In Guilty Night (32 page)

McKenna sat on his worn sofa, reading of child abuse in Europe and America and Australia, of spectacular denial, of the underlying pathology, and of the prevalence of abuse throughout recorded history. The cat sniffed at the back door, and paced around his legs, mewling. Letting her out, he found on his doorstep the same poor animal he had seen under the bare shrubs in the little garden. His own cat watched as he filled bowls with meat and water, laid them on the step, and closed the door, then she climbed on his lap. Listening to the scrape of dishes on the outside step as the other cat feasted, he said, ‘Do you cats talk to each other? Is word out I’m a soft touch for strays?’

He closed his eyes, imagining the other cat metamorphosed, like the little animal on his knee, who came to him as a threadbare wormy stray, and drowsed, thoughts rambling through the forest of words heard and read, music charting a more certain course. He let the music play in his head, marvelling at such complexity imprinted on memory, fretting a little because he could not bring the notes to the forefront of his
mind and make them louder, and fell asleep wondering why one never could.

The telephone woke him, and the cat leapt off his knee to lie before the fire.

‘Sorry to disturb you.’ The hard edges of Jack’s voice were blunted by congestion. ‘You weren’t in bed, were you?’

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘I can’t get to sleep. I’m disturbing Em, so I got up.’

‘Have some hot milk and brandy,’ McKenna suggested.

‘I might. Any news? Anything interesting happened?’

‘Bits and pieces, odds and ends.’ McKenna lit a cigarette. ‘Hogg’s giving us the runaround.’

‘He’ll get his comeuppance one day.’ Jack coughed. ‘I hope I’m there to see it.’ His breath wheezed. ‘Any news on Gary?’

‘Somebody robbed food and fags and cans and soap from a village shop last night, so Dewi’s spending the night on watch with the shopkeeper.’

‘He pulls his weight, doesn’t he? How’s Miss Evans?’

McKenna stifled a yawn, then laughed. ‘She had a run-in this morning with a teenager she was following in the car. She thought it was Gary, and it was a girl, and the girl called her an ugly dyke and said she’d get the police on her.’

‘Oh, God!’ Jack wheezed and chuckled. ‘Sod’s law, isn’t it?’

‘Your chest sounds bad.’

‘Secondary infection, according to the doctor. He’s given me antibiotics, and they’ve given me the runs and an almighty headache.’

‘Then you’d best stay off the drink.’

‘I hate being ill. It throws all your routines, I’m bored rigid, and I can’t settle to anything.’

‘Read a book. Wrap up and watch late-night TV.’

‘There’s nothing on except wrestling and reggae. I’ll get my lovely daughters to rent some videos tomorrow.
Bambi
or
Snow
White
or something. There’s more than enough sex and violence at work.’

‘
Bambi
’s full of violence,’ McKenna said. ‘It was the first film I ever saw, and I cried so much I was sick.’

‘I’ll bet your mother was pleased. Is that why you’re a pushover for animals?’

‘I’m being visited by another stray cat.’

‘Like that old rhyme? “Not last night but the night before, two tom cats came knocking at my door”.’ Jack laughed.

‘Talking of visitors, the phone keeps ringing but nobody says anything. It’s happened three times in the past few days.’

‘To the others as well?’

‘They haven’t said, not that Em’s saying much, anyway. She’s thoroughly fed up in general, and in particular with me under her feet all day.’ Jack paused. ‘Denise’s done it again, you know. She’s made Em feel hard done by and resentful because she can’t swan off to the Canaries for a winter holiday.’

‘You could all go on holiday, and avoid Christmas.’

‘It’s an idea, isn’t it? When she’s in a better mood, I’ll suggest a break from the ritual and routine, and the bloody awful relatives.’ Jack paused again. ‘We can’t, can we? Em and the twins want you here for Christmas Day.’

‘We’ll see, shall we? By the way, where are the calls coming from?’

‘How should I know?’

‘If you were less of a Luddite, you’d know how to retrieve the number. It’s called technological progress.’

‘Oh, that. Well, there’s no point trying now. Denise called Em after, to gloat about her holiday.’

15

Owen Griffiths yawned. ‘I’ve been awake half the night. I can’t get over what happened yesterday.’ He shook his head, in wonder and in awe. ‘Did you sleep, or was your night full of monsters?’

‘I slept like the dead,’ McKenna said.

