by Phil Rickman
Fiona took both her hands out of her scarf and laid them on top of it. Her wedding ring was iridescent in the blazing stained-glass light. Merrily stood up, turned to watch the figure that might be Thomas Traherne moving away along the path up the wooded hill which might be Credenhill. Traherne had been the vicar at the church below the hill. She had a strong feeling there was history here that Fiona wasn’t yet prepared to disclose.
‘Those things you didn’t ask…’
‘I don’t have the knowledge. Do I?’
‘How about if I ask them?’
‘That might be helpful. If you don’t mind.’
‘OK.’ Merrily picked up her bag. ‘Your car or mine?’
23
Swab City
Billy Grace had found bruising around the pubic area in both cases but no traces of semen, and no internal damage. Neither Maria nor Ileana Marinescu had been raped. Or, it seemed, had recent sex of any kind.
‘So… was there an attack with intent to rape?’ Bliss said to the class. ‘Or was it something random? Group of lads coming back from the pub, spot these two on their own, maybe wander over, see what’s on offer.’
‘Maybe simply thinking they were prostitutes?’ Darth Vaynor said.
They had decent CCTV now, of the girls entering and leaving the Grapes in Church Street at 9.45 p.m. On their own, both times. Nobody following them.
‘Very drunk, presumably, the attackers,’ Rich Ford said, the veteran uniform inspector. ‘And then it gets progressively out of hand.’
About fifteen of them in the incident room, including seven uniforms and Slim Fiddler and Joanna Priddy from crime-scene.
Rich Ford, months off retirement, glanced over his shoulder, cleared his throat.
‘Perhaps I should mention that while the two Lithuanian gentlemen helped into the hospitality lounge in the early hours were completely pissed – one vomiting profusely all over the reception desk – neither had any blood on him. We did manage to talk to them this morning before they were checked out, and it was fairly clear that neither of them had seen – or at least remembered seeing – anything untoward.’
Statistics showed overwhelmingly that most crimes against economic migrants in Hereford were committed by other migrants. Maybe retribution for non-payment of business protection or the required percentage for procurement of employment. Neither of which seemed to apply to the Marinescu sisters.
‘However, if this is to do with some existing conflict we know nothing about,’ Rich said, ‘there’s likely to be retaliation, isn’t there? Could be trouble on the streets tonight – and that could give us an in.’
‘If the girls had been on the game,’ Bliss said, ‘we’d have to consider the possibility that they’d intruded on someone else’s street corner or pub of choice… or failed to cough up the agreed percentage of their earnings to the pimp.’
‘Which in this case would be Goldie,’ Darth Vaynor said. ‘And we don’t have any reason to think Goldie’s lying about them not being involved in prostitution.’
Slim Fiddler grunted.
‘Less they was doing a foreigner?’
‘Can’t be ruled out,’ Bliss said. ‘Or, as Darth said, that somebody thought they were on the game. We’ll come back to that. Let’s just deal with the second possible motive – robbery.’
Turning to Brian Wilton, the office manager, who brought up on the monitor a picture of the pale blue handbag found in Bishop’s Meadow down by the river. A twin to the one Bliss had seen in East Street.
‘Contents emptied out,’ Brian said. ‘Wallet-type purse found in the Cathedral Close, empty. Bits of make-up kit also picked up between the Cathedral and the river.’
‘Likely to be DNA,’ Slim Fiddler said. ‘We’re still waiting.’
‘Also, that lays a bit of a trail.’ Bliss went over to the blown-up street map, tapped it with his pen. ‘Quickest way from East Street to the Cathedral Close is through this little alleyway, almost directly across the street from the car park. Curves round past the old Alfred Watkins house into the Cathedral grounds. We might assume that, after killing the Marinescu sisters, the attackers ran across East Street, into the alley, going through the bag as they went.’
‘Why take only one bag?’ Karen Dowell said. ‘If the other was left in East Street and there was a few quid left in the purse…’
‘I don’t think we ever really considered this was about robbery, Karen, I’m just gerrin it out the way. What else? Any ideas?’
