guidance and friendship would be a gross dereliction of duty'
Gary only mentioned one man who had visited their flat. Foster was starting to think he was wasting his time.
'Do you have a record of missionaries that were active in certain areas?'
'Obviously I don't have access to that information personally but, yes, there is a record. But we'd need to have a good reason to divulge it. Perhaps if you were to submit a request in writing . . . ?'
'I could pass it on, yes.'
'I'll get something to you.' He took out a notebook from his jacket pocket. There was no need. Brewster had already produced a card from his wallet. Foster thanked him and slipped it into his pocket.
'If someone spoke about the end days, would you assume they were a Mormon?'
He shook his head. 'Not really. Almost every religion in the world has their own concept of the end times, the second coming of the Lord and the beginning of the Kingdom of God. The specific details depend upon the faith itself. Each has its own signs, traditions and beliefs about the last days. Some believe that a series of natural disasters will herald the Second Coming. Others that it will steal upon us like a thief in the night. We believe the last days are already upon us, hence the name Latter-day Saints, though that doesn't necessarily mean the end is nigh. Just that we're nearer the end of the book than the start, if you like. But we're always prepared.'
Foster wondered how someone might prepare for the end of the world. 'How about if the same person also mentioned the celestial kingdom?' he asked.
'Then I would say that they almost certainly were a member of the Church. What was the context?'
'Just a letter from a sister to a brother about how they would be reunited in the celestial kingdom after the end days. They're estranged.'
'The celestial kingdom is the highest tier of heaven, the residence of God the Father and Jesus Christ. We believe that those who have been righteous, and have accepted the teachings of the faith and lived according to the covenants and ordinances of our prophet in their mortal lives, will be reunited with their families in the afterlife. The brother -- I assume he is a member of the Church, too?'
Foster nearly burst out laughing at the idea of Gary as a devout follower of any religion. 'Not quite,' he said.
'In that case, he wouldn't be allowed into the celestial kingdom. If he lives respectably but rejects the gospel of Jesus Christ, he would dwell in the terrestrial kingdom.
Or, God forbid, if he lives less than respectably and refuses the testimony of Jesus Christ, he will end up dwelling in the teles tial kingdom with the liars, adulterers, sinners and general ne'er-do-wells.'
Sounds like more fun there, thought Foster.
'Unless, of course, they were dead and able to receive the Gospel in the Spirit World,' Brewster continued.
'Come again?' Foster said.
Well, we Latter-day Saints believe the dead can be baptized vicariously and allowed into the faith and subsequently the Kingdom of God.'
'How does that work?'
'It means someone can be baptized by proxy for their dead ancestors.'
Foster struggled to comprehend what he was being told. 'But these people are dead?'
We believe that in the afterlife people should be able to accept the Gospel, particularly if they were not able to receive it while on earth. Whether they do or not is their choice.'
The delusion of religion had always puzzled him, but baptizing the dead was among the most bizarre things he'd ever come across. Brewster seemed to sense his disbelief.
'It's not a belief shared by other Christian denominations,'
he explained. 'Though some would argue the Bible calls for it. Otherwise why did Paul say in Corinthians 15: 29, 'Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead?' Regardless of that debate, it is central to our faith. Which is why we're so active in the world of genealogy. We ask all members of the Church to trace their ancestry and in temple baptize their dead by proxy'
No matter where I turn, Foster thought, I can't escape people seeking out their past. He made a mental note to discuss this with Barnes later that day. However, something Brewster said was bothering him. 'So the brother I referred to earlier, who is no angel and certainly no Mormon, he wouldn't be allowed into the celestial kingdom unless he converted to Mormonism?'
'That's correct.'
'But they would be able to convert him if he was dead?'
'He could be given the option, yes.'
'Thanks. I'll be in touch,' he said and turned on his heels, collecting Gary as he left.
They got back to Foster's house early that evening. Foster had taken Nigel into the office, leaving him to surf the Internet idly while he made a few calls and looked at the faxes sent over from New Zealand. It looked like an open and shut case of accidental death. No suggestion of arson.
The girl had jumped from the window before being overcome by smoke. The rest of her family had not been so fortunate. He put the papers in his pocket for closer study at home.
They parked up a fair distance from Foster's front door, the weekend getaways having returned and occupied most of the spaces around his house. Sunday evenings were always the worst.
They reached the front door. Foster put his key in the lock and remembered. Before opening the door, he looked down. The tape was still there. He went into the hall, took off his coat and then went into the sitting room and stuck the TV on for Gary. He had intended to pick up some food but time had run away. Another takeaway would do, though at this rate the weight he'd lost would soon be back on.
Gary slumped on the sofa, while Foster went to close the curtains across the French windows. He checked the tape.
It was broken.
Someone had been inside his house.
He fished a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped it around his hand and tried the door. It opened. The lock had been forced. Given its worn state, that wouldn't have taken too much effort. He left Gary in the sitting room, closing the door behind him. He went to the hatstand in the hall and picked up an old golf club, about the only potential weapon he had.
He walked upstairs. The bathroom was empty. His bedroom and the spare room, too. He checked cupboards, under every bed and inside the wardrobe on the landing.
Nothing. He breathed out.
In the kitchen he checked the unlocked window, the same one Gary had entered by. The tape was intact. Yet on the back door it was broken. Whoever it was had come in through the back garden, forced open the French windows and then exited via the back door.
His house wasn't safe any more.
Sunday night and the pursuit of Naomi was getting colder.
Nigel sat waiting, his stomach performing cartwheels.
Foster had called to tell him the exhumation was on that night and he would pick him up at nine. When he called from his car to let him know he was outside, Nigel walked out like a condemned man, unsure what to expect. He certainly didn't expect a young boy to be in the back.
'Nigel, this is Gary,' Foster said. 'Gary Stamey,' he added simply.
The kid didn't even blink, just stared out of the window sullenly.
'I'm dropping him off at Heather's while we take care of business.'
Nigel knew instantly who the kid was. Why he was in Foster's car was a different matter. Nigel thought it best to save the questions for another day.
They arrived at Heather's. Nigel stayed in the car as Foster and the kid trudged up the path to Heather's terraced house. He was back within the minute. 'Heather says 'hi',' he muttered as he climbed into the driver's seat.
'Did she?' Nigel asked as casually as he could muster.
There was the ghost of a smile on Foster's face. 'To the graveyard,' the detective said, turning the engine
