Peter Robinson - Innocent Graves

“Da.”

“But you certainly didn’t leer at her or make any suggestive gestures.”

“Ne.”

“And after you were unjustly fired you never went back to Eastvale and tried to extort money out of Father Daniel Charters.”

“Nikada.”

“Fine, then,” said Banks, standing up. “That’ll be all. We’ll be off now.”

Jelačić looked surprised. “You leave now?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of the clothing and get it back to you as soon as we’ve run our tests. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Jelačić. Good day.”

And they left him gaping after them.

“Biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard in my life,” said Ken Blackstone as they walked down the stairs. A dog went on pissing nonchalantly against the wall as they passed by.

Banks lit a cigarette. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it? What do you think Susan?”

“Whether he did it or not,” Susan Gay said between gritted teeth, “I think the bastard should be hung over the balcony by his balls. Sir.”

It was after six and Daniel still wasn’t back. Rebecca paced. She should make a start on dinner. At least it would take her mind off things. Had all this happened just a couple of days ago, she would have gone to see the angel, blabbed her fears and feelings out to its marble heaven-ward gaze, but the Inchcliffe Mausoleum was soured for her now by what she had seen there.

She put on her striped butcher’s apron-a birthday present from Daniel, when he still had his sense of humor-and searched in the fridge for the remains of the weekend’s roast. She would make shepherd’s pie. There was a bottle of Marks and Sparks Sauvignon Blanc in the fridge, lying on its side near the front. After a moment’s hesitation, Rebecca opened it and poured herself a generous glass before setting about grinding the leftover meat.

She was halfway through her second glass, and had just put the potatoes on, when she heard the door open. Daniel. Her legs turned to water. Suddenly she couldn’t face him, didn’t know what to say. He called out her name and she managed to tell him she was in the kitchen. Quickly, she knocked back the rest of the wine and poured herself another glass. Her hand was shaking so much she spilled some of it on the table. Sometimes you just couldn’t get drunk enough quick enough.

“What happened to the front window?” Daniel asked when he came through.

Rebecca stared down at the potatoes in the pan, waiting for the water to boil. “Someone chucked a brick through it,” she said. She didn’t tell him about the note.

“Where were the police?”

“Up around the Inchcliffe Mausoleum.”

“Isn’t it marvelous? Police all over the place but still a crime gets committed.” Daniel rested the backs of his thighs against the solid wood table.

“Daniel, a young girl’s been killed. And I found her.”

Daniel rubbed his brow. “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Bad day.”

“How was the meeting?”

“At least they’re resolved on not kicking me out for the present,” Daniel said. Over the past month, he had developed a tic beside his left eye. It was jumping now. “But the bishop is very upset about the murder, especially about its happening on church property. That’s another nail in my coffin. Things could hardly get much worse.”

“Don’t tempt providence.”

“ Providence? Hah. I don’t know if I still believe in providence any more. Or in anything, for that matter. I’m hungry.” He went to the fridge, found some old Cheddar and cut himself a chunk. “How about you?”

Rebecca shook her head. The way her stomach felt, she thought she might never be able to eat again. The potatoes came to a boil. She turned down the heat and wiped her hands on her apron. The tension inside her had built so high that she felt like a volcano about to erupt. She couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Daniel?” She turned to face him.

“What?”

“I…I don’t…Today. I-”

The front doorbell rang.

“Damn!” Rebecca banged her fist on the table. “Who could that be?”

“I’ll go and see.” Daniel went off to answer it.

Rebecca grasped the edge of the table. She could feel the room spinning around her, and it wasn’t the booze this time.

“Becky!” The note of concern in his voice brought her back “Are you all right?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Not so bad. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just came over a bit funny, that’s all.” When she opened her eyes, she saw Daniel standing next to the detective who had visited them last night.

He was smaller than you’d expect for a policeman, she noticed, compact, lean and wiry, with an aura of pent-up strength. His closely cropped black hair showed just a little gray at the temples, and his blue eyes danced and sparkled with energy. There was a little crescent scar beside his right eye.

“Detective Chief Inspector Banks is back,” Daniel said. “He wants to ask us some more questions.”

Rebecca nodded, took off her apron and followed them through to the living-room. She left the glass of wine on the kitchen table. Another postponement. Maybe she could drink herself through yet another night of guilt and misery.

“I’m sorry to intrude again,” Banks said when they had all sat down. He sneezed, took out a large handkerchief and blew his nose. “Sorry. I seem to be catching a cold. Look, I’ll come straight to the point. I can see you were busy getting dinner ready. I was just wondering if maybe you’d decided to tell me the truth about last night?”

For a moment, Rebecca was stunned by the matter-of-fact way Banks spoke. “The truth?” she echoed.

“Yes. You’re a poor liar, Mrs. Charters. And you can take that as a compliment.” He glanced towards Daniel. “When I asked your husband where he had been at the time you said you heard a cry, you jumped in a bit too quickly and answered for him.”

“I did?”

“Yes. Then he felt duty-bound to lie to cover for you. It’s all very admirable in some ways, but it won’t do. Not when there’s a sixteen-year-old girl lying dead in Eastvale mortuary.”

Rebecca felt completely tongue-tied. What the hell was going on? Her mind whirled, searching for things to say, but before she could say anything a voice far calmer than her own cut in.

“Chief Inspector,” Daniel Charters said. “I’m afraid that’s my fault. I should have corrected Rebecca rather than let the deceit stand. Believe me, there was no need for a lie. I have nothing to hide.”

Banks nodded. He seemed to be waiting for something else.

Daniel sighed and went on. “Yes, I was out at the time my wife heard the cry, but I can assure you that my whereabouts had absolutely nothing at all to do with the poor girl’s murder.”

“Where were you?” Banks asked.

Rebecca noticed Daniel’s lips tighten for a moment as he tensed in thought. “I’d rather not say.”

“It would help us a lot if we could verify your story.”

Daniel shook his head. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to prove my alibi, even if I told you.”

“You could let us try.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s a kind offer, but-”

The doorbell rang again.

“I’ll go,” said Rebecca.

“Whoever it is,” Daniel told her, “get rid of them.”

Leaving them in silence, Rebecca went to open the front door. Patrick Metcalfe was standing there. He looked as if he had been walking around in the rain without a raincoat for hours.

“Oh, my God,” Rebecca cried, trying to shut the door against his shoulder. “Please, go away. Can’t you see you’ve caused enough trouble already?”