‘I do too. Well fine, in that case maybe you could save me a slice of that pie and I’ll pop around tomorrow.’
Maggie’s face lit up; she was positively beaming. ‘Of course, I’d like that, and it will taste just as good tomorrow.’
‘Amazing, now if you lock up behind me, I’ll be even happier.’
Maggie followed her to the front door. ‘All of this sadness, yet deep down I feel a little bit lighter than I have since Ronnie died and I think it’s because you’ve been so kind to me, Morgan. You’re a lovely young woman, I hope you have someone who makes you as happy as Ronnie made me.’
She nodded. ‘I do, I’m very lucky, I met my best friend and soulmate a couple of years ago. Good evening, Maggie.’
The sound of the key turning in the lock once the door was closed made Morgan put her hands together in prayer and look up to the sky. ‘Thank you.’
The Riggs’ house was in darkness, no lights on, there were no cars on the drive either. She would have to come back to speak to Ava Rigg, but for now she’d go and visit Father Theo Edwards, to see if he could help her to figure things out.
TWENTY
Morgan parked the car outside of Saint Martha’s church and felt a crushing sadness inside of her chest, wondering if she would ever be able to disconnect this beautiful place of worship from Des’s battered, bleeding body. Probably not, that image wasn’t going to fade anytime soon and a part of her wished that she hadn’t ever gone inside to see him that way. She would have much preferred to remember him sloping off to his car with that bag of freshly baked scones.
Walking up to the gate, she could hear voices filtering out through the church door, which had been left ajar. The voices began to sing, and she smiled; choir practice. At that moment, the man she was looking for came out of the church, closing the door softly behind him.
‘Father, could I have a word?’
He looked across to the gate where she was leaning, and a look of concern crossed his face before he broke into a huge smile and beamed at her.
‘Detective, how nice to see you, of course you can.’
He walked across the gravel path, the tiny stones crunching underneath the Doc Marten boots that were peeping out from under his cassock.
‘I’d offer to take you inside the church but even in the vestry I wouldn’t be able to hear a word you said through that racket.’
He laughed, which set Morgan off.
‘Aren’t they your celestial angels singing?’
Theo leaned towards her and lowered his voice. ‘They’re definitely something, but celestial is not the word I would use. Come on, let’s go next door to the vicarage and grab a coffee; you look as if you could do with one.’
She hated how he seemed to read her; he was either a bit psychic or had a very good sense of people.
‘Coffee would be nice, thanks.’
They reached the red front door of the vicarage, he pushed it open, stepping inside, and Morgan followed him.
‘You don’t lock the door?’
‘Should I?’
‘I’d like to say no need, this is a lovely quiet place, but truthfully, I wouldn’t leave it open. Too much bad stuff happens around here for anyone to be able to live a simple, crime-free life. I’m afraid the freedom of living without locking up is long gone.’
He nodded. ‘I guess you’re right, I’d never have left it open in Birmingham. The place would have been burgled and ransacked before I’d finished the Lord’s Prayer. I will endeavour to remember to keep my windows and doors secure, Detective, whenever I pop across to the church.’ He saluted her, and her cheeks began to burn.
‘You’re being sarcastic?’
‘Maybe a little, tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee, please.’
The kitchen was still decorated in the awful sixties wallpaper from when she’d last been here. Theo had a new coffee machine and set about making her a much-needed cappuccino.
‘You haven’t heard how long you’re staying here then?’
