But it appeared, as the interviews progressed, that most of them had jobs outside the group, which occupied them during the day. Reed managed a shoe shop in the town centre, Daniel Stacey taught PE at the Grammar School, while Terry Doble and Vince Merrick, who had made themselves so invaluable to Mrs Kershaw, worked at a youth centre.
One after another they produced genuine-sounding alibis which, though they would be checked, sounded depressingly watertight.
Two of the four girls also had jobs, as dental nurse and receptionist respectively, but two — Lucy, whom they’d already met, and Liz Fenchurch, were unemployed. They were the only two out of the eight who admitted to being in the house at lunch-time on Monday, and they denied all knowledge of a phone-call. Looking at them, Webb had in any case the greatest difficulty in imagining them injecting poison into anyone.
But that was the damnable thing, he thought in frustration. They all seemed polite, friendly young people. It began to look as though Ken’s bright idea would not hold water after all.
‘Are there any other members of your sect?’ Webb asked Reed when, after the others had been dismissed, he returned at Webb’s request.
The man smiled. ‘Most certainly, Chief Inspector. Dozens are joining us every day. If you want to interview all of them, it might be simpler to go through the Electoral Register.’
Webb rose wearily to his feet, signalling to the others down the room. ‘Very well, Mr Reed, that will be all for the moment. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further.’
Chapter 12
Webb was still turning over the interviews in his head when he arrived back at the flat. It was after nine — rather late to invite Hannah to dinner, but worth a try. He dialled her number, but it was the answerphone that replied and he left a brief message and hung up, aware of disappointment. He felt like cooking something special, and it would have been pleasant to share it. None the less, he decided to go ahead.
After pouring himself a drink, he opened the fridge and surveyed the two chicken breasts which awaited him, discarding the plebian options of frying or grilling and mentally running through half a dozen other possibilities.
When he and his wife divorced eight years ago he had painstakingly taught himself to cook, chiefly by adapting recipes in the Broadshire Evening News. It was a form of relaxation and one he enjoyed. Hannah maintained that the more complicated a case became, the more elaborate his cuisine.
Spiced, he decided now, rather than Maryland or Kiev. They’d need to marinate for half an hour, but he wanted another look at those alibis and he might as well get them out of the way before the meal.
Reaching for garlic and fresh ginger, he methodically set to work, the small glass of whisky at his side. Had he misjudged the Revvies? Could they really be the dangerous fanatics about whom he’d warned Nina and Sally? Or was he himself fanatical in so distrusting them?
Leaving the chicken to marinate, he carried his whisky into the living-room, sat down in his favourite chair and began to go through his notes. He’d detailed Bob Dawson to arrange for the checking of alibis, but at first glance the only one with the opportunity of calling at the King’s Head at lunch-time was Daniel Stacey, who admitted to having been ‘canvassing’, albeit at the other end of town.
Webb took another sip of whisky. What, he wondered, had led that oddly assorted but pleasant-seeming bunch of people to join the sect? What particular aspect had appealed to each of them?
For the younger girls, it could have been the warm, family feeling or the security of a strong leader; for the men, a worthwhile job to do; for them all, perhaps, the certainty of salvation.
They’d all admitted knowing of Kershaw’s existence, but only after reading of his death in the paper. Could he believe that? It was hard to think any of them were lying. Perhaps after all it had been Kershaw’s misfortune to fall in with two homicidal maniacs who had no connection with the Revvies or anyone else. In which case they had damn-all chance of finding them.
*
Christina sat staring unseeingly at the television screen in which her husband seemed so engrossed. Ever since their meeting with Miss James she’d felt unsettled, almost as though waiting for some disaster to befall them. In fact, she’d written a long letter to Stephie — a rare occurrence indeed — begging her to have nothing more to do with the cult and setting out in detail the dangers inherent in it. Of course, there had been no reply.
So what could they do, she wondered. In view of the seriousness of the matter, would they be allowed to go and see her? Even have her home again for the weekend? Though that could be unwise; she might slip out of their grasp and return to the Revelationists, possibly for good this time. And suppose it was all still hanging fire when term broke up? Neither she nor Edward could act as chaperone for the three long weeks of the Christmas holidays.
She stirred restlessly. She’d read stories in the press about distraught relatives whose children had been sucked into a cult, only to turn against them and refuse to come home. And in all conscience, theirs had not been a close family to start with. Herself and Edward, yes, but not the children. Looking back, the children had always been on the outside. Mea culpa, she thought miserably.
Think of something else! But as she closed her mind to that problem, another manifested itself, and against the flickering screen she saw again the attractive, smiling face of the man who’d offered to buy her a drink and then, unbelievably, got himself murdered. It seemed the police had still not found his killers.
Suppose, she thought suddenly, they had been in the bar earlier than everyone thought, and had seen her talking to Philip Kershaw? They might be wondering if he’d told her anything — who he was expecting, for instance? Might the killers now be looking for her, with the aim of silencing her?
‘Edward, I’m frightened,’ she said.
‘Um?’ His eyes were still on the television.
