In Guilty Night (36 page)

‘Lovell wasn’t sure of his name, but we could always ask Darren.’

‘There was no need for a visit, Mrs Elis,’ McKenna said, taking the box from her arms. ‘One of us could’ve collected this.’

‘I had to get out of the house. It’s like a prison, where you meekly wait for the end of the world.’ Slumped in the old soft chair, Rhiannon stared at her feet in their fine kid boots. ‘Arwel’s funeral will be the end of something, but I don’t know if other beginnings are possible, and I’m frightened to death.’

‘Arwel’s funeral will be nothing more than a small ritual, unless you want it otherwise.’

‘Do we ever know what we want before we have it?’ She smiled gently. ‘My husband seems to want you to take over where Arwel left off, but that wouldn’t be very good for anyone, would it? I know he’s desperate to talk to you. I’ve seen the signs before.’ She sighed. ‘He’s been abandoned by his other hero, too. Even the dead give up the ghost eventually.’

Watching this sad, rich, pretty woman through a veil of cigarette smoke, McKenna asked, ‘Can’t you ever say what you mean, Mrs Elis?’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps we can’t know what we mean until someone deciphers what we’ve said. My husband’s not the only one feeding off you, Mr McKenna. He sees your ruthlessness as strength, I see it as salvation. Cross purposes, as always.’ The smile died, clouding her face. ‘D’you ever doubt what you see before your eyes?’

‘Like most of us, I get caught between believing what’s put in front of me, and not letting reason be dulled by emotion, or even simple habit. And there aren’t any rules to show what to do and when.’

‘My husband was made irresolute, and even devious, by his childhood experiences, and he brought out the same lack of resolve in me, the same willingness to take the line of least
resistance,’ Rhiannon said. ‘I dug in my heels when he warned me about the Hoggs and Blodwel because I’ve learned never to trust his frames of reference. He taught me to suspect all he says and does. Of course, I don’t show it, because I’ve become as deceitful as he is.’ She began to pick her cuticle. ‘I don’t like myself at all at the moment, and I’m disgusted by my own stupidity, and really, it’s all your fault.’

‘How come?’

‘Your talk of violence. I think I’m worse off than any council-house wife with a drunken vicious husband, because I thought I wasn’t.’ McKenna watched blood swell from the torn cuticle. ‘Violence isn’t limited to the physical or sexual, you know. My husband is incredibly destructive. He values nothing except his own needs, and he’s also very greedy, because he thinks the world owes him for the past. Anyone and everyone is liable for the debt.’

‘You owe him nothing in that sense,’ McKenna said.

‘Oh, I know!’ Rhiannon said. ‘But I daren’t tell him. I daren’t threaten his precious image.’ She paused, rubbing at her bloody nail, frowning. ‘He seems to be kept alive only by his past, and he’s terrified of letting that go because there’s nothing to put in its place. That fear lashes out like a sub-human force, totally indiscriminate, intent only on survival, and I’ve become so afraid of him.’ She looked up. ‘I’m afraid of growing older and more frail, of being isolated and at his mercy. I’m afraid of these horrible undertones in his personality, which you only sense, like the sounds between musical notes. And most of all, I’ve become afraid of the feelings he engenders in me. But I can’t expect you to show the quality of your mercy and tell him, can I?’

Dewi and Janet returned from the mountains as the dreary December day fell to night. Cold and dispirited, they sat in McKenna’s office, relating a trail of disappointment.

‘Those mountains are like the end of the world.’ Janet shivered. ‘And so cold! Will we ever find Gary?’

‘I can’t justify further searches.’ McKenna fiddled with a paper-clip. ‘Dilys Roberts is coming in to make a statement. Social Services seem to think the fire was caused by rioting children, unable to contain the unbearable pressure and intense anxiety we created. There may be a formal complaint, so I hope your conduct with the children and staff was exactly according to the rules.’

‘Sodding cheek!’ Dewi exclaimed.

‘It was definitely arson.’ McKenna lit a cigarette. ‘Accelerants have been found in three locations so far, and several smoke detectors were disabled, but it’s impossible to say when they were tampered with. Blodwel was taken off the direct emergency link last year because of false alarms. The last notified drill was two months ago, and the fire service relied on Blodwel to do the job properly and report any problems. As all the records were burnt, no one can check.’

‘I reckon Hogg torched Blodwel to create a smokescreen,’ Dewi said.

‘Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,’ Janet intoned. ‘According to my father. It’s a pity he wouldn’t know how long we keep hoping the evidence of what Ronald Hogg doesn’t want us to see will eventually turn up.’

