Part 30 (2/2)

Neil shook his head. 'She was scared stiff. She just left him there and tried to pretend it never happened. You can understand it really. Terrified kid. Bad man. It must have been awful for her, keeping that to herself all these years. What a thing to have to live with ... no wonder it sent her over the edge.'

'I'm sure no charges will be brought,' said Wesley. 'But we'll need to speak to her.'

'Yeah, I know.' He reached across the desk and picked up a pile of papers. Photocopies. 'Annabel found these. Extracts from the Comperta the report John Tregonwell, Henry VIII's commissioner, made about Veland Abbey.' He paused. 'Diane found the abbot's journal in the cathedral archives in Exeter too and something in it reminded her of what happened ... brought it all flooding back. Here, take this copy. I've got another. It makes for interesting reading.' As he handed the papers over to Wesley he looked from one man to the other. He'd been so engrossed in Diane's problems that he hadn't noticed until now that the two policemen seemed more subdued than usual. 'What's the matter? You look as if you're off to a funeral.'

'Steve's dead ... DC Carstairs. He drowned trying to rescue a suspect.'

Neil's mouth fell open. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l,' he muttered. 'That's bad.'

Annette Marrick pa.s.sed the man in the High Street. She almost didn't recognise him dressed like that. Last time she'd seen him he'd been wearing shorts. On the day she'd found Charlie dead he'd been walking across the drive of Foxglove House with a woman. She stared back at him for a second then turned away.

If he'd witnessed anything, he would have told the police. And, if she was honest, she didn't really care any more. Charlie was dead and she was glad. It saved the expense of a divorce and this way she kept the house.

But something made her pick up the phone and dial DI Peterson's number. She'd rather liked him. And, since Petronella had gone back to Bath, she wanted someone to talk to.

The atmosphere in the CID office was tense. One of their own was dead. It didn't matter if he'd been an awkward b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He was one of them. His mother and father had been told. His father had also been informed about the involvement of his a.s.sistant, Joanne. He'd said he didn't believe she was the killer they'd all been calling the Spider but he didn't do much arguing. Steve was gone and the world and its priorities had changed in a moment.

Janet Blincoe was safely under lock and key. She'd be notorious for a while then she'd drop from the public's radar only to be resurrected from time to time in true crime books. Wesley had told Heffernan he felt a bit sorry for her. But the DCI had replied that he was too soft. Always had been. Had he ever considered a career as a social worker?

There seemed little to do now apart from tie up the loose ends. Wesley had a headache coming on after comforting a sobbing Trish Walton. The depth of her grief surprised him. He suspected it surprised her too.

He needed a distraction so he picked up the papers Neil had given him and began to read. First he tackled the report of King Henry's commissioner, John Tregonwell, into the state of Veland Abbey with its intriguing remark at the end about an event so terrible he could not speak of it. Then, before he could make a start on the abbott's journal, his phone rang.

It was Annette Marrick. She had something to tell him. It probably wasn't important but she'd seen a couple walking away from the gates of Foxglove House on the day her husband died. She'd thought they were just out for a walk so she'd forgotten all about them. But she'd seen the young woman since in that sandwich bar on the High Street in Tradmouth. And she'd seen the man today that's what had triggered the memory. Wesley asked her to describe him and Annette was happy to oblige. In fact she sounded eager to talk. It must be lonely, he thought, in that rambling house alone with the bloodstains and the memories.

He thought about the call as he began to read the extract from the abbott's journal.

Then he told Gerry Heffernan he was going out. He had something to do.

Father Joseph left them alone. He answered to a higher authority than the police but he didn't believe in rocking the boat. If an inspector wished to see Brother Francis that was okay by him.

'How are you?' he asked as Francis sat down opposite him in the plain little visitors' room with the large crucifix in the centre of the wall.

'Shaken. She is all right?'

'She's been taken into custody. But I'm afraid one of our officers drowned trying to rescue her.'

Francis looked shocked. The colour drained from his face as he made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer for the dead. 'I'm so sorry,' he said, his head bowed. And he sounded as though he meant it.

Wesley decided on the element of surprise. 'What were you doing with Janet Blincoe at Foxglove House on the day Charles Marrick died?'

The monk looked stunned. Then he put his head in his hands.

