Adrian Magson - No Help For The Dying

The room where the crowd of the other morning had gathered was now empty, and the chairs were stacked neatly against one wall to the side of the podium. The banner was gone, as were the microphone and lectern. Riley glanced at Palmer, who merely shrugged. They heard the voices again, one of them loud and accusing. Down at the far end of the room, standing in another doorway, was de Haan, in discussion with a man in overalls. The pastor was stabbing the air and pointing towards a radiator with a broken end of metal pipe leaking into a growing pool of water. He broke off when he heard their footsteps.

When he recognised Riley, his face dropped momentarily into a scowl before resuming the same genial expression he had adopted the first time they met. He flapped a hand at the man in overalls and scurried across the room towards them, his small feet carrying him with deceptive speed.

‘Miss Gavin,’ he said expansively, his voice booming around the panelled walls. He was dressed in a suit today, the expensive fabric immaculately tailored over his bulk, and his shoes gleamed black under the mix of natural and overhead lights. A crisp white shirt and silver tie completed the image of a successful and important man. He lifted one meaty hand in greeting, but looked anything but pleased to see her again. ‘I’m sorry — we’re having trouble with the heating.’ His eyes ran over Palmer before coming back to Riley with a faint frown. ‘Did we have an appointment? Only I have to go out.’

‘This won’t take long,’ said Riley.

‘Good. Good. Let’s go out into the reception area before that man begins banging again.’ He took her arm in a firm grip and ushered them both back through the door, pulling it shut behind him. Then he turned and looked at Palmer, who was studying the wood panelling as if it might yield up some long-held secrets. ‘And this is-?’

‘Frank Palmer,’ the investigator replied. ‘Along for the ride.’ He smiled pleasantly and took de Haan’s hand. ‘Nice place you’ve got here. Peaceful.’

The pastor shook his hand and gave a ghost of a smile, dropping into professional mode. ‘Thank you. How kind. We like to think it has a certain serene simplicity. Some say we should do it up, modernise, but,’ he shrugged, ‘there are much better things on which we can spend our limited resources. Are you a practising churchgoer, Mr Palmer?’

Palmer shook his head. ‘No, not really. God gave up on me a long time ago.’

De Haan looked almost shocked. ‘I doubt that, Mr Palmer. God never gives up on anyone. Perhaps you need to re-establish contact.’ He let go of Palmer’s hand and turned to Riley. ‘So, what can I do for you?’

‘I’d still like to see Henry,’ replied Riley. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s much better. But still not up to visitors, I’m afraid.’ Pastor de Haan gave a brief smile. ‘Perhaps in another day or two, when he’s feeling stronger.’

‘Stronger?’ This from Palmer.

‘Yes. He’s been through a traumatic time. It’s taken its toll and he needs complete rest. I’m concerned that anything stressful will put him back completely. Do you suffer from stress, Mr Palmer?’

‘Me? No. At least, only when I think I’m being given the run-around.’ He smiled enigmatically, his eyes never leaving de Haan’s face. ‘That gets to me quite a bit.’

‘Oh.’ De Haan glanced at Riley with a flicker of nerves and she wondered if he was hoping for Quine to appear like a genie out of the aged woodwork and rescue him. But she had a feeling Quine wasn’t around, otherwise he’d have been out here by now.

‘I was talking to Henry’s neighbour the other day,’ she said chattily. ‘She’s looking after Henry’s cat and sends her regards, by the way. She said Henry showed her some snaps once, of a day out with some young people. I got the impression it was here.’

‘Quite possibly,’ de Haan murmured, with a faint frown. ‘We have held barbecues and functions here from time to time, but it’s not something I encourage. The main thrust of our efforts lies in the cities. I suppose Henry might have taken some photos at one time.’ He brushed at a sudden hint of perspiration on his brow, his eyes shifting between Riley and Palmer.

‘So he helps with the young people, then? I thought his efforts were purely on the admin side.’ Riley wondered why de Haan was so nervous. She started to turn away, then looked back at him. ‘I didn’t realise he was so public-spirited. He’s such a dark horse. Still, just like him to record everything.’

De Haan looked as if he wanted to gag, and his face lost its colour. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just that Henry’s a newsman through to his socks. And we tend to over-record everything. You never know when you might stumble on a story. Like these missing kids that are in the news at the moment.’

De Haan’s expression hardened, but he managed a brief nod. ‘A sad sign of the times, I fear.’ Riley pulled out the folded flyer from the coffee house, showing Angelina Boothe-Davison’s details and photograph. It was a spur of the moment thing; until they had entered the building, she’d forgotten all about it. ‘Like this girl. Is this one of your flyers?’

De Haan looked at it as though it might bite, then nodded. ‘We try to help when asked, yes. I remember this one vaguely. A tragic case.’ His expression softened as if to reflect his concern, as if the missing girl was a personal burden he had to bear alone. ‘Poor girl. She stepped off the path. We can only hope she can be persuaded to come back.’

‘So you haven’t found her yet?’

‘Not yet. Why do you need to know?’

Riley ignored the question. ‘But the parents asked for your help? Why would they do that?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘How did they know to approach you? You’re not exactly in Yellow Pages.’

He studied her for a second, a pulse beating in his throat, and glanced at Palmer before answering. ‘Actually, it was a bit of both,’ he admitted carefully. ‘If I remember correctly, a friend of the family asked if we could intervene. I suggested they got the parents to call us.’ He shrugged with elaborate vagueness. ‘I don’t recall the specifics. It seemed more important to get the notices out there so we could begin the search before it was too late. People have very short memories, Miss Gavin. Life moves so quickly, demanding our every spare moment. It’s vital to get people to think before they forget what they have seen. Is this important to you — a family friend, perhaps? Because if you have any ideas about where she might be, you should tell me.’ His words sounded almost syrupy in their sincerity, but Riley thought she detected a sub-text which was more about suspicion. She was also certain he was lying about remembering how the Church became involved. He got the feeling that de Haan was a man who forgot very little.

She folded the flyer away and shook her head. ‘I don’t. But when we spoke last time, I got the impression you only took people in — and then only if they came to you for help. This sounds as if you actually go out looking for missing people on behalf of their families.’ She waited for a response.

He inclined his head as if dealing with a persistent and not terribly quick child. ‘Well, we do that, too, of course. When we’re asked. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear before. But I fail to see why this should be of interest to you or-’ he glanced at Palmer, ‘your friend, here. We have certain facilities and skills which allow us to perform that function. It would be wrong to waste them. Now, if you don’t-’

‘In exchange for a fee?’

He stiffened. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business.’

‘I’m sorry, too. The grateful parents show their gratitude, is what I mean.’