A Dark Devotion

by Clare Francis

  Ramsey slid a nod towards Wilson. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘I wish.’ Her indignation gathered momentum. ‘Because I can see how you are trying to make it sound like.’

  Ramsey assumed a look of puzzlement. ‘I wasn’t trying to make it sound like anything, Mrs Dearden.’

  ‘I think you were!’

  I cut in, ‘Have we finished. Inspector?’

  ‘I just need the time your son left in the morning,’ he said to Maggie. ‘And how you heard of your daughter-in-law’s disappearance. What searches were made.’

  It took another five minutes of Wilson’s interminable handwriting to get everything on paper. At long last, Ramsey pushed back his chair and

  stood up. ‘If you could bear with us while we get the statement typed.’

  There was a release of tension in the room, people coughed and stretched and got slowly to their feet.

  The officers drifted out into the corridor. As soon as we were alone, Maggie gave a long ragged sigh. ‘God, Alex…God.’

  ‘You did fine.’

  ‘But you know what they are trying to say, don’t you?’ She turned her beautiful ruined face towards me.

  ‘I don’t think they’re trying to say anything at the moment, Maggie.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she protested fiercely. ‘They are trying to say he went out in the night to kill Grace. That’s what they’re trying to say!’

  ‘Maggie, they don’t even know how Grace died yet. They may never know. They have nothing to go on so far, nothing at all. They’re just trying to cover everything, to investigate every angle. It’s something they have to do.’

  Absorbing this slowly, wanting to believe it against her better judgement, she breathed reluctantly, ‘I suppose…’

  By the time Ramsey and Wilson returned she was calm again. She read through the typewritten statement with great concentration, muttering the words aloud, pausing occasionally to go back over something. For a brief moment she became agitated again, wanting more on the telltale sounds that had placed Will inside the cottage during the nighty

  but once she had been allowed to add and initial two explanatory sentences she seemed satisfied, and signed the statement in silence.

  On our way out, Ramsey caught my eye, and we let Maggie and DC Smith move ahead.

  ‘Your statement, Mrs O’Neill. There was one thing I wasn’t clear about. How was it that you had the torch? How was it that you were the one to look down into the water and see the body? Why wasn’t it Mr Dearden?’

  ‘I think I gave you the answer to that in my statement. Mr Dearden was checking the mechanism.’

  ‘Without a torch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ramsey’s button eyes gazed at me in open appraisal, as though he still couldn’t work me out. ‘And what made you shine the torch down into the water?’

  ‘As I said, I was looking at the gate, looking for leaks.’

  ‘But that particular spot in the water?’

  ‘I wasn’t looking at any particular spot. Inspector.’

  Coming to a swing door, he led the way through and held it open for me. ‘And this visit to the sluice, it was just a routine thing?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘No special reason?’

  ‘As I said in my statement, it’s normal practice to check the sluices in bad weather.’

  ‘Aha.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Normal practice…Is that what Mr Dearden told you?’

  ‘It’s what I know.’

  ‘What you know. Of course…You yourself come from Deepwell, I gather?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you know these things?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does everyone know these things?’

  ‘I can’t answer for everyone.’

  Reaching the entrance hall, he waited for me to say more, but I didn’t speak and he knew better than to press me. There was nothing either of us could teach the other about the value of silence.

  The portable incident rooms had finally been removed, along with the lengths of fluttering blue and white tape which had sealed off the Gun embankment from the public. All that remained were the flowers: bouquets in cellophane with garish bows, bunches of early daffodils tied with string, a clump of tawdry pink carnations, drooping blue hyacinths, forming a carpet of fading colour over the side of the marsh bank, the cards and labels stirring softly in the wind, looking at a distance like a shifting patchwork.

  In the cottage I put a cold meal on the table for Maggie, turned up the heating a little and slid a hot-water bottle into her bed. I also left a message on Frank Yates’s answering machine to ask him if he could come the next day and return the last of the furniture to its proper place. I had already unrolled the rugs and replaced

  most of the books.

