Part 23 (2/2)

However, she was reserving her judgement. He hadn't told them that he'd been at school with Simon Tench. Perhaps he had something to hide.

Gerry Heffernan and Wesley Peterson had no idea that she'd gone there alone but she'd thought it best. Carter would be more likely to confide in her if she didn't have someone like Steve Carstairs in tow, flas.h.i.+ng evil looks, playing the hard man. Carter needed the gentle touch. A bit of tea and sympathy. But if he hadn't done anything about those pigs, she'd still give him a hard time.

When she arrived at the smallholding, she saw that Carter had taken her orders to heart: the pig shed had been thoroughly mucked out and the pigs were grunting happily in their fresh straw. As she stood watching the creatures one curious sow came to say h.e.l.lo and Rachel rewarded her with a vigorous scratch on the back of the neck sending the animal into an ecstasy of joyous rubbing and snuffling. Rachel had always had a way with pigs on her parents' farm. But it wasn't something she wanted generally known around the police station.

'h.e.l.lo.'

Rachel swung round to see Barty Carter standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, watching her with a nervous half smile on his face.

'The pigs look a lot better.'

Carter stared at the ground, contrite. 'I thought I'd better get my act together.'

'You've done well,' Rachel said quickly.

After an awkward silence, Barty Carter smiled a smile that transformed his face and made him, in Rachel's opinion, the right side of attractive. 'So you're not going to report me, Detective Sergeant?'

Rachel hesitated. It wouldn't do to seem too soft or to let him think he'd got away with his previous behaviour altogether. 'I'll be keeping an eye on the situation, Mr Carter. But from what I can see, you seem to be making progress.' She looked round. 'Is there somewhere we can talk?'

Carter led her into the house and she noticed that he'd made an effort here as well. The place looked a good deal cleaner and the paperwork that had been scattered over every available surface was stacked in neat piles.

'I'm trying to sort everything out,' he explained. 'When my wife left I went through a bad time but ... I've decided to get my life on track again.' He looked at her, sheepishly. 'I poured all the booze down the sink the night after you came. I don't know, maybe it took a visit from the police to give me the kick up the backside I needed. I just hope I can b.l.o.o.d.y keep it up.'

Rachel smiled. 'Look, if you want any advice on farming or ... I'm sure my dad or one of my brothers would be able to have a chat ... pa.s.s on their experience.' The Traceys didn't have a high opinion of posh people from the city who had the same att.i.tude to farming as Marie Antoinette had to shepherding a pretty game. But Rachel could be very persuasive when she put her mind to it.

Barty Carter gave her a shy, grateful smile. 'Thanks. I can't go on calling you Detective Sergeant, can I? What's your first name?'

'Rachel.'

'Thanks, Rachel. Er ... did you come to check on the pigs or is this just a social call?'

'Neither really.' She paused. It was time to slip back into the role of police officer. She'd have to put her sympathy on hold and watch out for lies and evasions. 'Last time I visited you didn't mention that you'd been to school with Simon Tench.'

'I didn't think it was relevant. He was in the year below me and I didn't really know him. In fact I didn't know him at all. We weren't in the same house so our paths never crossed.'

The explanation sounded perfectly plausible to Rachel. There were girls in the year below her at school she would walk past in the street and not recognise. But she had to continue with the questioning. There might be something some snippet of apparently irrelevant information that might be of some help. 'Did you know Charles Marrick or Christopher Grisham?'

Barty Carter shook his head. 'I don't recognise the second name but the first one rings a bell. I seem to remember someone nudging me in the corridor and whispering 'That's the famous Charlie Marrick.' But I didn't take much notice at the time. I had other things on my mind.' He grinned. 'I was in the lower sixth and we used to sneak out to the nearest pub. I think there were a couple of local girls who took my fancy. Consequently, I didn't take much notice of the famous Charlie Marrick.'

'Can you tell me anything about him?'

Carter shrugged. 'I think he was usually in trouble for something and I heard a whisper there was an incident with a girl but ... Sorry I can't be more help.'

'You never thought to tell us you knew Marrick?'

'I didn't know him.'

Rachel usually had a suspicious mind it probably went with the job. But there was something in Carter's manner that made her think he was telling the truth.

'Is there anything else ... anything at all? You might not think it's relevant but ...'

'Sorry, that's all I know. But there is something I'd like to ask.'

'What's that?'

'Any chance of us going out for a drink one night?'

'Nice try,' Rachel muttered. Then, after a few moments' thought, she said, 'We'll see,' with a businesslike smile.

As Carter watched her drive off, her wheels churning up the mud produced by the leaking tap near the gate, he suddenly felt more optimistic than he had done for months.

Brother Francis sat by his computer and stared at Mortimer Dean's e-mail. Dean had kept in touch with him since he'd left Belsinger. There'd been a rapport between housemaster and pupil. Nothing s.e.xual, more a recognition of a sympathetic soul. They'd exchanged letters at first then later, with the advent of technology in the ordered world of Shenton Abbey, they'd corresponded by e-mail. Nothing profound or spiritual Dean had been a devout atheist but pleasantries and news of old boys.

There had been no mention of Charlie Marrick, of course. By tacit agreement it was never spoken of. As if ignoring it would make it vanish as though it had never happened.

But Brother Francis knew it had happened. He'd been there. It was something he'd shared with his confessor before he took his vows; something for which he knew he'd received forgiveness. But even though he'd received his absolution, the very thought of that terrible time made him feel physically sick. It was an indelible stain on his life. Something he could never get rid of by reason and prayer. He still dreamed about it, even after fifteen years. It would be with him until he died.

Brother Francis hadn't concerned himself with Greek mythology since his school days at Belsinger. But he knew Nemesis was the G.o.ddess of retribution. And, in spite of his higher calling, he could sense that she was very near. Just biding her time.

CHAPTER 11.

Ever since they found him, I've been longing to tell the truth but somehow I can't find the words. Perhaps if I write more about Brother William, you'll understand.

You'll wonder why I've chosen you, Neil. But the truth is, I don't know. Why are any of us chosen for anything?

Imagine those monks at the seyney house. How they must have been back then warm and relaxed after their blood-letting. Brother William must have been at ease, unsuspecting, and I've been wondering about his relations.h.i.+p with Brother Silas before it happened. Those tragic events at the seyney house can't have come from nowhere. There must have been a preparation. Watching eyes, full of desire. There must have been some hint of sin. Perhaps Brother William had been too innocent to recognise the signs.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm about to go mad. As if all this putrid filth will burst from my body and I will die like I deserve to.

The writer's hand shook. The last letter had been posted and Neil would receive it next morning Sat.u.r.day. This latest one would be the final word before the truth was revealed. The time was almost near. But what was the worst that could happen? Only death.

Rachel seemed quiet when she returned to the CID office. Wesley asked her if anything was the matter but she shook her head and gave him an enigmatic smile that would have put the Mona Lisa to shame.

'Did Barty Carter have anything interesting to say for himself?' Wesley asked.

The smile was still playing on her lips as she replied. 'He claims he didn't know Tench and Grisham, even though they went to the same school. They were in different years and different houses and he says their paths didn't cross.'

'Think he's telling the truth?'

'Probably. However, he does remember Charlie Marrick having a bit of a reputation. And he remembers hearing rumours of some scandal involving a girl ... but it was all hushed up. And before you ask, he's no idea what it was all about. Apparently he had other things on his mind at the time.'

Wesley thought for a few moments. 'Do you believe him?'

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