In all his years at the heart of East Beckham society he'd accreted to himself a power that went far beyond the respect earned by his service here. People had learned to turn to him, then to defer to him; they'd sought his opinions, ended up doing his bidding. It was the only explanation for his presence in this room right now. Any of them, Sarah included,
could have shouldered him aside. He was still telling them what to do because he knew that if they defied him he had the support of the entire village to whip them back into line.
Donovan stood up and, deliberately turning his back on the doctor, spoke quietly to Sarah. âIf Elphie's ready, I think we'll leave now.'
Chapel vented a loud cackle, as if he'd made a joke. âLeave? You think you're leaving here? You think that now you know what the people here have lied about for fourteen years you can just walk out, start the wheels of justice in motion and never mind who gets crushed? You're only alive because of us. Because of me.'
âAnd I'm suitably grateful,' spat Donovan, rounding on him. âIn fact, I'm so grateful I can't wait to get back to town and tell everyone what a fine and noble example of the medical profession they've got themselves out here.'
âSarcasm,' the old man observed acidly, âis the lowest form of wit.'
Donovan shook his head in disgust and reached for the door. Chapel stayed where he was, blocking his way. It was plain that what he wanted, what he really wanted, was for Donovan to knock him down. But Cal Donovan only looked like a violent man. He wasn't one, and he never had been. He struggled with the quick temper of his Celtic forebears, but he was much more likely to say something he'd regret later than to do something. Except in self-defence he hadn't hit anyone since he was about fifteen years old, and he wasn't going to start with a geriatric thug. He
reached out and moved the doctor aside. Then he opened the door and went into the hall.
âElphie? Come down now. Get your coat â we're going for a drive.'
But Chapel wasn't finished. His voice lifted in bitter accusation behind Donovan's back. âIf you go through that door you'll regret it. You have
my
word on
that.
There may be a way round this. Let's talk. Before anyone else gets hurt.'
Elphie came down the stairs, wide-eyed, one arm in the sleeve of her red coat, one foot in its green welly. She sat on the bottom tread to pull on the other. âWe
never
go for a drive!' she announced breathlessly.
âBe a treat, then, won't it?' Donovan would have liked to take her by the hand and lead her out of the house and out of this place without any further delay. But he was waiting for his chauffeur, and Payne was still trying to edge through the door without Chapel noticing.
Donovan took a deep breath, tried to explain it simply. âThere's nothing to talk about. A crime was committed here: I
have
to report it, I don't have any choice. I don't know what'll happen next. Maybe it won't be that bad. You lied to the Coroner, and you stole Simon Turner's inheritance. But if his legitimate heirs haven't come calling on him in the last fourteen years maybe there was no one. The court will take that into account. You could be looking at â I don't know â a short sentence, maybe even a suspended sentence.
âI don't know what'll happen to the Mill. You're not allowed to profit from a crime so I don't see how
anyone here could keep it. I don't know who'd be next in line. Hire yourself a good lawyer, see what he can work out for you.'
âYou're talking about the lives and livelihoods of a dozen families!' shouted Dr Chapel. âYou have no right to destroy everything they've built!'
âThey had no right to build it on somebody else's bones!' retorted Donovan savagely.
Payne finally made it through the door. He hurried across the hallway, shaking the key he wanted out of the bunch. Sarah stayed where she was in the study: she wasn't coming with them. Donovan wasn't surprised. He knew Payne was coming back here as soon as his daughter was safe.
âAll right.' Donovan took Elphie by the shoulder of her coat and held her in front of him. He didn't know what he was expecting Chapel to do, but he felt better keeping his own body between the old madman and the child. He opened the front door.
Washing up against the house was a sea of faces. Most of East Beckham must have been here. They'd gathered in silence, and in silence they watched the big house, waiting for something to happen, for something to be decided. Some of them were armed with wooden staves and some with iron bars.
Donovan closed the front door quietly and turned. Jonathan Payne looked stricken, shock and fear mingling visibly in his round face. Sarah looked numb, as if the implications of what she'd just seen had yet to reach her.
Dr Chapel looked as if he'd read once that gloating was not a particularly attractive habit but he'd decided he didn't care.
Only Elphie thought they were still going anywhere. She tugged at Donovan's hand. âEverybody's waiting for us.'
âI know,' he said softly.
Â
Â
âSo what's his name?' asked Liz.
But it was never going to be that simple. âHonestly, I don't know,' said Margaret Crosbie. âSheila's hardly talked about him. The Child Support Agency wanted to know too and she wouldn't tell them either. She said Jason's father could be any one of half a dozen men, but I knew that wasn't true. She knew who he was. She just didn't want anything more to do with him.'
âDo you know why?'
Mrs Crosbie shrugged. âShe calls him The Psycho. Says it all, don't you think?'
âIf she felt like that about him, why did she get involved with him in the first place?'
