Part 34 (1/2)

'What is it?'

'Last time I visited you, I mentioned the ninth circle of h.e.l.l, and you said it was-'

'The Inferno. It's by the great Italian poet Dante Alighieri. The first part of his Divine Comedy. All about the medieval concept of h.e.l.l. Lovely, isn't it?'

Cooper wasn't quite sure what she was referring to. At first he thought it might be the Guinness, or the music now playing in the background. Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Free Bird', if he wasn't mistaken. Not really Mrs Wheatcroft's cup of tea, he imagined. So she must be referring to Dante's vision of h.e.l.l.

'There's something particular about the ninth circle,' he said.

'Judas, Brutus and Ca.s.sius.'

'Sorry?'

'Judas, Brutus and Ca.s.sius,' she repeated more slowly, as if remembering that he was one of her slower pupils. 'The ninth circle of h.e.l.l. It's all about treachery.'

'Yes, that's what I was thinking.'

She took another gulp of her drink. 'In Dante's Inferno, each of the nine circles is reserved for a particular sin. They get more and more wicked as they move towards the middle. The ninth circle was reserved for the very worst sinners a the traitors. Judas, who betrayed Jesus. And Brutus and Ca.s.sius who stabbed Julius Caesar in the back. Do you remember this at all?'

Cooper nodded, hoping not to have to reveal the true depths of his ignorance.

'Is that what Aidan Merritt was talking about?'

'Yes, I think it must have been.'

She seemed to lose track of the conversation, gazing across the bar at no one in particular, then poking in her carrier bag as if she'd lost something.

Cooper tried to curb his impatience. He had faith in Carol's a.s.sessment. He had to let Betty Wheatcroft play her own game, at her own pace, if he wanted to get everything she knew out of her.

'The traitors,' he said slowly.

'Oh.' She licked her lips thoughtfully. 'Thank you. Well, in the ninth circle there were three different grades of treachery. Betrayal of family, betrayal of community, betrayal of ... guests.'

'Guests?'

'Yes. A breach of the unwritten laws. The ancient code of hospitality.'

Cooper sat back in his chair, and looked at the old lady, with her wild hair and her plastic carrier bag. Many people would pa.s.s her by without a second glance.

'Mrs Wheatcroft, where do you get your information from?' he asked.

'Oh, I know it all,' she said.

'People tell you what they're doing?'

'No, not them,' she said, with a flash of contempt. 'n.o.body ever spoke to me at the Light House, except for Aidan. As far as they were concerned, I was just the daft old trout in the corner. It's the same here at the Badger. And because they don't talk to me, they think I don't hear anything. I suppose they reckon I must be deaf. But I do hear. I hear everything.'

'And what did you hear in this case, Mrs Wheatcroft?'

She put a finger to the side of her nose. 'They thought Aidan was going to betray them. But he was a decent man. Weak, but decent.'

Betty Wheatcroft suddenly looked very sad. Cooper knew she'd liked Aidan Merritt, and he'd wondered how long she could hold that back and pretend she wasn't too disturbed by his death. Her charade of secrecy was just part of the game. Underneath, she was a frightened woman.

'Who are they? Who thought he was going to betray them?' he asked.

'I can't tell you,' she said.

'Mrs Wheatcroft ...'

'No,' she snapped firmly. 'Be told.'

He shut up immediately, hearing the exact same words and tone of voice that his grandmother had used to him when he was a child, pestering for an ice cream.

In another moment, she'd changed the subject back to safer ground. The past, the theoretical a so much less dangerous than the real, physical present. He wondered if she was scared by a genuine threat from some specific source, or whether she feared to make herself one more soul who was guilty of the sin of betrayal.

'Do you happen to have a copy of this book, Mrs Wheatcroft?' asked Cooper.

'The Inferno? No, why would I? Look it up, if you want.'

'I'll google it,' he said.

'Yes, you do that.'

She laughed then. It wasn't quite a cackle, but a chortle with an edge of unhealthy glee. Cooper thought perhaps he shouldn't have bought her that extra Guinness.

'Would you like me to give you a lift home, Mrs Wheatcroft?'

'That would be delightful,' she said.

Outside the pub, Mrs Wheatcroft greeted Carol Villiers like an old friend, though they'd never met.

'h.e.l.lo, dear. Are we travelling together?'

'Give me your arm,' said Villiers. 'And let me take your bag.'

'No, no.'

Mrs Wheatcroft sounded suddenly distressed. She pulled her plastic bag out of reach, and clutched it to her bosom. Cooper heard the c.h.i.n.k of gla.s.s. Full bottles, from the sound of it.

She settled in the back seat of his car. Villiers got in, looked at him, raised an eyebrow. Cooper shrugged. He fastened his seat belt, and they pulled out on to the road to head into Edendale.

'Yes, I remember it very well,' said Mrs Wheatcroft's voice drowsily from behind him. 'Right in the middle, h.e.l.l wasn't fiery, you know a the sinners were frozen up to their necks in a lake of ice.'

'Ice?' said Villiers.

'Ice,' she repeated. 'And sometimes, they say, a soul falls into the ninth circle before the thread of life has been cut.'