‘I said, I’m frightened!’ she repeated, raising her voice. He turned towards her, struggling to detach his mind from the serial he’d been following.
‘Frightened? Darling, whatever of?’
‘Of what’s going to happen to Stephie, and to me if the killers saw me speaking to that man.’
Edward pressed the remote control and the screen went blank. He got up and came to sit beside her, putting an arm round her shoulder. ‘Sweetheart, I’d no idea you’d been brooding like that. Why didn’t you say?’
‘Aren’t you worried?’ she challenged him.
‘I’m concerned about Stephie, yes, but it never struck me you were in danger. In fact, I’m quite sure you’re not. If the killers did see you, which I doubt, they’d realize you’ve had plenty of time to pass on any information, so there’s no point in coming after you now.’
She relaxed against him. ‘I suppose not. But what can we do about those people Stephie’s involved with? We can’t watch her all through the Christmas holidays.’
‘If they’re still around, we’ll go away for Christmas,’ Edward said firmly.
‘For three weeks? Will you be able to spare the time?’
‘Most certainly, if that’s what it takes to keep her out of their clutches. What about you?’
There were a dozen reasons why she didn’t want to be away over Christmas, but she bit them back. Perhaps it was time she put her daughter before her own inclinations — Miss James evidently thought so.
‘The same, of course,’ she answered. Then she reached up to kiss his mouth. ‘What would I do without you?’ she said.
*
The subject of the Revvies was also under discussion at the Chases’ home, though less amicably.
‘It’s obvious your precious Miss James hasn’t a very high opinion of us,’ Diane was saying.
Gordon stirred defensively. ‘What do you mean, my Miss James?’
‘Oh come on, I know you fancy her. All those smouldering looks you throw in her direction — it’s pathetic.’
He flushed angrily. ‘You’re becoming neuro
tic, you know that?’
‘And who made me like that? You and your lady-friends, that’s who!’
‘For God’s sake!’
‘Look, I didn’t mean to start a slanging match, I just want us to talk about Marina. Suppose she’s really involved with that cult.’
Gordon fished in his pocket and withdrew the card Hannah had given him. ‘We could always contact these people and see what they say.’
‘I feel so guilty,’ Diane said miserably. ‘We’ve been so wrapped up in our own problems we’ve neglected the children. And now this happens.’
‘They’re hardly ever here anyway.’
‘That’s partly the trouble. I know your parents meant well, but I wish they hadn’t taken out those policies. We’d all have been much closer if the children had been at Grammar School and home every evening.’
‘It was while Marina was home that all this happened,’ Gordon pointed out.
‘And Miss James blames us — she made it plain enough. I always get a complex when I go to that hateful school.’ Diane was close to tears. ‘And this time it was worse than ever. I could see her comparing me with Christina French, all tarted up in her designer clothes.’
‘What rubbish!’ Gordon said explosively. ‘Miss James has better things to do than worry about whether you’re wearing last year’s model. Anyway, Christina didn’t come out of it any better than we did. Rather worse, in fact.’
His voice softened. ‘I know you never wanted private schools, but Mum and Dad scrimped and saved for years to make it possible. They couldn’t manage it for me, but they were determined to for the kids.’
‘I know, but they should have asked us, instead of just announcing it. If they’d wanted to help out, I’d rather have used the money for music lessons, or riding, or something like that — extras we couldn’t have provided ourselves at that stage.’
‘Don’t be so bloody ungrateful! Most people would give their eye teeth to get their kids into Ashbourne and Greystones.’
Diane’s hands clenched in her lap. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ she said tightly. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Hope it’ll blow over, I suppose. Girls that age are always getting. crazes. Ten to one she’ll be into something else by the time she comes home again.’
‘So you’re not going to ring that advice centre?’
‘Not in the meantime. No point in making a fuss. Let’s just sit tight and see what develops.’
Diane looked at him for a long moment. Then she stood up and left the room.
Gordon leant slowly forward and put his head in his hands.
*
Nina was reading Alice a bedtime story when her mother appeared in the doorway, her face stiff with disapproval.
‘There’s a phone call for you,’ she said meaningfully.
‘Oh — thank you.’ Nina closed the book. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, darling.’
From her mother’s face, she had no doubt who was on the phone.
‘Daniel?’
‘Hello, Nina. Are you doing anything at the moment?’
‘Reading to Alice. Why?’
‘Like to come out for a coffee?’
‘Now?’ It was nearly nine o’clock.
‘Please, Nina. I’ve something to tell you.’
‘All right,’ she said, aware of her mother’s rigid presence in the background. ‘Fifteen minutes?’
‘Fine. I’ll wait at the gate so your mother doesn’t have to see me.’ There was rueful amusement in his voice.
Nina put the phone down and, not meeting her mother’s eye, said lightly, ‘I’m going out for a coffee. I don’t suppose I’ll be long, but I’ll settle Alice first.’ And she ran back up the stairs.
He was waiting in the car when, fifteen minutes later, she let herself out of the front door. He leant over to open the door for her and, taking her by surprise, gave her a quick kiss as she settled herself beside him.
‘Where are we going?’
