The Magus of Hay(93)

‘And that’s it?’ Bliss said.

‘He says he slept in the bath,’ Terry Stagg said. ‘Even though he claims to be disabled. His fellow drinkers at Gwenda’s Bar have confirmed he was there until eleven-ish, but none of them knows where he went after that. Although two people in the town say they saw him wandering the streets, unsteadily. Like someone who should be in Talgarth, as one put it.’

‘Meaning the former psychiatric hospital there,’ Ceri Watts said.

For Brent’s benefit. Whoever this feller was, Bliss felt a twinge of sympathy, remembering how, just after they let him out of the hospital, he was all over the pavements in Hereford and people would cross the road to avoid him.

‘Any previous, Iain?’

‘No, but the word is his circumstances have changed quite a bit in the last couple of years, and not in a good way. Soon as Stagg started talking to him, on the car park – just routine stuff, to begin with – it was like he was still drunk. Very obviously lying. His wife was with him, and you could tell she didn’t believe him either.’

‘Maybe she thought he’d been playing away.’

‘And maybe he’d been playing with Tamsin Winterson. And maybe something got out of hand.’

‘Big leap, Iain.’

‘You’ve taken enough of those in your time, Francis. Something else about Thorogood is that he denied all knowledge of Winterson. Virtually every other shopkeeper – bakers, ironmongers, café and sandwich bar owners and booksellers too – either knew her personally or recognized her picture. It’s her local town. People are worried – except for Thorogood.’

‘Although, as I understand it,’ Rich Ford said, ‘he’s only been around for a matter of weeks.

‘So what’s he done with her?’ Bliss said.

Brent turned to Terry Stagg.

Staggy had grown this spotty beard, probably to cover up a couple of his chins. He cleared his throat.

‘Well, she’s not in his shop. It’s not even as big as it looks from outside. Books downstairs and a kitchen. Upstairs, living room, two bedrooms, bathroom. Mrs Thorogood said they were planning to move in properly when their house was sold, but hardly any furniture there yet.’

‘What did crime-scene think?’

‘Not impressed, sir, unfortunately. We went over the place thoroughly. No cellar, no outbuildings, no room for any. It’s quite a confined space.’

‘And how’s Mr Thorogood behaving?’



‘Pretending to be outraged, sir, but I reckon he knows what he’s fucking done.’

Bliss looked at Brent, sensing a muted excitement there, before turning to Stagg.

‘Done, Terry? Do I take it we’re now of the opinion that Tamsin’s definitely dead? Because that’s a different kind of search, isn’t it? You think this was something random? Or was he thinking, I know, I’ll park me truck very visibly next to this girl’s car, look for an opportunity to rape her—’

Brent put up both hands for silence.

‘Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves but, all the same, this is clearly not the most balanced bookseller in the town. I’ve known longer shots that paid off.’

‘So which one’s the most balanced, Iain? They’re friggin’ booksellers. It’s hand-to-mouth these days. And like Rich says, this feller’s not been around the place for long. Is there any connection we know of between him and Tamsin?’

‘Well, no… and yes.’ Brent looked entirely untroubled. ‘And you might find this interesting, considering your apparent interest in the late Peter Rector’s library. The only connection’s the books. The kind of books that Thorogood sells. Terry?’

‘It’s all he’s got in there,’ Stagg said. ‘Weird books. Witchcraft books. Crank stuff. Reckons he’s a pagan.’

‘Norra crime, Terry.’

‘He’s a nutter, boss, trust me, and I’ll tell you something else. When we went in there, it was just him and his missus and there was some tension there. Between them. I may be wrong but I reckon he’d been in tears. What’s that say?’

Ceri Watts scratched the side of his neck.

‘As it happens, I know a bit about this man. Involved in a fracas in Radnor Forest, few years ago. An evangelist guy, Ellis, very much a crackpot himself, took against Thorogood and his wife because they were doing whatever pagans do in a ruined church. All got a bit overshadowed, at the time, by an arrest for an ostensibly unconnected murder in the same area. But it was fraught enough, and that’s how Thorogood got his injuries. Now, Gwyn Arthur Jones was SIO on that, and he’s living in Hay now, so if you want any background on Thorogood, he’s your man.’