Well…
The mood swings of last night had no longer been in evidence. George Lackland had a town to run, and it had been like talking to some avuncular Mafia don whose ethos had long since transcended all moral values.
‘So I’m in your hands.’ Jon Scole sucked the top off his beer. ‘Whatever you want. And I might seem a bit of a loud-mouthed bastard, but I can promise you, Mary’ — Jon tapped his nose, froth on his beard — ‘nothing gets out.’
Mary? Well, why not? He knew she was a vicar with the diocese. But he didn’t know her surname, and now he’d got her first name wrong. Perhaps even George Lackland had heard it as Mary.
She was working undercover. She would be Mary. Fine.
She’d met up with Jon Scole at his shop in Corve Street. The shop was called Lodelowe, a medieval spelling of the town’s name. It was a darkly atmospheric gift emporium, with lamps made from pottery models of town houses, misty framed photographs, paintings and books: books on the history of Ludlow and books about the supernatural.
Jon Scole understood from the Mayor that, unlike some people in the Church he’d had dealings with, Mrs Watkins wasn’t averse to discussing ghosts, which had seemed to be the clincher for him. They could talk about ghosts. Jon loved to talk about ghosts. And also about the strange ways of the exotic Belladonna — Bell Pepper.
‘Oh yeah, I get on with Bell… as far as anybody does. Bell loves ghosts. I mean, that’s it. Mystery solved. I could lead you along, make a big thing out of it, but that’s what it comes down to. That woman bloody loves ghosts. And you know what’s so funny about that — I mean considering all those spooky albums? You know the big joke? Bell can’t see ’em. She cannot see ghosts.’
‘That’s what she’s said to you?’
‘I tell you’ — Jon pointed down the Comus bar, which was unexpectedly modern, not at all rustic — ‘if the bint in the see-through whatsit drifted through here now, she’d carry on with her gin and tonic, tequila, whatever— Oh, listen, I never finished that story, did I? That was a strange one. A bloke investigated it, found this actual young girl who, every week, she used to visit her auntie, or her great-auntie — anyway, they were close — and when the auntie died suddenly and the girl moved away, she used to imagine herself going back along the same route, reliving it — a happy time. And they reckon that’s what people saw.’
‘A phantasm of the living?’ Huw Owen called them extras or walk-ons.
‘Blimey, you do know your way around my backyard,’ Jon said. ‘I tell you, Mary, this town’s heaving with ghosts. I can do well here, if they leave me alone.’
‘You’ve not been doing this long?’
‘Came here not long before Bell. Parents died — got killed in the car.’
‘I’m sorry. Was it—?’
‘Bit of a shock. Year or so ago now. They had a restaurant — well, more of an upmarket transport caff, to be honest, south Man. — Cheshire, they liked to say. I couldn’t face taking it over, so I flogged the lot to the bloody Little Chef — opportune, really — and took to the road, looking for something interesting.’
‘So, you own the shop?’
‘No, I’m renting — ridiculous bloody rent — but it’s still at the experimental stage. This bloke Roy Liddle, who did the ghost-walks before, it was more of a hobby for him. I’m afraid I’m a little bit more of a businessman, don’t want to invest all I’ve got in it if it’s going to flop, do I?’
‘The ghost-walks?’
‘Ties in with the shop: mysteries of old Ludlow. Not doing badly, but it’s early days yet — I only opened last Christmas, still feeling me way. Can’t afford to tread on too many toes at this stage. So when the Mayor sent for me…’
‘Sent for you?’
‘Well… asked if I’d drop into his furniture shop — it’s only fifty yards up the road. You should’ve heard him. He’d been asked to assist “senior clergy” investigating “certain incidents”. Absolutely confidential, Jonathan. Me trying to keep a straight face. What is that about?’
‘It’s about what you might call the spiritual spin-off from two very similar deaths at the castle.’
‘One an accident. Unless…’
‘Mmm?’
‘Unless you and George know better?’ Little smile there.
‘Did George indicate that?’
‘Well…’ Jon Scole thought for a moment. ‘I should tell you — if he hasn’t already — that there’s a certain issue on which old George and me swap confidences.’
‘Belladonna?’
Jon grinned. ‘Bane of his life. Lovely lady — undermining every bloody thing he thinks he stands for: moral decency, all this stuff. And he can’t do anything, ’cos very soon she’s gonna be at the very heart of his eminently respectable family. Respectable! He’s an old crook, like all bloody councillors. You ever know a councillor who was in it for the public good?’
‘But why would he share confidences with—? I’m sorry…’
‘A yob like me? Because I mix with the kind of people who come into contact with Bell. And even Bell herself, now and then. Better placed than anybody, me, to keep an eye on her. I mean, I can see his problem — it must be scary having a woman like that around.’
‘A woman like what?’
‘A woman with enough money never to have to give a shit for people like Councillor Lackland. A woman who’s fascinated by the mysteries of life and death, and is open to… experiments.’
‘What kind of—?’
Jon tapped his nose. ‘All in good time, Mary. Tell me about yourself.’
‘Well…’ She’d spent some time working out what she wanted to say and what it was best to conceal. ‘I work for the Diocese of Hereford…’
‘You’re a real, actual priest.’
‘I… yeah.’
He frowned. ‘See, that’s not good, Mary. She doesn’t like priests, Bell. Likes churches but she doesn’t like The Church. If you get me.’
‘Mmm.’
‘So what’s The Church’s angle on this?’
‘Good question. All right… I work for the division of the Church that investigates hauntings and… things of that nature.’
‘That’s more or less what George said, but I wondered if he was having me on, so I said I’d talk to you. So you’re actually an exorcist, right?’
‘Well, I… yeah.’
‘You don’t look a lot like Max Von Whatsisname.’
‘I’m a disappointment to everyone.’
‘There isn’t some silly bugger wants you to go in and exorcize the castle, is there?’
‘Nothing formal, as yet.’
‘Because that…’ Jon was lifting his glass. He put it down with a bang. ‘That would be fuckin’ insane, Mary! Apart from what it’d do to my business, you’d be undermining the very essence of Ludlow. Bell would go spare.’
‘For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t like to do that either,’ Merrily said. ‘But I’m interested in why you think it would be insane.’
‘Really? All right. Come with me, then.’
‘Where?’
‘Not far.’ He stood up and put on his motorbike jacket. Its chains rattled like an alarm, and two retired- looking couples at the next table all turned round at once.
