Blood Substitute (31 page)

Sufficient progress had been made with investigations into Lazlo Ivers – who was recovering from the bullet wound to the shoulder – and his cronies to ensure that most of them were still behind bars awaiting trial for various offences. Ivers' DNA had been discovered at Cliff Morley's flat, Exhibit A being the partially eaten Mars bar. More damning as far as Ivers was concerned was the discovery of sundry weapons, including an antique silver ‘ritual' knife hidden beneath the floor of a garage at his rather smart semi-detached house in Wimbledon. This had traces of dried blood in the engraved haft, Morley's and Madderly Ritter's DNA having so far been identified therein.

Some of the others at the ‘AGM', as I preferred to call it, were senior members of other gangs throughout the West Country and they had subsequently been parcelled out to various forces who were, one hoped, grilling them medium-rare in order to learn about their friends. Some of the names were, in anagram form, contained in the information on the CD ROMs on which Miss Dean had been working. Michael Greenway was continuing to put her analytical mind to further good use on a part-time basis.

‘That's better!' Elspeth exclaimed when we walked through the front door of the rectory, her gaze on her son. ‘I mean, I'm not a racist or anything but you do need your children to stay roughly the way they were born.'

‘So how's the job?' John asked a little later when we were having drinks before dinner. ‘Are you going to carry on with it?' He was addressing Patrick as neither he nor Elspeth are aware of my deep involvement, although I am sure the latter has more than a suspicion. She never mentions it.

‘For the foreseeable future,' his son answered. ‘I simply can't keep chopping and changing.'

‘Perhaps this is one of the last times we'll all sit around the dining-room table,' John said sadly.

‘Surely not!' I protested.

‘It's too big to fit into one of those little bungalows the diocese want us to live in down the road. We'll have to sell it together with a lot of the other furniture – unless you can use it.'

Elspeth said, ‘We've decided to carry on in the village for a while. The news has got out, goodness knows how, and people are really upset and have been begging John not to retire yet. So we'll stay until he really feels he can't go on.' She frowned. ‘At least it's not right next door. I think I should hate that – being able to see people doing horrible things to my garden.'

‘It's going on the market next month,' John told us.

‘No, it isn't,' Patrick said. ‘The place has already been sold by private treaty.'

‘Oh!' Elspeth gasped. ‘How do you know?'

‘I've been in contact with the Church Commissioners.'

‘When do we have to move out?'

‘You don't. I'm buying it. That's what we've come to tell you.'

Whereupon his mother burst into tears.

‘But how can you possibly afford to?' she asked when she had calmed down her delight a little. ‘That's if you don't mind my asking.'

‘Our house is up for sale and I did a bit of successful wrangling about this one. After all, they won't have to fund a new rectory for a while. And, as you're well aware, there's a dreadful shortage of clergy in the diocese.'

‘You're all going to move here! But there are only three bedrooms and a box room!' Elspeth exclaimed.

‘And a stable and large garage we don't really need that could be converted into accommodation for you and Dad with another couple of bedrooms over the top. There's room for a conservatory that could double as a sitting room and the present kitchen could be extended into that disused coal shed to give an area where the children could have their computer and do their homework. Ingrid and I and the children will have to live in a rented house while the work's being done.' He grinned at me. ‘And Ingrid'll write a load more books to pay for it all.'

‘We have money saved up,' Elspeth said. ‘Not nearly enough to buy this house, of course, but we can help with the cost of the extensions.'

‘That's to fund your retirement home on Sark.'

‘We're not going. We've just sold the building plot. It would have been too far away and we would have hardly ever seen you or our friends.' She beamed. ‘Perhaps we could stay and live here with you.'

We saved the other piece of news until last. The matter of the question mark.

That's what we called him: Mark.