âBecause he was clever and charming, and he had a bit of money, and she was flattered. I think he was older than her, and she was just young enough to find that attractive. She thought he was sophisticated. Maybe he was â I wouldn't know. If sophisticated means scaring people till they daren't say no to anything you want from them, I don't want to.'
âDid he rape her?'
âDo you know, I'm not sure. She was that terrified by then I couldn't be quite sure what happened. I think she was willing enough when he started; and by the time she realized what it was going to be like she was too scared to tell him to stop. Is that rape? Whether it is or not, it was reason enough for her to stay away from him afterwards. As far as I know, she hasn't seen him since.'
It was heavily circumstantial, the keenest of the old hanging judges would have raised both eyebrows at it, but it all made sense. Sheila helped the blackmailer because he threatened her baby and she knew enough about him to take the threat seriously. Liz still hadn't got a name. But she was sure now that Sheila could give her that final piece of information, if she could be persuaded to.
Â
Â
âIt's so damned frustrating,' said Shapiro, raking thick fingers through his thinning hair. âSheila could tell us who this man is in a moment. And she won't.'
âShe's afraid of him. He knows, or he soon will, that she's here. If we turn up on his doorstep he'll know why. We have to convince her that he can't hurt her if he's in prison.'
âThis is a perfectionist,' Shapiro said again. âA man who whittles away with infinite patience until the block of wood he started with is a beautiful, delicate mobile â not a child's toy, a minor work of art. If there's one thing this man can do, it's wait. So we send him to prison. But everybody comes out eventually; unless we get really lucky and he dies in there. Eight or ten years from now she's going to answer the door and he'll be back. And he won't have caustic soda this time, he'll have vitriol.'
Liz sighed. âIt's a bit hard to see what we can offer her that makes the risk worthwhile. A pride in doing the right thing?'
âIt's going to wear a bit thin while she's waiting for the skin-grafts,' Shapiro agreed ruefully.
âIf it was just her, perhaps we could talk her round. She'd give a lot to have this man out of her life. She might risk a lot too. But it isn't just her, it's Jason too. I don't think she'll take any risks with him.'
Shapiro shook his head with a kind of wonder. âYou never get used to it, do you? The depths some people will sink to. This is his own
baby
we're talking about, and he's prepared to hurt it to keep its mother in line.'
Liz shrugged. âIf he really is a psychopath, he doesn't think of it as his baby. He doesn't even think
of it as a baby: he thinks of it as a piece on a chess board. He'll sacrifice it without compunction if that'll win him the end-game. It doesn't matter to him. He never wanted a son.'
Her voice petered out as her thought processes got ahead of what she was saying. Shapiro waited, unwilling to interrupt if there was any chance of her seeing a way through this. Sheila Crosbie was a woman and so was Liz: maybe there was something she could offer that he wouldn't think to.
âFrank,' she said after a minute, and she was getting up as she said it, âI think I've got an idea. Let me talk to Sheila, see where it takes us.'
âYou're not going to beat her up?' asked Shapiro doubtfully.
Liz laughed aloud. âI'm hoping that won't be necessary.'
Â
Â
Sheila Crosbie could have given lessons to a clam. She just about looked up when the door opened, registered Liz's arrival, dropped her gaze back into her lap. Her eyes were dead.
She'd already given up, and that made it harder, not easier, to get through to her. She saw no future for herself. All her energies now were focused now on keeping her baby safe.
Liz sat down, introduced herself for the tape, put her hands and also her hand on the table. âSheila, I know everything about this man except who he is, and I know that you know that. I also know why you aren't telling us. Not to protect him; not even to
protect yourself. Because you're afraid he might get to Jason.
âWell, you're right to be afraid. He's a deeply dangerous man. A man who uses other people, even those closest to him, to get what he wants. He burnt your hands, didn't he? Because it was easier, and safer, than hurting a stranger. Then he sent you down here to play the injured innocent. He must have known we could suspect you; he didn't care. He knew you wouldn't give him away. He was holding something too valuable over your head. Jason. What did he say? â that if you didn't do as he asked he'd burn Jason instead? No wonder you were so convincing. You didn't have to pretend that your baby could have been hurt, it was a real possibility.
âSo I understand why you acted as you did. I understand why you're still not prepared to help us. I'm talking about the threat to a town full of strangers: you're only interested in Jason.'
She breathed steadily for a moment, plotting her course. What she said next â perhaps, the precise words she used â were going to be critical. She was only going to get one shot at this: if she didn't strike home this man was going to win.
âSo let's talk about Jason. He's in care now. Your mother would have taken him, but you weren't convinced she could protect him from his father. I have news for you, Sheila. I'm not sure Social Services will be able to either.'
That got the girl's attention. Her head snapped up like a curbed horse's.
âOh, they'll try,' said Liz, âof course they will. But
if you insist on doing this, the point's going to come where you're in prison and he's free. And he is Jason's father, and the fact that we have our suspicions about him won't count for much if we can't convict him in court.
