Mark Pearson - Hard Evidence

'I didn't mean to do it, Father.'

'You didn't mean to drink the bottle of communion wine?'

'No, Father.'

'Was it the Devil that made you do it then?'

'I'm thinking it must be, Father. For sure as you're standing there I have no inkling of why I'd do such a thing.'

'No inkling?'

'None whatsoever. As God is my witness.'

'But God is your witness, isn't he, Jack?'

'Yes, Father.'

'So it was the Devil in you that had the inkling, is that what you are thinking?'

'Now you come to mention it, Father, that must be the right of the matter. For I have no inclination in myself whatsoever to be drinking wine. It tastes disgusting.'

'And yet you drank a whole bottle of it.'

'And was heartily sick.'

'Then maybe you have learned a valuable lesson, Jack.'

'I certainly have learned my lesson, Father,' he said hopefully.

'It was the Devil in you. You're sure of it now?'

'Certain sure, Father.'

'It is a bad business when you let the Devil into your body, boy.'

'He must have snuck up on me, Father. I'll be vigilant from now on. I promise it to you.'

'But if the Devil is in you, boy, we have to get him out, don't we?'

'Do we?'

'The Devil is like a cancer, boy. Like a sickness. We must purge him, son. It is our Christian duty.'

'Purge?'

Father O'Connell laid a heavy hand on Jack's head, and Jack flinched.

'Our Christian duty, son. Come with me to the vestry.'

And as Jack looked up into the middle-aged man's eyes, he saw not anger but some kind of feral hunger, and he trembled even more as he was led to the vestry door.

The hymn came to a close and Delaney wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, damp now with sweat. Wendy handed him a tissue, which he took gratefully as the twin doors to the church opened and a procession of young children, boys and girls, came in. The girls in white dresses, the boys wearing red ties. They walked slowly up the aisle in a line to the altar. Delaney smiled at Siobhan as she passed, but Siobhan kept her eyes ahead, looking at the cruciform figure of Christ hanging behind the altar. Wendy put a hand on Delaney's knee and he squeezed it, holding on just a little too tight.

Wendy smiled reassuringly at him. 'She looks a million dollars, Jack. A million dollars.'

Siobhan came to the altar and knelt at the little rail. The priest made the sign of the cross in front of her with his hand, and Siobhan shut her eyes and opened her mouth, putting out her tongue so he could place the communion wafer on it.

Kate looked around the empty CID office. She paused at Delaney's desk. It was neat and ordered. Files stacked tidily, pens in a pot, loose papers collected, everything aligned. The desk of a man who liked to keep control of things, Kate surmised. Not least his emotions. A photograph stood centrally on the desk. Silver-framed. A smiling woman holding a young baby. Delaney's wife and daughter, Kate guessed. She picked up the photograph; his wife was very beautiful. Kate couldn't begin to imagine what he must have gone through when she died.

She put the report she had brought him on top of his files, suddenly feeling guilty, and started as Bob Wilkinson came across, a thinly veiled anger in his eyes.

'Come to gloat, have you?'

'What are you talking about?'

'Come off it, Dr Walker. We all know you're no friend of Jack Delaney.'

Kate shook her head, puzzled. 'You've lost me.'

'What are you doing here, then?'

'I promised Jack a copy of the autopsy report on Billy Martin.'

Bob Wilkinson was a little taken aback. 'Right.'

'And for your information, whatever differences Jack and I had in the past are just that. In the past.'

'I'll take your word for it.'

Bob Wilkinson went to move away, but Kate gripped his arm firmly. She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'What are you talking about, though? What's going on?'

'There's rumours flying around. That's all.'

'What kind of rumours?'

'About Jack.'

'What about him?'

Bob leaned in and lowered his voice too. 'They're saying he was involved in Jackie Malone's murder.'

Kate shook her head, shocked. 'That's ridiculous!'

'You and I know that,' said Bob Wilkinson, letting the implication hang in the air.

'You've got to do something.'

He shrugged. 'I'm just a foot soldier, what can I do?'

Kate looked across the office, her face hardening as Chief Superintendent Walker came out of DCI Campbell's office, forcefully pulling the door shut behind him. He strode angrily down the corridor, not even glancing at his niece.

Wilkinson looked pointedly at Kate. 'If something bad is coming down on Jack Delaney, and if you are his friend like you say,' he looked across at the superintendent's retreating figure, 'then he's going to need friends with connections in high places.'

'I'm not sure I have any influence there.'

'Maybe it's time to find out.'

Kate considered for a moment, looked down at the photo on Delaney's desk and hurried after her uncle. Time to swallow her pride and ask for help.

Outside the church, Delaney leaned against the cool stone of the old flint wall and caught his breath, telling himself it was just the heat. But the feverish pump of blood in his heart told a different story. He took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself to relax. He started as the mobile phone in his pocket rang and had to take a moment or two to answer it. 'Jack Delaney?'

The voice on the other end of the phone was breathy and low. A woman. 'Did you get the film?'

'Who is this?'

'It doesn't matter who I am. Did you get the film I sent?'

'I got the film.' Sweat was breaking out on Delaney's forehead once more.

'Did you enjoy it?'

'Who is this?'

'You can call me a friend.'

Delaney barked a short dry laugh. ' My friend?'

'I don't know you.'

'Whose friend, then?'

'Jackie Malone's friend.'

Delaney sighed, running his hand across the top of his forehead again.

'What do you want?'

There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line. A chuckle that had as much warmth in it as a penguin's foot. 'That's the twenty-four-dollar question?'

'You want money?'

'No. I don't want money.'

'What do you want then?'

Delaney could hear the woman on the other end covering the phone and hissing to someone: 'Give me a minute.' He heard a man's voice replying to her but couldn't make out the words.

Delaney's patience was wearing thin. 'What do you want?' He spoke curtly into the phone.

'I want justice for Jackie. I want retribution.'

'Why don't you come in and talk about it?'

Another harsh laugh. 'I don't think so, Jack. People involved in this business seem to get hurt, don't they? Jackie. Her dropkick brother Billy.'

'What do you know about Billy Martin?'

'I know they both ended up getting terminally hurt. And I never was like Jackie. I don't play the rough games. And this is a sick business.'

Delaney frowned. 'What business?'

'Blackmail.'

Delaney sighed again. 'I see.'

'Billy Martin thought he had stumbled on a little goldmine, but Jackie didn't want anything to do with it. She gave me the tape to look after. Anything happened to her, she said to send it to you.'

Delaney nodded. 'Where's the boy?'

'I don't know anything about a boy.'

'Who am I talking to?'

'Anyway, that's it. I don't want anything more to do with it. She said you'd know what to do with the DVD. She said you'd take care of those responsible. She didn't trust the police but she trusted you to make sure they got what was coming to them.'

Delaney could hear the man in the background shouting at her, urgent, angry. He thought he could make out the name Carol, or Karen.