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The Magus of Hay(129)

By:Phil Rickman


‘Or,’ Merrily said, ‘if he was on foot in the first place…’

‘Someone local,’ Claudia said.

Bliss shrugged.



‘Can we get out of here now, Francis?’

‘Not quite yet.’

‘I need to go home tonight.’

‘Just be glad you can.’

Bliss was still standing behind Tamsin’s body. He had his torch out, directing the beam down to where her hair had fallen forward.

‘I won’t ask you to examine this, but her head’s been mutilated.’ Bliss turned to Merrily. ‘Remember the photograph you came across in Rector’s library?’

‘Like I’d forget?’

‘Hard to be sure, but two cuts…’ He was looking down into the circle of light. ‘Two deep cuts on Tamsin’s head… crossing over.’

‘Dear God.’

‘Claudia… thoughts. What are your thoughts?’

‘I’m thinking I just want to see my childre— All right, I’ll— There’s a dark… what I can only describe as a dark symmetry… to the removal of a power-object and its replacement by a dead body.’

‘So we’re looking at somebody who knows this stuff?’

‘I think that’s the most likely explanation.’

‘And what might he do next?’ Bliss said.

Merrily saw the woman’s shaven head in a grainy photocopy, the message beneath.

What will you do now?

Outside they stripped off their Durex suits, gave them back to Bliss who stowed them in the boot of his Honda.

He’d inspected the temple in case they’d left anything behind, switched out the lights, sealing the crime scene like some chamber at the bottom of a pyramid in the desert. The hatch had been replaced, the bales of straw moved back.

‘We drive out of here at a normal night speed. One of you leave about half a minute after the other. Drive into Hay and we’ll meet on the car park, down by the recycling bins. Go.’



Claudia nodded, went to her car. Merrily turned bitterly towards Bliss.

‘Why did you do that? Why did you keep us in there? What the hell was the point? As if it wasn’t bad enough.’

‘Needed answers. Before the shock-factor set in.’

His voice muffled because he was bent over, hands on his knees, shaking. As he came up, his face was lit briefly by the lights of Claudia’s car and his eyes were hot and pooled.

‘Just leave me alone, eh, Merrily.’

She nodded.

As she drove between the broken gateposts, hands cold on the wheel, there was one narrow, pale strip over Hay, like the light under a closed door.





59

Poltergeists


THEY WALKED AWAY from the cars, stood near the bottom of the Oxford Road car park, amongst the moonlit bins: glass, plastic, cardboard, garden waste. No more than twenty cars on here and four were police.

‘What a friggin’ awful mess,’ Bliss said. ‘For everybody.’

Car-hiss on Oxford Road. Otherwise silence. Merrily felt the sweat forming like cold dew on her forehead.

‘You have to tell them, don’t you? Now.’

Bliss stared at the foothills of the Black Mountains, embossed on the pale night sky.

‘Claudia and me, we’d rather someone else made the discovery. I’ve been trying to think about how that’s achievable. If it is.’

‘Think about Tamsin’s family. Sitting there, drinking too much tea, waiting for the phone to ring. Reassuring each other over and over. Telling them now isn’t going to shorten the suffering, but it’ll at least end the crippling anxiety.’

Bliss turned to Claudia.

‘You go home, eh?’

‘No.’ Claudia backed away. ‘You’re not going to be able to keep me out of this. I told you and I told Merrily that I’d rather my private interests didn’t become public knowledge, but… after seeing what we all saw… that doesn’t matter. Think about it.’

‘What I’m thinking about is you spending several long days beating your head against a wall trying to initiate acting-DCI Iain Brent, PhD into stuff he thinks wouldn’t motivate even the most irrational killer. You know how this goes.’

‘Yes, I do. And I’m a barrister. I can handle it.’

Merrily’s phone chimed. She moved out into the car park.

‘Merrily.’

‘Gwyn Jones, Merrily. Where are you?’

‘Back in Hay.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m all right.’

‘Francis Bliss… is he with you, now?’

‘Not far away.’

‘All right, listen to me, Merrily. Can you ask him to meet me? Just him, nobody else. Next shop along from the Thorogoods. Mr Kapoor’s cricket shop.’