  Maggie followed me to the door and gave me a perfunctory embrace. ‘How long, do you think, then, Alex?’

  I wasn’t sure what she meant. I had already explained that it would be months before the inquest was held, maybe just as long before Grace could be buried. ‘Till what, Maggie?’

  ‘Till they are finished. Till they leave us alone.’

  ‘They’ll be waiting for the forensic tests, and the final post-mortem results, and—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said, as though all this were immaterial. ‘But once that is out of the way…’

  ‘I couldn’t say, Maggie. I’d be lying if I said I could. It could be anything from a few weeks to a few months. It all depends on what line they decide to take. Whether they keep open the possibility of foul play.’

  But she didn’t want to hear about foul play. Whenever it was mentioned, however obliquely, something came over her face, a shutting down. ‘A few weeks,’ she repeated firmly.

  ‘Or months, Maggie.’

  ‘I want them to have a holiday, Alex. I want them to get away. I have a little money. I want them to use it for a holiday. To begin to start again. This is important, Alex. They must get away.’

  ‘There’s no reason why they can’t go on holiday.’

  ‘Yes?’ Her spirits lifted a little. ‘You really think so?’

  ‘Of course.’

  As I drove away, I thought how very differently people were affected by death. I had seen relatives cry for weeks and others who didn’t cry at all. Some went into shocks as Maggie had done that first nighty fighting for breath, sending us into a more immediate panic until Julian Hampton arrived with some sort of antidote; others went into a kind of overdrive, becoming lucid and hyperactive and alert to everyone else’s needs, as Will had been for the first two days. When the initial shock wore off things changed again. Some people, such as Maggie, took refuge in practicalities like holidays, planning ahead to the time when life would return to normal; others, like Will, became increasingly disturbed. When I had seen him early that morning he had looked like a sleep-walker, numb and disorientated. Charlie, on the other hand, had remained frozen throughout, a rigid, silent creature with downcast eyes.

  Turning into Quay Lane, I stopped at the side of the road and switched on my mobile for the first time in almost a day. I picked up messages from Corinthia and Ray. There was nothing from Paul, and I remembered rather guiltily that I hadn’t spoken to him in two days.

  I tried Ray firsts but his phone was switched off and I left a message.

  Paul was in the office.

  ‘Hah! Lexxy!’ He sounded pleased, or at least benevolent.

  I explained how tied up I’d been with the

  Deardens, how difficult it had been to get to a phone.

  ‘They managing, the family?’ he asked.

  Just four brief words, but I heard the burr in them, the lilt of the drink. I felt the weary tug of disappointment, but also a sort of rage. It was barely three in the afternoon.

  I said shortly, ‘They’re managing.’

  ‘Is it murder?’

  ‘The PM’s inconclusive.’

  ‘What think you?’

  What thought
I? In the early days this question had been a precious ritual between us, an opportunity to express opinions too candid to be voiced within anyone else’s hearing.

  ‘I think she might well have been murdered.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing beyond that.’

  ‘Husband main suspect?’

  ‘They’d like to.’

  ‘But nothing on him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Looking good, then, for the moment?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘And how are things with you?’

  If he heard the coolness in my tone, he didn’t show it. ‘Oh, fine, fine!’ His voice was a little too high, his jollity a little too forced. ‘No problems! Ahead of the game for once.’ He gave a small chuckle.

  ‘I’ll be home tonight,’ I said. ‘Not sure when.’

  ‘Marvellous!’ he sang. ‘Food? A meal?’

  ‘Whatever’s in the fridge.’

  ‘No, no! I’ll make something! Salmon? A steak?’

  It was hard to think of food. ‘Salmon,’ I said, going for the easiest thing. ‘But cold will be fine. A salads something like that.’

  ‘No problem! Take care, now, on that road.’

  At this, something caught at my heart, a touch of old affection. Then I heard the drink in his voice, and the love turned bitter and cold.

