‘All right.’ Bliss lifted a calming hand. ‘Let’s stand back a little from this. Allow me to bring you up to speed on West Mercia’s investigation of the murder of the Marinescu sisters.’
Leaning back into the silly chair, Bliss talked very simply and with compassion about an old lady whose handbag had been stolen by two young women in a mail-order surplus store and who’d been so upset that she’d subsequently passed away.
‘This old lady,’ Bliss said, ‘her name was Cynthia Wise, from Bobblestock. She had five children and, I think, sixteen or seventeen grandchildren?’
All this background had been waiting for him when he’d arrived at Gaol Street, well before dawn. A little fizz in the air at a normally cheerless hour.
‘I never knowed her, Mr Francis. I never goes near Bobblestock.’
‘Yeh, but what a tragic story, eh, Goldie? Could be you, couldn’t it? In a year or two. Y’know, if that was my gran, God rest her little old soul, I’d feel more than a bit aggrieved at these people coming from the fringes of the Euro-heap, as good as murdering innocent pensioners for a cheap handbag and a couple of twenties. Cause the death of a decent, much-loved old lady and what happens to them if they get nicked? First offence. Bugger all! What kind of justice is that, Goldie?’
‘I still don’t know…’ Goldie’s cold eyes jittering just enough for him to know he was in ‘… what you wants.’
‘Well, I haven’t actually made up me mind, yet, but I’m… you know, I’m wairkin ’ on it.’
‘Always helped you out, Mr Francis, you knows that.’ Goldie folding her arms, hands vanishing into the opposite sleeves. ‘I do’s everythin’ in my powers to help the police.’
Bliss sniffed.
‘Not done much at all, the more I think about it. Nor’enough to melt me stony heart on this one.’
‘Well, I don’t know about no handbags.’ Goldie so far back in the chair now that you could hear its fibres twisting. ‘You won’t find no handbags yere, thass a damn fact.’
‘Well, no, the only place I’d expect to find a stolen handbag is at the bottom of the Wye with a brick inside.’ Oh yes… closing in. ‘I suppose you could try talking to me. Maybe a few anecdotes you’ve heard from your clientele and the gentlefolk around the Plas. Bearing in mind that I don’t care where it comes from if it’s sufficiently entertaining and contains an element of verifiable truth, and… You’ve gone quiet, Goldie.’
‘I needs time.’
‘No, you don’t, not really. But go on, I’ll give yer five minutes. During which you can tell me why the girls left Magnis Berries. Was one of them raped? Threatened with rape or a beating if they didn’t do what they were told? Or was it simply just an unhappy love affair with a man who wasn’t what he seemed? What did they disclose to you over the cocoa and the tarot?’
‘Now listen, Mr Francis, I don’t know about none of that. You gotter believe me.’
‘No cocoa?’
‘No tarot, neither. I brings out the cards one night, they was near to crossing theirselves. Them ole villages in Romania, it’s like nothin’ changed in centuries. I says, right you are, loveys, I understands. ’
‘What we talking about?’
‘The dead.’ Goldie looked up, defiant. ‘That’s why they was told to leave.’
Bliss was silent. Oh fuck, was this contagious?
‘Dead people all around in the mornin’ mist. The cold comin’ off of ’em. Dead men. Got so nobody would work with them, so they was told to leave.’
‘And that’s it, is it?’
‘I knowed you wouldn’t understand.’
Bliss felt his mood darken.
‘Goldie, that earns you no points at all. And you’re out of time, so let’s go back to the old lady. Here’s the bottom line. If the killing of Maria and Ileana Marinescu is linked to what happened to Granny Wise, and the killers were to find out exactly why-’
‘You’re bloody mad, you are!’
‘… why those girls were forced to target old ladies in a hitherto safe city… if, by some unfortunate leakage of investigative data, they were to find who was running the Marinescus… they – or their mates – might think there was unfinished business, Goldie. You know what I mean?’
Goldie’s wicker chair creaked in a fragile way.
‘You’re an damned evil bastard, you are, Mr Francis.’
‘Yeh,’ Bliss said. ‘And the wairst of it is, from your point of view… I might soon be departing this division, so I have absolutely no reason to look after you any more.’
48
The light in the church was dusty brown, a muffled sunglow in the chancel. This early, it always felt like some ornate derelict cinema.
Merrily had washed and dressed, very basically. A couple of hours before she’d need to get ready for the Maundy service. No sign of Jane yet, so she’d fed Ethel and run across the road to Lol’s house. The early light had hung a grey pall on the empty living room where the wood stove was dead. She’d tried the knocker, pointlessly, and then she was walking back across the empty pink-lit square, panting, dazed and wide-eyed with panic.
Could she ring Danny at Kinnerton this early? She was not possessive, didn’t pressure, didn’t chase. Not a worrier.
She sat on the edge of the chancel, the church keys lying on a stone flag at her feet. She’d prayed, then let her fears lie for a while, unexamined, as flesh-coloured light through the high plain-glass windows laid a greasy sheen on the pew ends.
Been letting things slide, Lol had said.
You and me both. Merrily picked up the keys and stood. She already had her mobile out.
‘Not at all, Mrs Watkins!’ Greta Thomas, a woman who’d spent half a lifetime competing with amplifiers. ‘I been up hours.’
Merrily waited in the dewy churchyard until Danny came on and said no. No, Lol wasn’t there. No, he hadn’t been last night, neither.
‘When you seen him last, Merrily?’
‘About five-thirty last night. I had a parish council meeting, and I thought we’d arranged to meet in the Swan, but he didn’t show up, and he’s not been home.’
‘He don’t go many places, do he? His truck-?’
‘It’s not like him, is it? I’d ring the police, but it’s just a few hours and he’s a grown man. They’d probably just laugh at me.’
‘You got any idea at all?’
‘Only a worst-case scenario.’
‘I better come over now,’ Danny said.
On the refectory table, there was a note written in dying biro.
Mum… sorry… totally forgot E’s birthday.
Need to get the early bus into town. I’ll call you.
Love, J
Jane needed to get a birthday present for Eirion before she met him in Hereford this afternoon. Eirion’s birthday again, so soon? Was he nineteen… twenty even?
Feeling half-relieved at not having to tell Jane about Lol, Merrily started making tea and toast which she didn’t want, just giving her hands things to do while waiting for the news on Radio Hereford and Worcester. Like if there was nothing on the news, everything would be OK.
The only local item was Ward Savitch talking about opening up The Court to the public over Easter to thank
