The Magus of Hay(147)

Taking a chance here. If someone had seen him at Cusop.

But then, if that had been the case, when he’d walked in an hour or so ago, in search of someone reliable, Vaynor would’ve casually asked him to stay in the building, instead of following him out.

‘I didn’t have you called because,’ Brent said, ‘I need fit men. And you’re a sick man, Francis. On more than one level, I suspect. Who’s this suspect supposed to have assaulted?’

‘A bookseller. Robin Thorogood.’

‘You’re adding insult to injury, Bliss.’

‘You gorra suspect yet? For Tamsin?’

‘Get this man bailed and go home. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Might help you,’ Bliss said reluctantly, ‘if you talked to me now.’

Brent just turned away. Rich Ford had come in, was activating computers and his small staff, soon to be expanded.

‘Conference in half an hour,’ Brent told Rich.

‘You know what, Iain,’ Bliss said conversationally, so Rich could hear and Darth Vaynor and a couple of Dyfed-Powys fellers. ‘You’re a really shite detective. Did I ever tell you that?’

Brent didn’t turn round but you could see some action in his shoulders.

Shoot out. Sunday morning now. By the end of the week, one of them wouldn’t be working here any more.

‘Oh, and a twat,’ Bliss said. ‘But that goes without saying.’





67

Crystal tulip


A VEHICLE TURNED into the track leading to the river, and then there were shouts.

Police. Had to be. And they were coming down.

And she hadn’t even started praying yet.

Gwenda was saying, ‘What’ve you got under there, darling?’

With the moon-white, self-assured, patronizing smile that said I know everything, I hear everything, I’ve done everything.

Then a door slammed and the voices stopped, and a vehicle accelerated away, and, at the same time, Merrily heard the whine of the vehicle reversing out of the track.

Two different vehicles and the one coming down here had obviously taken a wrong turning, and all the voices had been from the top road

No police. How deceptive sounds could be, especially in darkness, when vision was restricted.

Merrily said, ‘What do you think I’ve got here?’

Sweating again. Always a giveaway, and you couldn’t hold it back.

They were standing facing one another, just above the river’s beach. Merrily began edging up the grass to where Mrs Villiers sat in shadow, up on the bank of the Dulas Brook.

Gwenda pointed at Merrily’s chest.

‘Unzip.’

‘What?’

‘When I say I know everything, I mean I like to know everything. And I don’t know what that is.’



‘Oh…’

Warm night. Merrily pulled down the zip of the black hoodie and took it off, hanging it over her right arm. Exposing to the moonlight her white T-shirt and the cross. Compliance.

Gwenda bent and fingered the cross.

‘You really are a priest?’ She stood back, hands on ample hips. ‘What the fuck is a priest doing here following bloody Gwyn around? You do know he’s completely addled?’

‘Is he?’

‘Something this town does to people, I’m afraid.’

‘Erm… how’s it do that to people?’

‘When you get a large number of mad people in one place…’ Gwenda doing it in baby-talk ‘… it inevitably affects the rest.’

She laughed. They were right about the laugh. It really hadn’t changed very much. It was a laugh that squeezed itself out of captivity and then bounded away, taking you with it, making you want to rather like her.

‘And you’re too inquisitive,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Always difficult to put on an act when you were facing a direct confrontation. Even from someone you knew was covering up something abhorrent, something hideous.

So don’t put on an act.

‘OK,’ Merrily said. ‘There’s a shop. In Back Fold. The Thorogoods’ shop?’

‘Where they found that swastika, yes.’

‘Betty Thorogood, I’ve known her for some time.’

‘You’re wearing a cross. She’s a pagan.’

‘I don’t have too much of a problem with that.’

Gwenda did a sneery little hiss.

‘The touchy-feely Christian Church. Only Islam has any balls these days. What’s bothering Betty?’

‘Bad atmosphere.’

‘A bad atmosphere. Oh. We believe in all that, do we? Bad vibes? Evil spirits? Call out demons, do we?’ Gwenda took a sip from the champagne flute and walked up the bank. Sat down just below the concrete car park, patted the grass beside her. ‘Tell me.’