TEN
Perhaps wisely, Rundle made no further comment on the subject and went off after sourly telling the landlord that the cleaning team may as well continue as any damage had already been done. We also left the premises and, Patrick already having decided to walk to where we had left the car, set off, Rundle possibly having forgotten that he had given us a lift there.
‘It doesn’t look as though there’s much choice of routes from here to Pangborne’s place unless you deliberately went a roundabout way,’ I said, tucking my arm through Patrick’s. ‘And you probably weren’t in any state to find your way through back alleys.’
‘I’m sorry I nearly lost it back there,’ Patrick said, giving my arm a squeeze.
‘I meant what I said when I spoke of chemistry,’ I told him. ‘It’ll take a bit longer for you to fully get over this.’ I glanced at him quickly. ‘Are you really going after Hulton?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Your consultant here is really freaking out over it. I honestly don’t think you’re yet fit enough to go after someone like that – never mind what those in charge are saying.’
‘He’s only a stupid grown-up yob who’s been sheltering in the organization of a clever woman.’
I didn’t have an answer to that right then.
It had started to rain again and I put up the hood of my coat. In the distance could be seen the pall of black smoke from the fire as it rose above the rooftops. Traffic was light.
‘None of this means anything to me,’ Patrick said, looking around when we were probably halfway there. ‘All I can remember is a breeze on my face and just roads and buildings.’
‘Hardly surprising as it all looks very much the same,’ I replied.
‘There’s something else you ought to know that I haven’t mentioned before and didn’t want to tell Rundle about.’
‘What?’
‘All through that morning I was hallucinating. It’s very difficult for me to pick out what’s real. I have to keep censoring out all the impossible bits.’
‘Like people with two heads and fire-breathing double-decker buses, you mean?’
‘Fantastic colours, feeling as though I was flying, everything distorted like looking through a special effects camera lens, seeing people who couldn’t possibly have been there.’
‘Like who, for example?’
‘Mum and Dad riding bikes and, somewhere or the other, the Queen taking some corgis for a walk.’ He added, giving me a grin, ‘She stopped to tell me what a splendid job I was doing.’
‘She’s always been a fan of yours.’
This was not entirely make-believe on my part. During his service days there had been several commands to assist at investitures, because, it was breathed, she found him amusing. Her Majesty, one gathered, was another born mimic.
We walked on in silence and, a few minutes’ later, reached the car.
‘At least we now know why you came back to this house,’ I said.
‘But we still don’t know if I’m a mass murderer or not,’ Patrick answered before grimly falling silent.
We had just booked into an hotel in central London – we needed time to plan our next move – when Patrick’s mobile rang. I gathered from hearing half a conversation that it was Michael Greenway and that he wanted to take us out to dinner that night.
‘He said he’d be in the Dover Street wine bar at seven thirty,’ Patrick reported.
‘How did he know we were in London?’
‘Apparently he rang home as we’d switched off our mobiles while we were at the murder scene this morning because we didn’t want any interruptions and Carrie told him.’
‘What’s it all about?’
‘Probably to soften me up before giving me the guilty verdict.’
But he was wrong because Greenway’s first words to us were, ‘Let’s be quite clear on one thing; as far as I’m concerned you’re still working for me until I hear otherwise. My priority – and bugger the Met – is to get hold of Hulton. He’s the key to this, whether he’s guilty of murder or not. What would you like to drink before I fill you in on the latest?’
I wondered if the tone of this opening meant he was about to engage with us in a council of war but it appeared that the Commander was reckoning this to be mostly an evening off and had every intention of enjoying himself.
‘So what is the latest?’ Patrick prompted him, in receipt of his second whisky double.
‘He hasn’t left the country,’ Greenway said. ‘There’s been a sighting of him here in London.’
‘By a member of the team that you initially assured me did all the groundwork before Patrick went in to the Pangborne gang?’ I enquired. ‘Those who were the basis for your statement that he wasn’t going in alone? The same ones who mysteriously disappeared while all the action was taking place so witnessed bugger all?’
For the first time I got the impression that Greenway was genuinely angry with me.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said stiffly.
‘What was it like then?’ I persevered. ‘Other than a monumental cock-up?’
After a somewhat overwrought silence the Commander said, ‘There was round-the-clock surveillance – by the Met – from a house nearby but as you know the Pangborne place faces a park so observation from a house opposite was impossible. They were a little farther down the street on the other side. I was liaising with the officer in charge, a bloke called Rundle, and for some reason that has not been subsequently explained there was a mess up with the rota. Only one person was on duty that night and he had a bad attack of the trots. No one turned up at six that morning to take over from him, by which time he was obviously suffering from food poisoning and subsequently admitted to hospital. I don’t think there were any suspicious circumstances in all this.’
