appetite. I’ll let you chose. Oh, and may I have a black coffee medium strength to wash it all down?”

Ten minutes later Polly, the young waitress she had been talking about with the proprietress, deposited two large mugs of coffee, a jug of cream and several tasty looking scones. They also received pastries of all descriptions, along with a pot of plum jam, onto their table, which Pru was sure creaked under the mouth-watering feast.

“Enjoy, ladies.” Polly smiled shyly and scurried away towards the table at the far side of the room where three more customers were seated.

“Wow, this looks great, Charlie, a feast fit for a queen,” laughing at the mountain of cakes that attracted her attention. One thing anyone who knew her remembered was she not only loved her food, but she had a sweet tooth as well. Who had told this woman, was she physic?

A chuckle escaped Charlie as she saw the detective’s eyes bulge at the display before her, “Don’t be shy tuck in.”

For the next fifteen minutes while quietly sipping coffee, Charlie watched the younger woman demolish all but two scones, which she had placed on her own plate, enjoying every minute of the spectacle. For one so thin you wouldn’t think she could handle all that food. However, a satisfied sigh went up over the table as Pru settled back rocking gently in her chair, having eaten all she could for the moment. Then she surveyed what she’d eaten and closed her eyes in embarrassment and disgust at herself.

“Oh God, Charlie, I’m sorry! I trenched through all the food. Did you get any? Let me go order something more for you please.”

Charlie grinned and shook her head, “No, I’m fine, I have a roast cooking at home. I really shouldn’t have indulged in what I did, but the temptation was too much. Marge knows my weakness for her scones and plum jam.”

“I’m greedily stuffed. My parents and brothers in particular say I never know when to stop, I’m sorry.” She said placing her hands over her tummy, which showed no evidence of bulging with the amount of food consumed, not as her own would have done.

Holding up her hand Charlie replied, “Don’t be sorry, it isn’t often I watch anyone enjoy food as much as you have. Marge will want you to become a resident of the village if you eat like that all the time.” Smiling to take the sting out of any suggestion that the comment held a barb, it didn’t. Charlie had experienced enough cruel jibes about her stature in the past to never inflict the same on another.

“I do love food and how did you know I have a sweet tooth?” Pru felt relaxed again and knew that it had been okay for the other woman. Some would have called her greedy or worse. Not this woman though, she seemed to understand and appreciate her love of good cooking.

“A little bird told me and I never snitch on my sources.” Laughing at the astonishment on the detective’s face she took pity on her, “not really, just a gut instinct.”

“Oh, I thought you’d had insider information on me, like my dad had called you or something.”

Laughing at the absurd thought Charlie pointed to the notebook beside Pru’s side plate, “Shall we go over what you think you’ve found out today?”

Pru scrambled to pick up the notes she’d made as relief flooded her at the change of subject. As she did so, Charlie ordered more coffee and the table was cleared of the empty plates.

“There was mention that a man by the name of White ran the garage before Ransome and that he didn’t return from the war. Under the circumstances, that was unfortunately a regular occurrence. Ransome carried on running the place after the war. However, no mention was ever made that he actually purchased the place from White’s estate. I also heard there were rumours of a secret about the man, but no one has ever found out what it is, though the police know and are keeping it under wraps for some reason.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the same. As you say, no one knows in the village to my knowledge anyway. Anything else?”

“The Vicar appears to be a straightforward enough person, a little dithery otherwise, your common or garden vicar type. Jenny Gilmore, the schoolteacher, was quiet, rather timid I thought for a teacher, she certainly wasn’t like any at my old tarter school mistress.”

Smiling at the description of Jenny, Charlie replied. “Jenny spent most of her energy keeping the school alive. When the local council wanted to shut it down, she managed to get the entire village backing her. During the war she did her bit, allowing refugees to sleep in the schoolhouse on their way to other parts of the country.”

“Ah, a do-gooder, that explains it. The person I wasn’t sure of was Alistair Bentley…” Stopping in mid sentence as Polly brought the coffee refills.

The young girl glared at the detective and the reference to a village member. Especially when the person talking about them was a stranger to the village, even if she was with Charlie.

“Thanks Polly, when do you leave for the new position?” Charlie saw the changing expression on the young girl’s face. She’d obviously heard Pru’s reference to Alistair.

