Phil Rickman - The Prayer of the Night Shepherd

‘And now the money you didn’t care about, suddenly that was meaningful.’

‘It was meaningful because I haven’t really got any money. I’ve got a farm and a man who belongs to it, so I haven’t got a farm to sell. And to keep Clan out of the System, that would take big money, to pay for somebody...’

Bliss glanced down at Merrily, then back at Brigid.

‘So you agreed.’

‘He said he had a contract already made up and he’d make some quick changes and put his signature to them, and that would legally oblige him to pay a third of the action to Clancy. He took the contract out of his pocket and he put it on the table in the pub. It looked legit, but how would I know? What was I going to do here? What would you do?’ Brigid did a swift sweep of faces, her hair swinging. ‘Any of you?’

‘So you recorded the interview.’

‘He said if we didn’t do it now, it’d be down the pan... which was pretty obvious. So we drove into New Radnor, and we parked off the bypass, which was still pretty clear, and he set up a camera with a light inside the Shogun. He had two cameras going – one he held, the other on a short tripod in the back of the car, shooting like a profile of my face. He had loads of batteries and stuff, and he clipped a personal microphone to my coat and we... we just recorded it in one go.’

Like it was being done at gunpoint, Merrily thought.

‘I just babbled on, I wasn’t really thinking about what I was saying. He asked questions and I just said the first things that came into my head, except when he asked about Mark and Stuart and I just said I hadn’t got anything to say about that. We must’ve gone on for nearly an hour and a half, with a couple of breaks so he could move the car a bit to stop us getting blocked in by the snow.’

‘And you were sworn to secrecy about when it was done?’ Bliss said.

‘He said it had to be kept under wraps or we wouldn’t make a fraction of the money. He said he’d be compromised if it came out he was a witness to the murder.’

‘Interesting,’ Bliss said. ‘What would this be worth, Mr Foley?’

‘A lot. Even now, Brigid Parsons is still big box office. Brigid Parsons back in the headlines with – I’m sorry – another conviction for a similar crime would be huge. Mega.’

‘Even an interview knocked off in a car?’

‘Makes no difference these days. You can get perfect quality anywhere. Gives it more of a sense of authenticity. By the time he’s dressed it up with other interviews, old news footage, comments from a shrink – you’ve got to have a shrink these days, and most of them will say whatever you want. Yeah, he’s looking at big bucks. Enormous bucks.’

Merrily said, ‘So how important would it be for Brigid to have done another murder?’

‘Like I said – mega. Court case of the year. Questions asked in Parliament about the monitoring of murderers who’ve been let back into society.’ Ben looked at Brigid, as if he still couldn’t absorb the idea of her as a serious killer, as anybody other than Natalie, his manager. ‘But most importantly, she’s out of the picture. This is the only interview anybody will ever get.’

Bliss said, ‘I know where you’re coming from, Merrily, but...’

Merrily looked up at Ben, saw his eyes go wide and still with sudden comprehension.

Bliss chewed his lip, then he said, ‘How successful is Mr Largo at present, Mr Foley?’

‘He... seemed to be on top. But then, in this business, nobody ever goes around telling people their careers are on the slide. I don’t really know where he is in the pecking order, I’ve been out of it for too long. Been out of it so long I trusted him. Thought he was a mate.’

‘But even if he was still successful,’ Merrily said, ‘something like this , that would still be the summit of his career...’

‘God, yes,’ Ben said. ‘Most independent producers would k—’ He swiped back his hair with both hands. ‘Figure of speech.’

Merrily wondered if Largo had heard Sebbie on the phone to Zelda Morgan from the bottom of the rocks, where he’d fallen. Probably not. Had he even thought of the risk that Sebbie’s fall could be ruled out as the cause of death and, if he had, might Sebbie still be alive? Or would he have taken a chance, anyway? She was a notorious convicted killer. Who was going to believe her denials?

She waited for Bliss to ask something, but Bliss was staring up at the window, chewing his lower lip again.

‘What would Largo’s state of mind be?’ she asked Ben Foley. ‘He’s waiting in his car, say at the entrance to the quarry. He’s seen Brigid going up there. He’s seen a Range Rover taking the same route. Perhaps he’s in the car with the headlights on, or perhaps he’s out there with the torch. But suddenly he sees a body tumbling down from the rocks through the snow. What’s he feeling? Shock? Incredulity?’

‘What do I say?’ Ben’s attempt at a smile was loose and nerveless. ‘Shock and incredulity aren’t in Antony’s repertoire.’

‘What, then?’

‘Seeing what looks like a murder happen before his eyes? A murder on a plate? A murder committed by a high-profile killer he’s been... lusting after – for reasons most of us wouldn’t like to contemplate – since he was a graduate trainee?’

‘In your own words, then, sir,’ Bliss said.

‘I would say barely controllable, very dark sexual... excitement.’

‘I see.’

‘Of course, the man has used me, lied to me, cut the ground from under my feet and left me humiliated, so I may be a tad prejudiced...’

‘Brigid,’ Bliss said, ‘when you came down from the rocks, what did Mr Dacre say to you?’

‘He didn’t say anything.’ Merrily was aware of Brigid drawing in a thin thread of a breath. ‘He was dead.’

‘All right.’ Frannie Bliss stood up. ‘I can’t let you go anywhere yet, Brigid, you realize that. But I won’t send you to Hereford. I’ll say we’ve had new snow. I’ll say something.’ He turned to Ben. ‘Where is he, Mr Foley?’

‘He’s gone, I think. Can’t have been too many minutes ago.’

‘Back to London?’

‘He said he’d phone me.’

‘When?’

‘Sometime. Actually, it may be sooner than sometime. After I copied his video discs to VHS, I, ah, put blank ones back in his case.’

‘Naughty. What’ve you done with the originals?’

‘They’re here. I may put them under a stone at the bottom of Hergest Pool for a thousand years.’

‘Sorry, sir?’

‘Local joke,’ Ben Foley said.

Bliss thought for a moment. ‘Sod it, let’s get the bugger stopped on the road and brought back. I want his clothes.’

They went out for air, Merrily and Brigid.

They stood at the highest point of the forecourt. The view was immense and blinding under a surprising glaze of gaseous early sun. No snow had come down since dawn.

‘Is it safe?’ Brigid was staring at one of the small farms lying under Hergest Ridge like a trinket fallen from a shelf, and Merrily realized that this must be The Nant, tilted into the hillside, half submerged in snow. ‘Is it safe to tell Clancy? Is it safe to tell Jeremy?’

You could see something crawling slowly towards it like a beetle, perhaps the loyal Danny Thomas going in his tractor to see to Jeremy’s animals.

‘I think Jeremy already knows.’ Merrily gazed over the snowy forestry to Hergest Ridge: thick white icing on an old fruit cake, rich and spicy, dark and bitter and soaked in alcohol. Where was the Hound? Out there, somewhere, or existing only in the collective consciousness of mid-Border people, a shadow on the retina of the mind’s eye?