The Cure of Souls

41

Another Round to the Devil

LOL HAD WALKED twice up and down the drive, once exchanging a wave with the nervous gardener through the front window of his bungalow, when a police car nosed in, no siren, no fuss.

He waited for it near the gates. This was slightly awkward, but walking away wouldn’t look good.

Both coppers got out. ‘Mr Henry? Mr Allan Henry?’

Lol stood blinking in the headlight beams, aware of another vehicle pulling in behind the police car: the solicitor, maybe, arriving with Henry’s legal bulletproof vest.

‘Er, no,’ Lol said. ‘Mr Henry’s back there. In a gypsy caravan.’

Exchange of glances, then they came slowly towards him, one either side. He leaned back against the gates, arms loose: no threat, not part of this. Where was the gardener – he should be handling it.

‘Then who are you, sir?’

‘Me? I’m just—’

‘Mr Laurence Robinson, as I live and breathe!’

Not the solicitor, then. This was a recently familiar figure with red hair and an expression of pleasant anticipation.

‘Remember me, Mr Robinson? DI Bliss?’

Like there were several Scouse accents in Hereford Division.

‘Remind me,’ Lol said.

Bliss laughed. ‘What a night that was, eh?’ He walked over, car keys in his hand. He looked like he’d come out in a hurry; he was wearing a dark suit jacket over a white T-shirt and sweatpants. ‘And what a night this is turning out to be – what’s left of it. What you doing here, pal? That your car, is it, on the road?’

Lol nodded. He saw one of the uniformed men had a flashlight levelled at the ground, tracking around.

‘Looks like there’s been something approximating to an RTA in this vicinity, boss.’

‘Does there, really?’ Bliss nodded absently. ‘Tell you what, Terry, why don’t you boys go and see if you can find Mr Henry and make sure he’s in one piece. I’ll have a chat with Mr Robinson here.’

They leaned either side of the bonnet of Bliss’s modest Nissan. Lol was explaining as best he could, covering up very little.

‘Two nights?’ Bliss whistled thinly. ‘A fourteen-year-old girl missing for two nights, and no bastard tells us?’

‘Hang on,’ Lol said, puzzled. ‘You knew this, surely. You’ve talked to the parents.’

Bliss looked genuinely blank. ‘I know nothing about any parents, pal. We’re just responding to a 999 from a young girl. Sounded like everybody who ever bought an Allan Henry home was arriving to complain en masse. I was in bed, I had a call, the magic name was whispered in me ear and… as I’d always wanted to visit Southfork, I came. I’ll be making the most of that in a minute.’

‘Young girl?’ Lol said.

‘I doubt it was this actual missing girl, if that’s what you were thinking. Let me get this right, are you saying Henry’s step-daughter knows where she is?’

‘Well, that’s what the kid’s parents thought.’

‘I’ll give Hereford a bell in a minute, see if these parents have shown up. Hereford can handle it from their side. Me, I feel much better knowing Mrs Watkins is on the case.’

Lol met his eyes: sarcasm or a feed-line?

‘I like that little lady,’ Bliss said. ‘She tries so hard.’

‘She does.’

‘Allan Henry, mind, that feller’s something else again. Not harmed then?’

‘Not that I could see.’

‘Doesn’t sound like it was worth getting out of me pit, does it?’ Bliss stood with his hands flat on the car bonnet. ‘So… anyone tell you about Gerard Stock, then, Laurence?’

Lol nodded.

‘Surprise you?’

‘Kind of.’

‘C’mon, Lol, I’m not taking a bloody statement here.’ Bliss straightened up. ‘You’re one up on me – you knew the bugger before he was a murderer. What I’ve learned in the past day or so tells me a bloke like that doesn’t clam up then top himself. Now he’s gone, there’s not much left for us to clean up. But I’d still like to know what it was about. Really. So – what was it about?’

‘You’re asking me?’

‘I am. I’m asking you ’cause you’ve got no professional angle on this. And also, well, our governor, Annie Howe… very busy little snow queen tonight. She’s probably still up in her office right now. Don’t get me wrong – good copper, Annie, good thief-taker. But limited vision. And I’ll tell you now, Annie’s out to stick this on Merrily. Big-time.’

‘Why?’

Bliss blinked. ‘That’s a good question. I never gave it much thought, to be honest. Why? Well… she’s no believer. It offends her a bit, working in a cathedral city, seeing what it all costs, being told by the Chief that she’s gorra stay on good terms with the Church hierarchy. And women priests – not that she likes men priests either, but I reckon she actually thinks women should be above that kind of superstitious rubbish. Women becoming priests is a sell-out. That’s what I reckon, anyway. Women like Merrily are traitors to the cause.’

‘That’s a new one,’ Lol said.

‘Yeh, and I never told yer. So, go on. Why did Gerard Stock kill his wife and chop her head off?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I know you don’t bloody know, Lol. What do you think? What does Merrily think?’

‘Well, nothing you could put in a police report.’

‘Bloody Nora!’ Bliss gazed at the moon. ‘I’ll decide what can be made to fit into a report – and it might not even need to be a report, as such. Might be a whisper in the right ear at headquarters. I’m trying to help here, pal. I was raised a Catholic in Liverpool, me.’

‘You said.’

‘It was a long time before I even started to question whether the stuff in the jug at Mass might possibly not have turned into the actual blood of Christ. Still keeps me awake sometimes. So, what I’m saying… I’m not gonna laugh, you know?’

‘Well… Stock gave the impression he thought his place was haunted by the ghost of Stewart Ash. But if you believe it was haunted, maybe you’re not looking at Ash whose murderers were caught. Maybe you’re looking at something that happened there a long time ago but that was never solved at all.’

Bliss blinked. ‘Something else happened there? Should I know that?’

‘Maybe something was left that affected Stephanie more than Stock, because she was a woman. Something that changed her personality.’

‘You’re suggesting Mrs Stock was possessed, right?’

‘I don’t know if that’s the right word.’

‘Tell me,’ Bliss said.

So Lol actually told Bliss about the Lady of the Bines. About Rebekah and Conrad Lake. Out here, under a full moon, it didn’t sound entirely crazy. While he was talking, a Mercedes drew up and a plump man with a pilot’s case walked past them to the gates without a sideways glance.

‘Doesn’t waste any time, does he?’ Bliss commented. ‘Right then. You’re saying that, whatever the truth of the matter, Gerard Stock, notorious piss-artist of this parish, had every excuse for thinking his wife had been… shall we say, infected by the spirit of a woman whose murder had gone undetected.’

‘Not only undetected, but undiscovered,’ Lol said.

‘This is not uninteresting, Laurence. You think if I went back through the annals of the old Herefordshire force, I might find a reference to this missing gypsy? Not that I’m doubting your word, but it might help to have that