  ‘You take care as well.’ I rang off, wondering if he still drank to escape from himself, or whether it was me he couldn’t take.

  I set off again. A few yards down the lane I saw a sporty red car coming towards me and recognized Edward’s Mercedes.

  We stopped alongside each other.

  ‘I was looking for you,’ Edward said in a tone that suggested I should have kept in touch. ‘Listen…I know you must be busy…’

  ‘I am,’ I agreed bluntly.

  ‘The thing is, could you drop in? When you have a moment, I mean?’

  ‘What’s it about, Ed?’

  ‘Oh, just that legal matter, you know.’

  I knew exactly what he meant, but for some reason I wanted to hear him say it. ‘Which legal matter?’

  ‘The—’ He was about to snap at me but thought better of it. Modifying his expression, he said casually, ‘The, er…business about Father’s money.’

  I suppressed my impatience. ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘Of course, of course. Just when you have a moment.’ When I didn’t say anything, he ventured, ‘Any news?’

  ‘About?’

  ‘Grace.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘They near to charging anyone?’

  ‘It’s not a question of charging anyone. They don’t even know how she died.’

  ‘What do you mean, don’t know?’ he scoffed. ‘How else could she have died, for God’s sake?’

  ‘That’s for the police to find out.’

  ‘Oh, come on. She has to have been killed—they must have got that far.’

  ‘Ed, I really can’t talk about this.’

  ‘And don’t tell me they haven’t got a suspect in mind,’ he crowed viciously. ‘Don’t tell me they haven’t homed in on Will.’

  ‘Ed, you’re wrong, quite wrong.’

  ‘Really?’ His voice rasped with sarcasm, and I felt a moment of despair for this brother of mine, whose petty animosities could so completely overshadow his compassion.

  ‘Goodbye, Ed.’ I put the car into gear.

  ‘They must know he was there, for God’s sake! They must know he was there on the marsh, fiddling about with those gates, just when Grace disappeared.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So they can’t be so completely dense that they haven’t worked it out! How else did she get stuck

  underneath the gate?’ He raised his eyebrows in a show of incredulity. ‘How else did she get pinned down?’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Alex,’ he continued in a cold fury. ‘He was terrified of losing the farm. Terrified she’d up and leave and take half of everything.’

  He had my attention again. I slid the gear back into neutral. ‘What makes you say that? Did you know? Did you hear?’

  ‘Stands to reason, doesn’t it?’

  There was something very ugly about Edward in a vengeful mood, and I held on to my temper with difficulty. ‘You’re saying they were splitting up?’

  He gave me a narrow look, full of meaning. ‘I’m saying she had a lot to put up with. Everybody knew he was playing around!’

  I didn’t try to hide my astonishment. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about it.’

  ‘Shocked, Lex? Your saintly Will, running another woman on the side. Well, there you are!’he said with undisguised relish.

  ‘Who was this other woman, then?’

  He didn’t like the question, mainly because he didn’t have an answer to it. ‘Well, she wasn’t going to announce it, was she?’

  ‘Who wasn’t—Grace? But you just said everyone knew about it anyway.’

  His gaze shifted angrily. ‘Enough people knew.’

  ‘Who, exactly? Who told you?’

  ‘Christy I don’t know! Someone.’

  And this was the person who never listened to gossip. It seemed to me that Edward had let his resentment for Will get completely out of hand.

  ‘Careful,’ I warned. ‘Be very careful what you say, Ed.’

  ‘Me? Why the hell should I be careful?’

  ‘Because you’re making particularly wild and dangerous statements.’

  ‘They’re not wild! They’re true!’

  ‘In that case you should be going to the police with them, shouldn’t you?’

  ‘I bloody will, at this rate.’

  Without warning I reached some boundary, the anger came over me in a sudden heat. ‘For God’s sake, Ed! It’s just a piece of land, for heaven’s sake! Why can’t you let it go? Just let it go!’

