The Running Grave полностью

‘’S the job,’ said Abigail, with a slight shrug, ‘but sometimes it gets to you. That one did – arson – the farver did it ’imself, tryna work an insurance scam on ’is shop, downstairs. ’E got out all right, bastard… I ’ate it when there’s kids involved. We got the younger one out alive, but it was too late. Smoke in’alation done for ’im.’

‘What made you join the fire service?’

‘Adrenaline junkie,’ she said with a fleeting grin, her knee still bouncing up and down. She took another gulp of wine. ‘I got outta Chapman Farm an’ I just wan’ed to fuckin’ live, wan’ed to see some action and do somefing wiv a point to it, instead of makin’ effing corn dollies to sell for starvin’ kids in Africa – if that’s where the money even wen’. Doubt it. But I never ’ad much education. I ’ad to study for GCSEs when I got out. Scraped free of ’em. Older’n all the other kids in the class. Still, I was one o’ the lucky ones. Least I know ’ow to read.’

As she picked up her glass again, a bearded man passed their table.

‘Been on Tinder, ’ave you, Ab?’

‘Fuck off,’ said Abigail coldly.

The man smirked, but didn’t move away.

‘Baz,’ he said, holding out his hand to Strike.

‘Terry,’ said Strike, shaking it.

‘Well, you watch yourself, Terry,’ said Baz. ‘She goes froo men like diarrhoea.’

He swaggered away.

‘Bastard,’ muttered Abigail, looking over her shoulder. ‘Wouldna come in ’ere if I’d known ’e’d be ’ere.’

‘Work mate?’

‘No, ’e’s a friend of Patrick’s. I wen’ out for a drink wiv ’im a coupla times an’ then I told ’im I didn’ wanna see ’im again, an’ ’e was pissed off. Then Patrick gets drunk wiv ’im and blabs stuff abou’ what I told ’im abou’ the UHC, and now, whenever that arsehole sees me, ’e uses it to… s’my fault,’ she said angrily. ‘I should’ve kep’ me mouf shut. When men ’ear…’

Her voice trailed away and she took another gulp of wine. Strike, who assumed Baz had been told about the church’s spirit bonding practices, wondered for the first time how young girls were when they were expected to join in.

‘Well, as I said on the phone, this talk’s strictly off the record,’ said the detective. ‘Nothing’s going to be published.’

‘Unless you bring the church down,’ said Abigail.

‘You might be overestimating my capabilities.’

She was rapidly emptying her wine glass. After considering him for a moment or two out of her dark blue eyes she said, a little aggressively,

‘Fink I’m a coward, do yah?’

‘Probably the last thing I was thinking,’ said Strike. ‘Why?’

‘Don’ you fink I should try’na to expose ’em? Write one of them bloody misery books? Well,’ she said, before Strike could respond, ‘they’ve got far better lawyers than I can afford on a fire fighter’s salary, an’ I get enough grief about the UHC, just from people like that arsehole knowing.’

She jabbed an angry finger at Baz, who was now standing alone at the bar.

‘I won’t be publicising anything,’ Strike assured her. ‘I only want to—’

‘Yeah, you said on the phone,’ she interrupted, ‘an’ I wanna say somefing about that Kevin Pirbright bloke what rang me. There was this one fing ’e said an’ it really bloody upset me.’

‘What was that?’

‘It was abou’ me mum,’ said Abigail, ‘an’ ’ow she died.’

‘How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?’ said Strike, though he already knew.

‘She drowned, off Cromer beach. She was epileptic. She ’ad a fit. We was swimming back to the beach, racin’ each other. I looked round when it was shallow enough, and I fort I’d won, but… she’d disappeared.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Strike, ‘that sounds extremely traumatic. How old were you?’

‘Seven. But that bloody Kevin guy, on the phone…’e wanted me to say my father drowned ’er.’

Abigail drained her glass before saying forcefully,

‘’S not true. My farver wasn’ even in the water when it ’appened, ’e was buying ice cream. He come sprintin’ back when ’e ’eard me screamin’. ’E an’ anuvver man dragged Mum back onto the sand. Dad tried to give her mouf-to-mouf, but it was too late.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Strike again.

‘When Pirbright said Dad killed ’er… it was like ’e was taking somefing… it’s about the only good fing I’ve ever ’ad to ’old onto, from before Chapman Farm, that they loved each ovver, an’ if I ’aven’t got that, then it’s all shit, you know?’

‘Yes,’ said Strike, who’d had to work so hard to hold onto the good in his memories of his own mother, ‘I do.’

‘Pirbright kept sayin’, “’E killed her, didn’ ’e? ’E did, didn’ ’e?” An’ I was saying, “No, ’e fuckin’ didn’” an’ I ended up telling ’im to fuck off and I ’ung up. It shook me right up, ’im finding me and ringing me at work,’ said Abigail, with an air of faint surprise at her own reaction. ‘I ’ad a couple of really bad days, after.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Strike.

‘’E said ’e’d been dropped by ’is publisher. Seemed to fink, if I give ’im enough gory details, ’e’d be able to get another deal. You’ve read ’is book, ’ave you?’

‘There isn’t one,’ said Strike.

‘What?’ said Abigail, frowning. ‘Was ’e lying?’

‘No, but his laptop was stolen, presumably by his killer.’