Darkside_ A Novel - Belinda Bauer [62]
Marvel stared into the distance and nodded slowly. 'The unthinkable becomes thinkable.'
The two men sat pondering in rare harmony.
'I hope you're wrong,' said Marvel.
And, for once, Reynolds hoped he was too.
Seven Days
The ground was frozen and they couldn't have dug a hole for Yvonne Marsh even if her body had not been retained as evidence, but the funeral went ahead anyway. 'Interment to follow at a later date' was what was written in biro under the order of service.
Jonas looked at it and was reminded of the note under his wiper, and he wished now that he'd kept it for the purposes of comparison with every bit of handwriting he came across. As the service got under way, he looked at the Reverend Chard with new eyes.
Alan Marsh sat in the front pew with his son. Danny had a black eye to go with his suit. Jonas blushed to see it.
'I should apologize,' he whispered to Lucy.
'Not today,' she whispered back. 'Today is about his mother.'
Jonas nodded but felt uncomfortable. Marvel had hissed at him that he'd be lucky to keep his job, but all he had seen in Marvel's eyes was relief that someone had stepped up to the mark and done something to end the stand-off.
He looked around and caught Marvel's eye at the back of the church. No doubt he was there because of the chance that the killer might attend the funeral of his victim. Margaret Priddy had not yet had a funeral service, at the request of her family, but Alan Marsh had insisted on one.
'She's gone,' he'd told the Reverend Chard. 'She's gone and I want to say a proper goodbye.'
So here they all were.
Jonas hadn't asked Marvel if it was OK to come, and half smiled at the thought that the killer might be running up and down past Margaret Priddy's house while he was here, banging on the door and taunting the little brown dog. It was all bollocks anyway, and he no longer felt any guilt about leaving his post. The business with Danny had jolted things into new focus for him. Although he felt guilty about hitting him, at least he had taken some action at last. At least he had made a decision - even if it was probably the wrong one.
The service was sombre. They sang 'Abide With Me' and then 'All Things Bright And Beautiful', which made Lucy squeeze his hand. It brought a hard lump to his throat and he dared not look at her.
Afterwards there was tea in the church hall. Linda Cobb and the other ladies had done it; they hadn't even consulted Alan and Danny Marsh - they'd just gone ahead and spent the money that the Reverend Chard had given them from the poor box bolted to the church door. Everyone thought it was money well spent.
Jonas and Lucy did not go to the church hall. They watched Alan Marsh support his son out of the church and then left. Jonas drove Lucy home carefully up the gritted lane, changed out of his black suit and into his uniform, then walked back down into the village to resume his doorstep vigil.
The darkening village seemed especially still. The blanket of snow and the fact that almost every adult was off eating egg sandwiches in the church hall added to Jonas's sense of isolation. Not even Linda Cobb was there to hand him his World's Best Mum mug.
On days such as this he felt like the last man on Earth. Sometimes he felt that way up on the moors, where it was so quiet you could hear a car coming a mile away. Last summer he'd walked up to Blacklands and sat down on the cushion of heather that covered the mound there. He could see the roofs of Shipcott in one direction, but otherwise no sign of civilization - or that civilization had even been invented.
He remembered now how the sun had warmed his eyes through his closed lids, and smiled even though he was standing in the snow on the doorstep of one murdered pensioner and had just attended the funeral of another.
If only all memories could be as sweet.
It was already dark when Jonas saw the stranger.
In summer, a stranger was a faceless part of a bigger whole, which invaded like an army, wore uniform hiking shorts and map bags, and cleared Mr Jacoby out of milk and sandwiches.