Phil Rickman - The Cure of Souls

Charlie leaned forward. ‘Merrily, nobody in their right mind consults David Shelbone, they just pray he’s otherwise engaged at the time. Brother Shelbone gets involved, it’s gonner cost you: time and money. And the stress factor.’

‘So he’s put a preservation order on the Barnchurch. Can he do that on his own?’

‘What he does is gets it spot-listed. It then goes to the Council, with a report and a recommendation from Shelbone. Well, this is seen as a very significant project, with considerable economic benefits for the city, and the Council, by a small majority, goes against the advice of the Listed Buildings Officer and declares that the Barnchurch can be flattened.’

‘I don’t remember reading about this in the papers.’

Charlie smiled thinly. ‘The authority has a certain leeway these days to conduct business not considered to be in the public interest less publicly.’

‘Which stinks, of course.’

‘But is quite legitimate. Anyway, David Shelbone isn’t a man to be put off by petty local tyranny. He goes directly to the body responsible for conservation of historic buildings – English Heritage – and they step in. So then—’

‘Which way did you vote, Charlie? Just so we know where we are.’

Charlie Howe grinned, whipped cream on his teeth. ‘I abstained, of course.’

‘Ah.’

‘Didn’t really think I knew enough about the issue.’

‘Why do I find that hard to believe? So, can English Heritage overrule the Hereford Council?’

‘Not just like that. It’ll have to go to Central Government for a decision. Because what had happened, see, was that the developers had already lodged an appeal contesting the scheduling of an old heap of bricks as a building of historical merit. There’ll be a public inquiry before an inspector from the Department of Culture – or the Ministry of Arty-farty Time-wasters, as one of my colleagues likes to call them.’

‘Which will take time to organize, I suppose.’

‘Months and months – and then more months waiting for a decision. Even if they get the green light at the end of the day, it’s going to’ve cost the developers a vast amount of money, what with all the delays and their contracts with prestigious national chains on the line. In the meantime, some of those firms are bound to go elsewhere. The situation is that Barnchurch Phase Two’s already looking like a financial disaster on a serious scale.’

‘And all because of one man.’

‘You got it.’

‘Who are the developers?’ Merrily asked.

‘Firm called Arrow Valley Commercial Properties.’

Merrily shook her head. ‘Not heard of them.’

‘Subsidiary of Allan Henry Homes,’ said Charlie. ‘You with me, now?’

Merrily put down her scone.

Charlie Howe’s arms were folded. She studied his face, tanned the colour of lightly polished yew. She knew very little about him, either as a councillor or a former senior policeman, but if she had to guess why he was going out of his way to feed her controversial information, she wouldn’t get far beyond the fact that he clearly enjoyed causing trouble – stirring the pot.

‘Gosh,’ she said.

‘You talk for a bit and I’ll listen.’ Charlie glanced around. ‘You’re all right: no witnesses.’

‘Well… phew… where do we start? David Shelbone may well have got himself crossed off Allan Henry’s corporate Christmascard list.’

Charlie poured himself more coffee. ‘You ever actually come across Allan Henry, Merrily?’

‘He doesn’t go to my church.’

‘He’s an ambitious man, and a very lucky man. Things’ve fallen his way. Just a moderately successful small-time house-builder for quite a few years, then his horizons got rapidly wider. Took over Colin Connelly’s little workshop development beyond Holmer when Colin had his accident. And then things started falling into his hands. A few slightly iffy Green Belt schemes, but he got them through. One way or another.’

‘Erm… would you say he found success in ways that might have interested you in your former occupation?’

Charlie Howe said, very slowly, ‘I am saying nothing that might incriminate any of my colleagues on the council.’

‘I see,’ said Merrily.

Charlie drank the rest of his second cup of coffee.

‘So David Shelbone could be getting in quite a few people’s hair.’

‘I think I said as much earlier.’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’

He cupped his hands over his eyes and nose, rubbed for a moment before bringing them down in the praying position.

‘Got nobody else to tell any more,’ he said. ‘Last thing Annie wants is the old man on her back. Most of the people I mix with… well, you never know quite who you’re talking to, do you?’

‘What happened to your… to Annie’s mother?’

‘Oh, it was a police marriage. Average life expectancy five years. Better nowadays, actually. Now there are plenty of professional women around, so you can take up with one who understands all about funny shifts and late-night callouts and having to cancel your fortnight in Ibiza because you’re giving evidence at Worcester Crown Court. Back then, it was this huge majority of full-time housewives and mothers who didn’t understand at all.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He grinned. ‘Don’t be bloody sorry, vicar. I’ve had a lot more fun in twenty-five unencumbered years than I had with her. Anyway… I met you there at the school and I liked your attitude and I thought we were likely to be on the same wavelength on certain matters. And then that little girl taking the overdose – that rather clinched it.’

‘Well… thanks.’

‘I don’t much like Brother Henry,’ he said. ‘I don’t like him as a businessman or as… as a man.’

‘Because?’

‘Because… well, he’s ruthless and he’s vindictive, for starters. The rest I’d need to think about.’

‘And Layla Riddock’s not even his daughter.’

‘He brought her up, though,’ Charlie said, ‘didn’t he?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Me neither, really. I don’t know how long he and Shirley Riddock have been together. But it makes you think, don’t it just?’

‘He must’ve been very disappointed when certain people failed to persuade David Shelbone to take early retirement.’ Merrily broke off a small piece of scone and then put it back on the plate. ‘Oh hell, this is getting ridiculous.’

‘Nothing’s ridiculous,’ said Charlie Howe. ‘Hello…?’

Merrily looked up. A man had come in through reception and was walking directly towards their table.

‘Well, well,’ Charlie said.

Merrily recognized Andy Mumford, Hereford Division CID. Being promoted to Detective Sergeant in the twilight of his career must have given him new heart, because he’d lost weight. Sadly, it had made him look even more lugubrious.

‘Andrew Mumford, as I live and breathe.’ Charlie beamed but didn’t stand up. ‘This your local now then, boy, in keeping with your new-found status?’

‘Hello, boss,’ Mumford said heavily.

‘Dropped in for some career advice, is it? Stick it as long as you can, I’d say. Half these so-called security jobs, you’re just a glorified caretaker. Have a seat.’

‘I won’t, thank you, boss. In fact, it was actually Mrs Watkins I was looking for.’

‘Well… you can study for the ministry up to the age of sixty,’ Merrily told him, ‘but at the end of it, caretakers still earn more money.’

Mumford didn’t smile. ‘Mrs Watkins, Mr Howe’s daughter and my, er, governor would like it a lot if you could come to her office for a discussion.’

‘Oh.’ She sat up, surprised. ‘OK. I mean… Just give me half an hour. Because I do need to pop over to my office first.’