The Prayer of the Night Shepherd

‘No, I’m not much of an Internet person, but I’d have been surprised if there hadn’t been one.’

‘Seems to have become quite a cult, doesn’t it? Video editions with extra footage, all the unpleasant details you weren’t given in the original.’

‘Never liked that sort of thing myself — director’s cuts. When a production’s finished, it’s finished.’

‘I think we’re looking at prurient rather than artistic interest. What emerges from this — and from the badgirls site — is this particular producer’s… would obsession be too strong a word?… with bad girls generally and Brigid Parsons in particular.’

Ben Foley sighed. ‘Yes. I knew about that. Antony’s, ah, had a thing about her for quite a long time. Since he was a junior researcher at the BBC — Panorama or some such. Around the time we first met, as it happened. They were going to make a film about Brigid, when she was not long out of prison with a young baby. Idea was they’d follow her progress back into the world — all back views and silhouettes, of course. Antony was part of the team — very minor role, so there was no way she’d remember him, but he… fell for her in a big way.’

‘Fell for her… or what he thought she was? I mean, when you say he had a thing about her…’

‘She’s a rather beautiful woman. A beautiful dangerous woman. I’d like to think he was a little more sophisticated about it than the poor pervs on that Web site.’

‘I don’t remember the Panorama programme.’

‘Because it never happened. She pulled out in the end. Probably realized there was absolutely no way they could do it without identifying locations, at least. Current Affairs were furious — these were the early Birt years, when the pennies had to be accounted for.’ Ben shuddered. ‘Antony never forgot her, however, which I never found entirely healthy, or indeed his apparent obsession with women who’d killed men and boys. When he was making Women of the Midnight he did his damnedest to get Brigid. She wouldn’t meet him or any of his team, and she made sure they never found out where she was. So all they could do in Midnight, in the end, was tell the story — as they had to do with Myra Hindley — without an interview with the subject. Still made compulsive viewing, though.’

‘So when you invited him here—’

‘I’ve told you, I had no idea Natalie was… anything other than another woman on the run from a bad relationship. I thought my secret weapon in persuading Antony was going to be the story of Hattie Chancery. Antony saw Natalie, looked at her the way he looked at all attractive women, and I warned him off. He must’ve recognized her at once, didn’t say a word to me, but then he wouldn’t. From that moment on, he was evidently following his own agenda.’

‘Does he know you know… now?’

‘No. And I’m going to choose my… my moment. The little bastard.’ Ben struck the desk with his fist; the laptop vibrated. ‘The minute Amber told me, the truth of everything blew up in my face. That shit. He did it so well, continuing to resist my arguments, letting me woo him, finally relenting, oh so reluctantly. And now he’s going to shaft me and walk away. I want to kill him, Merrily. When Amber told me how he treated you like dirt in there… He wants to be thrown out. He doesn’t need me or Stanner any more. He’s got what he wants.’

‘Has he? I’m sorry…’

Ben stood for a few moments staring at a picture of the young Mary Bell on the laptop. ‘You’d better have a look at this,’ he said.

He pulled a dust cover away from a TV monitor with a nine-inch screen. ‘Hope there’s enough juice in this battery.’

From a cupboard under the desk, he produced a video camera like the one Jane had been using. He connected it to the TV, switched on, turning the sound down low. Video channel, cool blue screen.

‘I was rather surprised when Antony turned up tonight, having apparently driven from London after talking to Jane on the phone. I did a check with the AA — the route he was claiming to have taken was blocked in several places, even to a Mitsubishi Shogun.’

Jane looked up. ‘You mean he was… here all the time?’

‘Not here, but somewhere close. For at least a couple of days. When he came in tonight, he had his usual bag of cameras, but no room to go to. Took out what he needed, asked me — in view, as he put it, of all the thieving police around — if I’d put the bag in the safe. Naturally, when I found out what I found out, I had a poke around in his case. Found this.’

Brigid Parsons was on the screen, in close-up, unsmiling, no make-up, hair untidy. She seemed to be in a vehicle; there was a metal-framed window behind her. She was talking about her father.

‘… When he married again, I was fine with that, yeah. I mean, the poor guy deserved some kind of life. With my mother, he was husband, nurse, minder. I think he did love her at first… or maybe not, maybe it was just infatuation — and some kind of need. She was undoubtedly a beauty, and she needed him, and it was his job, what he did. I suppose there was a buzz in that, being needed… for a while.

‘When she was pregnant, it was, undoubtedly — he’d tell me this, time and time again — the happiest time of his marriage to Paula. So full of the happy hormones. But after I was born — whether it was like with her sister I don’t know… whether she was jealous, but… I do think that if she hadn’t killed herself she’d have killed me.’

Ben snapped off the sound. Brigid mouthed silently on the screen, her hands weaving about, her face contorted, those lush lips writhing in distaste, actual tears in her eyes. She wiped a hand across her eyes, and there was a streak of what looked like drying blood on one wrist, and livid, open lacerations.

Merrily turned away, to Ben. ‘He’s been here recording, with Brigid?’

‘Duplicitous little bastard.’ Ben switched off the set. ‘How did he persuade her? I don’t know. But he’s got an interview there maybe fifty minutes long, nearly all of it usable and worth a small bloody fortune. While my piffling Conan Doyle doco… well, that will never be made, will it? Now you know why I want to kill him. Amber said restrain yourself, think things out, and that’s what I’ve done so far.’

‘Have you told the police?’

He looked puzzled. ‘Why should I? Hasn’t broken the law, has he? I must say it did occur to me that if the police were building a case against poor Natalie, this was something they might like to impound — which would screw his exclusive, let the whole thing out of the bag. But that seemed rather unsubtle. I’ve told you because you raised the issue with me, and I want to be honest with you. But I’d be glad if you’d keep it to yourself for the moment. I am, I regret to say, unashamedly looking for a way to shaft him back.’

‘I’d like to ask Brigid about it.’

‘So would I, if I had the chance,’ Ben said. ‘But I don’t see it, do you? I don’t see any of us having a chance to talk to her again for about twenty-five years.’ He put the dust cover back over the TV monitor. ‘Look, this… Vaughan thing. I don’t know what to think. Is that woman…?’

‘I don’t know, Ben.’

‘We don’t even know if any of it’s true, do we?’

‘It makes a lot of sense, though.’

‘Inherited evil?’

‘Most of what I do, I can’t prove…’ Merrily suddenly felt so tired that she had to stand up to stop her head falling forward on to the desk ‘… anything.’

When she went alone in search of Bliss, Mumford pointed her to a door that she hadn’t noticed before, near the foot of the stairs. Mumford put a finger to his lips as she went quietly in to find a small room furnished as a study, with bookshelves. And Bliss slumped over a desk, with his head laid on an arm.

He sprang up instantly.

‘It’s allowed, Frannie,’ Merrily said.

‘Must be getting old. Used to be able to do all night and all the next day on black coffee and cheese-and- onion crisps.’

‘The adrenalin of crazed ambition. Listen, when Danny Thomas gets back, I’m hoping to get Clancy brought over. You could at least give me Brigid for half an hour.’