‘She took us up to the scrappy owd truck with dirt and straw all over it, in the car park,’ said Leonard. ‘Said they wus from that farm, that church place full of weirdos, up Aylmerton way.’
‘You already knew about the Universal Humanitarian Church, did you?’ asked Strike.
‘Friends of aars in Felbrigg, they’d towd us about the place,’ said Shelley.
‘Weirdos,’ repeated Leonard. ‘So we’re standing in the car park and the police wants us all to go t’station, to make statements. I says, “We’ve got a funeral to git to.” The gal was crying. Then owd Muriel come out the café, to see whass going on.’
‘This is Muriel Carter, who saw Cherie take Daiyu down to the beach?’
‘Know your stuff, don’tchew?’ said Shelley, as impressed by Strike’s thoroughness as Jordan Reaney had been disconcerted. ‘Ah, thass her. Used to own a café down by that bit of beach.’
‘Did you know her?’
‘We’d navver spoken to har before all this happened,’ said Shelley, ‘but we knew her ahter that. She told the police she’d seen Cherie carrying the little gal out the truck and off down the beach. She thowt it was stupid, that time in the morning, seeing Cherie with towels and that.’
‘Muriel was in her café very early,’ commented Strike. ‘This must have all been – what, five in the morning?’
‘Coffee machine wus on the blink,’ said Leonard. ‘She’n har husband wus in there tryina fix it before opening time.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Strike, making a note.
‘Muriel said the kid wus sleepy,’ said Shelley. ‘I said to Leonard ahter, “So she warn’t pestering har for a paddle, then, thass just an excuse.” I thenk it wus Cherie who wanted to go swimming, not the little gal.’
‘Do you give it a rest, woman,’ said Leonard before saying to Strike, ‘Th’only reason Muriel thowt the kid wus sleepy wus ’cause Cherie was carrying har. Kids like being carried, that don’t mean nothen.’
‘Wut about wut come out at the inquest?’ Shelley asked Leonard sharply. ‘About har swimming? Tell’m.’ But before Leonard could do so, Shelley said,
‘Cherie wus a champion swimmer. She said it at the inquest, in the dock.’
‘Champion,’ said Leonard, with an eye roll, ‘she warn’t a
‘She wus on a team,’ said Shelley, still speaking to Strike. ‘She’d won medals.’
‘So?’ said Leonard. ‘Thass not a bloody crime.’
‘If
‘Don’t matter how many medals you’ve got, a rip tide’s a rip tide,’ said Leonard, now looking disgruntled.
‘This is interesting,’ said Strike, and Shelley looked excited. ‘How did the subject of Cherie’s swimming come up at the inquest, can you remember?’
‘Ah, I can,’ said Shelley, ‘because she wus tryin’ to make out it wusn’t irresponsible, takin’ the little gal into the sea, because she wus a strong swimmer harself. I said to Len after, “Medals make you see in the dark, do they?” “Medals make it ollright to take a little gal who can’t swim into the North Sea, do they?”’
‘So it was established at the inquest that Daiyu couldn’t swim, was it?’
‘Ah,’ said Leonard. ‘Har mother said she’d navver larned.’
‘I didn’t take to that mother,’ said Shelley. ‘Looked like a witch.’
‘Wearin’ robes, Shell, warn’t she?’ piped up Suzy from the sofa.
‘Long black robes,’ said Shelley, nodding. ‘You’d thenk, ef you were going to court, you’d put on proper clothes. Juss respectful.’
‘Iss their religion,’ said Leonard, forgetting that he’d just described the church members as weirdos. ‘You carn’t stop people following thar religion.’
‘Ef you ask me,
‘You don’t know that,’ said Leonard.
‘Navver said I knew it,’ said Shelley loftily. ‘
‘Can you remember any details Cherie gave about her swimming career?’ asked Strike. ‘The name of a club? Where she trained? I’m trying to trace Cherie and if I could find old teammates, or a coach—’
‘Hang on,’ said Leonard, perking up.
‘What?’ said Shelley.
‘I might be able to ’elp thar.’
‘’Ow?’ said Shelley sceptically.
‘’Cause after court, I spoke to har. She wus crying outside. One of the little gal’s family had just been talking to har – havin’ a go, probably. He walked off quick enough when I gone over to har,’ said Leonard, with a slight swelling of the chest. ‘I felt sorry fur har, an’ I towd her, “I know you done averything you could, love.” You warn’t thar, you wus in the bog,’ said Leonard, forestalling Shelley. ‘She said to me, crying, like, “But I could’ve stopped it”, and—’
‘Hang on,’ said Strike. ‘She said, “But I could’ve stopped it”?’
‘Ah,’ said Leonard.
‘Those exact words? “I could’ve stopped it”, not “I could have saved her”?’
Leonard hesitated, absent-mindedly smoothing down the few strands of greying hair doing such a poor job of disguising his baldness.
