Healers (24 page)

“What else did Lily say?”

“That I mustn’t take it personally. It had happened before. He just fancied young girls.”

“When did it happen before?” Hunter asked.

“They had a girl working for them in the house. Her name was Faye. Lily said you could tell Mr. Abbot was let ching after her all the time she was working there, though Faye never noticed. She was too innocent, Lily said. Too naive. He didn’t try anything on then because she had a boyfriend. Peter Richardson. He went to school with my sister. Do you know him?”

Hunter nodded.

“Lily said Mr. Abbot was frightened of Peter. He knew he’d not stand him mucking about with Faye. He’s known for his temper. He had a scrap with Ernie Bowles once. But then she stopped going out with him and Lily said Mr. Abbot was all over her.”

“Lily saw that?”

Rebecca nodded. “They went away together. All of them. On some sort of course. Apparently it happened then.” She shivered again slightly. “They’re planning another course,” she said. “Mr. Abbot wants me to go …”

“Of course you won’t go,” Hunter said. “And you must speak to someone. If it’s happened before there’s proof that you’re not making it up.”

“No’ she cried, and he realized at last just why she was so frightened. “Don’t you see, there’s no proof! Faye’s dead. They said it was an accident but I can’t help wondering … Perhaps she threatened to tell someone … I’m worried that the same thing will happen to me.”

Ramsay had spent the morning trying to pin down Magda Pocock. She was at work and she spoke to him eventually on the telephone but she seemed reluctant to see him.

“I have patients all morning,” she said. “Actually, you’ve interrupted me now.”

“I’ll come at lunchtime then,” he said.

“No. There’s someone I have to meet for lunch.”

There was a brief silence, and she seemed to reach a conclusion. “I’ll come to you,” she said. “In the incident room. Fourish? Would that be convenient?”

And he had to leave it at that.

Chapter Twenty-eight

“The way I see it,” Hunter told Ramsay, ‘that gives us a motive.”

They were sitting in the back room of the pub. It was three o’clock and even the public bar was quiet. They were on their own. If they wanted a drink they had to call through to the landlord, who shuffled in with poor grace to serve them.

“Daniel Abbot tried it on with Faye at Juniper Hall. Perhaps it wasn’t a serious assault, but nasty, unwanted. She trusted him and if he’d called her into his room she’d have gone without question. Or if he’d suggested a walk by the pool or a midnight swim. She strikes me as having more fight in her than Rebecca, who’s a smashing lass but a timid little thing. I can see Faye throwing a wobbler, threatening to tell his wife or Mrs. Pocock. Even the press. They’d be on to the story like a ton of bricks. Wasn’t there all that fuss a while back about a doctor who took advantage of his female patients when they were under hypnosis? They’d have a field day with an acupuncturist and nubile young girls. She wasn’t a strong swimmer. We know that from the report, don’t we? She panicked if she got out of her depth. So he just pushed her in the deep end and waited for her to die. There would be no way of proving it was anything but an accidental death.”

He set his glass on the table triumphantly.

“It’s certainly plausible,” Ramsay said, slowly. “But I don’t quite see how that provides a motive for the recent murders. It might explain the attack on Val McDougal. She was at Juniper Hall. She knew Faye well and might have guessed what was going on. But Ernie and James weren’t even there. And why after all this time?”

“I was wondering,” Hunter said tentatively, ‘about blackmail.” He was enjoying this talk. It was like the old days, just the two of them working together. He had his complaints about Ramsay’s methods but that didn’t mean he wanted Sal Wedderburn and Rob Newell brown-nosing in and taking his place.

Ramsay said nothing. He waited for Hunter to explain.

“Ernie Bowles seems to me a classic blackmailer,” he said. “Always prying. You can imagine him listening at keyholes, reading other people’s mail. Lily Jackman said he was always hanging round the caravan at one time. She certainly knew that Abbot fancied Faye she told Rebecca as much. He could have overheard her discussing it with Slater, even speculating about murder. We know the farm was going down the tube. He was even considering holding a New Age festival to make some money. Perhaps he thought it would be easier to blackmail Daniel Abbot instead.”

