The Dark Room

by Minette Walters

  ‘So her father’s our murderer?’

  ‘I’d say it’s a probability, sir.’

  Frank stood up, thrusting his arms into his jacket sleeves. ‘You’re right about one thing, Sergeant,’ he said acidly. ‘This is a carbon-copy of the Landy case. We have the same two suspects, and no likelihood of bringing a prosecution against either of them unless someone finds me some evidence.’

  Thursday, 30 June, Hawtree Estate, Winchester – 3.30 a.m.

  The child’s screams rent the air as they had done every night for the last two weeks. In the kitchen, Rex started barking. ‘CINDY!’ yelled her mother, thrusting her arms into her dressing gown and storming across the landing to throw open her daughter’s bedroom door. ‘I’ve had enough.’ She seized the child and shook her furiously. ‘Either you tell me what this is all about or I’m taking you to the doctor. Do you hear me? DO – YOU – HEAR – ME? I can’t stand it any longer.’

  Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 6.30 a.m.

  Alan Protheroe slept badly that night. At six o’clock he finally gave up the struggle, rolled out of bed with a groan, dressed and went for a jog in the grounds of the clinic. It had rained during the night and the grass was sodden under his feet. Water oozed through the fabric of his trainers, his cheek hurt where the shards of glass had cut the skin, and his shoulder ached with every step he took. What the hell was he doing? Jogging was for masochists, not for cynical middle-aged doctors who knew that death was as random and unfair as Government health policies.

  With a sense of relief at a decision made, he hobbled to a bench on the terrace and sat down to view the misty landscape. Far away, beyond the clinic boundaries, low hills rose purple against the pale summer sky. Closer in, the majestic spire of Salisbury’s beautiful cathedral showed above the myriad greens of the tree-tops. He viewed it, as ever, with weary pessimism. Perhaps it could survive the terrible encroachment of man and man’s devices, but he doubted it.

  ‘You look very thoughtful,’ said Jinx, slipping on to the seat beside him.

  She was dressed in black with a dark woollen hat pulled low over her forehead. He studied her wet shoes for a moment before nodding towards the spire. ‘I was pondering man’s destruction,’ he said, ‘and whether when it comes to it, as it surely will, he will destroy himself or his artefacts first.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters much,’ she said, following his gaze. ‘Nature will overrun whatever we leave behind, so our artefacts will cease to exist whether we destroy them or not.’

  ‘It’s rather depressing, isn’t it?’

  She laughed. ‘It won’t happen if man learns to live within his means, and if he can’t learn, then he doesn’t deserve his place on the planet. I have no sentimental attachment to mankind as a species. On the whole, I’d say we’re one of the nastier by-products of natural selection.’ She pointed to the trees around the boundaries. ‘They do nothing but good. We do nothing but harm.’

  ‘They have no choice,’ said Alan.

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Free will is a bugger, isn’t it?’

  They sat in silence for a while.

  ‘Nice hat,’ said Protheroe finally.

  ‘Matthew lent it to me to keep my head warm.’

  He decided not to ask her if she had had it on Monday night. ‘Where have you been?’ he said instead.

  ‘Walking.’

  ‘You’re very brave. According to Matthew, the place is crawling with would-be killers. I can’t believe he hasn’t alerted you to that threat when he took so much trouble to alert me.’

  She nodded. ‘Has he also told you about the fox in the trap, the one that was biting its own leg off to try and escape?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It died of fright. I don’t want to die of fright.’

  ‘So you went for a walk to prove you’re not afraid.’

  ‘Yes.’ She flicked him a quick glance, then resumed her study of the cathedral spire. ‘But I couldn’t sleep anyway. Matthew’s bath wasn’t very comfortable.’

  ‘They rarely are,’ he murmured. ‘Is there a particular reason why you were trying to sleep in Matthew’s bath?’

  ‘Of course there was. I’m not in the habit of doing anything without a reason.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what it was?’

  ‘His bathroom door has a lock on it.’

  ‘I see.’

  Another silence.

  ‘So where was Matthew?’

  ‘Probably in my bathroom, unless he was brave enough to sleep in my bed.’

  He waited. ‘Are you going to explain,’ he said at last, ‘or am I expected to go on racking my over-tired and rather addled brains?’

  ‘I’m his surrogate fox. He’s become very bossy in the last couple of days, and I blame existentialism for it. He thinks assuming responsibility means taking control.’ She turned to look at him and her quiet laugh fanned the hairs on his cheek.

  Oh, God, he thought, think of ice-packs, Protheroe. She’s a patient, for Christ’s sake.

  Stoney Bassett Airfield, New Forest, Hampshire – 7.30 a.m.

  There was a roar of sound as the car, which had been parked in the same place since dawn, sped across the Tarmac and smashed on full throttle into the scarred concrete pillar. There was no survivor. Nor was there a convenient courting couple to effect a rescue. The car burst into flames almost on impact, probably because it was packed with open petrol cans, and by the time a passing motorist saw the smoke and called the fire brigade, the only occupant – the driver – was dead.

  Romsey Road Police Station, Winchester – 9.00 a.m.