‘Personal?’ Rich Ford said. ‘They’ve committed some offence against their family?’
‘According to Goldie Andrews, they have no known family over here, and they didn’t mix much with other migrants.’
‘What about non-compliance?’ Darth Vaynor said. ‘They were invited to work for somebody but, being religious, they declined, and…’
‘Maybe.’ Bliss wrinkled his nose. ‘Have to be more complicated, though. Like that they were threatening to come to us. And how often does that happen?’
He waited for more, got blank faces. They were talking to the Romanian authorities, but the suggestion so far was, as Goldie had thought, that the Marinescu girls were from a fairly rural area and maybe not exactly sophisticated.
Bliss was still pretty sure, mind, that there was a lot of stuff Goldie hadn’t told him, maybe in connection with the fruit farm. Time to float this one.
‘It’ll surprise none of you to learn that these girls came over to work in the tunnels. In the last instance, Magnis Berries, off the Brecon Road. So… what do we know about Magnis Berries? All shut when me and Terry called in the other day, and no particular reason to take it further at that stage.’
Silence.
‘Aw, come on, children, what’ve we heard?’
‘No suicides,’ Brian Wilton said. ‘Unlike some similar establishments.’
‘Rumours of intimidation? Threats, bribery? Think back to the van driver who demanded his weekly blow job for getting a woman to work on time. Pretty scary for a couple of young lasses from a village in rural Romania.’
‘It’s a newish establishment,’ Karen Dowell said. ‘They seem to have started up with full knowledge of the kind of reputations that some fruit farms had got themselves for bullying and poor working conditions. Brought in local people as supervisors. I don’t suppose they pay any more than the others, but we’re not getting rumours.’
‘Then why did the girls leave? We need to find out.’
Karen said, ‘If we’re descending on Magnis Berries, that’d be rubbing shoulders with the Mansel Bull inquiry. I believe the farm’s being extended onto what used to be Mr Bull’s land.’
‘It is?’
‘I learned last night that he sold it a month or so ago. Causing a bit of controversy locally, as you’d expect.’
‘Absolutely.’ Bliss was blinking hard. ‘Right. Well, not too much is clear at the minute, but I still don’t expect this to take long. We’ve gorra lorra DNA to play with. So – need I say – any excuse to snatch a sample from any bugger, we grab it. Welcome to Swab City.’
‘OK, Karen.’ Assembly over, Bliss shut the door of his office, waved her to the spare chair, sat down behind his desk. ‘Give.’
‘The bit of controversy?’
‘Indeedy.’
‘You’re going to get overexcited now. This is only from my mum, right, so it might need some more looking into.’
‘I see Mrs Dowell as an impeccable source, Karen.’
Karen sighed.
‘Magnis Berries, the parent company, is in the Vale of Evesham. Well established, fairly responsible. So what you hear – or what you don’t hear – is pretty reliable. It’s still a shit job, but nobody at Magnis gets a bucket of muddy water thrown over them when they pass out from the heat.’
‘But just because it’s not too bad for the wairkers…’
‘Once it gets out that a few hundred migrant workers are going to be housed in huts and caravans, creating a new community twice the si
ze of any of the local villages, and all the fields spread with plastic… you’ve got trouble. And as it’s now about to almost double in size again…’
‘Double? Sollers Bull agreed to this deal?’
‘Nobody locally knew that ground was even for sale until the deal was done. Which is not exactly normal procedure, if you want to get the best price…’
‘Yeh, yeh.’
‘Point is, Sollers didn’t get a chance to disagree. The deal was done by Mansel Bull. On the quiet.’
Bliss leaned his chair back on two legs, his elbows against the wall.
‘Mansel Bull… very quietly, behind his brother’s back, sells a chunk of his farm to Magnis Berries?’
‘I think it was no more than about twelve acres, but he also brokered a deal for three other neighbouring farmers to sell pieces of their land… probably for well above the going rate. Which, in a time of deep recession, would overcome any resistance they might have. The few enemies he’d make would just be incomers from Off, the roses-round-the-door types.’
‘And Sollers.’
‘Sollers… came round,’ Karen said.