“It certainly fits in with his character.” Ramsay’s voice was bland. Hunter was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t more enthusiastic. “What about Val McDougal and James? I’d hardly put them down as blackmailers.”

“Of course not,” Hunter said crossly, ‘but she was there, wasn’t she? She might have stumbled across them, worked out what was going on. After Abbot killed Bowles perhaps he wanted to make certain that no one could try it on again.”

“Perhaps,” Ramsay said. “And James?”

“As I see it,” Hunter said, ‘by this time Abbot’s in a state of complete panic. He’s not thinking properly

Ramsay pictured his last interview with the sleek and charming Abbot and thought that he’d hardly seemed panic-stricken. He said nothing.

“He hears that we’ve received an anonymous letter linking Faye’s death with the murders. Who could have sent it? If Val was the only person who saw him with Faye at Juniper Hall it must have been James. Everyone knew how close they were. Val would have told James everything. To be absolutely certain that his secret was safe he’d have to kill James.”

He drained the last Vaux Bitter from his glass. “Well?” he demanded. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s the best theory we’ve got so far,” Ramsay said.

Well, Hunter thought, talk about damning with faint praise.

“What do you think we should do next?” Ramsay asked.

“Pull in Daniel Abbot and see what he’s got to say for himself

“I’m not sure,” Ramsay said slowly, ‘that would be wise at this stage. It’s all speculation just now. We’ve no proof. We need something to fix Daniel at the murder scene. His car. A witness. He’s a clever bastard. Smooth. We’d never get him to confess. And even if we did, these days that wouldn’t be a lot of use in court without corroboration.”

“What then?”

“Mrs. Abbot has given him an alibi for the night of the attack on Val McDougal. They were supposed to be at a lecture together in Otterbridge College. If we could persuade her to admit that he slipped away for a while it would be a start

“Do you want me to see her?” Hunter was on his feet, ready to go.

Ramsay hesitated, tried to be tactful.

“Do you think we should leave it to Sal? She took the original statement and Mrs. Abbot’s nervy. We don’t want her hysterical.”

“Job for a woman then, you think?” He sank back into his chair.

Ramsay nodded. “I would like you to talk to Lily Jackman again. Though she obviously feels a certain loyalty to the Abbots. She’s kept quiet all this time, after all. But the fact that she sent you off to Rebecca Booth must mean that she’s not happy with Abbot’s behaviour. You might be able to persuade her to talk to you.”

Hunter never walked anywhere unless he could help it. Walking was for the wooden tops and he’d left that behind long ago. But now, when he came out of the pub, he decided to walk to the Old Chapel where he presumed Lily Jackman would be working.

He tried to drag all his prejudices to the top of his mind. He thought of the New Age travellers who’d stoned the police keeping them from Stonehenge. They were all the same, he thought. They smoked dope, lived like animals crapping where the fancy took them. Hunter, who had been known to drive forty miles out of his way to find a public convenience rather than piss behind a tree, shuddered at the thought.

He walked through the restaurant to the health food shop. The heavy smell of spices and yeast and garlic turned his stomach. He told himself he couldn’t live with that all day. The restaurant was empty. The staff recognized him and nodded, not in an unfriendly way, but ironically, as if they could never allow their relationships with the police to be straightforward. At the door he paused and looked for Lily. He felt suddenly nervous. He thought she must be some sort of witch. No one else had ever affected him like this. Still flustered, he went into the shop.

The anaemic boy with the shaved head was on duty. He too recognized Hunter, but he did not let on.

“Yes?” he said carelessly.

“I’m looking for Miss Jackman,” Hunter said.

“She’s not here,” the boy said. He had on a long bleached apron tied at the back and reminded Hunter of a mortuary assistant.

“Where is she?”

“How would I sodding know? It’s her day off.”

So Hunter walked back to the police station, picked up one of the pool cars and drove to Laverock Farm. He parked in the yard beside Ernie Bowles’s old Land-Rover. He opened the car door and swivelled in his seat to pull on the Wellingtons he’d had the sense to bring with him.

Lily was hanging washing on a line in the farmhouse back garden. He stood for a moment, looking at her, before she realized he was there.

“Making yourself at home,” he said sarcastically.

“We’ve had permission to stay in the house,” she said quickly.

“Where’s lover boy?”

