Remains of an Altar

coveralls were packed away in a case, and the fellers who came out were wearing nice suits.’

‘In Hereford?’

‘That didn’t use to happen in Hereford, did it?’ Bliss said.

Merrily heard a car pulling into the vicarage drive. The bluebottle was still making hysterical circuits of the window, or maybe it was another bluebottle. She was very tired of people buzzing her and then flying out of range.

A key turned in the front door. Thank God.

‘And did you … explain why you’re ringing me?’

‘I said it wasn’t robbery, but we think his laptop had been taken and some disks. No sign of case notes or files lying around the office, anyway. So we got permission from his family to check out his bank accounts. Discovering that, among recent payments, was one from a Ms C.W. Sparke, of Wychehill, Malvern.’

Merrily’s body jerked; the chair legs scraped the thinning carpet.

‘That’s a surprise, then, is it?’ Bliss said.

‘What was he doing for her?’

‘I don’t know. All we have is a receipt for ?250, including exes.’

‘Winnie Sparke paid this man ?250?’

‘Peanuts, Merrily. He’d get more than that for finding a lost dog. Most clients, it runs into thousands. Anyway, there it is. She’s among a dozen or so of his customers we’re checking out. Although it may have nothing do with his current business. However, what do you know about her?’

‘She’s a writer. From California, but she’s lived here quite a few years. Divorced.’

‘I was thinking more about her links to our friend Mr Loste, actually. She paid for his lawyer and she collected him from Worcester nick. It might be just a coincidence, but it’s interesting.’

‘She’s working on a book with Loste. He’s probably very important to her career at this stage.’

‘Any indication she might not trust him, might want him checked out?’

‘It’s possible, but unlikely. She told me stuff about his origins that she might not have … I don’t know, Frannie, that’s the truth. I mean … Loste? Even you’re thinking Loste? Knifes a man on the Beacon and then … You did say this was a shooting?’

‘Head and chest. Pistol. Looks like the gun got completely emptied into him – more enthusiastic than efficient.’

‘I saw Loste go into the church, late morning. That rule him out?’

‘Hard to say yet. You going back to Wychehill tonight?’

‘Hope not.’

‘Only, there’ll be some uniforms keeping tabs on tonight’s young persons’ social event, at the Royal Oak. You haven’t seen the TV?’

‘Haven’t seen anything.’

‘Me neither, but it seems there’s trouble following press and TV items with a bloke called Holliday who reckons inner-city trash elements have turned his village into an apocalyptic battlefield. Mr Holliday’s now saying that he’s received personal threats.’

‘From whom?’

‘From anonymous supporters of the Royal Oak, presumably. It’s not significant enough to worry us, but I thought I’d pass it on.’

Merrily turned at a shadow and saw Lol in the scullery doorway. They had one another’s keys now.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘If I come across anything—’

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s possible that Mal’s murder is linked to his former occupation, in which case I’ll probably be sidelined again. Look, I’ve gorra go—’

‘What was his former occupation?’

‘Like a number of local security advisers in this general area who weren’t formerly in the police, until six years ago, he was a serving soldier.’

‘In … Hereford?’

‘Thereabouts,’ Bliss said.

It was clear that Lol had a lot to tell Merrily, but there were things that needed to be dealt with first. Fears racing like black vapour trails across an already darkening sky.

Before she could think about any of it, there was Jane to deal with.

‘Jane’s with Gomer,’ Lol said. ‘They’ve gone to check out some details about the history of Coleman’s Meadow.’

‘She’s OK, though?’

‘She’s fine. She’s with Gomer.’

‘And under the circumstances, that’s OK? I mean, Gomer has no axe to grind here.’

‘I … I’m pretty sure it’s OK.’

‘All right. Look, thanks for … It must’ve been…’

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘I’ll do it. Need to keep moving. There are some things I want to run past you, and if you tell me it’s all crap, I just might not go insane.’

Merrily filled the kettle and plugged it in. The clock said 7.01, and the light on the cream-washed walls was beginning to weaken.

‘I don’t know whether you got any of that, but Bliss is investigating the murder of a security consultant and private investigator. Who was a former member of the SAS. As was Syd Spicer.’

‘And a few hundred other blokes in this county,’ Lol reminded her.

‘I was told that Spicer’s marriage had broken up, but he tells me today he’s just sent his wife and daughter down south while he stays here. Because, he says, his “mission” is not yet over. The daughter, Emily, became a serious user in Hereford and he was worried about the proximity of the Royal Oak.’

‘Heroin?’

‘I don’t know. He doesn’t tell you a lot. And, although he’s with an anti-drug group in Herefordshire, he doesn’t involve himself in the campaign by the Wychehill Residents’ Action Group. Neither does the chairman of the parish council, Preston Devereaux. Whose eldest son appears to have had similar problems and, I’m told, went out with Spicer’s daughter. Devereaux – a man who is conspicuously sitting on a lot of bitterness and rage about the government and the way the countryside gets treated – becomes curiously blase when you mention the Royal Oak. It won’t last, he says. Raji Khan will move on. Move on is Devereaux’s favourite expression.’

Merrily put tea bags in the pot, thinking this out.

‘Although the anti-drugs group works with the police, Spicer admitted tonight that he suspected Roman Wicklow was dealing on the Beacon and didn’t see the point in telling the police.’

‘OK, that’s odd,’ Lol said.

‘So … Spicer and Devereaux. Two strong, self-sufficient, arguably dangerous men, who know each other well but don’t conspicuously hang out together. Two men in public positions locally who, nonetheless, keep low profiles.’

‘You’re suggesting they don’t trust the police to do a proper job? They’ve got some vigilante thing?’

‘Bliss thinks Raji Khan is behind the influx of heroin, crack and whatever sells … into the market towns. Bliss suggests that Khan, with his social position, his connections, has a bit of a charmed life. I met Khan this afternoon and – just a feeling – wondered about a special relationship with Annie Howe. He’s very cool. Far less wary than … than Spicer, for heaven’s sake.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Lol paced the flagged floor. ‘SAS men are well trained in the use of knives to dispose of people without any fuss. But Wicklow – that wasn’t exactly discreet, was it?’

‘God,’ Merrily said. ‘Spicer’s a—’

‘But you don’t really have anything other than conjecture, do you?’

‘Nothing at all. He’s also a priest…’

‘Priests have done worse,’ Lol said, ‘even in your limited experience. Well, one priest. And he wasn’t even trained to kill. Look, why not just unload it all on Bliss?’