Murder Club - Mark Pearson [59]
‘Glad to hear it.’
Delaney’s mobile trilled and he fetched it out of his pocket, checked the caller ID, then answered the call. ‘What’s up, Sally … Yeah, yeah, I know. I had it switched off for a couple of hours. Okay, let me grab a piece of paper.’
Delaney fumbled in his pocket for his notebook and grabbed a pen off the bedside table. ‘Shoot.’
‘Reverend Geoffrey Hunt. Okay, got that. How did you get on at Northwick Park Hospital?’ He listened for a while. ‘All right, I’ll meet you seven tomorrow morning. Usual place. And how did Inspector Hamilton behave himself?’
He grimaced and held the phone way from his ear. ‘No, you hang up,’ he said and closed his phone.
‘So you switched your phone off for a couple of hours?’ said Kate.
‘Forgot to turn it back on.’
‘Another coincidence.’
‘Mobile phones in pubs, they shouldn’t be allowed. I am very consistent on that point.’
Kate laughed. ‘Nothing should come between a man and his Guinness.’
‘Only you, sweetheart.’
‘What was that about Reverend Hunt?’
‘You know him?’
‘Sort of. I know his wife. She used to teach at the university, still registered to the practice there.’
‘What did she teach?’
‘She’s a doctor of divinity. Why?’
‘I don’t know. I’m a detective, Kate. I like asking questions. Ask enough, and sometimes things make sense.’
‘And sometimes they don’t.’
‘True.’
‘Is her husband in some kind of trouble?’
‘Not that I know of. St Luke’s is his old church.’
Kate sat up. ‘I didn’t know that. I was called out there this morning. Before they knew it was human remains.’
‘Your friend’s husband was the incumbent vicar at the time the body was put in the ground.’
‘So they’ve got you on that case?’
‘Amongst others. Till I get suspended, that is.’
‘The Devil finds work for idle digits.’
Delaney slipped his hand down the duvet. ‘Best keep them busy then,’ he said.
Kate slapped his hand. ‘You can have a shower first, busy boy.’
‘Good idea.’ Delaney swang his legs round and stood up. He leaned over and kissed the bump of Kate’s belly.
‘Henry the Eighth got one thing right,’ he said.
‘And what would that be?’
‘It’s good to have lots of children.’ He smiled and headed to the bathroom.
Part Three
43.
Sunday morning
‘DECK THE HALLS with boughs of holly! Fa la la la la, la la la la. ’Tis the season to be jolly … Fa la la la la, la la la la!’
‘Do you want to button it, Roy?’ said Jack Delaney as he leaned against the counter and contemplated lighting a cigarette. Roy stopped singing and grinned over his shoulder at him.
‘What’s up with you this morning, Jack? Or do I even need to ask? You being normally such a ray of emerald-green Fenian sunshine.’
‘What does that even mean, Roy? How in the name of St Joseph on a fucking bicycle can you have green sunshine?’
‘I was talking metaphorically, Jack.’
‘You were talking bollocks.’
‘You want an egg with this?’ asked the portly short-order cook as he flipped some slices of bacon.
‘I do.’
‘I see the piece of shit we talked about yesterday walked free.’
‘Yeah, he did.’
‘Anything going to come down on your head?’
‘I should think so.’
‘If you’d handled things a little differently back then, Jack …’
‘You saying this is my fault?’
‘Nothing of the sort. Like I say, I wouldn’t even have let the scum make it to court.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m a changed man nowadays.’
‘Are you?’
‘You see me smoking this cigarette?’ Delaney asked, holding up an unlit Marlboro.
‘Not yet.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Don we now our gay apparel, troll the ancient Yuletide carol!’ sang Roy happily, as he cracked an egg that spattered and sizzled when it landed on the hot griddle plate. ‘Fa la la la la, la la la la.’
‘God give me strength,’ muttered Delaney as Sally Cartwright walked up to the van. She was dressed in black trousers, with higher heels than usual and a smart black parka with faux-fur trim. Her long, blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She had on more make-up than usual too, and was altogether too bright and perky-looking for seven o’clock on a