Taken off guard, Polly glanced towards Charlie. She liked the woman, though she kept to herself. Marge said that if anyone took the opportunity to get to know her, they would find she was a fine upstanding person with wonderful qualities. “I didn’t think anyone knew yet. Dad said I was to keep it low key until I left.”

Charlie snorted softly at the remark; typical of her father to say that. In his eyes, sons were the only true commodities. Polly would prove him wrong. It was her time and the changes in the world would benefit her tremendously. “Marge told me today. I wish you luck, Polly, you deserve to succeed. Your mother would have been delighted.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” beaming at the reference to her dead mother. Her attention was then sought from the newcomers to the café.  Excusing herself, she walked over to serve them.

“Seems like a nice girl.” Pru picked up her coffee and sipped from the black as coal contents. Her eyes discreetly watching Charlie as she turned to give the young waitress a backward glance.

“Yes, she is.”

The detective heard a note in Charlie’s voice that caught her attention, had the villager fallen for a teenager? Surely not! It wasn’t her style, was it? Then again what did she know, barely scratching the surface of who Charise Bootle was. Though she would like to know more and that wasn’t just because of this case. It was becoming more and more personal as each hour spent in her company made her realise she’d have liked this woman as a friend, a best friend even.

“You like her?” Oh God, that was a stupid question. Prying and she’d promised not to do that.

“Like her? I’ve known her since she was born. She was a bright kid, even when she was a toddler learning to walk. I recall she was a natural on a horse just like her mother, not like her brothers who can’t hold their seat to save their lives. Though their father thinks they are perfect in everyway.” Her voice filled with memories and Pru heard the scathing inflection at the mention of the male species. Could that be because of her personal choices in life?

“He obviously has a hard time letting his daughter go out alone in the world, mine was the same.”

“You could say that. I’d say it’s more like he doesn’t want an unpaid housekeeper leaving. Since her mother died four years ago, Polly has been little more than a skivvy at home. I wonder how the poor kid ever managed to pass all the exams she did. I guess her mother’s perseverance was passed on.”

Although this conversation now appeared to have nothing to do with the case in hand, Pru was finding out more about the woman and that was good. It might help in the future; nothing was irrelevant in a case her dad would say. “You knew her mother well?”

“I worked for her and her husband. She was a wonderful horse handler, used to watch Fiona from the fields on my breaks.  When she died, the heart of the farm died with her. Her husband let the place go. At least now Polly can forge her own life and I think she’ll be better off without the family until she’s found her feet.”

“Sounds like she should cut free all together and never come back.”

“Oh, she’ll be back. Her family loves her and she loves them. Unfortunately times change and her father hasn’t changed with them. He lives in an age gone by, much as I do, I suppose, though in a different way.” The melancholy potent in the air attached itself to each woman as they contemplated the statement and what it actually meant to each one of them.

Breathing deeply Pru spoke, “Shall we get back to Bentley.”

A wry smile crossed Charlie’s face, “We never left him, and he’s Polly’s father!”

* * * * *

 
Milly paced, Violet pulled several animated faces. However, she resisted the temptation to ask again how they would contact the two earthbound women. The Custodian was being rather mysterious about the whole situation.

Although they differed in opinion on almost everything, Violet was with Packer on this one. It was frustration pushed to the outer limits. Had he no compassion for their predicament?

“Aren’t you going to ask me about a medium?” Confused at the two’s delay in referring to the tricky part of the puzzle.

Clearing her throat before she asked, Milly glanced at Violet. She didn’t want to have them both ask the same and argue again over who was right and wrong. The ex-spy shrugged her shoulders waiting for her to continue. If she asked the wrong question, nothing was more certain than Violet jumping in with her own brand of questioning.

“Yes, we were. Although I assumed you would just continue to clarify the situation. Exactly how do we find a medium?”

Smiling faintly, Violet thought that was a rather clever response from the often outspoken and direct Packer. “I’m with Packer on that one.”

A frown appeared over the brow of the Custodian. Perhaps he would create some mischief and not tell, let them guess. Where would be the harm in that and it would be wicked harmless fun for him at least.

“Well?”

Walking towards the two women he came as close as he could without actually transmuting inside their ectoplasm. “There is  an untried medium in the village, always risky with someone in the unaware stage. However, if you want to progress I see no alternative under the circumstances.”

“Who is it?”

“Will it hurt them mentally?” Violet was quick to respond to the possibility that another might end up scarred, as they were, though not as drastically. “Whoever it is can’t die, can they?”

