‘Meetings!’ she shrilled. ‘No!’
‘Committee meetings, I mean.’
‘Oh! No.’
Patrick got to his feet. ‘Thank you. That’ll be all for now.’
She had flushed. ‘When can I have Melvyn’s body and arrange the funeral?’
‘Not yet. You’ll need to ask Detective Chief Inspector Carrick about that. He’s in overall charge.’
We left.
‘Thanks for the compliment,’ Patrick said when we were outside.
‘Any time. I have an idea she’s as horrible as he was,’ I muttered,
‘The question about friends down the hill seemed to press a panic button.’
‘So where are the wine and communion wafers kept before they’re consecrated during services?’ I asked.
‘In a small cupboard in Dad’s study.’ He whistled softly. ‘I wonder if that’s what he was after? Or anything else with sacred connections for black magic ceremonies.’
SEVEN
To interview everybody on the various lists again would be an enormous task and, personally, I felt would be mainly a waste of time. James Carrick was thorough and the fact that nothing he had turned up so far had lit any fuses probably meant that the answers lay elsewhere; with a new line of enquiry. First though, it seemed a good idea to discover the reason for Barbara Blanche’s apparent awkwardness when asked a simple question.
‘Do we really have to talk about this now?’ John Gillard asked when we called round on our way home, partly to assess the builders’ progress.
Patrick said, ‘Let’s just say that someone we were talking to this afternoon got their tongue in any number of knots when asked if they had friends on the new estate.’
The rector shook his head. ‘Black magic’s a load of obscene nonsense.’
Elspeth lost patience. ‘John, this is Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Gillard, only he doesn’t use his rank, of the Serious Organized Crime Agency and his assistant Miss Langley. Please answer the question.’
This reproof had the effect of making John chuckle. ‘And if I offer him a dram to forget all about it for now he’ll accuse me of trying to bribe a police officer.’
‘Of course,’ Patrick said. ‘But I wouldn’t mind one anyway.’
His father paused in fixing them both a tot and said to Patrick, ‘Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a bit over the top about everything.’
‘Nothing to apologize for,’ Patrick said. ‘This is terribly stressful for you.’
‘Oh good,’ Elspeth said. ‘Some sherry for me, please John, one of those lovely schooner glasses. And whatever Ingrid wants.’
‘Most people would say that it’s none of my business what people do in their own homes, or in their own time,’ John began, Elspeth having left the room, with her sherry, to attend to the cooking of their evening meal. ‘But when my parishioners are frightened by something that’s going on in their midst I feel it is my duty to do a little investigating with a view to persuading people otherwise. Last Sunday I made it the subject of my sermon again. I’ve mentioned it before but didn’t pull any punches this time.’
‘Please be careful,’ Patrick said. ‘Those who mess around with what they’re pleased to call the black arts are often very unpleasant.’
‘I agonize about the young ones being drawn into such things in such godless times,’ said John.
‘What exactly have people been saying to you?’
‘There’s a piece of spare ground behind the housing development higher up the hill and in the opposite direction to where the drainage system’s being put in. One day, no doubt, it’ll be Phase Three of the estate. There’s a footpath running through it that eventually leads up to the boundary of Hagtop Farm.’
‘I know it,’ Patrick said.
‘Several parishioners have seen lights at night, and fires with masked people dancing around them. Screams, drunken singing. Animal and poultry remains have been found in that area together with extensive bloodstains on the grass. Whatever it is, Patrick, it’s not good for children to find headless chickens and what’s left of someone’s poor cat. Of course it might be nothing more serious than wild bonfire parties and the activities of foxes.’
‘Dad, I agree it’s suspicious but honestly can’t see how thundering from the pulpit is going to help. You’re literally preaching to the converted.’
‘Am I?’ asked John with an ironic twist to his mouth.
‘Are you saying that you think some of the members of your congregation might be involved?’
