Rachel took a long breath then nodded as she reached over and touched the hanger with the white flowing top. Gently and with nothing less than reverence (fear actually, it was fear) she pulled it from the wardrobe and Joyce looked down at it. A white, flowing top with long sleeves and stitched white-flower patterns on it. Little tassels around the hem. The bent coat hanger wings on the back.
The base clothes for her Halloween angel outfit.
Joyce’s voice was soft and gentle. ‘Are you sure this is what she was wearing?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said. ‘It got dirty in the vault so Mum washed it. Is that a problem … if it’s been washed?’
‘No.’ Joyce reached for the top and lifted it up. ‘That’s not a problem at all.’ She put it to her face and sniffed it, eyes locked on Rachel.
‘This is going to help us connect,’ Bob said.
Rachel looked at the two of them, standing there. Oddballs, they were, quite frankly, with the sort of strong convictions that scared her no end, if she really thought about them. But through all this they had at least been constant. They’d been two sturdy concrete posts in a sea of shifting ideas and theories. And they had the sweetest faces. The kindest eyes.
But still, as Joyce leant forward and held the top up again, as if to set it against Rachel’s chest to see if it might fit, Rachel took a step back from it.
Joyce said. ‘Is something wrong?’
Rachel looked at the carpet.
‘Do you want to stop the seance?’
Silence.
‘Rachel … speak to—’
‘What if Matthew’s right? That this isn’t real.’
‘Do you think he’s right?’
‘I’m not sure. Sometimes, maybe.’
‘He isn’t on this occasion. But Rachel … there’s something else.’ She took a tiny step closer.
‘What?’
‘You’ve been looking at me strangely,’ Joyce whispered. ‘Ever since we got back from the hospital. Better say it now, girl. It’d be best.’
Rachel looked back up. ‘It’s Kassy.’
‘What about her?’
‘She doesn’t believe in this. She says I shouldn’t do the seance.’
‘I know this.’
‘She doesn’t believe in you.’
‘I know that too.’
‘No,’ Rachel shook her head. ‘She … she said some things about you. Things I’ve never heard before. She’s asking people questions about something that happened at our school. When you were teachers.’
Joyce closed her eyes and with a push of the lips she said, ‘What things?’
‘Bad things.’ Rachel looked down at her hands and noticed how old they were looking. ‘About why you left teaching early …’
‘Ahhhh,’ Joyce said, drawing the sound out for a weirdly long time.
Bob groaned and walked away shaking his head. ‘Never ends, does it, love?’
‘So was she lying? About what they found in your bags?’
She noticed that Bob had closed the door, then walked back to his wife.
Joyce ran a tooth across her bottom lip, and shook her head. ‘She wasn’t lying.’
PART THREE EFFLUVIA
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Todd creaked back into his pastor’s chair in a church office filled with wet-looking cardboard boxes. They were stuffed full of cartoony religious pamphlets saying This Was Your Life and Q: Are Catholics Really Christians? A: Nope! A dying pot plant sat on his desk and behind him hung a ridiculously large poster of Jesus Christ in a white robe and sandals, stepping off the clouds and coming for a second time into the world. The words underneath declared: Perhaps Tomorrow, Perhaps Today!
Perhaps never.
The letter from Matt’s car windscreen lay flat on the desk, though the tight folds were making it slowly coil back into itself, like a dying insect scared of the light. Neil and Jerry stood near one of the bigger cardboard box piles, looking edgy. At one point, Matt saw Neil close his eyes and pray.
Todd started rhythmically pressing his back into his chair. ‘Well I’m offended, gentlemen. I’m offended.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Larry said.
‘That your first thought is to march in here and accuse us.’
‘Did you write it?’ Matt stood next to Larry in front of the heavy desk. There were no other chairs.
‘If I said no, would you believe me?’
‘That’s not an answer,’ Larry said. ‘Did you write it? Or someone you know?’
‘Sorry, but no. I have no idea.’
Matt leant onto the desk. ‘All we’re asking for is your help, Todd. A woman was brutally killed last night.’
‘Well, we hardly need reminding of that. The whole town ain’t talking of anything else.’
‘Police scanner went into meltdown during that,’ Neil added.
‘You were listening in?’
He nodded. ‘’Course.’
‘And did you all go over there? To the park?’
‘Me and Jerry did. Just to pray for the dead woman. We couldn’t get very close because of the crowds, but we still prayed.’
‘I see … well like I said,’ Matt turned back to Todd, ‘the evidence points to someone with a thing about witches. And to be fair, your little Phoenix Club … has a thing about witches.’
‘See, guys. What did I tell you?’ He opened up his palms. ‘Accusations.’
Jerry and Neil looked at each other, but said nothing.
‘Look.’ Larry took a step forward, voice calm. ‘Maybe someone just heard one of your sermons and took it a bit far. You say you didn’t write the note. Fine. But now we’re asking if you know anybody in your group that might be unstable or have a history of violence. Someone who might not have the right sort of parameters.’
Todd put both hands on the desk, checking his fingernails. He actually looked bored.
‘Well?’ Matt snapped. ‘Is there anyone?’
Jerry shuffled forwards. ‘If you’re looking for someone who thinks witches, demons and new age religion might well be the source of evil in this world then, yes, I do know somebody.’ He tapped a hand against his chest. ‘Me.’
‘And me,’ Neil added.
Todd looked at them both and smiled.
Jerry went on. ‘And if you’re asking if dabbling in the occult is punching holes in the light and the demons are spilling back in, I say absolutely. But if you reckon the good people of
