“Aye. And, as you well know, I don’t happen to believe in convenient messages from the other side.”
She smiled. “It’s stalemate, isn’t it, then?”
“No, it isn’t. Are you aware that I could hold you if I wanted?”
“What do you mean?”
“You profess to have information about a missing child, but you won’t reveal your source. As far as I know, you could have something to do with Gemma Scupham’s disappearance.”
“Now look here?”
“No. You look here. If that child is alive and you know
something that could help us find her, you’d better tell me, because I’m getting tired of this.”
“I only know what I told Brenda?that Gemma is alive, she’s scared and she wants her mother. You know, you’d do much better with an open mind. The police have used psychics to help them in the past.”
And a fat lot of good it’s done, thought Gristhorpe, feeling himself being manipulated into the position of doing exactly that. The woman might know something, after all, and he couldn’t dismiss that possibility, even if it meant playing her game. “All right,” he sighed. “Did you get any impressions about where she is?”
Lenora shook her head.
“Any images, sounds, smells?”
“Nothing like that. Just an overwhelming emotional sense of her presence somewhere. Alive. And her fear.”
“Near or far?”
“I can’t say.”
Gristhorpe scratched his chin. “Not much to go on, is it?”
“I can’t help that. I’m merely a medium for the messages. Do you want to consult me professionally? Do you want me to try and help you?”
Gristhorpe noticed the smile of triumph. “Ms Carlyle,” he shot back, “if you fail to help us, I’ll make sure you’re thrown in jail. Do you know Melville Westman?”
It was only fleeting, but he saw it, a split-second sign of recognition. It was second nature for him to notice the signs, the body language, the way eye-contact broke off. He could see her trying to decide how much to admit. “Well?” he prodded.
“The name sounds vaguely familiar,” she said with a toss of her head. “I might have come across him.”
“Let me fill you in. Melville Westman calls himself a magician. There have been incidents in the past few
years of such groups using children in their rituals. Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you and Westman have any involvement in Gemma’s disappearance, direct or indirect, I’ll find out about it.”
“This is ridiculous!” Lenora said. “I’ve had enough of your accusations and insinuations.” She tried to push the chair back to get to her feet, but forgot it was bolted to the floor and she got stuck, half-standing, between it and the table.
“Sit down.” Gristhorpe waved his hand. “I haven’t finished yet. What’s your connection with Westman?”
She sat down, chewed on her lower lip for a moment, and answered, “I know him, that’s all. We’re acquaintances.”
“Met at the magician’s circle, did you?”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic. It’s a small community for anyone interested in the occult. We’ve had discussions, loaned one another books, that’s all.”
“I’m asking you if Westman has told you anything about Gemma Scupham’s whereabouts. Are you some kind of messenger, some salve to the conscience come to spare the mother a little pain until you’ve finished with the child? Or are you just tormenting her?”
“Don’t be absurd. What would Melville want with the child?”
“You tell me.”
“He wouldn’t. He’s not that kind.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that performs elaborate rituals, sacrifices animals and …”
“Children?”
“Look, I’m not denying there are lunatic fringes around, but Melville Westman doesn’t belong to one.”
“Is there anyone in the area you would associate with a lunatic fringe?”
“No.”
“Ever heard of the Manleys? Chris and Connie. Or Miss Peterson and Mr Brown?”
“No.”
“Did Melville Westman send you?”
“No, he bloody well didn’t. I came forward to help the mother of my own free will,” Lenora said through clenched teeth. “And this is how you treat me. I thought the police would?”
“You know nothing about the way we work, or you’d hardly have had Brenda Scupham shooting her mouth off on television.” ? “That wasn’t my doing.”