‘The King’s Head’s as good as anywhere. Have you been in since it reopened? It’s well worth a visit.’
Nina hoped no one she knew would be there, but her friends were more likely to be in the bar than the coffee lounge.
‘We had a visit from the police this evening,’ he went on as he turned the car into East Parade.
‘What?’ Her head spun towards him.
‘The second in three days, actually — they came while we were out on Saturday.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘It’s all right, no one was arrested.’
Nina said carefully, ‘What did they want?’
‘The first time, according to Adam, they were asking about an old lady Lucy used to visit. This evening they were more interested in her son. He’s the one who was murdered last week.’
All this because Lucy had called on Mrs Kershaw? Webb certainly had a bee in his bonnet. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘Nothing, except that his mother left us everything to us.’ She drew in her breath. The DCI hadn’t told her that. How long had he known?
‘And the police have only just found out?’
‘It seems so. And you know the way their minds work.’
Indeed she did. She’d heard the missing solicitor had been located and was flying home. The Governor must have got it from him.
Daniel had turned into the car park behind the hotel. ‘Anyway, they wanted to know where we all were when he was murdered. Charming, isn’t it?’
Nina looked up at the precipice of the building towering above them, studded with lighted windows. Perhaps one of them had, this time last week, been Philip Kershaw’s.
Daniel put a hand on her arm. ‘Look, I only told you because I thought it would amuse you. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Were you all able to satisfy them?’ she asked, forcing a light tone.
‘Of course. Innocent as newborn babes, the lot of us. Right, let’s get into the warmth; there’s quite a nip in the air.’
He took her arm and led her into the hotel. Its change of ambience was immediately apparent, and Nina, suppressing her sudden anxiety, looked about her with interest. The corridor in which they found themselves was panelled in pale wood, with a moss green carpet. It looked very different from when her mother used to bring her for tea after visits to the dentist.
The lounge, opening off the corridor through a glass door, was even more of a transformation. People were relaxing in comfortable-looking chairs upholstered in apricot, while the lampshades and the large, ornamental jars which stood on the hearth were a striking turquoise. Over in one corner, a pianist was playing a selection of songs from the shows, and sets of watercolours hung luminously on the walls.
Daniel directed her to a two-seater sofa. The waiter glided up and he ordered coffee.
‘My goodness!’ Nina said, looking round the room. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s the same place!’
‘Yes, they’ve done wonders with it.’
‘Out of the nineteenth century straight into the twenty-first!’
‘Except,’ Daniel said, ‘that there isn’t going to be a twenty-first century.’
Nina’s heart jerked. ‘Then it’s a pity no one told them before they spent all those millions!’ she said flippantly. She turned to look at him. His face was serious but the feverish glitter she’d noticed on Saturday was back in his eyes.
Hey! she thought. Watch your step, girl! ‘You said you had something to tell me.’
‘Yes — great news. You know the Captain’s due this evening? Sarah and Brad have gone to Headquarters to meet him.’
‘I did hear, yes.’
‘Well, he’s actually coming to Shillingham! We heard today that he’s visiting all the UK groups while he’s over, and he’ll be here on Saturday, Nina, at Victoria Drive!’
She found the radiance in his face embarrassing and looked away, grateful for the tray of coffee which had been discreetly placed on the table in front of them. Its fragrant, everyday smell was part of a normal wor
ld which didn’t take much notice of prophets and the coming of the Apocalypse. With a shaking hand she poured it and handed a cup to Daniel.
‘And Brad particularly wants you to meet him. Normally, the Captain only sees officials, but you’re so near to joining us and I think Brad hopes it will tip the balance.’
Nina remembered her reactions when the possibility had first been mentioned — her feeling of excitement and awe at the thought of meeting the founder of the Movement. Had it been only last week? Now, she was more ambivalent, not sure she wanted to expose herself to that dangerous, charismatic man.
More importantly, now the DCI was taking an active interest in the group, her conflict of interests had intensified. He should be told of Bellringer’s visit; the trouble was that he’d ordered her not to see them again.
Not exactly, though, she defended herself. He’d said she must drop the investigation, and she had. The suggestion that she shouldn’t go back had been only that, a suggestion. What she did in her own time and in a private capacity was surely no concern of the Chief Inspector.
Daniel said with a smile, ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’
‘I was just wondering if it’s wise for the Captain to move about so openly in view of police interest in the Movement.’ Daniel laughed derisively. ‘The police can’t touch him.’
‘Not unless he breaks the law, no. But —’
‘Not even then.’
She turned to look at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nina, the Captain is the Lord’s appointed servant and answerable only to Him. No man can sit in judgement on him.’
Her mouth was suddenly dry. She forced herself to say lightly, ‘The law might not see it that way.’
‘Don’t worry, my love, he’s in no danger. In the unlikely event that the Devil’s agents move against him, our contingency plans would go into action.’
‘And what are they?’ she asked fearfully.
‘Look, stop worrying, will you? Nothing’s going to happen to the Captain, believe me; that’s all you need to know. Now, pour me another cup of coffee, there’s a love, and let’s change the subject.’
The Gospel Makers Page 16
