by Leo McNeir
“Is this a wind-up?”
Marriner glared at Lamb. “It’s been suggested to us that that might be the case.” Even as he spoke, Marriner looked as if he thought the idea was absurd.
“Who by?” said Willow.
“I’m not at liberty to –”
“Sounds like the sort of wild statement Valerie Paxton might make,” said Angela.
Marriner and Lamb looked flustered. Angela continued.
“If you’d told me that was the reason for asking me to come here, I’d have told you, you were wasting your time. Valerie is prone to rash outbursts with no foundation in either truth or reality.”
“She’s a pain in the neck,” Marnie added in support.
“Anyway,” Willow began, “even if we were satanists, what would that have to do with Mr Meadows’ accident?”
“She was just trying to put a slur on your character,” said Marnie.
“And what’s my part in all this supposed to be?” said Angela.
“Look,” Marriner attempted a rally. “You know we have to follow up every line of enquiry. The satanism thing may sound stupid to you. It sounded highly sinister to us. I just wanted to know if it was a real issue or not.”
“Well I hope you’re –”
“It’s all right, Mrs Haycroft. I get the picture.”
“What I don’t understand,” Angela looked pointedly at Marriner, “is where this notion came from. Why would Valerie Paxton make such an accusation at all?”
“It seems that Ben told Mrs Giles he hated God,” said Marriner.
Ben looked up at his mother but said nothing. Willow replied to Angela.
“He said he didn’t like the things described as being done by God in the bible, you know, telling Abraham to kill Isaac as a test of his faith. That kind of thing.”
“Yet Ben still sang Once in royal David’s city,” Angela said. “Why was that?”
“It was Ben’s contribution to the Christmas atmosphere,” said Willow.
“And I like the Christmas songs,” Ben added. “It’s just the stories are so weird.”
Marriner stood up. “I think we’ve taken this far enough.”
The detectives took their leave and went out followed by Angela, Willow and Ben. Angela paused in the courtyard and turned to face Willow. “I’m sorry about this intrusion,” she said.
“Not your fault.”
“And I’m sorry you find God unpleasant, Ben … weird, as you put it.” Angela turned her face up to the sky. “I’ve always thought His creation rather wonderful.”
Willow and Ben looked up with her. The evening sky was clear, with only a scattering of wispy clouds here and there. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the light from the stars intensified. They stood gazing at a sparkling canopy of diamonds of different colours.
“Don’t you think that’s a wonderful sight, Ben?” Angela spoke quietly.
“Which one is brightest?” Ben asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Look at them.”
Angela studied the sky for several seconds before pointing. “I think that one.”
“Yes,” Ben agreed. “That’s Jupiter. It’s the brightest at this time of the year.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“How could you tell if it was over a stable?”
Ben’s question seemed to take Angela by surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“In the bible, the wise men followed a star, didn’t they? It came to rest over a stable. How can you tell what it’s over? It’s so far away.”
“It’s not quite as simple as that, Ben. There are different ways of interpreting the nativity story.”
“All right. If that’s heaven, where’s God? It’s all just stars and galaxies, asteroids and gases and things.”
“These are very complicated matters, Ben. You can’t expect to see God in the stars.”
“But you can see the stars, can you? I mean, they are there, are they?”
“Yes, Ben, they’re there.” Angela hoped she sounded reassuring.
“Are you sure about that?”
There was a smile in Angela’s voice when she replied. “Yes, of course. There are thousands of them, millions maybe.”
“They aren’t there really,” Ben said simply.
“What do you mean?” Angela sounded dubious.
“Did you know they’re so far away that some old stars exploded and died millions of years ago but their light is still reaching us? And some young stars are so distant that their light hasn’t reached us yet, so they’re there but we can’t see them. What you’re looking at isn’t really there, in a way.”
“He reads a lot of books about astronomy,” said Willow.
“So where’s God in all that?” Ben asked.
“He’s in everything, looking down to care for us, Ben.”
Ben looked back up to the sky. “Where was he when Mr Meadows needed caring for?”
Angela’s expression clouded. “Ben, there is suffering in the world.”
“Tell me about it,” Ben said.
*
Cathy Lamb drove slowly up the field track, following Anne’s twinkling flight-path of lanterns, anxious not to make Marriner even more angry than she knew he was. They had returned to the Land Rover and waited for Angela without a word being spoken. Cathy kept her counsel as she concentrated on driving.
They dropped Angela off in the high street and set off back to base, where Marriner picked up messages from the duty officer and headed for the canteen. Lamb trailed behind him and was surprised when he ordered tea for them both.
“Not like you to drink tea here, sarge,” she ventured.
He stirred in two sugars. “Can’t drink the coffee in this place after visiting Marnie Walker. She may be a pain in the butt, but she serves great coffee.”
“Anything interesting in the messages?” Lamb asked.
“The DCI reckons we’ll have the coroner’s report tomorrow or the next day. My money’s on accidental death.”