‘So who’s seen Hulton?’ I said.
‘One of Rundle’s team who’s routinely working undercover in a nightclub in Acton much frequented by people who ought to be helping us with enquiries but aren’t. You must appreciate that he couldn’t simply order in a raid – he had his own cover to think about. Hulton was tailed to Chiswick by someone else but lost when he dived down into a tube station.’
Patrick said, ‘We met Rundle today. Following your permission Ingrid and I went to the murder scene to see if it helped me remember anything. There was not much of a result but I did at least remember Hulton – or someone I thought was him – telling me he was going to sell Leanne to a paedophile ring. It must have been why I went back to the house.’
‘He wouldn’t have baulked at shooting the poor child then,’ he commented quietly.
‘I told Rundle I was going after him myself.’
‘Well, you aren’t,’ the SOCA man replied smoothly after a sip of whisky.
‘That’s what Rundle said.’
‘Leave Hulton to me. He may well have told you that to ensure you went back to the house and had it all tidily planned so that you would end up as number one suspect for the killings. OK, suppose you do go after him. He might have oppos whose orders are to start shooting when you arrive on the scene. You end up in the frame for injuries to innocent parties as well as all the others as he’ll be prepared to swear under oath that he saw you kill them. It’s too risky.’
‘He’s too fond of his own skin to make plans that would involve his being in any kind of shoot-out and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any sidekicks,’ Patrick argued. ‘Believe me, I’ve spoken with him. The only plans he ever makes involve what he’s going to eat for his next meal and when he might get blind drunk and enjoy killing someone.’
‘So do I have to lock you up somewhere to stop you disobeying orders?’
‘He would,’ I said to Patrick.
‘I’m sorry, Patrick,’ Greenway said after an awkward silence. ‘But you aren’t working for MI5 now. Everything is more accountable.’
There was another pause that was broken by Patrick’s mobile ringing. He apologized and left the bar to answer it.
‘That man is still not well,’ Greenway said in an undertone. ‘I don’t like his colour and I’m worried about his mental state. I wonder if the tests the clinic carried out did pick up everything he was dosed with. Mixtures of drugs have to be horribly toxic.’
‘I don’t want him to go after Hulton either,’ I said. ‘Although – and I think you should take this on board – I think time will prove him correct with his summing up of this character.’
‘Can you stop him?’
‘No. He promised Katie he’d clear his name. That means everything to him, keeping the promise.’
‘So what do I do, Ingrid?’
I looked Greenway right in the eye. ‘You might have to lock him up.’
‘It would have to be a safe house. But surely someone who’s served in special services would find it quite easy to break out of a place like that, even if I put people armed with Tasers on the door.’
‘Yes, you’d either have to chain him up or rely on his cooperation.’
‘Are you saying, in effect, that there’s no easy answer?’
‘There never is with Patrick. I think though that if you closely involve him in your plan to get hold of Hulton, telling him it’s initially in an advisory capacity, you’d get that cooperation.’
At this point Patrick returned and I could tell from his expression that all was not well.
‘That was Elspeth,’ he said. ‘There’s been a break-in at the church and people have held some kind of pagan or black magic ceremony. They did a lot of damage and Dad’s suffering from shock and none too well.’
‘What, last night?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why on earth didn’t she ring you earlier?’
‘She didn’t like to bother us at work.’ Patrick sat down suddenly. ‘God, I’m staggered that people could do such a thing.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I told her that one or both of us, you probably, would drive down as soon as possible.’
‘You both go,’ Greenway said. ‘And Patrick: I’ve decided on my next move. I’ll get my team together and we’ll provisionally map out how we’re going to get hold of Hulton. I want you closely involved, initially in an advisory capacity. When you’ve sorted out the trouble at home get straight back here and we’ll trot past you what we’re thinking of doing. This is on the strict understanding that nobody’s going off to try to grab Hulton on their own. If anyone’s going to get killed as a result of grabbing this bastard it’s going to be him. Agreed?’
After hesitating fractionally, Patrick nodded and said, ‘Agreed.’
I almost fainted with relief.
We arrived at Hinton Littlemoor at almost midnight having phoned Elspeth on the way. She was adamant that although it was late it would do John good if we could call in briefly before we went home.