‘It was me, I’d be nursing a grudge the size of Wales.’
‘Boss, bear with me. He, like, physically came round? To Magnis Berries? I mean, quite often. Oh hell, look, this is from my mum, right? And if it ever got out she was the source she’d lose her job so fast-’
‘Yeh, yeh.’
‘I mean, it’s not a major secret that Sollers puts it about, and although he-’
‘Hang on…’ Bliss was sitting up. ‘Sollers puts it…’
‘Bit of a celeb?’ Karen said. ‘Plus, the number of women turned on by hunting pink and riding boots is still considerable. He’s discreet, naturally, with a useful marriage to protect.’
‘Lord Walford’s daughter.’
‘In hunting circles, that means a lot.’
Bliss was breathing hard.
‘Karen, could you possibly… spell this out? Whereabouts has Sollers been putting it?’
‘This is only-’
‘Hearsay, yeh. I love hearsay. Just spit it out.’
‘Some of the migrant girls… always hoping it’ll end in a fairy-tale marriage and a lovely home in England?’
Bliss shot forward, the front legs of his chair clacking to the floor.
‘You’re telling me Sollers Bull was shagging the wairkers? ’
‘It only once got dicey, when a certain Polish girl… I understand he went back a few times too many, and she got the wrong idea. Shows up at his restaurant one day, demanding to see him. Which was how my mum first got a glimpse of the situation. I think she must’ve collected a good pay-off, this girl, ’cause she apparently went home to Warsaw or wherever soon after that. Anyway, it was dealt with.’
Bliss was tapping his desk, rhythmically, quite fast.
‘He was practically accusing migrants of killing his brother.’
‘That would be male migrants, boss.’ Karen’s eyes were opaque. ‘I expect you’ll have to pass this on to Ma’am, though, it being not your case any more.’
‘Sure. Although, naturally, I’ll need to visit Magnis Berries first, ask some questions about their two murdered employees.’
‘That restaurant…’ Karen looked unhappy ‘… there’s a lot of irresponsible gossip. I don’t know if he goes to the farm any more. It probably gave him a scare, the Polish girl. I think maybe you should pass this directly on to Ma’am, don’t you? It’s the way things are done?’
‘The Marinescu sisters,’ Bliss said. ‘Very attractive girls. But also religious. Maybe a little naive.’
Karen stood up and opened the door and then shut it again.
‘Just be careful, Frannie. You know? Let the DCI run with it?’
‘Your ma’s job is safe in my hands, Karen.’
Bliss’s fingers still going tappy-tap-tap on the side of the desk, like a little dynamo.
Alone in his office, Bliss Googled Magnis Berries, found a discreet Web site with the head of some Roman-looking god wearing a wreath of strawberries, blueberries and blackcurrants. There was only one number, in Evesham. Bliss tapped it in, got a chirpy lad’s voice.
‘Magnis Berries. My name’s Robin, how can I help you today?’
‘My name’s Detective Inspector Bliss from West Mercia Police, Robin, and you can help me by putting me through to Batman.’
‘It’s Bat woman, sir,’ Robin said.
Bliss waited on hold, listening to the inquiries unrolling on the other side of the door, Darth Vaynor talking intelligently to someone in London connected with the Romanian embassy. In his left ear, some half-familiar classical music from Magnis Berries, then a crisp, educated female voice.
‘Alex Goddard.’
‘DI Francis Bliss, Ms Goddard, West Mercia CID, Hereford. You’re the MD?’
‘Inspector Bliss…’ A bit snappy, not intimidated by cops. ‘I’ve already told one of your officers that we have very few people working in the Wye Valley at this time of the year, and my manager has assured me he knows nothing that would help with your investigation.’
‘Cross purposes, Ms Goddard. This is not the Mansel Bull inquiry, this is two of your former employees. The Marinescu sisters?’
‘If they’re former employees, I don’t see how… What have they done?’
‘Got themselves beaten to death in Hereford.’
‘Oh, good God.’
‘As you were their last formal employer, I’m interested in the circumstances under which they left.’