McKenna glanced at his watch. ‘Get your tea, then start on the stuff Forensics brought from Blodwel. It’s in the lock-up store outside.’ He picked up the box Rhiannon had delivered. ‘And this is what Arwel left at Bedd y Cor.’

Dilys Roberts declined the seat in the interview room. ‘Why am I here? I told the director everything!’

‘I need your statement about the fire,’ McKenna said.

‘But the director’s dealing with everything. He said.’

‘We must formally investigate, nonetheless.’

‘What d’you want to know?’

‘Anything which might be relevant. You must be anxious to know what caused the fire.’ McKenna forced a smile. ‘But for you, I’m told, there would have been a tragedy.’

Owen Griffiths switched off the tape recorder, and closed the blind, shutting out the night pressing its face to the window. ‘Doesn’t she witter and ramble? Her reports on the goings on at Blodwel must be worse than useless.’

‘She’s no worse than most,’ McKenna said. ‘She’s not trained, so she’s got to rely on the Hoggs for everything she knows, and permission to put it in practice.’

‘Get the tape transcribed, then see if you can glean any sense from it.’ The superintendent smiled. ‘She wasn’t happy admitting she’d had a letter from the director, was she?’

‘She’s probably afraid to admit anything without Hogg’s say so.’

‘He’s like some sect leader. Why do folk get taken in so easily?’

‘Because they’re gullible, especially if they think they’ve been chosen for special confidences or privilege.’ McKenna put the tape in an envelope. ‘Dilys repeats her catechism like a good disciple, just like the children, but if you listen hard enough, you can catch the echo of the thoughts none of them dares voice.’

‘Your Irish fancies always take hold when you’re short of sleep,’ Griffiths said. ‘You shouldn’t credit everyone with imagination.’

‘People always know far more than they think, but can’t always interpret what they know. Dilys, for instance, wouldn’t dream of questioning Hogg’s numerous visits to Blodwel over the weekend, because he’s the great white chief and can do as he likes, but when she had to think about the visits, she realized it was odd. I almost heard the rusty gears in her head cranking themselves up.’

‘She didn’t say so.’

‘She’s thinking about it.’

‘Even if she is, she won’t come running back to tell you.’

‘Don’t be such a wet blanket. She said enough. The dog wasn’t left for the staff to look after, and she overheard Doris screaming at him.’

‘Doris was yelling about somebody knowing something, that’s all, and the dog’s neither here nor there.’

‘It’s out of character.’ McKenna yawned. ‘A sudden change in routine.’

‘If you say so.’ Griffiths yawned. ‘You’ve started me off now. We should go to bed at sundown, like the rest of the animal world. Not that we’ve seen the sun today, either up or down.’ He began drawing crescent moons around the blotter. ‘Rhiannon’s a bit up and down, isn’t she? D’you think she’s a headcase? What did she really want?’

‘Nobody’s mind is perfectly balanced all the time. Stress makes people act strangely.’

‘I think she’s hoping you’ll do her dirty work for her, and tell Elis he’s a total shit.’

‘I imagine he’s known that for years, but never expected her to find out for herself.’

‘I hope you’re not leaving those cats alone too long,’ Eifion Roberts said. ‘Did you put an advert in the paper like I told you?’

‘I’ve been home to feed them, and I put ads in the paper and the vet’s surgery, but no one’s called to say “Give me back my beloved pussy”.’

‘I doubt they will.’ The pathologist squeezed his bulk in the old armchair. ‘Stray cats, stray kids. Who cares? Your house is a cat’s Blodwel.’

‘I don’t ill-treat animals, and I’m not likely to torch the house.’

‘You’ll never lay that or anything else on Hogg.’ Dr Roberts yawned. ‘Too many others in line for the blame.’

‘Did you want something, other than to gossip?’

‘Have I done something? You’ve hardly got two words for me today.’

McKenna smiled wearily. ‘I’m just exhausted. And dreadfully worried about Gary.’

‘He doesn’t want to be found, does he?’

‘I pray the choice is still his.’

Janet shivered so violently her teeth rattled. ‘Why are we freezing out here in this damned shed?’

‘I bet you don’t swear in front of your father.’

‘I do, as a matter of fact!’

‘Who’s a brave girl, then?’ Dewi resealed a bag crammed with charred papers from Blodwel’s main office, and put it to one side.

‘It’s a bit of a waste of time, really,’ Janet commented.

‘What is?’

‘Trying to shock my father. He never does what you want.’