I hardly noticed at the time, merely registering a certain spaciousness outside the rectory, and only realized later that all the skips, piles of building materials and rubbish outside my new home had gone. I parked the Range Rover – having done all the driving as Patrick was exhausted as well as having had a couple of whiskies – and we let ourselves in through the front door. That of the annex was ajar, Elspeth having obviously heard our arrival.
‘I’m sure you’re hungry,’ was her opening, and characteristic remark, after returning our hugs.
‘We’re both absolutely famished,’ Patrick assured her. Dinner with Greenway had had to be abandoned.
‘Good, I’ll find you something to eat.’
I held back. Sometimes even a wife can be an intruder in her husband’s family but Patrick motioned to me to accompany him as he went to see his father.
John was in bed.
‘You’ve been thundering from the pulpit again,’ Patrick said to him after I’d kissed him and Patrick had grasped both his hands, which I noticed shook a little.
‘Not really, I was asked to take a midweek morning service at Southdown St Peter and mentioned my worries. Your mother shouldn’t have dragged you all this way,’ said the priest. He looked pale.
‘She didn’t,’ his son replied. ‘We came as soon as we heard.’
‘You did warn me to be careful.’
‘Does James Carrick know?’
‘Yes, I rang him as soon as I discovered what had happened this morning and he came straight over. There’s been some kind of crime team in the church all day – Carrick’s wondering if there’s a connection with Blanche’s murder.’ He fell silent for a few moments and then said, ‘I know you’ll think I’m giving up in cowardly fashion but I don’t think I can take any more of this.’
‘There’s no reason why you should be expected to,’ was the calm reply.
His father looked a bit disconcerted. ‘Oh! I was expecting you to give me a bracing rallying the troops kind of talking-to.’
‘That would be downright impertinent of me.’
‘Patrick, they not only killed what appears to have been some kind of bird up by the altar but smashed up part of the pulpit,’ John told him in some distress.
‘It’s only held together by the woodworm holding hands – and a fine example of late Victorian hideousness.’
‘And took what seems to have been an axe to the altar rails.’
‘Ditto.’
‘Most of the kneelers were piled up and had drink of some kind poured all over them.’
‘That’s actually a waste of good booze as most of them are full of the moth and were probably made by village ladies during the Boer War.’
After a short pause John said, ‘So I’ve been presiding over relics, some kind of junk shop?’
‘Neatly put, yes.’
‘You think then that a big turnout was long overdue anyway and an appeal would be in order to raise money to replace these things?’
‘Absolutely. And there’s the woodcarver, Stewart Macdonald, who lives at the old smithy. You could ask him to cast his gaze over what’s needed.’ Patrick got up from where he had been sitting on the end of the bed and then said, ‘I’m puzzled that you didn’t hear this all going on. It must have made quite a racket.’
‘We weren’t at home. We stayed the night with our friends the Makepeaces. It was their thirtieth wedding anniversary and they had a party.’
‘Who knew you wouldn’t be here?’
‘Any number of people as it meant I couldn’t attend a committee meeting and a rehearsal for the Hinton Littlemoor Players latest production.’
‘You’re in a play?’ I said.
‘No, I do the lighting.’
Patrick smiled. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to be any good with tools.’
‘Not with household fixing tools I’m not,’ replied John with a tilt to his chin. ‘You know, hammers and saws, that kind of thing. Carpentry. Putting up shelves. Quite useless.’
‘So’s Patrick.’ I commented.
‘Have a good night’s sleep, Dad, and we’ll talk about it in the morning,’ Patrick said. On his way out, head around the door, he added, ‘I meant what I said, I’ll find these people.’
‘It would be unrealistic to expect James Carrick to share with you any evidence they may have turned up,’ I said over breakfast, or at least during a snatched coffee and slice of toast, after too few hours’ sleep.
‘You’re probably right,’ Patrick replied. ‘But I shall go off to the nick, or wherever he is, and have a go at him anyway.’
‘Suppose you let me do it: he might be more forthcoming.’
Patrick gave me a look, or rather, A LOOK.
‘I don’t mean because he fancies me, silly, just that I’m a woman and he rather resents being pressured by other blokes,’ I countered resentfully. ‘You know that.’
‘Sorry, but after what’s happened I’m not in the mood to pander to other people’s hang-ups.’
He moved to leave the room, slowly as though very tired, I was alarmed to see, without asking if I would like to go along.
‘You told your father you’d have a chat with him this morning,’ I reminded his rigid shoulders.
‘He’s still asleep. I’ll talk to him later.’