  His eyes sparkled ominously. ‘Just a bit of land?’

  ‘Isn’t that what this is all about?’

  His face seemed to bulge, he shivered with resentment, and for a moment his fury blocked his words. ‘Go to hell, Lex!’ he hissed finally. ‘Just go to hell!’ Flinging a last savage look in my direction, he gunned the throttle and the car shot off in a shriek of revs.

  I turned off my engine and sat in the quiet of the lane for a few minutes, thinking what a very eventful journey this short trip was proving to

  be. When I felt calm again, I drove slowly on to Marsh House.

  For once there were no shady figures waiting outside the house, no lizard-limbed reporters easing themselves out of their cars to ask for statements and interviews, no photographers angling for pictures of ‘the grieving husband’.

  Letting myself in by the kitchen door, I called Will’s name and had no answer. Calling again, I went through into the passageway and found him in the sitting room, slouched in a wing chair, head propped on one hand, staring into the unlit fire.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, hearing the false cheer in my voice. ‘How’re you doing?’

  He glanced up briefly. ‘Hi.’

  I sat near by. ‘Well,’ I said in an energetic tone, ‘Maggie gave her statement. So that’s one more thing out of the way.’

  If he appreciated that Maggie had provided him with the closest thing he was going to get to an alibis he gave no sign.

  ‘Now we wait for the forensic tests and the final PM results.’

  He asked, ‘What’s the time?’

  I looked. ‘Three twenty.’

  ‘I must go and fetch Charlie in a minute.’

  ‘I can go if you like.’

  But he turned the offer down, as I knew he would. It was the domestic routine that provided some shape to his days, the round of meals and driving Charlie to friends and TV and bedtime.

  Still mesmerized by the fireplace, Will asked, ‘When are you going back to London?’

  ‘Tonight, unless you want me to stay. I’ll come back as soon as I can, Friday at the latest.’ I said again
: ‘Unless you want me to stay.’

  I’d like you to stay, Ali,’ he murmured in a distant voice. I’d like you to stay for ever.’ His eyes remained blankly on the hearth. ‘But,’ he continued in the same dreamy tone, ‘I know you have to go.’

  ‘I’ll be back every few days or so.’

  Shaking himself free of his trance, he sat forward with his elbows on his knees and ran a hand savagely down his face. He looked rumpled and lost and deeply tired. With his wild hair, red-rimmed eyes and dishevelled clothes, he might have been a traveller living rough.

  ‘There was one thing before I go,’ I said. ‘Would you mind if I went through Grace’s papers again in more detail?’

  He turned to me with a vague expression. ‘What?’

  ‘Her desk, her papers.’

  ‘Sure. Sure. Anything.’ Making another effort to concentrate on the present, he asked, ‘What did the police say?’

  ‘Nothing, really. They don’t seem to have anything definite so far.’

  ‘They haven’t, umm…’ He looked away again. ‘They haven’t asked about the sluice?’

  ‘No. And we’ve all made our statements now, so…’ I left the rest in the air, unspoken.

  A pale smile flickered over Will’s face. ‘Loyal Alex. What did you say?’

  ‘I just said what you’d said, really. I told them that we went to look at the sluice because of the flood danger. I told them it was a routine thing.’ For an instant I was thrust back into the blackness and noise of the storm, I saw again the gleaming white limb in the water below me. ‘I said I shone the torch down to check the gate while you were at the mechanism. That was it, really. Nothing that wasn’t true.’

  But, as we both knew, plenty that had been omitted.

  Held by some self-punishing mood, Will murmured, ‘My witness, my partner in crime.’

  My stomach tightened with unease, but also, confusingly, with something close to joy. I gave a nervous half-laugh.

  In the pause that followed I lost a battle with my better judgement, I ignored a primary rule of my training, which was never to ask a question that might give you an answer you didn’t want or need to hear, an answer that, far from helping your client, was likely to detract from his defence. ‘What made you want to look, Will? What made you decide to go just then?’