‘That’s ’cos he won’t give you the satisfaction.’ Watching her sift the contents of another bag, her hands in pale surgical gloves, Dewi noticed the hair curling in mist-damp tendrils around her face, soft, and almost touchable. ‘Fathers can be like that.’

‘He says I should leave home.’

‘Where would you go?’

Janet smiled. ‘Somewhere cheap. I can’t afford to live in style and keep the car.’ She fingered a shred of dark-blue knitted fabric. ‘Doesn’t everything stink of smoke?’

‘There’s a nice flat coming vacant at the bottom end of town.’ Dewi snipped the sealing tape on another bag. ‘The girl’s marrying a bloke from RAF Valley, so she’ll live in married quarters.’ He emptied the bag on the table. ‘The flat’s part furnished.’

‘When’s she moving?’

‘They’re getting wed next Saturday, then off to Malta on honeymoon. He’s back on duty over New Year.’ He picked up a half-sheet of lined paper, its edges crumbling. ‘I’ll give you the address if you want.’

‘I could look, couldn’t I?’ Janet fingered the filthy, sodden remnants of a rugby shirt, its once white collar a hard mass of melted fibre. ‘And there’s enough spare in the manse to furnish half a dozen flats. Shit!’ She ripped off the glove, blood oozing from a small puncture in her thumb. ‘Oh, God! What if it’s a syringe?’

‘Don’t count any chickens, Dewi. The eggs are probably addled.’

‘You’re as bad as Janet for looking on the black side, sir.’

Spreading the bagged and ruined rugby shirt on the desk, he showed McKenna where the broken gold pin which wounded Janet was lodged inside the breast pocket. ‘It was with stuff from Hogg’s flat. Forensics’ll be able to match the pin to the bullet and the shirt to Arwel, won’t they?’

McKenna frowned. ‘It’s sodden, and the collar’s charred beyond recognition. Any identifiable residue could well’ve been destroyed.’ He pushed the bag aside. ‘Have you examined the things Rhiannon brought?’

‘Not yet, sir.’ Dewi paused. ‘What about Elis? And the vehicles?’

‘I’ve put Elis on hold for now.’

‘I said it was a waste of time and taxpayers’ money.’

‘And I heard you, at least twice a day.’ McKenna lit a cigarette. ‘You can give yourself a pat on the back if you’re proved right.’

‘Can I collect Ronnie and Doris, and give myself a treat?’

‘Let them finish watching
Coronation
Street
.’

‘Do we caution them?’

‘You bring them here.’

‘What if they won’t come?’ Dewi asked.

‘You look very flushed, Jack,’ McKenna said. ‘Should you be out?’

‘I can’t settle,’ Jack grumbled. ‘I feel like a caged animal.’

‘Rhiannon said much the same thing earlier.’

‘Not only is her cage posher than mine, but she’s probably got the key in her pocket.’ Jack coughed. ‘I’m sure I’ve got this seasonal affective disorder, you know.’

‘You’ve too much time on your hands.’

‘Why can’t I have seasonal depression?’

‘Did you have it before you read about it in the papers?’

‘I suppose not,’ Jack admitted. ‘By the way, before I get an answer about the holiday, Em wants to know what you’re doing for Christmas.’

‘Given the chance, pretending it doesn’t exist.’

‘You’d feel different if you had someone to share it with.’

McKenna took a cigarette from the packet, then replaced it. ‘I really don’t want to do anything.’

Jack smiled. ‘Have the twins over then. You can all ignore Christmas together, because it’s an “outmoded shibboleth”, and a “commercialized travesty”.’

‘So what you save on presents can go towards the holiday.’

‘Fat chance! We’ve no choice but to “kowtow to convention”.’ He sighed. ‘You can’t win, and you don’t even realize it’s a battle with kids until it’s too late.’

‘It’s rather late,’ Janet said, lighting her third cigarette. ‘Where d’you think they are?’

‘Conspiring with the director of social services over something we haven’t heard about yet.’ Dewi looked once again at the fussy red-brick house behind its barbered privet hedge. ‘Hogg’s slaves keep his garden very tidy, but it’s still a dismal hole.’

‘You’re unbelievably cynical!’ Janet snapped. ‘You turn everything into dross. I’d much rather live here than in a council house.’

‘Why? Do the likes of Ronnie make for better neighbours?’ Dewi asked. ‘From our place, we can see as far as Llandudno. The only view from here is boring bloody suburbia, where you can’t hang out your washing of a Sunday, and daren’t annoy the neighbours.’