“I thought you were having doubts.”
“Yeah, well …”
“What about the Dekker angle?” Lamb asked. “Worth following up?”
“We’ll pay him a call.” He looked at Lamb over the rim of his cup. “But don’t even think about raising the other thing on your mind.”
“What’s that, sarge?”
“You know perfectly well, the satanism business.”
“Ah, that.”
“I’ll swing for that bloody Paxton woman.”
Lamb thought it superfluous to remind him that capital punishment for murder had been abolished in 1965.
“She seems really screwed up,” Lamb agreed.
Marriner put down his cup, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ll bring her in for wasting police time, then gun her down while she’s resisting arrest.”
The idea clearly amused him. Lamb sniggered.
“Tricky, if you bear in mind we’re unarmed, sarge.”
They both chuckled.
“We can all have our dreams,” Marriner murmured.
“Anything else in the messages?”
Marriner read the other note.
“This Nikolaus alias Donovan character is coming in tomorrow to be interviewed.”
“What about Dekker?” Lamb asked.
“We’ll have to track him down.”
“Shouldn’t be hard, sarge. Mrs Appleton in the shop said Marnie Walker had his mobile number.”
Marriner stared down at his tea. “Why am I not surprised?”
Chapter 29
Identities
Donovan arrived in Towcester shortly before ten and parked the Beetle in a side street. He had a chilly five-minute walk to the police station, but was well prepared to face the weather, in red ski jacket, hiking boots and jeans, topped off with a navy blue woollen hat. Finding the reception entrance, he approached the counter and stood facing the duty officer.
“Good morning. I’ve c
ome to see Detective Sergeant Marriner.”
The officer consulted a list on his desk.
“Your name, please?”
Donovan reached into his pocket and presented a British passport and a German ID card.
“Nikolaus Donovan Smith.”
The duty sergeant studied the documents.
“You have dual nationality?”
“Dual citizenship, yes, within the European Union.”
The officer returned the documents.
“If you’d like to take a seat over there, I’ll see if DS Marriner is available. Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. I arranged to come up this morning by phone, yesterday.”
Five minutes later the duty sergeant called Donovan and told him DC Lamb would be coming to fetch him.
“Is there a form to fill in?” Donovan asked.
“A form?”
“Yes. In Germany you usually have to fill in a form when you enter an official building.”
“You’ve been interviewed by the police in Germany?”
“No, any government or municipal building. It’s normal procedure.”
“Not here, Mr Smith. We do things differently in England.”
At that moment Cathy Lamb came into the reception area. She introduced herself and guided Donovan through double doors into the heart of the building. The duty officer watched them go, a thoughtful expression on his face.
*
It had become part of her routine that Willow left her mobile on charge overnight in the office barn. That day when she called in to collect it, she accepted the chance of a lift to the village shop. Marnie grabbed her jacket and shopping list and locked the office, as Anne was at college.
In the shop, Willow was still filling her basket when Marnie presented hers at the till.
“We’ve got another letter for your Mr Dekker, Marnie,” said Molly Appleton.
“My Mr Dekker? I’m not sure he qualifies for that title, Molly.”
“Well, you know what I mean. Will you be able to let him know it’s here?”
“Sure.”
“It’s a pity we didn’t have it when he came to see you the other day.” Molly lowered her voice. “That must have been the day when, er …”
Marnie ignored the reference and concentrated on transferring her shopping to a carrier bag. She had no desire to explain the real object of Dekker’s visit and no desire to reopen the matter of Mr Meadows’ death.
In the car on the way back to Glebe Farm, Marnie glanced at Willow.
“Will you be leaving when the ice thaws? Is that still your plan?”
“Yes. Frankly, Marnie, I can’t wait to get away from here. Sorry, that sounds ungrateful when I think of everything you’ve done to make us feel welcome, but you know how it is.”
“Does Ben feel the same way?”
“He doesn’t say much, but I’m sure he does. Of course, there’s one person he’ll be sorry to leave behind. He’s got a real crush on Anne.”
Marnie smiled. “I suppose his experience of the village school hasn’t been a great success, has it?”
Willow shook her head, her face lined with sadness. “I keep thinking that if we hadn’t come here, Mr Meadows would still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that. It was an accident, pure and simple.”
“But he wouldn’t have been near the canal if he hadn’t been coming to see me about Ben.”
Marnie steered the Disco through the field gate and turned onto Anne’s flight-path, rolling slowly down over the rutted snow. She was giving her full attention to the track when Willow spoke again.
“I can’t help wondering if I’m doing the right thing by Ben, Marnie, educating him at home, but I don’t have much choice. We’re travellers, we have to make up our lives as we go along.”
“You’re doing a great job with Ben, Willow. He’s a credit to you, a really bright boy with a lovely nature.”
“But that’s not the only thing, Marnie.” Willow sounded close to desperation. “He’s become so different from other children. He’s not like a normal boy of his age.”