‘I want you to interview Doris. She pushed you, and you fell, so technically, she assaulted a police officer.’ Griffiths yawned again. ‘She might tell you what she and Carol know and we don’t, if you frighten her enough.’

‘Rhiannon’s frightened, and of more than the possibility of being married to a paedophile,’ McKenna said. ‘For all her eloquence, she manages to say very little, and she never gives a straight answer. I asked her if Elis is prone to violence.’

Griffiths smiled. ‘And did you really think she’d tell you? Her sort never give anything away, in case it bounces back and makes a hole in the posh façade.’

‘She still wants to pay for the funeral, and reminded me Elis will want to go.’

‘Funerals are open to all. I just hope Hogg can find something better to do on the day.’ Griffiths sighed. ‘Let’s take up Rhiannon’s offer, if only to get Arwel out of that house.’

‘Why don’t you go home for some sleep?’ McKenna asked.

‘I’m not that tired,’ Dewi said. ‘Me and the shopkeeper took turns, and nothing happened except a bloody great cockroach ran over my foot. I’ll go out with Mountain Rescue if you don’t want anything else done.’ Pulling a thick parka from the back of the chair, he asked, ‘Did something happen yesterday, sir? You seemed a bit odd when you came back from Caernarfon.’

McKenna flicked his lighter on and off. ‘Let’s say I saw powerful emotion rip away the thin veneer of civilized behaviour.’

Dewi grinned. ‘Caernarfon folk wouldn’t know civilized behaviour if it smacked them in the gob.’

The director of social services telephoned shortly before midday, as McKenna prepared to leave for Blodwel.

‘I’ve received a complaint, Chief Inspector.’

‘Have you?’

‘We’ve spent the last couple of days running round after the Thomases, at the expense of other clients.’ The voice was harsh. ‘Getting the funeral grant from the benefits agency, filling in endless forms for extra funds, ferrying the parents here, there and everywhere. Now we find the time was completely wasted! My social worker went to the immense trouble of visiting the family this morning, and that insolent girl not only told her to go away, but had the brazen impudence to blame this department for the boy’s death. Perhaps you can explain what’s happening?’

‘I’m sorry, I’ve no idea. May I suggest you discuss your complaint with Superintendent Griffiths?’

‘My God, do Social Services actually work weekends?’ Owen Griffiths asked. ‘He won’t call me. I’m too high up the ladder to push around. Rhiannon called to say the service’ll be at St Mihangel’s, probably Tuesday or Wednesday. The undertaker’s already taken Arwel. D’you think they’ll ring the church bells for him?’

‘It would be a nice touch,’ McKenna said. ‘I can hear the bells from the house when the wind’s in the right direction.’

Griffiths began to draw a border of crude bell shapes interspersed with crosses around the edge of a statement continuation sheet. ‘Manchester police released Tony’s body, so he’s being cremated. The soles of his feet were covered in cigarette burns, apparently. His funeral’s in Manchester, ’cos it’s cheaper.’ He stared bleakly at McKenna. ‘You’ll have to be buried, won’t you? The pope’s against cremation as well as contraception.’

McKenna smiled gently. ‘You can’t be resurrected if your body’s been incinerated.’

‘And what makes you think I’d want to be?’

On his way home to feed the cat, McKenna walked through the Bible Gardens, along paths strewn with drifts of sodden leaves that not even the scouring wind from the east could dry. The
great trees threshed and shivered, abandoned by the squirrels which scaled their heights in autumn to garner winter stores, hurling nuts to the ground and often, he recalled ruefully, on the heads of passersby. At the bottom of Glanrafon, the little sapling planted to replace the ancient Reformer’s Tree, felled on a hot July day after it rotted from the inside out, threshed and shivered like its ancient companions.

The votary light gleamed behind the great Gothic window of the cathedral chancel, and music, serene and beautiful, echoed within the vaulted building. Entranced, he stopped to listen, mourning the medieval schism which took this music from his own church and handed it to the Protestant heretic. He pictured the boys in the choir stalls, whom he often saw coming from evening practice, dressed in jeans and sweatshirts and trainers, kicking a football against the railings of the cathedral yard, and was suddenly overcome by thoughts of corruption within the glorification, like poisonous dregs in the Communion chalice.

He climbed the steps by the old almshouses, treading on a mosaic of epitaphs in slate and granite, and crossed the road by Debenham’s elegant frontage, opposite the great empty space occupied for three centuries past by the Castle Hotel, before it too rotted from the inside out.

