The Cure of Souls

It was possibly the first time she’d said ‘Merrily’, rather than ‘Ms Watkins’. Using the first name the way police talked to suspects – patronizing, to make them feel lowly and vulnerable.

Right now, it was entirely superfluous. Merrily sat in an armless chair, one with aluminium legs. She felt sick, wishing she’d said no to the scones. And to Gerard Stock.

The last time she and Annie Howe had been face to face, Howe had said, I don’t know how you people can pretend to do your job at all. To me, it’s a complete fantasy world.

Merrily put her hands on her knees. ‘Where’s Lol?’

‘Robinson’s being interviewed separately, by Inspector Bliss.’

‘Frannie Bliss?’

‘If you only knew,’ Howe said, ‘how badly I’m wishing there was something I could charge you with.’

She was in white blouse, black skirt. Her ash-blonde hair was tied back. She was wearing maybe a little eyeshadow, mauvish. If she’d worn glasses they would doubtless have been rimless, like a Nazi dentist’s – Jane’s line. Merrily thought, There is absolutely nothing I can tell this woman that she’s going to believe.

She bit her lower lip. The whole office was painted butcher’s-shop white. There were no plants, no photographs. The calendar did not have a picture; it was framed in a metal box, and you expected it to have ten days in a week, ten months in a year. Andy Mumford sat in the corner by the door, presumably in case Merrily should try to do a runner.

‘Still,’ Annie Howe said, ‘I suppose by the time you leave here, you’ll at least be in a better position to assess your own degree of responsibility.’ She ejected the videotape from the machine. ‘At some point you and I will have to watch it all the way through, to verify certain points. Did you know you were being recorded?’

‘No. It never even occurred to me.’

‘Two cameras.’ Howe went to sit behind her desk, which was away from the limited distraction of the window. ‘Semiprofessional: one digital, one hi-eight. Both of them wedged between timbers in the ceiling. It’s a fairly primitive ceiling, with small holes and gaps all over it, so all he had to do was prise up a couple of boards in the bedroom and position the cameras underneath – one wide-angle, one focused on the table. Why do you think he wanted it all on tape?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Of the suggestions so far, the most likely is that he may have been planning to make the material available for some future television documentary. I’m told he’s always looking to the main chance. Perhaps – let’s not overestimate the man’s intelligence – perhaps he thought he might even capture something looking vaguely paranormal.’

‘Media-oriented, I suppose. He’s a… professional PR man.’

‘Really? According to people in the village, he’s a washed-up drunk.’

‘He wasn’t drunk when I was with him,’ Merrily said.

‘No, amazingly, he wasn’t. So you didn’t even hear the cameras? One was quite old and noisy.’

‘There was a big fridge, which made a lot of noise. If I heard anything, I would have assumed it came from that.’

Howe thought for a moment, expressionless. It was hard to credit she was probably only thirty-two years old.

‘Doesn’t seem to have been a very successful exorcism, does it, Ms Watkins? Or are they always like that?’

‘They’re all different, in my limited experience. But no, it wasn’t as… productive as I might have hoped.’

‘Depending on how one interprets the word “productive”.’

Merrily winced.

‘What time did you leave?’

‘I’m not sure exactly. It couldn’t have been long after midday. I’d suggested we might go back tonight.’

‘He didn’t seem to take that proposal terribly well.’

‘No.’ Merrily was looking down into her lap. Her hands were on her knees, but they wouldn’t stay still.

‘My impression from the tape is that he’d about had enough of you.’

‘Yes.’

‘He described you as amateurish.’

‘I remember exactly what he said.’

‘You and Robinson left at the same time?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘I drove back to Hereford. I had an appointment to meet someone at the Green Dragon.’

‘Who?’

‘You know who; your dad.’

‘Why?’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’

‘I’m asking you.’

‘It was in his capacity as a school governor. He rang me while I was at Knight’s Frome to tell me he had some information relating to an attempted suicide by a young girl whose parents thought she was… spiritually troubled.’

Howe’s top lip lifted in disdain. ‘And was this attempted suicide before or after you were called in to assist this child in her alleged religious distress?’

Merrily didn’t answer.

‘Really not your week, is it? Did you go directly to the Green Dragon?’

‘No, I went to the Deliverance office first. I parked on the Bishop’s Palace forecourt which, as you know, is only a couple of minutes’ walk from the Green Dragon.’

‘Was Robinson with you?’

‘He followed in his own car. We had a brief discussion, and then I had to go and meet your father. Lol and I agreed to meet up afterwards.’ She shook her head. ‘Can’t get my—I can’t believe how quickly this all happened.’

‘If it’s any help, the videotape shows that it happened precisely eleven minutes and fourteen seconds after you and Robinson made your last appearance on the tape.’

‘Useful, that videotape.’ Merrily moistened her parched lips.

‘From our point of view, it’s unique. Like being handed a case gift-wrapped with a pretty bow on top.’ Howe stood up, looking down on Merrily. ‘We can even say that it was approximately sixteen minutes after the event itself when Gerard Stock telephoned here, asked to be put through to CID and baldly informed DC Little that he’d just slaughtered his wife.’

It was an interview room with a tape machine, for suspects, and that didn’t help. DI Francis Bliss was about Lol’s age, with red hair, a Merseyside accent and a chatty manner, and that didn’t help either.

It all took Lol back to when he was twenty, a baby rock star… the accused. So hard to tell with young girls these days, isn’t it, Laurence? How old did you think she was? Stitched up by the police and a ruthless bass-player called Karl, and by the parents of a nice girl called Tracy Cooke. Prelude to the great psychiatric symphony.

‘Listen, I’m gonna get yer another cup of tea,’ DI Bliss said.

‘I’m all right, thanks.’

‘You’re not, you know. You’re in shock. Be a shock for anybody.’ Bliss perched on a corner of the interview table. ‘Sorry about this room, but I’m not based here, so I’ve not gor an office of me own. Known Merrily long?’

‘Just over a year.’

‘And you two just met up in the village this morning, after not seeing each other for a few months, and she told you what she was doing and she asked you to go in with her, yeh?’

‘I know that sounds…’

Bliss put out placatory hands. ‘I’m not trying to catch yer out, Lol, I’m just trying to get the basic picture, that’s all.’

‘I was worried about her doing it,’ Lol said.