  ‘You’d better read this,’ said Frank, poking a statement across his desk with the tip of his pen. ‘A Mrs Hanscombe and her daughter Cindy came in at four o’clock this morning to get Cindy’s worries off her chest. Apparently, she’s been having nightmares for two weeks and her mother felt the sooner she came clean, the sooner the family would get a decent night’s sleep.’

  It was Tuesday, June 14th. Me and Bobby Franklyn found the bodies after we’d done it in the woods. I ran away from Bobby and slid down this bank. I was that scared. Rex, my dog, had dug in he ditch and I saw this dead person. I think it was a man. Bobby said he’d stick me in there with him if I ever said a word, but I can’t stand it no more. I keep dreaming the man’s going to get me. No, I didn’t know the ditch was there. I dug my heel into stop myself sliding. I was afraid Bobby would catch me at the bottom. I hate Bobby Franklyn. He’s no good at anything. I’m twelve years old. Yes, he knows that.

  Signed: Cindy Hanscombe

  Parent’s signature: P. Hanscombe

  Maddocks read it slowly. ‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked.

  ‘We go back to the beginning,’ said the Superintendent. ‘I want a second search made of Ardingly Woods, and I want all the water dragged within a mile radius. I also want the statements of every sighting in that area on June the thirteenth re-examined and, if necessary, we go door-to-door again to jog memories. There’s a sledgehammer and some bloodstained clothing out there somewhere, and I want them found.’

  ‘What about the Kingsleys, sir?’

  Frank nodded towards the door. ‘You heard me, Inspector. We start again and, this time, we do it the hard way.’

  Canning Road Police Station, Salisbury – 10.30 a.m.

  ‘Flossie is adamant the key-ring had the Franchise Holdings emblem on it,’ protested Blake. ‘She says it was identical to the one Miles was carrying.’

  ‘She also said Miles was the man who assaulted her,’ the Sergeant reminded her. ‘She’s hardly the most reliable witness, is she?’

  ‘I accept that, but she insists the two men were not dissimilar, and there must be something in that or she and Samantha would have blown me away when I showed them the photograph.’

  ‘What’s your point, Blake?’

  ‘There’s got to be a Franchise Holdings connection or why would he have a key-ring?’

  ‘Come on! The bastard’s mar
ried to someone who works there. He was given it during a promotion. He found it in the street. It’s a big organization, Blake. You’ll be interviewing people into the twenty-first century.’

  ‘Not necessarily. I thought I’d give it one shot and if that doesn’t work I’ll abandon it.’

  He looked at her suspiciously. ‘Jane Kingsley, I suppose.’

  ‘She’s on our doorstep, Sarge. We’d be mad to miss out.’

  Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 11.30 a.m.

  Jinx was standing by her window when Blake tapped on her open door and pushed it wide. ‘I saw you arrive,’ she said, without turning round. ‘I thought Miles was in the clear.’

  ‘He is, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t speak for my colleagues, though,’ she said honestly. ‘I’m afraid he’s quite likely to face gambling and narcotics charges as a result of the information your father’s supplied.’

  Jinx turned round. ‘I suppose that means you’ve been given the name and address of anyone Miles has been in contact with in the last four weeks?’

  Blake nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. A Mr Paul Deacon came in this morning at our request and supplied us with copies of everything he had, including photographs.’

  ‘So Fergus is implicated as well?’

  Blake nodded.

  Jinx smiled rather bleakly. ‘I should have expected it, really. My father wouldn’t miss an opportunity like that to get the blood-suckers off his back.’ She flopped into an armchair and lit a cigarette, proffering the pack to the policewoman. ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘No thanks.’ Blake took the other chair. ‘I could be speaking out of turn, Miss Kingsley, but a prosecution isn’t always a bad thing. It depends on your brothers. It might be just the sort of shock they need to pull themselves together.’

  Jinx sighed. ‘You’re wasting your time if you’ve come to talk to me about Miles and Fergus. I truly do not know anything about what they’ve been doing and I don’t want to know. As far as I’m concerned it’s a closed book.’ You’re not so different from Dad . . . as far as Adam’s concerned, Russell never existed . . . it’s a closed book . . .

  ‘I haven’t. That’s a different case now, and I’m not involved with it.’ She took a photograph of a Franchise Holdings key-ring out of her handbag and showed it to Jinx. ‘Do you recognize this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could you tell me what it is?’

  ‘You know exactly what it is. It’s Miles’s key-ring. You took it off him yesterday.’

  ‘How do you know it’s Miles’s?’

  Jinx touched a spot on the black embossed disc in the photograph. ‘The diamonds are in different places. It’s how we tell them apart. It was my stepmother’s idea. Think of the disc as a watch face with the Franchise Holdings logo the right way up. Adam’s diamond’s at two o’clock, mine’s at four o’clock, Betty’s is at six o’clock, Miles’s at eight o’clock, and Fergus’s at ten o’clock. That’s the one you took off Miles yesterday.’

  Blake couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘We thought it was a bit of glass. It must be pretty valuable then.’

