Ann Cleeves - The Healers

The anaemic boy with the shaved head was on duty. He too recognized Hunter, but he did not let on.

“Yes?” he said carelessly.

“I’m looking for Miss Jackman,” Hunter said.

“She’s not here,” the boy said. He had on a long bleached apron tied at the back and reminded Hunter of a mortuary assistant.

“Where is she?”

“How would I sodding know? It’s her day off.”

So Hunter walked back to the police station, picked up one of the pool cars and drove to Laverock Farm. He parked in the yard beside Ernie Bowles’s old Land-Rover. He opened the car door and swivelled in his seat to pull on the Wellingtons he’d had the sense to bring with him.

Lily was hanging washing on a line in the farmhouse back garden. He stood for a moment, looking at her, before she realized he was there.

“Making yourself at home,” he said sarcastically.

“We’ve had permission to stay in the house,” she said quickly.

“Where’s lover boy?”

“I thought they taught you manners these days,” she snapped.

“Sorry.” He walked towards her. “Sorry…”

“Sean’s gone up to Long Edge Farm to talk to Stan Richardson.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Something to do with the farm, I suppose. He was talking about getting some hens again.”

She picked up the plastic laundry basket and walked into the house. He followed her. The kitchen was even more untidy than when Ernie Bowles had lived there. A mound of dirty plates was piled on the draining board and a box of washing powder stood on the windowsill. There was a smell of stale joss sticks. A candle stood in a bottle in the middle of the table and wax had dripped on to the surface.

“Why do you live like this?” he demanded before he could help himself.

“And how do you live?” she spat back. “In a nice tidy semi, on a nice tidy estate, with a nice tidy wifey to cook your meals?”

He grinned. “With my mam in a council house.”

“So you’re a mummy’s boy,” she said. But her anger had dispersed. He felt she was teasing him.

“No,” he said. “It’s just convenient.”

She made instant coffee in grubby mugs. There was no milk or sugar.

“I did as you suggested,” he said. “I went to see Rebecca Booth.”

“Did you?” She seemed awkward. “A nice kid, isn’t she?”

“Too nice to be messed around by Daniel Abbot.”

“She told you then? I wasn’t sure she would.” She stood up, rinsed her mug under the tap.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him and Faye Cooper before?” Hunter demanded.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” she said. “I still don’t. Not to the murders. But Rebecca shouldn’t have to put up with that every day. No one should.”

“Has Daniel tried it on with you?” he asked suddenly.

She gave a laugh. “Of course not. I’m too old. And I’ve got a boyfriend. Daniel always makes sure his victims are unattached. He might look tough but he’s a coward.”

“What happened that weekend at Juniper Hall?” Hunter asked.

“I’m not sure. He was pretty discreet. But on the Saturday evening I found Faye in tears in the ladies. She blamed herself. She was scared Win would find out.”

“What did you say?”

“That he was just a dirty middle-aged man and she should stand up to him. She wouldn’t have done, though. She’d just been dumped by Peter Richardson and she’d lost all her confidence. She was in no state to stand up to anybody.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure she didn’t threaten to tell his wife, or Mrs. Pocock, or the press? Are you sure he didn’t drown her to keep her quiet?”

“Of course he didn’t drown her!” Lily’s voice was emphatic. “I don’t like him any more than you do but he wouldn’t have done that. He’s a healer.”

There was a moment of silence. In the hall Cissie Bowles’s clock began to chime.

“Did Ernie Bowles know about Mr. Abbot’s habit of harassing young girls?” Hunter asked.

“I shouldn’t think so. How could he?”

“You said he was a snoop.”

“He was that all right. Made it his business to know everyone’s business. But I can’t see how he could have found out about that.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course not.”

“Did he have any reason to go to the Alternative Therapy Centre?”

“When Cissie could still get about he used to take her in the Land-Rover for her acupuncture treatment. He used to sit in the waiting room while she saw Mr. Abbot. I suppose he could have overheard something but Faye wouldn’t have been around then.”

“And when Cissie was bedridden?”

“She was taking some homoeopathic remedies prescribed by Win. Ernie collected the tablets from the Centre. I offered to get them for him but he seemed to like going himself.”

She returned to the table and sat down again, opposite to him. He thought she seemed unusually restless. He could tell that her concentration was wandering.

“We think Ernie could have been a blackmailer,” he said, hoping to hold her attention. “Did he ever try to blackmail you?”

She laughed. “What would be the point? I’ve no reputation to lose anyway.”

“But he would be capable of it?”

“Oh,” Lily said, ‘he’d be capable of anything. We all are, aren’t we? In the right circumstances. Put under enough stress.”

“What do you mean?”

She paused. He had the impression that she was weighing him up, deciding how far she could trust him, wondering even if she should ask him for help. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Sean Slater walked in.

“This is very cosy,” he said. He stood in the doorway with the sun behind him, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. Something had annoyed him. He was spoiling for a fight but Hunter had just enough sense not to be provoked. He knew Lily Jackman wouldn’t be impressed by fisticuffs anyway.

“I’m just asking Miss Jackman a few questions,” Hunter said.

“I thought you’d be leaving us alone now,” Slater said. “You found my friends in the blue Transit, didn’t you? You know we couldn’t have killed James McDougal. So why do you keep tormenting us?”

“I’m not tormenting you,” Hunter explained reasonably. And you’d soon know about it if I was, he thought. “I’m asking for information.”

“Or is there another reason for your interest?” Sean said nastily. “Another reason for you sniffing around here all the time?”

Hunter pretended not to understand. He stood up and walked out of the house. Slater leaned against the frame of the door and watched until his car was out of sight.

Win Abbot had been crying. She pretended at first not to be in. Sally Wedderburn rang the doorbell over and over again but there was no reply. She could have given up and gone back to the station. Why should she always be the one to deal with nervy women anyway? But she was too persistent for that. An alley at the end of the terrace led into a footpath which ran along the back of all the gardens. Beyond that there was open hillside: bracken and sheep-grazed grass. Most of the gardens had a gate on to the footpath. The Abbots’ had stiff bolts, presumably to prevent the children from escaping. Sally gave up trying to shift them and climbed over. She pulled a thread on the pair of Benetton trousers she’d bought in the sales, but was rewarded by a glimpse of Win’s terror-stricken face at the kitchen window.

“Mrs. Abbot!” she called, knocking on the kitchen door. “Please let me in.”

Win must have made an effort to pull herself together, because when she opened the door she was red-eyed but calm.