‘It’s happened elsewhere and it would be stupid of me not to think Hinton Littlemoor’s full of angels because I know all too well it isn’t. It’s not unknown for followers of that kind of thing to try to get hold of communion wafers to use in their wretched ceremonies. I understand people become ensnared and then blackmailed into stealing church items after being photographed naked, or something along those lines, when they’d gone to what they thought was a perfectly ordinary party, only to be drugged or have their drinks spiked. I need to prove if anything’s going on. So a bit of thundering might draw someone’s fire.’
‘Any ideas why Melvyn Blanche was in the vestry that morning?’
The rector stared at his son. ‘I don’t think you’re changing the subject, are you?’
‘No.’
‘He wasn’t the sort to be easily intimidated.’
‘Oh, no, he’d have had to have gone in for something like that quite willingly. Does that fit in with the man you knew?’
‘But I didn’t know him very well. I don’t think anyone did. I have to say I found him overbearing and high-handed. It was the reason I always resisted him having any real responsibilities on the PCC, and he didn’t like it. He may well have eventually resigned. The man didn’t really want to do any work, you understand, just be in a position to tell other people what to do.’
This time it was Patrick who chuckled. ‘And a one-time Royal Naval Reserve officer isn’t going to take any nonsense from a retired member of Crab Air.’
‘No, quite,’ John said with feeling. ‘But you know, to be fair, I can’t see Blanche getting involved with people cavorting around Devil worshipping.’
‘He might have known those who did. Someone who had a hold over him.’
To John I said, ‘We found a hammer in the garden here this morning. But it might not be the murder weapon.’
‘That’s a thought!’ Patrick exclaimed. ‘Have you lost any tools lately, perhaps just before you went away on holiday – dropped a hammer in the bushes?’
‘What, me?’ said his father. ‘You ought to know by now that I never open my tool box if I can possibly help it.’
‘Perhaps you’d check if there’s anything missing.’
‘They’re probably all rusted together.’
Later that night I wrote up and printed the notes we had made of the day’s work and put them in the case file. Tomorrow would be another matter.
Michael Greenway arrived dead on time with the two expected members of the Complaints Department who were introduced as Commander David Greenshaft and Detective Chief Inspector Helen Hurst. Carrie had been forewarned of their impending arrival and the house had been cleared of the two noisy little people by the simple expedient of her taking them to stay with Elspeth for most of the day, John busy with his parish duties.
Whether Greenway had made some kind of stand with regard to my presence at this interview was open to conjecture but the pair did not quibble when, after having shown them all into the first floor living room and served coffee and biscuits I sat down in a chair that I had previously carefully positioned, slightly away from the centre of the room but nearest to where I had suggested to Patrick he should sit. OK, I had set the stage; the three visiting policemen placed so they were not ranged in front of the ‘suspect’ like a firing squad.
‘Nice house,’ was Greenshaft’s opening remark after he had set the recording machine going. He was a tall, thin individual and, if in the acting prof
ession instead, would have made a first-class Stasi officer. Nobody had asked Patrick if he had fully recovered. He had not.
‘It’s rented,’ Patrick told him. ‘We’ve sold our place and bought the rectory that my parents were going to be chucked out of. Quite a bit of work had to be done to it to make room for the family.’
‘Expensive, no doubt,’ the man murmured, glancing up from extracting a fat file from his briefcase and opening it.
‘Mum and Dad helped with the cost as it’ll be their future retirement home.’
Up until now Patrick had been tense and monosyllabic after a practically sleepless night but now appeared to be as relaxed as our cat, Pirate, who was curled up on the hearth rug in front of the log fire. Unlike Pirate though Patrick is ferociously good at hiding his feelings when necessary.
‘Sorry to be nosy but why were they being evicted? Hadn’t they paid the rent?’
So he was a bastard: he must have been in receipt of all Patrick’s personal details – which may or may not be in the folder on his lap – and in SOCA’s case these I knew were not so much in-depth as bottomless.