  Jinx smiled. ‘I think each one cost about three thousand pounds. The disc is jet and the letters and rim are gold. Betty commissioned them two years ago from a jeweller in London for her and Adam’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She said it was something we should all celebrate.’ The smile became rueful. ‘It was a nice idea until Adam saw the bill. After that all hell broke loose.’

  ‘Presumably there’s a cheaper version in plastic which your father’s employees use?’

  ‘I suppose there may be. I’ve never seen one, though. Betty always told me she thought this up for herself. She wanted something unique to the five of us.’ She frowned suddenly. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  Blake debated with herself. ‘Oh, what the hell!’ she said suddenly. ‘I guess Flossie got it wrong again.’ She sighed as heavily as Jinx had done. ‘One of the reasons we thought your brother was involved in the assault on Flossie Hale was because she said her attacker had a key-ring just like this. She remembered it because the initials were the same as hers, and when we showed her the Franchise Holdings logo, she identified it immediately. So we then showed her a photograph of your two brothers, and she picked out Miles. I accept she made a mistake over that, but she was adamant this morning that this, or one exactly like it, is the key-ring the man was carrying.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. It looks like I’ve wasted your time.’

  ‘Have you made that public?’ asked Jinx, in a detached tone of voice, as though she didn’t care what the answer was.

  ‘About the key-ring? No. It’s been a low-priority investigation because the prostitutes didn’t want to talk.’

  ‘What are the chances of this man still having the key-ring on him?’

  ‘Pretty good, I would think.’

  Jinx closed her eyes suddenly, and Blake thought she saw tears on the lashes. ‘I gave mine away,’ she said in an unsteady voice. ‘I didn’t think there was much to celebrate, not after my father lost his temper. In any case, he paid for it, and I made a vow a long time ago never to accept anything from him again.’ She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids before lowering them to look at the young policewoman. ‘The irony is, when I gave it away, I said I hope it brings you luck.’ She ran her tongue round dry lips. ‘But I think the luck must have stayed with me.’

  ‘Who did you give it to, Miss Kingsley?’

  ‘A vicar. He’s Anglo-Catholic and he said the F could stand for Father. Father Harris. He has a parish in a village called Frampton. He’s better looking than Miles,’ she said in a strained voice, ‘but they aren’t unalike. Simon’s thinner and not so dark. His sister confused them once so you mustn’t blame the prostitutes for getting it wrong.’

  Blake listened to the tremors in her voice. ‘Would the sister be Meg Harris? Your friend who was murdered?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did this Simon have something to do with that?’

  Jinx’s eyes grew huge. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Blake moved her feet rapidly as vomit sprayed across the carpet.

  The Vicarage, Frampton, Hampshire – 12.25 p.m.

  Blake drew to a halt beside the other police car and switched off her engine. ‘What’s going on?’ she called to a uniformed copper by the front door. ‘Is the vicar in there?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘Last I heard, he was stinking to high heaven of roast pork on Stoney Bassett airfield.’

  To whom it may concern:

  I don’t believe in God but I have stood with the Host in my hand every Sunday and professed belief on behalf of others. I wonder sometimes if it would have been different if I had believed, but I don’t think so. If God exists, He had no power to change what He had ordained, that I must be brother to Meg. There is no greater torment than to love a woman you can’t have.

  People will say I am mad. Perhaps I am. Yet it’s a strange madness that brings meaning to the actions men say are wicked and confusion to those they condone. They say I’m a good priest, yet I stumble in black night before the altar of God’s flesh and blood, and only see clearly when Man’s flesh and blood is warm between my hands. Then I understand that sacrifice is necessary if the dark rooms of the mind are to be cleansed, for purpose takes over and what I do becomes inevitable. I am alive. I see truth.

  It starts again CONFUSION

  Meg became a WHORE but I knew why and forgave her. She said, better a generous whore than a spiteful wife. She was open and honest and hid nothing from me. There was no love only physical gratification and excitement, until

  SECRECY

  terrible uncertainty where is god god sleeps but not Russell. Russell laughs and his laugh breaks into my head, smashing my brains smashing smashing Meg loves

  russell simon hates god

  Remembering is painful. I understand why Jinx prefers to forge
t. I have always hated Jinx. She made Meg jealous. What were Leo and Russell to my sister till Jinx made them desirable? Nothing. Little men of little worth, unJinxed. She turned them into gods and sent them back to Meg. With Jinx there is always

  secrecy & SPITE unJinxed Meg is an honest whore

  confusion again. Awful, terrible danger danger danger forget, forget whores young whores old whores You’re wicked where’s my hairbrush naughty boy

  smack smack I hope that hurts don’t you look at your sister like that again wicked

  wicked wicked

  GOD the father made simon dEVIL

  Where are they? Not in Hammersmith. The birds have flown because Jinx made them it was a SECRET but simon made Jinx tell

  kill kill kill no WEAPON

  god loves Jinx miracles for her not for simon

  she is SAVED

  she follows simon to leo’s house and simon says gods will be done amen

  But why does god save Jinx? Three times simon tried to kill her and three times god saved her. He didn’t save Meg or Leo. They tried to save themselves with

  lies

  you don’t want the cat to die, Simon you love the cat let me go to hammersmith and feed the cat let the cat live the cat’s imprisoned