“No, at least it is a rare occurrence.”

“It might happen though, is that correct?” Violet was not happy about this at all. They couldn’t endanger anyone else for their own gratification of the truth. Her troubled gaze rested upon Milly who registered a look of anticipation rather than any awareness of the possibility of hurt to another.

“Yes it might! As I indicated, rarely does it occur, a headache is all that usually transpires. Time is marching along, ladies, the choice is simple. We attempt this and settle the matter of your murders or we return as instructed by my superiors. Let me know, but please don’t take all day over it, I have other pressing engagements up there.”

Angrily, the Custodian stomped away around the bend of the church towards the door. He would hear what the women said even if they felt he wasn’t in earshot. The door was made of sturdy oak and the hinges were in a beautifully worked cast iron, he estimated made around two hundred years before, typical of its period. Placing a hand on the handle to allow him to open the massive beast before him, he felt a jolt akin to a lightening bolt pass through his body, jerking back in annoyed surprise. Ah, they hadn’t forgiven him quite yet. Evil had always been turned away at his master’s door when in the corporeal presence as a church was.

Violet shifted her attention primarily to Packer as the man stalked away. He was certainly acting differently to when they were ‘up there’. Circumstances she supposed. It wasn’t easy being back on earth in this form and at one time, she assumed, he had been a living entity as they had once been.

“Packer, this isn’t the way to go.”

“Why not? He’s confident all that will happen is a headache for whom ever. I’d take those odds, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t…well, unless I knew what was going to happen and agreed to all the possibilities. We can’t endanger anyone else, Packer, don’t you see that! Be the intelligent woman you once were and think beyond your own selfish desires!”

“Selfish desires? This is about us, not me or you, we need the answers or we will never complete the journey.”

“We can accept that, we are dead and gone to those living and go back to start a new life or whatever they allow us up there. I can’t have it on my conscious, be it a headache or death, simple as that. If you want to go along with him then do so, that’s your personal choice. I’ll wait for you here or he can send me back alone.”

Spinning on her heels Violet left a stunned Milly to assimilate the solemn words from the smaller woman. Who, was now speeding away towards the hedgerow and the field that would lead her towards the now old familiar landmark, the oak tree that had been the innocent instrument of their deaths.

What should she do now? Her mind wouldn’t rest until she knew what had happened to her. It was eating away inside her like a maggot. There was a wonderful opportunity for them, with the Custodians help, to achieve the goal quickly and everyone would be happy…except for Violet. However, in the big picture, did it matter how she felt. The woman thought her selfish anyway. Why not be exactly what she thinks and end that particular doubt. Milly placed her hands as if in prayer over her nose and mouth, closing her eyes while absorbing all the facts and thankfully there were blessed few. The Custodian wouldn’t tell them lies, he was a messenger from above. It certainly didn’t feel like they’d entered Hell when they were bickering up there, he had to tell the truth…or did he?

Her thoughts strayed to the situation, cringing at the thought. It wasn’t possible was it? She hadn’t been that bad in her life had she? Yes, people had, in the past, intimated that because of her choices, she might go to Hell and she had scoffed in disdain at their ignorance. Could it have happened? Then there were her other transgressions, but surely… What about Violet, had she ever done anything wrong in her life to warrant going to Hell? She’d muttered something about expecting to see her parents when she’d died that hadn’t transpired…maybe all was not what it appeared to be up there!

“Violet, did you ever make any major mistakes before you died?” Milly shouted well above her normal volume to reach the other woman, hopefully not within earshot of the Custodian, who had disappeared for the moment.

Hearing the desperate tone in the question, Violet listened to the stupid question, the content of which she could have expected from Packer. The woman appeared to be in a permanent state of shock as far as she was concerned. “Other than being a fool and picking you up at the rail station that day, no!”

“I’m serious Violet, have you ever done anything remotely evil?” this time the Custodian, who had been concentrating on trying to find a way inside the sanctity of the church, swivelled his head in surprise at the question. Did the Millicent woman know something about him…no, impossible! His deeds were centuries old and little more than a mention in the criminal history books.

“No! Why do you ask?” Perched on top of the fence. She didn’t know whether to leave as planned or stay; therefore she remained precariously resting in the centre.

“This is going to sound stupid but I wondered if instead of up there being good, it might actually be bad.”

“Arghhhh!”

A loud crash accompanied the wailing sound as Violet fell unceremoniously off the hedge landing on her rear back in the churchyard grounds.

