say too much. He was very single-minded. On exercises, very competitive. I put this down to him being a bit nearer the end of his army career than the rest of us and no promotion. Like he had something to prove. I… I really don’t know about this.’
‘Not going to be filing a report on it, Barry. It’s just I can’t help feeling I let Syd down. Even though he didn’t want to talk to me.’
Barry inspected his cigarette like he couldn’t believe he’d already smoked half of it.
‘Byron was… I mean, ruthless was not a word we used, seeing as how we all needed to live there sometimes. But Byron was less inclined to take prisoners, you know what I mean? You’re aware that I’m telling you this…’
‘In total confidence.’
‘And if there are defence issues?’
‘Doesn’t worry me a lot.’
‘Blimey.’
‘You think, if I get too close to something embarrassing, I might get waterboarded?’
‘I think you should not take the piss out of these people, frankly. And you didn’t just see Byron’s book on the shelf, did you?’
‘It… was pointed out to me. But no explanation was given. I didn’t know anything about Byron Jones until now. Is he still around? I mean here?’
‘He was. I know where he was, ’cause his wife’s there. Ex-wife. Ran into her on a tourist-board beano last year. She’s doing B and B in the Golden Valley.’
‘Another failed marriage, then.’
‘Actually, the marriage survived quite a long time. Mostly through absence, I suspect. Yeah, OK, that’s not a bad idea. If you want to know about Byron, you should to talk to Liz. Big Liz. I expect there’s things she could tell you. If she was minded to. And I never said that.’
‘Why wouldn’t I just talk to Byron himself?’
‘Not advisable.’
Merrily raised her eyebrows. Barry leaned back.
‘I could give her a call, if you like, tell her you’re all right.’
‘That sounds like you want me to talk to her.’
‘I don’t want you to talk to anybody, but if you’re determined to open this can of worms…’
‘I’m trying to work this out. You think there’s something I should know, but you don’t think you should be the one to tell me? Or you can’t tell me?’
Barry looked worried. He didn’t often look worried.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to toss Byron Jones into the mix. If you get an approach from anybody, we haven’t had this chat and it wasn’t me put you on to Liz. All right?’
‘Sure.’
‘And Byron, I might’ve made him sound funny – the poetry and everything. He wasn’t, do you know what I mean? He isn’t.’
Merrily searched for anything in Barry’s eyes, but it was like they’d been switched off, and she wondered if the evil from Syd’s past finally had a name.
29
There were security lights on stockade poles at either side of the entrance. The sign had a Roman helmet on it.
Karen Dowell was sitting in the passenger seat, arms folded over her seat belt. Apprehensive.
‘You haven’t told her, have you?’
‘No reason to,’ Bliss said. ‘This is my inquiry.’
‘Which just happens to overlap her inquiry.’
‘Norra problem.’
Occasionally, he wished he could come clean to Karen about him and Annie. She’d be shocked rigid, but no way would she blab. And if she ever found out some other way she’d never trust him again, and that would be very bad. But he couldn’t. There wasn’t anybody in or outside of Gaol Street he could tell, and it was hard to imagine a situation where there ever would be.
‘Was there really a Roman town here, Karen?’
‘I think the actual site’s about half a mile away. I remember we had this school outing there once. Of course, absolutely nothing to see but empty fields. One kid burst into tears. He was expecting something like the Colosseum. Always remember that.’
Bliss drove between the lights. Almost immediately, you could see newly covered polytunnels, like big white worms. Nobody about at all. In summer the tunnels would be like wasp nests.
‘I’m not even on overtime for this, am I?’ Karen said.
‘I’ll make it up to you, kid. One day.’
Needed her local knowledge, this was what it came down to. There were details he might miss on his own. He parked near the top of a low hill, in front of a long shed with a poorly lit glass porch.
‘We should really be in town,’ Karen said. ‘If even Rich Ford is predicting trouble…’
‘Rich Ford’s an old woman.’
‘Been around a long time, boss, and he’s got a nose for under-currents. If there’s some underlying migrant issue here we know nothing about… I think he could be right – spot the retaliation and you’re there.’
‘Yeh, well, this won’t take long.’
The manager, Roger Hitchin, was waiting for them. A vague-looking feller who said straight off that he was no use to them. Didn’t deal much with the migrant workers, not being much of a linguist, just a man who knew about the business of growing strawberries. Which was why he wanted to introduce them to the firm’s Personnel Liaison Officer.
Vasile Bocean. A Romanian whose halfway-good English had apparently lifted him out of the ranks, putting him into a permanent caravan with electricity. Vasile told them that, proud of his caravan. Couldn’t be more than twenty-four. Spiky hair with gold highlights.
Hitchin left them alone with Vasile and they talked outside the office, under a metal awning. Vasile seemed to be a permanent resident now, going out with a local girl and, yes, he certainly remembered the Marinescu sisters.
He beamed.
‘From village near Sighi oara.’
Bliss nodded. He knew that much. Confirmation had come in late this afternoon from the Romanian police. The parents already contacted, photos exchanged, talk of family members coming over to take the girls’ bodies home. Elly Clatter had finally put out the sisters’ names in time for the six o’clock news.
‘Sighi oara!’ A short laugh from Vasile Bocean. ‘Is very famous town. Very small but very famous.’
Vasile was grinning, as though Bliss and Karen ought to recognize the significance. ‘Sighi oara, Transylvania? Famous tourist place. Old-fashioned buildings, like Middle Ages. But most famous…’ Vasile raising his hands, making his fingers into claws ‘… as birthplace of Mr Dracula.’
‘Really.’
‘Vlad Tepes. Impaler.’
Bliss let Vasile enjoy himself explaining how this English writer had borrowed this notorious serial killer’s name and his castle and his reputation, turning the already uncuddly Vlad into an eternal emblem of the Undead.
‘These were country girls, then,’ Bliss said when it was over. ‘Unsophisticated.’
‘Huh?’
