Shape of Snakes

He stared at me through unintelligent eyes.

'When did you do it?' I went on. 'Before or after she lost consciousness?'

He turned irresolutely to his wife, looking for an answer.

'None of us touched her,' she snapped angrily. 'She was in the morgue by the time we thieved her stuff. I've already told you that.'

It was such an open admission-and so unrepentant-that you could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. And I remember thinking to myself, This would all be so much easier if I didn 't believe her.

*27*

Alan stirred unhappily to life. 'Mum's telling the truth,' he said doggedly. 'Okay, I'm not saying we're perfect- and I'm not saying we didn't go into Annie's house after we heard she was dead-but we're not murderers.'

'Then why was her coat stinking of urine when I found her?' I asked him.

'She always smelled,' flashed Maureen sharply. 'And how do you know it was on her coat, anyway? Maybe she pissed her pants after she was hit.'

'The smell was too strong and she was curled up in a ball to protect herself. In any case, she must have been saturated in it otherwise the rain would have washed it away.' I turned back to Alan. 'I think it was a practice run for what you did to me two months later ... just as I was a practice run...' I hesitated, all too aware that Rosie Spalding's father was sitting next to me-'for the cause of your bust up with Michael Percy.'

His eyes flickered involuntarily toward Geoffrey before he dropped his forehead into his hands to mask his expression.

'That was Michael's doing,' retorted Maureen so fast that my blood ran cold. My God! Had she known about Rosle's rape and done nothing about it? She didn't stop bleeding for weeks, Michael had said ... 'Michael lost his temper for no good reason and went berserk. He's always been dangerous ... look at what he's in prison for now.' She flicked a spiteful glance at Sharon. 'If it's a murderer you want, then concentrate on him-even better, his mother's fancy man. Try asking who was the last person to speak to Annie. That'll give you the answers you want.'

Geoffrey half rose from his seat, his face purpling with anger, but Wendy laid a restraining hand on his arm and held him back. 'Don't let Maureen set the agenda, my dear. Can't you see she's trying to start a fight by provoking that peppery temper of yours? It's really most interesting. She doesn't want Derek and Alan to answer Mrs. Ranelagh's questions and I'm intrigued to know why.'

Maureen's mean little eyes slid across to look at her. 'What's it got to do with you?'

'Quite a lot considering I was one of your victims. You admit to theft so casually, Maureen, as if it's something to be proud of but your children broke my heart when they stole my mother's brooch. It was quite irreplaceable-the only thing I had of hers-but completely worthless, of course, as you must have discovered the minute you tried to sell it.'

'Nothing to do with us. It was Michael who took that.'

Wendy shook her head. 'No,' she said firmly. 'I know exactly when it went. You came seeking shelter, as usual, and kept me talking in the kitchen while your children looked for what they could steal. I blamed myself, of course, as you knew I would. I should have locked all the doors the minute you came into the house. It wasn't as though I had any illusions about you.'

The woman smiled unpleasantly. 'Too right. You treated us like dirt.'

'Not at all,' said Wendy firmly. 'I made a point of extending the same courtesy to you and your family as I did to everyone else.'

'Yeah, well maybe you made that a bit obvious. You never liked us, that's for sure.'

Wendy nodded immediately. 'Yes, that is certainly true,' she confessed. 'In fact, it was a lot worse. I couldn't bear you ... couldn't bear your children ... couldn't bear to have you in my house. My heart used to sink every time you came knocking on our door because I knew I'd face a struggle between the complete revulsion you all inspired in me and my duty as a Christian.'

The directness of this response took Maureen aback, as if she believed vicars' wives should deal only in euphemism. 'There you are then,' she said doubtfully. 'That proves you treated us like dirt.'

'Oh, I don't think so,' murmured Wendy, 'otherwise you wouldn't be so surprised to hear me agree with you. I said I struggled with my revulsion, not that I gave in to it. Our door was never closed to you, Maureen, not even after the theft of my brooch. We gave you and your children every assistance even though you were quite the most unpleasant family we'd ever had dealings with.'

I watched Alan's head sink deeper into his hands.

'What about Michael Percy?' demanded Maureen belligerently. 'He was a thief same as mine, but you couldn't do enough for him ... always turning out to hold his hand while the tart'-she jerked her chin at Sharon-'was otherwise engaged. But your pet ends up pistol-whipping old ladies and my lad comes good. So how did that happen, eh? Explain that.'

Wendy shook her head. 'I don't claim to know the answers, Maureen. All I can do is tell the truth as I see it.' She, too, looked at Alan. 'In any case, it's Alan you should be asking, not me. He's the only one who knows his story.'

'Yeah, well, maybe I was a better mother than you thought I was,' said Maureen triumphantly. 'How do you like that for an explanation?'

'You were no better than me,' said Sharon in a tight little voice. 'The only difference between us was that yours were frightened of you, and mine wasn't.'

'More fool you then,' retorted Maureen, her eyes glinting to have lured the woman into the open. 'Look where it's got you. Your Michael's such an embarrassment to you, you haven't spoken to him in years ... or that bitch of a