'She didn't work alone, did she? I was wondering how she came to know about poisons. You work in the gardens here, don't you?'

Francis nodded. 'Yes, but I a.s.sure you that Janet's knowledge of poisons didn't come from me. She already knew all about hemlock. The aunt who took her in was a keen herbalist. She'd taught her a lot.'

'Whose idea was it to get your revenge on Charles Marrick?'

There was a long silence. 'Janet got in touch with me via e-mail. She'd found out where I was through the school website that Mortimer Dean so a.s.siduously kept up to date and suggested that we meet. She said she had something to tell me. This isn't an enclosed order, Inspector. I was able to go up north to meet her. She was living in Chester and we met halfway, in Lichfield ... in the cathedral. She said she'd met Christopher Grisham ... and then she told me she'd killed him. I was shocked, of course, but I understood. I can never forget what happened that night. I told her she had to go to the police and make a full confession but ...'

Wesley looked the man in the eye. 'You never raped her, did you? And she didn't try to kill you today. The hospital said your wounds were only superficial. When you heard us coming you wounded yourself to make it look convincing. If we hadn't arrived, Janet would have just gone away. Left the area and taken up a new ident.i.ty, am I right? You met her to say goodbye.'

'If that's what you believe ...'

After a few moments of silence Wesley spoke again. 'Janet wasn't the only person Charlie Marrick raped back then, was she?'

His mouth fell open and the colour drained from his face. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Marrick raped you too.'

Francis looked up. There were tears welling in his eye, trickling down his cheek. 'I've spent my life trying to come to terms with what happened; doing my best to forget. My faith told me quite clearly that I should forgive but somehow I never could, however hard I tried. Marrick scarred my body and my mind, inspector. I kept quiet about Janet's rape because Charlie threatened that if I didn't, I'd be next. I did as I was told but he ...'

'He did it anyway?' Wesley suddenly felt deeply sorry for the man sitting there before him.

'You don't know what he was like. He was evil.'

'So you helped her to kill him,' Wesley said gently.

Francis wiped his eyes with his sleeve. 'It was a terrible thing to do,' he whispered. 'Even to the man who ...'

'What about the others Simon Tench and Mortimer Dean?'

He swallowed hard. 'Janet killed Simon he'd been one of the ones who ... She'd seen him on some property programme, she said, with his smug wife her words not mine.'

'And Mortimer Dean?'

The tears welled again. 'Mortimer had always known exactly what happened, you see. Janet gave me some of the poisoned whisky she'd prepared. Mortimer was very partial to single malt. I took it round as a present. He was delighted. I wanted him to die happy, you see.'

'But why?'

'Because he knew too much. Janet said he couldn't be allowed to betray us. I didn't want to kill him, honestly. But I knew she was right. As he lay there I told him how sorry I was ... asked his forgiveness.'

Wesley recited the familiar words of the caution and then led Brother Francis gently away.

CHAPTER 15.

From the journal of Abbott Thomas Standing 11th October 1535.

Brother William came to me this hour weeping and sore afraid. I a.s.sured him of my protection even though he killed a man. I told him that man was corrupt, a devil, and he has asked forgiveness of Our Lord who died for our sins on the cross and pardons all that truly repent, so his soul is in no peril.

Brother Silas was ever a corrupter of souls like the serpent in Eden. And when he tried to force Brother William to submit to his unnatural l.u.s.ts as he had forced other novices I have since learned Brother William stabbed him at the seyney house with the lancet the brother infirmerer uses for the bloodletting. It seems that the leisure of the seyney house inflamed Brother Silas's desires. It may be that the rule is too lax there. By some misfortune the blade struck Brother Silas's throat, in a place where the blood flows freely and cannot be stopped. Brother William was sore afraid and his tormentor bled to death as it was night and in a most private place so there was no help to be had.

Brother William confessed all to me and I absolved him of his sins. Perhaps I too am guilty as I feel no pity at this man's death. Brother Silas lies in the chapel tonight and the brothers keep vigil. I have told Brother William not to touch the corpse lest it begins to bleed again as murdered corpses are wont to do in the presence of their murderer. He will be buried tomorrow in the brothers' resting place and I pray that will be an end to the matter.

<script>