Patrick gave him a patient smile that said I think you’re in this job because you’re a bastard. ‘No, my father’s the rector here and the house belonged to the church. It was going to be sold.’
‘Oh, I see. Right then, I’ll read out the statement that you made to Commander Greenway before you were sent home. If you’ve remembered anything else please tell me.’
This he did, and Patrick hadn’t.
‘So what drew you to working for the Serious Organized Crime Agency?’ Greenshaft then asked.
‘Mostly Colonel Richard Daws.’
‘He was a big wheel in MI5, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, I worked for him when he headed up D12.’
‘So what went wrong there?’
‘Nothing, the department was disbanded, or rather absorbed into another, he retired and I resigned because my family had been under threat from a criminal gang and the protection wasn’t up to scratch. When SOCA was set up they raked him out of his castle as they needed people with his kind of experience. He thought he could use me.’
‘Castle?’ queried Helen Hurst; short of stature and frankly, nondescript, speaking for the first time, her initial greeting having been an unsmiling and tiny nod.
‘He’s the fourteenth Earl of Hartwood in his spare time,’ Patrick explained.
‘You’ve dabbled in various careers, haven’t you,’ Greenshaft commented distastefully, thumbing through the file. ‘You entered the police on leaving school and then resigned at the end of your probationary period to join the Devon and Dorset Regiment. Why?’
Yes, he was the one who would try to make Patrick lose his temper, a serious failing that has had repercussions in the past and something they might now try to accuse him of having done, whether or not under the influence of drugs, and killed several people.
‘It wasn’t exciting enough.’ Realizing that something more was expected Patrick then added, ‘The West Country was extremely law-abiding in those days.’
‘Lots of sailors getting drunk and going on the rampage in Plymouth surely.’
Patrick shook his head. ‘No, it’s drunken civilians who go on the rampage. Besides which, the Navy do their own policing – that’s what Masters at Arms are for. Besides, I wasn’t after punch-ups.’
After giving Patrick a cold stare Greenshaft continued, ‘And then you entered Special Services, a unit that I understand is similar to the SAS. Tell me, how many people have you killed in your time?’
‘I don’t keep a tally,’ he was told.
‘Can you remember the last person you killed?’
‘Yes, I was indirectly responsible for the deaths of a couple of hoodlums when I caused an explosion in a gas-filled basement last year. Ingrid and I were running for our lives at the time and she’d just rescued me from being tortured with a red-hot fork. It would all have gone bang anyway, I just hastened things along a little.’
‘I was in on that one,’ Greenway said. ‘Ghastly burns on his stomach.’
‘Do you tend to lose the plot when you’re under pressure?’ Hurst said, ignoring the SOCA man. ‘You know, get a bit desperate?’
‘No,’ Patrick said, giving his boss a shut-up-for-God’s-sake look.
‘Never?’
‘I’ve been known to lose my temper when in immediate danger of losing my life.’
‘You could well have lost your temper that morning in Muswell Hill.’
‘No, I was intent on rescuing the child.’
‘Have you remembered exactly what happened?’
‘No. Only of being at the house, carrying Leanne and having her shot in my arms.’
‘Her blood was found on the clothes you were wearing.’
‘That has an obvious explanation.’
‘Where were you when that shot was fired?’
‘I’m not sure – it’s all still very hazy. Possibly upstairs. She didn’t want to leave.’
‘Why?’
‘Her mother was still there.’
‘You know that? Were they still alive then?’
‘I don’t know but must have assumed everything was still relatively normal. Although I know I entered the house quietly.’
‘But surely you’d have known if there was a pile of murdered bodies in the living room.’
‘Not necessarily. I was in a bit of a state. I might have entered the house through the back. Yes, I’ve just remembered. I got in through a rear first floor window.’
‘How, for pity’s sake? It says here that you have an artificial right leg.’