“What do you mean? I think he’s great.”
“It’s just, he thinks everything out for himself. He reaches his own conclusions on everything.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I used to think it was, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve always encouraged him to work things out and see things clearly, but it seems to be driving a kind of wedge between him and other normal children.”
Marnie pulled up outside the garage barn. “He’s certainly different in some ways, that’s for sure.” She switched off the engine. “But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Don’t you, Marnie? You didn’t hear him talking to the vicar after we left your office yesterday.”
Willow outlined the exchange about the stars and the existence – or non-existence in Ben’s view – of God.
“How did Angela take that?” Marnie asked.
“Huh! She just tried to fob him off. Ben was being polite, but I could tell she was annoying him. He doesn’t like being talked down to like that.”
“She’s probably not used to children having ideas like that, Willow.”
“That’s not the point, Marnie. The thing is, if he’s like this now, what’s he going to be like when he gets older? And how am I going to cope with educating him from here on?”
Marnie laid a hand on Willow’s arm. “I know you’ll succeed. After all, you’re not alone. You and Ben will work things out together.”
Willow stared ahead through the windscreen. When she continued, it was as if she was speaking from far away.
“I sometimes wonder how well I know him, Marnie. I know he’s my son, but there are times when he’s difficult to keep up with. I’m not sure I know what he’s capable of doing.”
Marnie smiled. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Willow. I’m sure you’ll –” Suddenly Marnie understood what Willow was saying. She turned towards her. “You surely don’t think …”
“Don’t I, Marnie? You didn’t see his face at the school gate that day. Afterwards I told him he was my little knight in shining armour for sticking up for me like that.”
“That would’ve pleased him.”
“He just looked at me, as if his mind was somewhere else.”
“I really don’t think you have any cause for concern, Willow.”
“He can be unpredictable, Marnie. I know he always does what he thinks is right. Trouble is, he always thinks he is right.”
*
In the police interview room, Marriner soon decided that Donovan had little to add to what they already knew. His story tallied with the versions of events given by Marnie, Ralph and the others. Donovan kept his account brief and limited to the most salient points. From the police point of view he was a model witness.
Marriner brought the interview to a close, and he and Lamb walked Donovan back to reception.
“I gather this second Christmas was your idea,” he said.
“Yes. I hadn’t been well enough to enjoy Christmas in Germany, so I decided to share it with my friends here.”
“Including Maurice Dekker? Was he a friend, too?”
“Not of mine. He was around at the time, like Willow and Ben, so he got invited to stay.”
“You’d not met him before?”
“No.”
“He fainted at your Christmas do. What did you make of that?”
“He looked ill. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting over a bad bout of flu.”
Standing in the reception area, Cathy Lamb nudged Marriner’s elbow and pointed at an open page in her notebook. Marriner turned to Donovan.
“If we need to get in touch again, how do we reach you?”
“Mobile phone is best.”
“We’d like to have an address.”
“I live on a boat and I don’t have a permanent mooring, so I tend to move around. I’m in
west London at the moment.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Between Uxbridge and West Drayton.”
“Your boat has a name?”
“Exodos.” He spelt it for Cathy Lamb, giving all six letters rather than the abbreviated version – XO2 – painted on the boat.
“One last question,” said Marriner. “Do you know the name of Mr Dekker’s boat?”
“No.”
“Do you know what colour it is?”
“Sorry. I’ve never seen it.”
Chapter 30
Connections
On Thursday morning after a hard frost, the sun was trying to elbow its way through clouds as Marnie reversed the Disco out of the garage barn, the exhaust billowing white from the tailpipes. At any moment Anne would appear with the small rucksack containing her college books and they would set off for town. Seeing movement ahead, Marnie looked up with a smile. Almost immediately the smile evaporated. She lowered the car window.
“Cheer up, Mrs Walker,” said DS Marriner. “It may never happen.”
Marnie tried to suppress a frown. “It just did.”
“Honestly,” said Cathy Lamb in mock reproof, “anyone would think you weren’t pleased to see us.”
“Sorry. It’s just, I have two meetings to go to, and Anne to drop off at college … a busy morning.”
“We won’t detain you for long,” said Marriner.
“You’re right.” Marnie glanced at her watch. “I have to be away in the next five minutes.”
Before Marriner could reply, Anne came bounding round the corner.
“Hallo,” she said to the visitors. “Fancy meeting you here. You’re not in the diary, are you?”
“We don’t make appointments, Anne.”
“What can I – or we – do for you?” Marnie asked.
“You might wish to turn off the engine for a start.”
Marnie turned the key and the engine fell silent. “Forgive me if I don’t invite you in, but I really am pushed for time.”
“Then I’ll come straight to the point. We want to get in touch with your friend, Mr Dekker.”
“Well, he isn’t here, sergeant, and I wouldn’t exactly call him my friend.”