To Dream of the Dead

‘It’s me accent.’

The faces had gone from the window. Manic? Me? Bliss got out of the car, and strolled directly across the road, pushed the bell and stood there until a light came on over the door and Gyles opened it.

Unshaven, crumpled shirt, open cuffs hanging loose.

‘Well,’ Bliss said, ‘I can’t say this was convenient, to be honest, Gyles, it being Christmas Eve and me off duty, but… here I am.’

‘Yes,’ Gyles said.

Bliss waited.

‘Look, I’ve been bailed, Inspector. I don’t—’

‘Why’d you call me, then?’

‘What?’

‘I gave you me mobile number, Gyles, and you called me.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Hang on…’ Bliss got out his mobile, opened it up, held it out towards Gyles. ‘Why else would your number be here, under missed calls?’

‘I don’t know.’

Gyles didn’t look at the phone. Bliss gave him a smile that was wry but full of sympathy for the poor bastard’s situation, as Mrs Jones’s voice elbowed in from the hall behind him.

‘Is it that detective?’

Gyles turned, took a step back, telling her it was.

By then, Bliss was inside.

Bliss supposed the reason he hadn’t taken much notice of Mrs Jones before was that Gyles had just confessed to everything. They’d given the house a good going-over and found nothing that Gyles hadn’t already shown them. He had no form, a cleanie.

His wife had been there all the time, assiduously tidying up after them but hiding nothing, saying nothing.

‘We’re glad you came,’ she said now. ‘Aren’t we, Gyles?’

Kate Banks-Jones was plumpish, had long brown hair and a mouth that turned down but made her look unhappy rather than petulant. She wore a long grey cardigan over a striped jumper and jeans and no conspicuous jewellery. Maybe she’d binned it all, in fury. The tension had wrapped itself round Bliss as soon as he’d walked in.

‘I did not phone you,’ Gyles said.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kate said briskly. Her face was flushed, her eyes full of stored heat. ‘We’re glad of the opportunity. And I’m glad you’re on your own this time.’

‘Kate, for—’

‘I wasn’t going to say anything in front of all those other police.’ She didn’t look at Gyles. ‘Or the children.’ She spread her arms to show they were alone. ‘Thank God for grandparents.’

A downlighter illuminated a white-framed sepia photo of Hereford Cathedral, misty, across the river. Apart from the artificial tree in the window, that was the only light. No other festive decorations. About five coloured globes hanging from the ceiling looked seasonal but probably weren’t.

‘I’ve made a full statement,’ Gyles said. ‘I’ve admitted everything.’

‘And he thinks that’s an end to it.’

Kate looked up at the ceiling. They were sitting in a triangle, Bliss in a wooden-framed chair that was more comfortable than it looked, the Banks-Joneses at either end of a long settee, a lot of dark blue cushion between them. There was a small plasma telly and a deep bookcase full of books about gems and modern jewellery.

‘Well, yes.’ Bliss leaned slowly forward, hands clasped between his knees, doing sorrowful. ‘It’s very far from the end, Mrs Jones.’ He looked up, from to face. ‘You’ll have read, I’d imagine, about the murder of Councillor Ayling?’

Neither of them expecting that. Kate’s head and shoulders jerked back. Gyles just went rigid. Good, good, good.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bliss said, sliding the blade in. ‘But if you will mix with criminals, it’s no use going into denial about what they might’ve been getting up to when you’re not there.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Gyles said, and his wife turned on him.

‘Don’t be stupid, Gyles.’

Couple of days’ worth of scorn in Kate’s eyes.

‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Bliss said. ‘I’d been taken off the Ayling case to investigate this trivial shite, and I wasn’t best pleased. We do actually prefer working on the big ones. Not well-disposed towards you, Gyles. But I’d forgotten what a small town this was.’

‘It said pagans in the paper,’ Gyles said. ‘I know nothing about any pagans. I don’t see how there can possibly be any connection between Ayling’s murder and… and…’

‘So you have no connections with the local authority? Or anyone who works for it?’

Gyles’s eyes were all over the place, but he never once looked at his wife. Bliss let the silence take over the room.

‘Look.’ Kate Banks-Jones stood up. ‘He couldn’t possibly have any connection with what happened to Ayling. I mean, look at him. Does he look like a drug dealer?’

She bit her lip and sat down, probably realising what a silly question that was.

‘And what does a drug dealer look like, Mrs Jones?’ Bliss said. ‘Have a bit of a think.’

She didn’t reply at first, just stared at Gyles until he looked up at her. A little furtively, Bliss thought.

‘I don’t have to think very hard,’ she said.

‘No.’ Bliss nodded. ‘Didn’t think you would.’

‘Kate, no,’ Giles said quietly. ‘Don’t do this.’

‘Oh, the hell with it,’ Kate said. ‘A real drug dealer looks a lot like our next-door neighbour.’

The breath that came out of Gyles creaked at the back of his throat. Kate turned away from him.

‘I’m trying to put an end to it.’

‘You’ll put an end to both of us.’ Gyles was rocking on the sofa, gripping his knees, his teeth gritted. ‘Think about the kids.’

Bliss sat still, saying nothing, thinking hard. Rapidly turning things over and over and inside out and, whichever way you looked at it, it made perfect sense that Gyles was no more than the frontman, the facade, the patsy.

‘… thought Steve was awfully cool at first,’ Kate was saying. ‘His idea that Gyles should bring selections of jewellery to parties. Steve went to a lot of parties all over the West Midlands. Whole new world, wasn’t it, Gyles?’ A sneer, then turning to Bliss. ‘Look, I’m not saying we hadn’t done any coke before. I mean, when we were first married. We’d been students together. I just didn’t want anything to do with it after we had the kids. But Gyles… Gyles, unfortunately, was into his second adolescence. Plus, of course, he was making lots of lovely money.’

‘You weren’t complaining,’ Gyles said. ‘You’d been on my back for years about how little we were taking in the shop.’

Bliss said, ‘So it was Steve who had the contacts?’

‘Steve has contacts everywhere,’ Kate said. ‘He’s a planner in every sense of the word.’

‘And you are a respectable, long-established family firm.’ Bliss looked at Gyles. ‘Perhaps not doing as well as you once did. Funny, I was in a place the other week, used to be just a rural garden centre, way out in the sticks, now it’s twice the size with a massive jewellery department. Bling up to here. Hard times in the old city, eh, Gyles?’

Gyles said, ‘I want to explain—’

‘I think he wants to explain, Inspector, that our neighbour can be quite unpleasant. People who use cocaine like Steve uses cocaine can get awfully aggressive.’