The stray cat crouched outside the parlour window, scrawny fur riffled by the wind, staring at his own cat, who lounged on the inside, her tail swinging lazily. He fed both, then lunched on sandwiches and tea, while they ate peacefully side by side in the kitchen. Locking the front door, he walked down the hill, wondering in what mayhem they might indulge in his absence.

Fitful sunshine dappled thin colour on the hillside behind Blodwel and pushed shadows against walls and roof. Walking to the front door, McKenna shivered, cold with the spirit of this place, this
genius
loci
almost a thing of substance. The bearded man unlocked the door, fumbling with the keys.

‘Why d’you need so many keys?’ McKenna asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Lovell smiled wanly. ‘They make holes in your pockets.’ The smile evaporated. ‘Did you want Mr Hogg? He’s off duty for the weekend.’

‘And Mrs Hogg?’

‘She’s supposed to be off as well, but she’s in the flat.’ He lingered, chewing the inside of his mouth like Peggy Thomas, then walked away, keys swinging and jangling.

McKenna followed. ‘You don’t work every weekend, do you?’

‘Three out of four. Dilys comes on duty as I go off.’

‘Who works with you?’

Lovell smiled wryly. ‘That famous person by the name of Nobody. There aren’t enough staff to double up all the time.’

‘Why don’t the Hoggs help out, then?’ McKenna asked.

‘You’ll have to ask her, won’t you?’

Doris seemed only annoyed. The dog snuffled at her feet, then at McKenna’s, its rancid smell like an aura. ‘I’m busy. I’ve got reports to write. Everything’s behind with all this coming and going and asking questions, and it’s not me you should be after, anyway. It’s rich folk who can buy their way in and out of everything.’

‘Might we go to the office?’ McKenna suggested.

‘I’ve told you, I’m busy.’

‘The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can get back to work.’ McKenna felt tempted to kick both woman and dog. ‘I don’t plan to leave until you have.’

She pushed past him, and unlocked the door of the little office where old metal desks and rickety chairs crowded the floor. ‘What d’you want?’

McKenna pushed the door shut. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t contact me, if only to apologize for your behaviour yesterday.’

‘My behaviour?’

‘You lashed out at me quite without provocation.’

Her face mottled with rage. ‘How dare you!’

McKenna lit a cigarette. ‘I’m even more surprised you didn’t complain about Carol Thomas. Should I expect another call from your director? He said nothing this morning. Doesn’t he know?’ He paused. ‘Shouldn’t we discuss Carol?’

‘She’s mental! They should put her away!’

‘What she did was extreme, but her reasons seem eminently sane. She believes you owe her brother. Why is that?’

‘How should I know? She’s mad!’ Doris shivered. ‘She’s disgusting! Sickening! She should die for shame over what she did to that body. She defiled him!’

‘Arwel’s degradation came from other hands,’ McKenna said. ‘But Carol’s degraded you, hasn’t she? Have you been sick yet?’ He blew a smoke ring towards the ceiling, and watched its slow disintegration. ‘Did you know sin eating’s like a family inheritance? It’s often passed from mother to daughter in a very Biblical fashion.’

‘You’re talking rubbish,’ Doris said, her composure returning. ‘Nobody believes that stuff these days.’

‘Carol does.’ He blew another smoke ring, and watched it travel towards the ceiling. ‘And she made you ingest all the sins visited on Arwel. They’ll be more than enough to poison the stoutest spirit.’ He stubbed out the cigarette. ‘If you were Roman Catholic, you could seek help from the church, although I imagine those sins are beyond the redemptive power of any priest. If you were a mother, your own child could take them in the fullness of time. But you’re neither papist nor parent, and I can’t think how you might be shriven. Doesn’t that put the fear of God in you?’ Opening the door, he found the dog athwart the opening, barring his way. He nudged it aside with his foot, and walked away from the sounds of the woman’s unholy terror.

Owen Griffiths paced his office again. ‘Forensics’ve finished with the horsebox and trailer, and I hope you’ve finished with Doris.’ He sat down, and began fiddling with his pens. ‘I wouldn’t’ve credited you with nastiness of that order. It’s bordering on wanton cruelty, to any God-fearing soul.’

‘If she was God-fearing, or had a soul worth the name, she wouldn’t condone what goes on there, let alone be part of it.’

‘Maybe she’s scared of Hogg, maybe she sees nothing wrong. Values get distorted in institutions, without people knowing.’