The Running Grave полностью

‘I know what you fort. After Alex died, Mazu pretended Daiyu was my farver’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Alex’s family tried to get custody of ’er, after ’e killed ’imself. Mazu didn’ wanna give Daiyu up, so she an’ my farver cooked up the story that Daiyu was really ’is. Alex’s family took it to court. I remember Mazu going berserk when she gotta legal letter sayin’ she ’ad to provide Daiyu’s DNA samples.’

‘This is interesting,’ said Strike, who was now taking rapid notes. ‘Were the samples ever taken?’

‘No,’ said Abigail, ‘’cause she drowned.’

‘Right,’ said Strike, looking up. ‘But Alex Graves thought Daiyu was his?’

‘Oh, yeah. ’E made a will and named Daiyu as the sole bene – ben – what’s it?’

‘Beneficiary?’

‘Yeah… tole you I never ’ad no education,’ Abigail muttered. ‘Should read more, prob’ly. Sometimes I fink abou’ tryin’ to do a course, or somefing.’

‘Never too late,’ said Strike. ‘So there was a will, and Daiyu stood to get everything Graves had to leave?’

‘Yeah. I ’eard Mazu an’ my farver talkin’ abou’ it.’

‘Did he have much to give?’

‘Dunno. ’E looked like an ’obo, but ’is family was wealfy. They used to come an’ see ’im at the farm sometimes. The UHC weren’ as strict abou’ visitors then, people could still jus’ drive in. The Graves was posh. My farver ’ad Graves’ sister eatin’ out of ’is ’and. Chubby girl. My farver’d try an’ get in wiv anyone ’oo ’ad money.’

‘So after Daiyu died, your stepmother—’

‘Don’ call her that,’ said Abigail sharply. ‘I never use the word “muvver” for that bitch, not even wiv “step” in front of it.’

‘Sorry,’ said Strike. ‘Mazu, then – she presumably inherited all Graves had left?’

‘I s’pose,’ said Abigail, with a shrug. ‘I was shunted off to the Birming’am centre not long after Daiyu died. Mazu always ’ated the bloody sight of me, she wasn’ gonna let me stay if ’er daughter was dead. I ran away from the street in Birming’am when I was out collectin’ for the church. The day’s takings paid for a coach ticket to London an’ my mum’s mum. It’s ’er flat I live in now. She left it to me, bless ’er.’

‘How old were you when you left the church?’

‘Sixteen,’ said Abigail.

‘Have you had any contact with your father since?’

‘None,’ said Abigail, ‘which is jus’ the way I like it.’

‘He never tried to find you or contact you?’

‘No. I was a Deviate, wasn’ I? Thass what they call people that leave. He couldn’ ’ave a daughter ’oo was a Deviate, not the ’Ead of the Church. ’E was probably as ’appy to see the back of me as I was of ’im.’

Abigail drank more wine. Her pale cheeks were becoming pink.

‘Y’know,’ she said abruptly, ‘before the church, I liked ’im. Prob’ly loved ’im. I always liked being one of the lads, an’ ’e’d mess around wiv me, an’ chuck a ball around and whatever. ’E was cool wiv me being a tomboy and everyfing, but after Mazu, ’e changed. She’s a fuckin’ sociopath,’ said Abigail viciously, ‘an’ she changed ’im.’

Strike chose not to respond to this comment. He knew, of course, that alchemical changes of personality were possible under a strong influence, especially in those whose characters weren’t fully formed. However, by Abigail’s own account, Wace had been a charismatic, amoral chancer even when married to his first wife; his second, by the sounds of it, had merely been the ideal accomplice in his ascent to the status of Messiah.

‘’E started telling me off for all the stuff Mazu didn’ like about me,’ Abigail went on. ‘She told ’im I was boy mad. I was on’y eight. I just liked playing football… and then ’e told me I couldn’t call ’im “Dad” any more, I ’ad to say Papa J, like everyone else.

‘It’s a man’s world,’ said Abigail Glover, throwing back her head, ‘an’ women like Mazu, they know where the power is, an’ they play the game, they wanna make sure the men are ’appy, an’ then the men’ll let ’em ’ave a bit of power themselves. She made all the girls do… stuff she didn’t ’ave to do. She didn’ do it. She was up there’ Abigail raised one hand horizontally, as high as it would go, ‘an’ we were down there,’ she said, pointing at the floor. ‘She trod on all of us so she could be the fuckin’ queen.’

‘She felt differently about her own daughter, though?’ said Strike.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Abigail, taking another glug of wine. ‘Daiyu was a spoiled brat – but that don’ mean… what ’appened to ’er… it was bloody terrible. She was annoyin’, but – I was upset, too. Mazu didn’ fink I cared, but I did. It brought it all back, what ’appened to Mum, an’ all. I fuckin’ ’ate the sea,’ Abigail muttered. ‘Can’t even watch Pirates of the fuckin’ Caribbean.’

‘Would it be OK to go back over what happened to Daiyu?’ asked Strike. ‘I’ll understand if you’d rather not.’

‘We can, if you wan’,’ said Abigail, ‘but I was at the farm when it ’appened, so I can’ tell you much.’

Her tongue was much looser now. Strike guessed she hadn’t eaten anything between gym and pub: the wine was having a definite effect, large framed though she was.

‘Do you remember the girl who took Daiyu to the beach that morning?’