Page 122 of The Mercy Chair

‘Don’t be so ungrateful, Poe.’

He pointed at some brown things sitting on top of what looked like tomatoes, carrots and weeds. They were the shape and colour of small onion bhajis, but he doubted he’d be that lucky. ‘What are those things?’

‘Falafels, Poe. They’re made from ground chickpeas. They’re an excellent source of fibre.’

He opened the lid and sniffed the tub’s contents. ‘They look like dog balls.’ He picked one up and nibbled on it. ‘Next,’ he said, passing the tub to Linus.

‘Oh, give it here,’ Bradshaw said, her face splitting into a grin. ‘That’s not really what I bought you.’ She reached into her bag again and pulled out a brown paper bag. It had the most gorgeous-looking grease stains. She passed it across. ‘I had to get Linus to buy this, Poe. The smell at the hot food counter was making me feel ill.’

Poe peered into the bag and breathed out in relief. It was an honest-to-goodness, no-frills butcher’s pork pie. Chopped pork, salty jelly and thick, crunchy pastry. He took a bite and sighed in satisfaction. He hadn’t realised just how hungry he was.

‘You do realise that every pork pie you eat takes scientifically measurable time off your expected life span, Poe?’ Bradshaw said.

Poe looked at the CSI investigators, the detectives, the rest of the cops in the gymnasium. Decided he didn’t like what he saw. ‘Is there any way to speed up the process?’ he said.

Bradshaw didn’t answer. She was munching on her weird salad and checking her emails. She looked OK, better than he felt. He wished she hadn’t had to watch a single second of those videos, but now that she had he at least knew the tapes were genuine. If she said they hadn’t been tampered with, they hadn’t been tampered with.

Poe jumped down from the stage. The basement was beneath his feet and he didn’t want to be near it any more. The night was still warm, the main hall was getting stuffy and he needed some fresh air. Eating a pork pie under the last of the night’s stars might lift his spirits. In fact, even thethoughtof eating a pie under the stars lifted his spirits. He started singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ on his way out, loud enough that if Joshua was nearby he’d be sure to hear.

He reached the gymnasium exit just as he got to the part about life seeming jolly rotten. He stopped and looked at his feet. He muttered to himself then turned around and marched back down the hall. When he got to the crucifix on the stage, ignoring the open-mouthed Bradshaw and Linus, he turned round and started singing again, to himself this time, as he walked back out. He reached the exit at the jolly rotten bit again.

‘That’s weird,’ he said.

Chapter 108

‘I’m not convinced, Poe,’ Nightingale said. ‘If I do what you’re asking on the basis of a Monty Python song I’m going to end up as a cautionary tale on the National Investigators’ Exam.’

‘I’m telling you, ma’am,’ Poe insisted, ‘when I walked the length of the main hall I got to the jolly rotten bit of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life”. When I was in the basement with Joshua, I only got to the line about life’s gristle. I know it’s not a scientific way of measuring distance—’

‘What, really?’

‘But I’m telling you – even taking the stage into account, the basement is at least ten feet shorter in length than the gymnasium.’

‘It could have been built that way.’

Instead of responding, Poe pressed his hand against the basement wall. The mortar was smooth and the bricks were cherry-red. Not the pale red of bricks that had been weathered by time, these were the same colour they’d have been on the day they were baked. The question was: when had they been laid – at the same time as the three other walls in the basement, or was this wall newer? Poe thought a different brickie had laid these ones, but he was wise enough to know that could be confirmation bias.

Nightingale ran her hands through her hair, damp with sweat, her resolve weakening. ‘We’d need to measure it properly,’ she said.

‘Of course.’

‘And we’ll need a structural engineer to do an assessment before we can remove so much as one brick.’

‘That’s very sensible.’

‘Which will take at least three days.’

‘Maybe even longer,’ Poe said.

Nightingale turned on her heels and said to the men and women in the basement, ‘OK, everyone out. Get some fresh air while I make a couple of phone calls.’ She followed her staff but turned at the bottom of the stairs. She gave Poe a look. It was only fleeting, but it was the look he’d been expecting.

As soon as she’d left, Poe grabbed one of the sledgehammers the CSI techs had used to break up the concrete floor.

‘Whatever are you doing, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked.

‘What’s it look like I’m doing, Tilly?’

‘It looks like you’re about to knock down that wall. But I know that can’t be true as Superintendent Nightingale has just left to make sure we have permission.’

---