‘The artificial bit is below my right knee and I’m still quite good at climbing trees as most of my strength is in my hands and arms. That’s right, I climbed the tree outside a bedroom window. It’s actually an old vine of some kind or a wisteria.’
‘How did you know this child was in particular danger?’
‘That’s still a grey area. But it might have been because of something the men said when they broke into my digs and had me under truth drug.’
‘Who were they?’
‘They had masks of some kind or stockings over their faces. But they must have worked for Pangborne – they said they were going to fetch her. She preferred to question and then finish off interlopers herself.’
‘But you’d penetrated this gang. Surely you must have a rough idea who they were, even with their faces covered.’
‘Have you ever been injected with Sodium Pentothal?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘If you had you wouldn’t ask questions like that.’
For some reason Greenshaft rounded on Greenway. ‘Have you asked yourself about this?’ he demanded to know. ‘Questioned his account? Also mentioned in these records is that this man is an accomplished actor, a seasoned liar and has been known to kill with his bare hands. You felt quite happy with that, employing such a person, did you?’
I suddenly realized that Greenway might be being officially called to account here too.
‘I was there when Patrick killed someone,’ I said. ‘A top policeman in the Anti Terrorist Branch had been permitted to set up a school for terrorists in the Brecon Beacons with a view to finding out their plans and eventually arresting them. It’s all in the file. We went in to find out what was going on. We were captured to improve this madman’s standing and cover – he employed real criminals for the same reason. He ordered Adjit, an Egyptian, one of the instructors, to slice Patrick around a little with a knife. This man had overseen the severe maltreatment, the previous day, of Patrick’s wife, me. Patrick, who was unarmed at the start of this confrontation, killed him. As I said, it’s all in the file.’
Greenshaft cleared his throat but before he could speak Greenway said, ‘I have every confidence in Lieutenant Colonel Gilllard’s credentials and I do have to point out that you simply cannot equate national security operational criteria with those that are the norm in the poli
ce.’
‘But nevertheless he is now working for the police,’ Greenshaft remarked. ‘And has to abide by the rules. I wasn’t one of those in favour of bringing ex-service personnel in to either SOCA or for more general duties when it was trialled a short while ago. I see he was involved with that too.’
With a crooked smile Patrick said, ‘There’s no history of MI5 killing a roomful of criminals with a view to tidying up an investigation. You need to look to the likes of Jethro Hulton for that.’
‘The police forces of several countries have warrants out for his arrest,’ Greenshaft muttered absent-mindedly, still reading the file. ‘Do you think you’ll ever remember what happened?’
‘I can’t be expected to answer that. Possibly not. You might have to ask the medical profession about it.’
‘It’s all rather convenient, isn’t it? Yet you were found with the gun that killed these people in your hand.’
‘We already know that the weapon had been wiped and only one clear set of fingerprints were on it, mine. I would hardly have done that myself.’
‘Did you have the gun on you when you returned to your bedsit?’
‘I must have done. I wear it in a shoulder holster during the day and it went under the pillow when I slept.’
‘Could someone have taken it off you?’
‘No.’
‘Not even when you were doped?’
Patrick stared into space for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, they did. But I seem to remember him throwing it back at me.’
‘What about when you returned to the Pangborne place the next morning?’
‘I had it with me. I could feel the lump on my side. But I didn’t fire it. I know when I’ve fired a gun, my wrist aches for a while.’
‘Even though you say you were groggy and confused.’
‘He was,’ Greenway said grimly. ‘Medical fact.’
‘My point is that would he have noticed a mere ache?’
‘Yes,’ Patrick said. ‘I would.’
‘A consummate actor?’ Hurst said in an offhand manner with a thin smile. ‘A practised liar? We don’t seem to have a timescale for any of this, do we? You say that something must have been slipped in your drink the night before the murders – what were you drinking, by the way?’
Souvenirs of Murder Page 8