‘Evidence,’ I muttered to thin air a few moments later, gazing through the rain-streaked window. ‘Who needs evidence when you can go and find yourself some likely suspects?’ Like the woman nicknamed Morticia, for example.
And, hey, nobody had said this particular consultant was off any cases.
I had, during my meeting with Michael Greenway just before Mark was born, asked him for a SOCA ID card of my own on the very good grounds that I do, sometimes, interview people when Patrick is not present. Greenway had agreed immediately, no doubt feeling it was the least he could do having stonewalled all my other concerns about Patrick being involved in the Pangborne case. Which had, I thought, savagely ramming the piece of laminated card with my photograph on it that had arrived, belatedly, through the post that morning, into my pocket, subsequently been proved more than justified.
Half an hour later Barbara Blanche, sans minder, peered at it dubiously. ‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’ she said. ‘With that man, Patrick somebody-or-the-other who looks as though he’s never smiled in his life. He gave me the creeps.’
‘It’s deliberate,’ I told her briskly. ‘So people aren’t tempted to tell him a load of old cobblers.’
‘You’re not a normal sort of police person either, are you?’ she said accusingly.
‘No, and Patrick’s my husband. I’ve come to ask you a few questions about the break-in at the church the night before last. Understandably, the rector’s very upset. And, just to set the record straight, he’s my father-in-law.’
‘What on earth do you think I can tell you about break-ins?’ she enquired shrilly.
‘May I come in?’ I asked.
Slowly, she stood aside to allow me to enter.
‘I’m not here to waste anyone’s time,’ I told her when we were both standing in the living room. ‘What I need to know is whether your husband had, unwittingly or otherwise, upset anyone involved with a black magic circle.’
‘Of course not!’
‘I demand a thoughtful and honest answer,’ I went on. ‘He’d angered people with his interfering in just about every other organization in Hinton Littlemoor, frankly, in the A to Z of the whole social structure of the village. It’s quite possible that people, even churchgoers, who belong to some of the more open and inclusive local clubs and groups are involved with a secret and possibly closed one that we know exists. Please think.’
She was shaking her head even before I had stopped speaking.
‘All right, then,’ I said. ‘You.’
‘Me!’
‘You’re the one who freaked out when asked about meetings at houses on the estate in the bottom end of the village. You’re the one who everyone refers to as Morticia because you reckon you can predict when people are going to die. What’s that all about then? Crystal balls, tea leaves, tarot cards?’
The woman stared at me like a rabbit caught in car headlights.
‘It’s . . . it’s just a feeling I get,’ she finally stammered. ‘A bit of fun really.’
‘Fun!’
‘Well, I mean . . . whoever it is might be really old . . . and ill, sort of thing and I say, well . . . they’re next.’
‘Where? At Mothers’ Union meetings?’ I asked sarcastically.
‘No, no. At . . . er . . . the get-togethers we have at Marge’s house down at . . .’
‘Down at a house at the bottom of the village,’ I finished for her when she stopped speaking.
‘It’s only fortune-telling and palm reading and lots of chat,’ Barbara Blanche continued almost eagerly. ‘And a glass of wine. I’m afraid we love our wine. Melvyn wouldn’t have approved. He was rather a straight-laced man. So I never told him. I just said I was going off to another keep-fit session.’
‘I simply can’t believe that you and your friends didn’t discuss what went on at the piece of open ground close by.’
She sat in an arm chair and I followed suit.
‘It’s best not to talk about it,’ she said in a whisper. ‘People who do are warned off.’
‘Who’s involved in it though, who? You must have some idea.’
Staring miserably at the floor she said, ‘I daren’t say a word. I told Melvyn what I’d heard, although I thought it was no more than spiteful gossip at the time, and look what happened. Then the rector was knocked about and now this break-in. No. Please go away.’
‘It may well have been gossip without a word of truth in it and the rest is pure coincidence,’ I pointed out.
‘Oh, no. Since then I’ve found out that . . .’
‘What?’ I prompted.
‘No, I can’t say. I can’t really believe it myself.’
‘I could ask Patrick to talk to you.’
She looked up. ‘Is that it? The big threat?’
‘I’m not threatening you. It just that he’s good at—’
‘Terrorizing people,’ she butted in with. ‘I’m sure he is! No, go away! The damage might have been done already. They might be watching me. Go! Now!’
I had actually been about to say that Patrick was good at putting people’s minds at rest, as demonstrated the previous night with his father. As it was I had no choice but to leave.