Page 89 of The Mercy Chair

Eve shrugged. ‘But she killed Aaron, Sergeant Poe. I don’t care what grievances she had with Mum and Dad, Aaron was a sweet, gentle boy. He worshipped the ground Bethany stood on and he didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t deserve any—’

A banging noise made her stop. It came from Eve’s basement and sounded like something hard and hollow had fallen on to something harder and hollower.

‘That’s Thomas,’ Eve explained. ‘We have a short break coming up and he’s sorting through our camping equipment.’

‘He’s not working today?’

‘Heneverworks on jam day. He claims it’s in case I burn myself, but really it’s an excuse to taste everything while it’s warm.’ She frowned. ‘I’d better go and make sure he’s OK.’

She disappeared, returning less than a minute later.

‘He’s fine,’ she said. ‘He’ll be up in a bit. Says he wants to meet you. I suspect he also wants to try the vanilla peach and whisky. I’ll get us all a coffee.’

‘Not for us, Eve,’ Poe said. ‘We’ll say hello to your husband but we need to get away. We have a meeting nearby and we don’t want to keep anyone waiting.’

‘Of course.’

Eve’s husband was wearing a cardigan with mismatched buttons and a pair of faded green corduroys. Reading glasses hung from a chain around his neck. He had a sharp nose and full lips. His hair was combed and parted to the side. He was around the same age as his wife.

‘I’m Thomas Gruffud,’ he said, reaching across the kitchen table to shake their hands.

‘Everything OK down there?’ Poe said, pointing to the basement entrance. ‘We heard a bang.’

‘Ah, yes. I’m afraid that was just me dropping the tent pegs. Made quite the din.’

‘Eve tells me you’re a graphic designer in Preston?’

‘For a few years now.’

‘Anything I might have seen?’

‘Not unless you’re familiar with French banking law, Sergeant Poe. I lead the team that designs websites, logos and marketing materials for the Bank of France. Last year I redesigned the font they use on their stationery. I’m afraid that must seem rather dull compared to what you do.’

‘Not at all,’ Poe lied.

Eve walked up behind her husband and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed the side of his head and said, ‘Thomas is being predictably modest, Sergeant Poe. He’s been heading up the company’s most important accounts for years now. Without him thereisno company.’

Thomas reddened but didn’t contradict his wife.

‘Have you always enjoyed camping?’ Poe asked.

‘No, not always,’ he replied. ‘But as I get older, I find that a digital detox does wonders for my work. It reboots my mind. Reminds me why I got into graphic design in the first place.’

‘You and Eve have talked about my previous visit?’

He nodded. ‘We have. You believe her sister might be up to her old tricks.’

‘It’s one of a number of lines of enquiry. I don’t suppose I can convince you both to leave the county for a while?’

‘Well, weareheading into the Lakes for a small break, but that’s been planned for a couple of months,’ Thomas said. ‘My wife doesn’t believe she’s in any danger from Bethany, Sergeant Poe.’

‘And what do you believe?’

‘I believe my wife.’ He glanced over Poe’s shoulder at the pots bubbling on the large range. ‘Anyway,’ he added, standing up, ‘we can’t leave now; it’s summer jam week.’

Chapter 78

All Saints Church was a Grade I Listed building on the outskirts of Kendal. It had a tower, a long nave and a large, well-maintained graveyard. Poe had passed it many times but never had any reason to visit. A hard-boiled woman waited for them by the wooden lychgate.

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