The Wine of Angels

‘From the room ... next to your bedroom.’

There was a moment of stillness in the kitchen before the kettle started to whistle.

‘Oh, great,’ Jane said tonelessly. ‘Oh, terrific’

Once inside the Country Kitchen, Merrily realized there must be at least one more police car on the square, but unmarked. Terrence Cassidy was at a central table with a man and a woman, the man taking notes, the woman asking questions.

‘Just try and calm down and think, Mr Cassidy. Think if there’s anyone you’ve missed out.’

Terrence, unshaven, raised a hand to Merrily. Caroline went across.

‘Anything?’

‘What we’re trying to do, Mrs Cassidy,’ the woman said, ‘is to compile a list of everyone who was at the party, invited or uninvited, and check, first of all, if anyone else is missing. That’s going to take time.’

‘What about the actual search?’ Caroline’s voice was frayed and jagged. ‘The woods ... the orchard. The orchard’s huge.’

‘We’ve still got some people out there, but it begins to look as if we need to extend the area of operation.’ The woman looked enquiringly at Merrily.

‘This is Merrily Watkins, our Priest-in-Charge,’ Terrence said. ‘Also the mother of a close friend of Colette’s.’

‘Ah.’ The woman stood up. ‘Good morning. I’m Detective Inspector Annie Howe, this is DC Mumford. Take a seat, Ms Watkins.’

DI Howe had a surgical look. Tall. Fine, light hair, thin lips. If she’d worn glasses they would have been rimless, Merrily thought. But she wasn’t a surgeon; she had a law degree. It had been in the Hereford Times. Annie Howe was new to the Division, a high-flier, thirty-one years old.

‘So your daughter was at the party? And her name would be ...?’

‘Jane. She’s fifteen.’

DC Mumford wrote it down. He was thickset and older than his boss by a good ten years.

‘And although she was a close friend of Colette,’ Howe said, ‘she clearly didn’t spend the whole evening with her.’

‘Don’t say was like that!’ Caroline shrieked.

‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Cassidy. Nothing negative was implied. Just that by the end of the evening, they weren’t quite so close, as they appear to have gone off in different directions. What time did your daughter get home, Ms Watkins?’

‘I don’t remember exactly. Perhaps around two ... two-thirty.’

‘Were you worried?’

Merrily smiled stiffly. ‘You’re always a bit worried, aren’t you? Even though you know they’re not far away.’

‘Were you aware of the disturbance on the square?’

‘Not really. There are several big trees between the vicarage and the road. Plus, I might have fallen asleep in front of the fire.’

‘Well, I’ll need to talk to your daughter. Unless Colette turns up soon, of course. Which she probably will’ Howe produced a narrow smile, which Caroline Cassidy must have found as comforting as a shot of morphine. ‘I don’t suppose Jane’s up and about yet.’

‘I don’t suppose she is,’ Merrily said.

‘Although you are.’

‘In my job, you find it hard to sleep after six. Holy Communion and all that.’

DI Howe nodded.

‘Ma’am.’ A uniformed constable had come in. ‘Got a minute?’

Howe and the PC moved over to the door. Merrily couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the constable was pointing through the window to where another policeman was waiting, with a radio. Howe was looking interested, raising her eyebrows.

‘Oh, my God,’ Caroline said. ‘Oh ... my ... God.’

28 Our Kind of Record

NOTHING TO WORRY about, DI Annie Howe had said, almost convincingly. And because Caroline Cassidy was clearly petrified by the possibility that the police had found a body, Howe revealed that it was simply a suspected burglary. At an isolated cottage in Blackberry Lane. Probably no connection at all.

To Merrily, this last statement sounded even less convincing.

Howe and Mumford had both left. Out on the square, a car was starting up. They were off to Lol Robinson’s cottage.

It had to be. The police would have routinely knocked on the door to ask if anyone had seen or heard anything in the neighbouring orchard last night. They would perhaps have found the place empty, this Windling gone, but obvious signs of a break-in.

She stayed with the Cassidys, and when Caroline got up to fumble at the coffee machine, she said quietly to Terrence, ‘If some of those kids were looking for somewhere to get drunk or smoke a little cannabis, and they found an empty house ... you know?’

‘Yes.’ He looked, for a moment, more hopeful. ‘She’s easily led, you know, whatever anyone says. Just a child.’

Merrily said nothing. She needed to get back and tell Jane and Lol Robinson what had happened. Sooner or later, he was going to have to explain to the police what this was all about, and she hoped his story would sound more plausible than it had last night.

The phone rang on the wall behind the counter. Caroline stumbled across, snatched it down.

‘Colette ...? Oh.’ She sagged. ‘Hello, Michelle. No ... No, I’m afraid not.’

‘Mother of one of Colette’s schoolfriends,’ Terrence said to Merrily. ‘We phoned as many as we could. Even though we’d seen some of them just an hour or two earlier when they came to collect their children.’

Merrily said, ‘Did they all go with Colette into the orchard?’

‘Some of them were too sensible,’ Terrence said bitterly. ‘Most of the others seem to have come back fairly quickly. Who wants to tramp around a place like that without torches or anything? Unless, as you say, they were looking for somewhere to experiment with drugs. I suppose you’ve seen some of that. You were in urban areas, weren’t you?’

She nodded but didn’t elaborate. The last thing he needed was to hear where some of these chemical experiments led.

Caroline said, ‘Yes. All right. Thank you, Michelle.’ Hung up the phone. ‘She says Cressida thinks we ought to talk to the DJ person, because Colette had gone off with his ghetto-blaster thing.’

‘They found it,’ Terrence said bleakly. ‘The police found it in the orchard, batteries flat.’

Caroline’s face crumpled like a wash leather.

‘As for the DJ – Jeff Mooney – he stayed behind just about long enough to present me with his ridiculous bill.’

‘Look.’ Merrily stood up. ‘I really think I ought to go back and talk to Jane. There’s always the possibility she knows something that might help. I’d like to give her a thorough grilling before the police get round to it.’

‘Would you?’ Caroline dabbed at her face with a tissue and went back to the coffee machine. She pulled two cups from a shelf. ‘Would you come back and tell us? If there was something. Anything at all?’

‘Of course.’

Terrence suddenly moaned. ‘The festival! I’d forgotten. We’ve got the ceremony this afternoon. To launch the festival. Crowds of people. We might even have the Press here.’

Oh yes, Merrily thought, you can certainly count on having the Press here this time.

‘Fuck the festival!’ Caroline slammed down both cups. ‘How can you even think of