“I thought they taught you manners these days,” she snapped.

“Sorry.” He walked towards her. “Sorry …”

“Sean’s gone up to Long Edge Farm to talk to Stan Richardson.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. Something to do with the farm, I suppose. He was talking about getting some hens again.”

She picked up the plastic laundry basket and walked into the house. He followed her. The kitchen was even more untidy than when Ernie Bowles had lived there. A mound of dirty plates was piled on the draining board and a box of washing powder stood on the windowsill. There was a smell of stale joss sticks. A candle stood in a bottle in the middle of the table and wax had dripped on to the surface.

“Why do you live like this?” he demanded before he could help himself.

“And how do you live?” she spat back. “In a nice tidy semi, on a nice tidy estate, with a nice tidy wifey to cook your meals?”

He grinned. “With my mam in a council house.”

“So you’re a mummy’s boy,” she said. But her anger had dispersed. He felt she was teasing him.

“No,” he said. “It’s just convenient.”

She made instant coffee in grubby mugs. There was no milk or sugar.

“I did as you suggested,” he said. “I went to see Rebecca Booth.”

“Did you?” She seemed awkward. “A nice kid, isn’t she?”

“Too nice to be messed around by Daniel Abbot.”

“She told you then? I wasn’t sure she would.” She stood up, rinsed her mug under the tap.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him and Faye Cooper before?” Hunter demanded.

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” she said. “I still don’t. Not to the murders. But Rebecca shouldn’t have to put up with that every day. No one should.”

“Has Daniel tried it on with you?” he asked suddenly.

She gave a laugh. “Of course not. I’m too old. And I’ve got a boyfriend. Daniel always makes sure his victims are unattached. He might look tough but he’s a coward.”

“What happened that weekend at Juniper Hall?” Hunter asked.

“I’m not sure. He was pretty discreet. But on the Saturday evening I found Faye in tears in the ladies. She blamed herself. She was scared Win would find out.”

“What did you say?”

“That he was just a dirty middle-aged man and she should stand up to him. She wouldn’t have done, though. She’d just been dumped by Peter Richardson and she’d lost all her confidence. She was in no state to stand up to anybody.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure she didn’t threaten to tell his wife, or Mrs. Pocock, or the press? Are you sure he didn’t drown her to keep her quiet?”

“Of course he didn’t drown her!” Lily’s voice was emphatic. “I don’t like him any more than you do but he wouldn’t have done that. He’s a healer.”

There was a moment of silence. In the hall Cissie Bowles’s clock began to chime.

“Did Ernie Bowles know about Mr. Abbot’s habit of harassing young girls?” Hunter asked.

“I shouldn’t think so. How could he?”

“You said he was a snoop.”

“He was that all right. Made it his business to know everyone’s business. But I can’t see how he could have found out about that.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course not.”

“Did he have any reason to go to the Alternative Therapy Centre?”

“When Cissie could still get about he used to take her in the Land-Rover for her acupuncture treatment. He used to sit in the waiting room while she saw Mr. Abbot. I suppose he could have overheard something but Faye wouldn’t have been around then.”

“And when Cissie was bedridden?”

“She was taking some homoeopathic remedies prescribed by Win. Ernie collected the tablets from the Centre. I offered to get them for him but he seemed to like going himself.”

She returned to the table and sat down again, opposite to him. He thought she seemed unusually restless. He could tell that her concentration was wandering.

“We think Ernie could have been a blackmailer,” he said, hoping to hold her attention. “Did he ever try to blackmail you?”

She laughed. “What would be the point? I’ve no reputation to lose anyway.”

“But he would be capable of it?”

“Oh,” Lily said, ‘he’d be capable of anything. We all are, aren’t we? In the right circumstances. Put under enough stress.”

“What do you mean?”

She paused. He had the impression that she was weighing him up, deciding how far she could trust him, wondering even if she should ask him for help. She seemed about to speak when the door opened and Sean Slater walked in.

“This is very cosy,” he said. He stood in the doorway with the sun behind him, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. Something had annoyed him. He was spoiling for a fight but Hunter had just enough sense not to be provoked. He knew Lily Jackman wouldn’t be impressed by fisticuffs anyway.