Phil Rickman - The Cure of Souls

Garlanded again.

‘… A kam mangela .’

She was breathing hard, her breath surrounding her, it seemed, like a chilled mist.

‘I warn you,’ he heard, ‘don’t say no to me now.’

The voice came rolling warmly out of the phone, so loud Merrily had to pull it away from her ear. Stock heard and hmmmph ed and walked away, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets.

‘Merrily! Wasn’t sure I’d get you. Knew you couldn’t be in church, this time of day. Least, I thought you wouldn’t.’

‘Charlie?’

‘You had lunch yet, Merrily?’

‘Charlie, listen, I’m with somebody right now.’

‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Charlie Howe said. ‘Just that I’ve got some information for you, my dear. Talking to Brother Morrell last night about this sad business with the Shelbone girl, and a couple of things rather clicked into place, and I thought… I thought you ought to know about them, that’s all. And, of course, I also thought you might like some lunch.’

‘Well, thanks, but… actually, I don’t feel too hungry. I was thinking of—Well, it’s been a complicated morning.’

‘A coffee, then. I’ll be here for an hour or so yet.’

‘Where?’

‘The Green Dragon in Broad Street? If you don’t manage to show up, look, give me a ring tonight – though I’ll be out till quite late. But you might find it worth your while, I’ll say n’more than that.’

‘All right. Thanks. That’s very good of—Charlie, how did you get this number?’

He laughed. ‘That Sophie Hill’s a hard one to crack, but her armour’s got its weak points, like everyone else’s. My, you do sound a bit subdued, girl. Nothing else going wrong in your life, is there? Can’t take on all the troubles of the world.’

‘No.’ She saw Gerard Stock walking back towards her and realized how badly she wanted to get away from here. ‘I’ll try and get over there. I’ll do my best.’

Gerard Stock had made an irritable circuit of the yard and, as he came beefing back, she saw the change at once and got in first.

‘Gerard, would you do something for me?’ He looked suspicious. ‘If I give you some prayers, would you be sure to say them?’

He stared at her.

‘I’ve got some appropriate ones printed out in a case in the car,’ she said. ‘I’d like you to say them at specific times. Both of you, if possible. If not… one of you will do.’

‘That going to help, is it, Merrily?’

For the first time, he was challenging her. Was this because she’d quite clearly messed up in there? Or was it because his wife was no longer with them? So where is she? And where’s Lol?

‘It will help,’ she assured him. ‘But I’d also like to come back again. I think this may need more attention. And more preparation than we were able to give it today.’

‘You and liddle Lol?’

She sighed. ‘Like I said, I’ve known Lol Robinson for some time, although I didn’t know he was living here. He’s somebody I can trust, that’s all.’

‘He’s a bloody psychotherapist. That why you brought him? Just tell me the truth.’

‘No. Really.’ She shook her head. ‘And he’s not yet officially a therapist, anyway.’

‘So what was it that made up your mind?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘What I’m asking’ – he tilted his head, scrutinizing her sideways – ‘is what happened, liddle lady, to make you decide I wasn’t after all just a scheming townie trying to shaft his neighbours?’

‘I’d never decided you were.’

‘Because something did happen in there, didn’t it?’

She took a breath. ‘All right, something happened.’

‘So tell me. I’ve got to go on living here.’

‘Tell me something. What does sulphur mean to you?’

‘Why?’

‘Is there anything around here that might… or might once have… released sulphur fumes?’

‘Not now. Not any more.’

‘Meaning what?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll show you.’

She followed him back into the kitchen. The gloom seemed at once oppressive – or was she imagining that? He went straight to the wall where the implements hung, brought down a short pole with what looked like an ashpan from a stove or grate attached. He sniffed at it.

‘Can’t smell anything now.’ He thrust it towards her. ‘Can you?’

‘What is it?’

‘Was known, I’m told, as a brimstone tray. Used for feeding rolls of sulphur into the furnace.’

‘Why’d they do that?’

‘Some sort of fumigation. It also apparently made the drying hops turn yellow, which the brewers preferred for some reason. Made the beer look even more like piss, I don’t know. I don’t think they do it any more.’

‘Would sulphur have any special interest for Stewart Ash? Can you think of—?’

‘You’re saying you smelled sulphur.’

‘Quite powerfully.’

He tilted his head again. ‘Fire and brimstone… Merrily?’

‘That was what it smelled like. Could be argued it was subjective, I suppose.’

‘Oh… subjective .’ Stock held the wooden shaft of the brimstone tray with both hands like a spade. ‘There’s a good psychologist’s word. Why don’t we ask Lol what he thinks?’

‘Like you said, things are inclined to go awry in there. A few minor elements which, when you put them together, suggest a volatile atmosphere. Not necessarily connected with the murder of Stewart Ash.’

‘Volatile?’

‘I would like to come back, Mr Stock.’ She saw Lol in the doorway. ‘What about tonight?’

‘To do what?’

‘There are quite a few things—’

Stock hurled the brimstone tray to the stone with cacophonous force.

Merrily flinched but didn’t move. ‘—things we can still try.’

‘You don’t really know what the fuck you’re doing, do you?’ Stock snarled.

Lol walked in.

‘No… geddout… both of you.’ Stock picked up the chalice and the Tupperware box of communion wafers, shoved them in the airline bag, tossed the bag to the flags near Merrily’s feet. ‘You’re a waste of time, Merrily. I heard you were a political appointment.’

Merrily bit her lip.

‘Been better off with the fucking arse-bandit,’ Stock said.

‘Well…’ Lol picked up the bag. ‘This is actually quite reassuring. For a while back there, I was almost convinced you’d been possessed by the spirit of a nice man.’

Stock looked at him silently, then back at Merrily. He was waiting for them to go.

Merrily paused at the door. ‘I’d like to come back. If not me, then someone else.’

‘Geddout,’ Stock said.

‘MERRILY!’ CHARLIE HOWE stood up, tossing his Telegraph to one of the tables in the hotel reception area. He was wearing a creased cream suit and a yellow tie with the lipsticked impression of a woman’s red lips printed on it, as though it had been kissed. He looked genuinely delighted to see her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he steered her into the coffee lounge. ‘What a job you’ve got, girl: devils and demons on a wonderful summer’s day.’

She’d shed the cassock, was back in the T-shirt. ‘How d’you know I wasn’t doing a wedding?’

‘Contacts.’ Charlie tapped his long leathery nose.

‘Sophie’ll be mortified.’

‘When Mrs Hill wouldn’t tell me where you were, look, nigh on forty years of being a detective told me a wedding wasn’t an option.’

‘Smart.’

‘Pathetic, more like.’ He pointed to a window table. ‘Over there?’

‘Fine.’ She followed him. ‘Why pathetic?’

‘’Cause I miss it, of course.’ They sat down. ‘Don’t let any retired CID man tell you he don’t miss it. I’m even jealous of my own daughter.’