Running across to help the woman up, Milly gave her a sheepish smile, “Didn’t expect you to take the question quite in that manner, do I take it you think I’m wrong.”

“Wrong! Wrong, ask him, not me!” Violet spluttered out as she rubbed the sensitive part of her bruised anatomy shaking off Packer’s attempt to help her up.

Milly looked towards the direction of the pointing finger. The man was approaching a blank expression on his face, had he heard or was he merely coming back for their answer?

“I think it might be.” Milly lowered her voice so that only Violet could hear clearly.

“You’re a demented soul, Packer, it’s time to leave if you want my opinion. Ask yourself one thing, did you ever do anything evil in your life?”

“Not directly… perhaps.”

Before she had time to quiz the taller woman about her perhaps, the Custodian approached them and gave them a nod. “Are you ready to answer my question?”

Violet was, she wasn’t sure of Packer and waited until the other decided to answer, after all her decision was final.

“I want answers,” Violet shut her eyes. Something inside her had thought that Packer would see sense and not pursue this situation. How wrong can you be about someone and a piece of her heart felt sorrowful for the willowy woman. “However, Violet and I will get them another way. We can’t jeopardise an innocent party, that isn’t why we are here.” The words buzzed in Violet’s head, had she heard correctly?

Flashing her lashes like the shutter of a camera lens her voice squeaked out, “Yes, we will.”

“So be it. How do you expect to contact your friends in the limited time I have to offer you?” Amazed again at their apparent agreement, it had certainly looked like a different scenario a few minutes earlier.

“How limited?” Violet shrugged off the uncertainty and incredible relief at Packer’s reply and asked the second most important question.

“Until the dawn breaks tomorrow, you will understand when you return to the way-station.” The Custodian was surprised at the stance they had taken. He knew that without his help they would have very little hope of achieving their goal in the time allowed.

“Okay, we can do that, right, Packer?”

This woman constantly surprised her with every action she made, one moment she was leaving, the next she was right beside her ready to go forward. And she calls me demented. We must have both been hit on the head too often.

“Yes, right. One more thing, who is the person that knows or is involved in our deaths?” The brilliant smile shot at her from Violet made her glow inside and she thawed a little more to the ex-spy.

A thoughtful look came over the bland features of the man and then he muttered virtually inaudibly a name.

Gulping back her surprise Milly asked again, “Would you repeat that, please? I’m not sure I heard correctly?”

“Jenny Gilmore. I believe she’s a schoolmarm here in the village.”

The shock on both the women’s faces made the Custodian laugh. Wasn’t it the truth, it was always the ones you least expect. With laughter travelling behind him the Custodian left abruptly leaving them alone in the churchyard with only a name to go on and precious little time to act upon it, if they knew how to do that and he doubted it very much.

“Well…don’t know about you but I find that hard to believe. What did you say about us ending up in Hell? I take it you meant Hell when you asked me that question earlier.”

“Yes, yes I did. This is ludicrous, Jenny Gilmore wouldn’t have had any reason to kill us, would she?” Milly turned a sharp glance towards Violet. Perhaps there had been friction between the two in the village…it was a possibility.

Holding up her arms to ward of the dagger glances she was receiving from icicle-laced eyes, Violet responded likewise, “I never met the woman, would she have a reason to kill you?”

“Don’t be so totally ridiculous! Anyway, how did she know I’d be in your vehicle that night?”

Rubbing her hand across her lips plucking at them in concentration, “you know, Packer, everything about this case appears random and that’s how we’ve viewed it. What if the planning was so meticulous it was made to look random.”

Silence met the observation until Milly finally spoke, “I’ll go with that train of thought. However, the real key to the answer is why. What did either of us do or say to warrant such a drastic and dastardly plan of action?”

“I’ll be honest with you if you will do the same. You’ve already admitted that you may have done something that might be considered evil to someone.”

Choking on the words for a few moments before finally committing herself to this fanciful line of question. “How far back do you want to explore?”

Chuckling at the expression. How so Packerfied it was! The woman knew how to make her laugh; she should have made a profession of it. “I’d say probably the war years to start. We each had ‘sensitive’ roles. Perhaps that will shed light on the situation.”

“Okay…you go first.”

“What? Oh, all right. Ever the doubter, Packer. Right, well I was involved in five missions, as we called them. The first in Belgium before it fell to the enemy….”