âSo if he turns up at Dunstan House in twelve months' time, and says he's the child's father and he wants to apply for guardianship, and he volunteers a DNA sample and right enough, it checks out â Sheila, I don't know what would happen then. Social Services wouldn't just hand Jason over. But if an application was made to the court, and the facts were that the mother was in prison and the father was an apparently respectable man with a clear record who was offering to provide him with a permanent home, they'd have to take that offer seriously.
âThey'd ask your opinion. You'd object. You might tell them what you won't tell me, that Jason's father was responsible for blackmailing Castlemere. But the evidence would be long gone. They'd want to know why you hadn't said anything at the time. You'd tell them, but how much credence would they give to a woman who, by her own admission, had lied before? They'd think you were trying to get an early release.
âThey'd probably ask the police for our view. We'd say that we considered Jason's father as a suspect, but we didn't know who he was and anyway the evidence was so tenuous it could have applied equally to any man you'd been involved with. Sheila â in those circumstances I think he'd get the baby.'
She'd been willing to give up all of her life that was worthy of the name for that baby. Now
someone was saying it wasn't enough. It was too much to take in, and her expression froze while underneath the cogs whirred and the wheels spun. She wasn't stupid. She'd understood Liz's argument, and it had resonated with her deepest fears. She believed â she could not help believing â that she'd been tricked into abandoning her son to his fate. In another moment the superheated mix of terror and rage would be enough for the geyser to blow.
She didn't shout: she screamed. The piercing, primeval howl penetrated every wall in the elderly building. Superintendent Giles looked up, startled, from the monthly accounts. Frank Shapiro hunched his shoulders and plunged his fists deep into his pockets in a gesture he recognized, belatedly, as having learnt from DS Donovan. Sergeant Bolsover heard it, and so did four members of the public waiting in the front office. Sergeant Formby the custody officer leapt from his seat at the sound of it and dived for the interview room door.
He had it open before he remembered it was DI Graham conducting the interview. He knew her for a determined, enthusiastic detective, but he'd never yet caught her using thumbscrews. He coughed to cover his confusion. âSorry, ma'am. Er â everything OK?'
Liz nodded calmly. âYes, thank you, Sergeant. Ms Crosbie's a little upset. I think she'll be all right now.'
Ms Crosbie was more than a little upset. She was shaking with tectonic emotion. She could hardly get out two coherent words. But her mind was crystal clear. She'd made a terrible mistake. For all the right reasons she'd done all the wrong things. There was
time, if she acted now, to rectify that. But there might not be much time because â now or soon â he'd be on his way back.
âI'll tell you everything,' she stammered, tripping over the words they came out so fast. âBut you have to keep that animal away from my baby.'
âYes,' Liz said simply.
âPromise?'
âCross my heart and hope to die.'
Â
Â
As they hurried down to the cars Shapiro said sidelong, âYou realize we've been pretty dim?'
âThe information was there,' admitted Liz. âShould we have recognized it?'
âI think we should. Once we realized that Sheila Crosbie didn't buy the bottle with caustic soda already in it, she applied it to her own hands.'
âShe says she didn't. She says he made up a solution in the sink and held her hands in it. She says he put on rubber gloves first.'
âFigures,' said Shapiro tightly. The car was waiting at the bottom of the steps. âHis hands are delicate instruments. Look what he can do with them.'
Liz rolled her eyes.
âThat
should have rung a bell. He made that mobile for the baby. That was the first Sheila knew he'd come back into her life: she answered the door ten days ago and there he was, holding the mobile and smiling at her. Until then she hadn't spoken to him since the night Jason was conceived. She didn't know he knew she'd had a baby: she'd dodged into alleys to avoid meeting him in the
street. But he hadn't forgotten her: he'd kept his eye on her, was just waiting until she could be of some use to him. When the moment came, he made it impossible for her to say no. He knew where she lived. He knew she'd had his son.'
âIt was Wilson spotted that mobile, you know,' said Shapiro, just a shade sourly. Scobie started the car before they were even inside, took off quickly enough to flatten them in their seats. âEven then it didn't occur to me what it meant. That Jason's father was a skilled woodworker; that maybe it was something he did for a living.'
âIt might just have been a hobby,' said Liz, soothingly, trying not to notice how quickly Queen's Street had been left behind.
âYes, it might; but it wasn't, and it should have occurred to me to find out. The facts were all there, for heaven's sake! He's a carpenter. We knew that. He works for Sidgwick & Mellors â he's been at Castle High for six weeks refitting the school library. Plenty of time to work out how to make this work. The yoghurt was easy â no one was looking for him then. The school was easy â he had every right to be on the campus. The baby lotion and the cold remedy were a doddle: he bought them over the counter, did everything that needed doing in the privacy of his own home. He didn't even have to put them back on the shelves: he just gave one to his accomplice, took the other himself.