Стивен Бут - Blind to the Bones

The old man had spoken then. ‘The darkness and the light,’ he said. ‘Will you be the darkness or the light?’

‘You’re not going to do it, are you?’ said Ben Cooper. ‘I mean, you won’t go with them to see a psychic, Diane?’

‘You’re kidding. I’d rather read all Emma Renshaw’s sickly poems ten times over. Besides, I don’t think it was me the Renshaws really wanted. They think you’re the sensitive one.’

‘Oh.’

‘What do you think, Ben? Fancy playing the part of Gypsy Rose? Knock once for yes and twice for no? I can just picture it. You’d have the Renshaws in the palm of your hand. They’ll believe anything, those two.’

‘Like the psychic.’

‘Yes, like the bloody psychic. You know, I think they’ve finally gone completely nuts.’

‘Completely?’

‘Well, they’re still functioning on some basic level. But they’ve lost touch with reality. They’re delusional. They could end up being a danger to themselves.’

‘According to the Traffic crew who picked them up, that’s exactly what they were doing at the underpass. Being a danger to themselves.’

‘Well, yeah. And all these little rituals they go through — it seems to me that they’re all designed to bolster the Renshaws’ conviction that their daughter will come home some day. Mrs Renshaw said it herself — “you have to believe”, she said. I think they’re terrified that they’ll start having doubts. And once they start to have doubts, that’s when they’ll fall apart. The Renshaws will just crumble if their delusions are ever shattered.’

‘How fragile are those delusions?’

‘At the moment, they seem to be feeding off each others’ belief. But, of course, if Emma Renshaw’s body is ever found...’

‘It would bring them back to reality, surely?’

‘But it would also take away their last hope. The only thing that’s keeping them going.’

‘I’m sure they’ve been offered counselling.’

‘Several times. They went through some sessions, but there was always a problem. The counsellor would talk to them about closure, about letting go. And the Renshaws can’t understand that. How can they let go, they say, when Emma will be coming home soon?’

‘I think Emma’s body will be found one day, don’t you? The circumstances don’t look like a voluntary disappearance.’

‘Maybe. But some victims are never found.’

Cooper shuddered. ‘How long can the Renshaws keep it up?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fry. ‘And I don’t want to be around to find out.’

‘No.’

‘What about the Oxleys? More down to earth, I hope?’

‘I sort of meant what I said at the Renshaws. My impression is that the Oxleys are synonymous with Withens. They could never live anywhere else. I mean, I can’t imagine the Oxleys doing the opposite of what the Renshaws did, and moving from Withens to Marple.’

Fry thought about it. ‘I’m still not clear on the reasons the Renshaws had for moving.’

‘Because it was more real , man.’

‘That’s just it — it sounds too, sort of, New Age for them. Too dreadlocks and dope, if you know what I mean. The Renshaws aren’t old hippies, are they?’

‘I don’t think so. But it’s kind of difficult to tell with most of them, after all this time. Unless they’ve got ponytails and kaftans and they’re running shops selling crystals and runes, they look pretty much like anyone else in their fifties. They grow out of it — outwardly anyway.’

‘Yeah. Outwardly.’

Cooper looked at her. ‘I know the Renshaws have turned a bit wacky with all this stuff about Emma, but I don’t think they’re actually sharing a spliff every time we’re not looking.’

‘No.’

‘What are you thinking, Diane?’

‘I’m thinking it can be very dangerous when people believe every word that you tell them. Dangerous — or very convenient.’

They drove into the car park in Withens. Fry switched off the engine, and they sat for a few minutes looking at the square stone houses, the tower of the church beyond the yew trees, and the background of black hills.

To Cooper, the hills seemed to have moved in a little closer every time he came here, making Withens a bit more claustrophobic, a bit more impermanent. What had Tracy Udall said? It didn’t look like a place that would last. But surely it had lasted. The railway navvies’ shanty town had been here in the middle of the nineteenth century, and the farms must already have existed long before that. So why did it feel so temporary?

Cooper wondered where exactly the shanty town had been. Where had fifteen hundred navvies lived in such appalling conditions? Was it here, where the village now stood? Or further down the road, past the church, among the banks of bracken and peat bogs?

‘You’re meeting PC Udall here?’ said Fry.

‘At the church.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘She’s very sound. Dedicated. Good at her job.’

‘Great. I think you ought to try harder on the Oxleys. I don’t think you’re wasting your time.’

‘You think if we dig hard enough, we’ll find some connection with Emma Renshaw?’

‘Ben, if you can find what this blacked-up faces thing is all about, it would help.’

‘Neil Granger might just have been using it as a form of disguise, or camouflage at night. It’s only theatrical make-up. Anyone could get hold of it, but if he had it lying around anyway for rehearsals for this dance group—’

‘Yeah, a dance group. What did the Renshaws say it was called?’

‘The Border Rats.’

‘Peculiar sort of a name.’

‘Granger was at a rehearsal the night before he was killed,’ said Cooper. ‘Down at the village pub there — the Quiet Shepherd.’

‘Have you been there yet?’

‘No.’

The Yorkshire Traction bus came into the car park again and did its circuit. Today, there were three old ladies sitting on the bus. They gazed down at Cooper and Fry without curiosity. None of them made any move to get off, and the driver accelerated away again.

‘So,’ said Fry. ‘What was your impression of the Renshaws?’

Cooper hesitated. ‘Howard,’ he said. ‘What does he do? For a living, I mean?’

‘He’s retired now. But he was Sales Director for a steel refractory in Sheffield. A very successful one, by all accounts.’

‘Yes, I can imagine.’

‘What do you mean, Ben?

‘It just seemed to me,’ said Cooper, ‘that Howard Renshaw was trying to sell us something. And doing it very well.’

Fry sighed, but with a sense of relief. ‘That’s what I think, too,’ she said. ‘I was worried that I was being paranoid.’

Ben Cooper felt pleased that Diane Fry had valued his opinion enough to go to the trouble of getting him along to the Renshaws. As they sat in the car in Withens waiting for a shower to stop, he felt as though he had temporarily come closer to Fry than he had managed to be for a long time. It was a chance, perhaps, to talk to her properly — if the right moment came.

‘By the way, I have to go on a trip tomorrow,’ said Fry.

‘Yes? Anywhere nice?’

‘The West Midlands. We have to interview Emma Renshaw’s other housemate, Debbie Stark. And a girl called Khadi who she went to Italy with. No one seems to have bothered with her before. Then we have to call at Smethwick OCU to see the officer who dealt with the case two years ago. We might take a look at the house in Bearwood, too.’

‘Yeah,’ said Cooper.

‘You don’t sound too impressed. They’re sound leads that need following up.’

‘I was just wondering — will you be all right?’

‘All right? I’ll have Gavin Murfin with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only danger I’ll be in will be from coming home smelling of curry.’