‘Inspector, these people come and go in great numbers, and while they’re the first at one of our farms to become victims of violence…’
‘As far as you know.’
‘My instructions to all the managers is that anyone found fighting or attempting to intimidate other workers should be summarily dismissed.’
‘Is Wye Valley your biggest farm? I was thinking, with the whole firm being called Magnis Berries…’
‘We adopted the name last year. Magnis was the name of the Roman town discovered not too far away, and it gave us an identifiable corporate image. In fact, several of our other farms are two or three times as big.’
She gave Bliss the manager’s name, Roger Hitchin, and the unlisted number. Not that he planned to ring first; he and Karen could be there in ten minutes.
But then Brian Wilton came in to tell him that a couple of young women had arrived in response to their appeal for anyone who’d seen the Marinescus in the pubs around East Street. Then Elly Clatter rang through about the inevitable press conference, a necessary chore, timed for two p.m. Magnis would have to wait.
Of course, it might all come to nothing.
Bliss was tingling to his fingertips.
24
Demons
Lol found Barry in the Swan dining room, putting out menus. Just had to talk to somebody about this.
‘It’s like you’ve gone to hell and here’s Satan in a cardigan, offering you tea and scones.’
‘It’s the way he is,’ Barry said. ‘Taps into what he sees as the prevailing mood. Now, what you accusing me of?’
Five tables were laid out with traditional stiff white cloths and napkins furled like water lilies. Lol counted another six tables, bare wood, redundant now, pushed against the oak panelling.
‘All I’m saying is only four of us knew about it. Danny Thomas, Merrily… and I didn’t even tell her until last night.’
‘Making me the most likely one to’ve blabbed to Savitch.’ Barry pulled a dining chair away from a table, waved Lol to another. ‘What exactly did he say?’
‘Tells me his partner likes my… fine music.’
‘Brigid? That woman keeps a flat in the Smoke because she can’t go a week without a night at the opera. With all due respect, Laurence, I doubt she regards what you do as music at all.’
‘Good at this, though, isn’t he? Knows his folk festivals, too… Super idea, actually, Mr Robinson. Obviously, never be a G
lastonbury here, but perhaps a smaller-scale Cropredy, or a Green Man? Real ale… good Herefordshire cider. Marvellous.’
‘Google is a wonderful thing,’ Barry said. ‘What’s he offering you?’
‘A site. He’s thinking one of his larger meadows, up near the bridge. Lots of parking.’
‘How much?’
‘I may have misunderstood, but I think it was free.’
‘Tribute to your status here, Laurence, though he’ll want a percentage.’
‘Barry, I don’t have any status here.’
‘Nah, the gig during the flood won you a bunch of new friends. Always been great public affection for the dance band on the Titanic .’
‘They all drowned,’ Lol said. ‘The dance band.’
‘Well, that’s true, yeah.’ Barry opened out a napkin. ‘You got a problem here, no getting round that.’
Lol recalled Savitch’s face exploding into a wide, disarming smile. He’d expected arrogant, distant, and had got ordinary, reasonable. Very scary.
‘He said people had him all wrong. As if he was trying to distance himself from the blood-sport side. How keen he was to revive the whole tradition. More about Merrie England than hunting and shooting.’
‘Merrie England? Like when the countryside was a recreation area for the aristocracy?’
Barry’s smile was like the coal-chip smile on a snowman. Lol understood he’d been brought up in South London foster homes. His dad had died in Wandsworth Prison.
‘So what was your response, Laurence?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Savitch, your ethos is not in the spirit of the music we’re trying to promote. In fact we hate everything you stand for.’
‘And you actually said…?’
‘I said it was a very generous offer, but it was early days yet. And he invited me to visit his establishment on Thursday. Media launch for the family open day he’s having on Easter Monday. He gave me two tickets.’
‘You and Merrily?’
‘Me and my partner.’
‘He wants the vicar, trust me. Two birds with one. Sooner or later he’ll make a donation to Merrily’s church. He’ll wait for an opportunity. Urgent repairs needed in the belfry, something like that. Something that gets him noticed, yet doesn’t look like profligate largesse.’
