Page 19 of The Chapel of Bones

‘Let me know if you hear anything more,’ she said, feeling helpless as she ended the call. Her mother had sworn her to secrecy and she knew she had a point. If the dognappers found out that the police were involved, who knew how they’d react?

Wesley glanced out of Gerry’s office window and saw Trish sitting at her desk with her head in her hands.

‘What’s up with Trish? She looks worried.’

‘Maybe we should ask Paul if something’s wrong.’

‘I wouldn’t if I were you, Gerry,’ Wesley said quickly. ‘Probably best to keep out of other people’s marriages.’

‘You’re quite right, Wes. OK, let’s go over what we’ve got so far.’

Wesley settled into the chair on the visitor’s side of the desk, fearing it wouldn’t take long. ‘We’re trying to find out more about the bookseller, Ethelred Bingley,’ he began. ‘And the team have been contacting universities to try and discover where Donnal was carrying out his research, but no luck yet.

‘Mr Fontescue mentioned that Donnal was planning to go to France. Maybe we should try and find . . . the French Connection,’ Gerry said with a wide grin.

‘I agree. We should follow it up. So far Aleric Donnal is a bit of an enigma.’

‘Well, someone knew him and someone hated him enough to kill him and shove his body inside a wall. We need to find out exactly who had access to that house in May 2011 and whether any of them had building skills. Mind you, according to Chaz the builder, it wasn’t an expert job, so maybe it was an incompetent DIY enthusiast.’ Gerry let out a groan and rubbed his back. ‘Let’s call it a day. Get off home and have a think.’

Wesley didn’t argue.

Sue Potter had just delivered the costumes for tomorrow’s festival as arranged. Her tiny Fiat was far too small to fit them along with everything else she’d need to take in the morning, so she’d dropped them off at the home of one of her colleagues who owned a large SUV with more than enough room for the bulky garments. Another job ticked off.

She took her key out of her handbag and opened her front door. It had been a busy day. Before making the delivery, she’d spent all afternoon in church changing the flowers, and now she was longing for a cup of tea. While they’d been working, Mrs Hanley had talked non-stop about her precious grandchildren and Sue hadn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. Being put on the rota with Mrs Hanley was something she dreaded, but she’d done her best to banish such uncharitable thoughts. The woman’s family lived up north and she only saw them occasionally, so perhaps talking helped to make her feel closer to them. That was what the Reverend Fitzgerald would say anyway.

Mark Fitzgerald was a nice man, a good man, and they were lucky to have him as their vicar, even though he was in charge of several other parishes in addition to Belsham. Sue liked his wife, too. Maritia Fitzgerald’s parents were originally from the Caribbean and she was a doctor, a clever woman. She had also been very kind to Sue when she’d lost Phil earlier that year. Maritia and the vicar had a little boy, and according to the parishrumour machine she was expecting again. If this was true, Sue was pleased for her.

She’d heard on the grapevine that Maritia’s brother was a detective inspector. As a law-abiding citizen she’d never had any dealings with the police, but she had wondered whether to tell them about the note that had been pushed through her letter box, with its bizarre picture and strange words:The lanzani is a cruel beast who attacks any animal not of its own kind.Not even the bold lion is safe from its implacable hatred.

Even though the letter had unnerved her, she knew the police had enough proper crime to deal with. Even rural areas were getting more like the Wild West by the minute.

She pushed the front door open and called out to her Siamese cat, Gertrude, who came running to greet her, rubbing against her legs in the hope of food.

Maybe she would mention the strange note to Maritia if she had the chance. What harm could it do?

13

In Pam and Wesley’s student days, Friday night used to be fun night. But nowadays Friday merely marked the end of an exhausting week for both of them. Going over the case that afternoon hadn’t been much help, and any information they were waiting for was taking a frustratingly long time to arrive. Wesley found himself wishing he could leave the whole investigation to someone else. But that wasn’t an option. He knew he’d be working on it over the weekend.

The children were upstairs, meant to be doing their homework, and he was reluctant to disturb them. After he and Pam had eaten, they flopped down together on the sofa. Something on the coffee table in front of them caught Wesley’s eye.

‘What are those?’

Pam picked up the pile of colourful cards. ‘It’s a new craze at school. Year 6 are really into it. They collect these cards – pictures of weird animals, hybrids. Ostriches with a monkey’s head and zebras with chickens’ legs. It’s called Beast Book. Bit creepy, in my opinion.’

Wesley was suddenly reminded of the book Aleric Donnal had borrowed from the archives,Beasts of the Middle Ages. Even at home he couldn’t escape the case. ‘You seem to know a lot about it.’

‘You can’t be a teacher and not notice these things,’ she said. ‘It’s just a fad. They’ll be into something else next term.’

He was about to go upstairs to say hello to the children, but before he had a chance, the doorbell rang. His heart sank. He feared it heralded the arrival of Pam’s mother. Della had just set up a healing retreat near Neston with a like-minded friend, using goats as an aid to massage and meditation. Rachel, who had lived on farms all her life, had snorted with laughter when he’d told her about it, saying she’d never met a goat that had been a calming influence on anyone. Quite the opposite.

However, when he answered the door, he was relieved to see Neil standing there with Annabel by his side. He ushered them in, and when Pam saw who’d come calling, she rose from her seat to greet the visitors.

‘Just thought we’d call in on our way back to Exeter. I assume you’d like to hear the latest news about what we’ve found out about Sycamore House,’ Neil said once the pleasantries were over.

‘Did you know it used to be called something else? Casa Mirabilis.’

Neil shook his head and gave a little laugh. ‘House of Miracles. Hardly. Ugly place in my humble opinion.’ He turned to Annabel. ‘You haven’t seen the place yet, have you, darling.’