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Authors: Phil Rickman
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Darren. And “You’re gettin’ a warnin’ tonight”.’
‘How did Jumbo know that it really was Lodge who slashed his tyres? Could’ve been pure coincidence, couldn’t it?’
Gomer snorted. ‘Put it together, vicar. Darren says he en’t stable. Somebody tells Lodge Gomer Parry Plant Hire’s been on his patch, Lodge goes straight round there and leans on Darren. Then he’s on the phone trying to put the frighteners on Mrs Pawson, only she’s in London…’
‘Didn’t Jumbo take it any further?’
‘Vicar, we en’t talkin’ about bloody Peter Marlowe yere. No, he didn’t take it no further. He backed off. What he says to me, he says, “Mess with Lodge, Gomer, you en’t dealin’ with a normal human being n’more.” ’
‘In what way?’
‘Mental, vicar. Lost it, blown it. Works on his own all night sometimes – been witnessed. Fires from the bloody hip when he feels threatened. And he en’t scared what he does. Feels he’s… nobody can touch him.’
‘Invulnerable.’
Ar. Met that type a few times.’
Gomer
, you
are that type
, Merrily thought dismally.
‘ “You’re pushin’ seventy, Gomer,” Jumbo says, “and Roddy Lodge en’t even forty. Don’t be a bloody hero.” ’
‘That was tonight?’
‘In the Swan.’
‘Look…’ Merrily sensed his absolute certainty and turned to face him, an arm around the wheel. ‘I accept that the guy’s erratic, possibly a little unhinged. I realize you were right to tell the police, and I think you should tell them again tomorrow.
I
’ll tell them.’ She turned the key in the ignition. ‘Tomorrow, though. Let’s just… go home now.’
She let out the clutch and the van lurched into the empty road. Gomer was silent for a while. Merrily considered the possibility that, in his state of desolation, he was simply demonizing Roddy Lodge. What little evidence there was still pointed at poor Nev.
‘He knows they en’t there, see,’ Gomer said after a couple of minutes. ‘These Pawsons. Knows they en’t there ’cept weekends. Plus, he likely knowed we was coming to take out this Efflapure come the morning. Her said her was gonner tell him, right?’
‘Sorry… what are you getting at?’
‘Suppose he was plannin’ to go for that tank ’isself, meantime?’
‘Gomer, for… Why would he do that?’
‘Keep his good name, ennit? Small county, vicar. Man like that couldn’t live with folk knowin’ Gomer Parry Plant Hire had come and took away his fancy tank on account he’d put it in the wrong place and it weren’t needed anyway. Plus, also – I just figured this – we’d have one to look at, then, wouldn’t we? We’d all know what a piece of ole junk it was. Suppose he was makin’ sure we couldn’t do that job at all, by torchin’ the shed, destroyin’ the gear? Listen, I en’t sayin’ he knowed Nev was in there. I en’t sayin’ that… yet.’
‘Gomer, I know this has been a… an unimaginably awful thing to happen, but is that even vaguely—?’
‘Meanwhile he comes for the Efflapure ’isself under cover of dark, just to be sure. Knowing he got the place to ’isself…’
‘Is that entirely rational?’
‘He en’t a rational man, vicar. If he’s done the job tonight, if he’s been and took the Efflapure, that’s evidence.’
‘Possibly. If the Pawsons stick to their story.’
‘Don’t matter if they don’t, vicar, we got it on tape on the machine.’
‘Yes. I suppose you have.’ Merrily drove slowly into Eardisley, the first village on the black-and-white tourist trail which ended up eventually in Ledwardine. At night – all dark oak, whitewash and shadows – the village shed centuries and the car-dealer’s showroom right in the centre looked surreal.
‘Seventeen, mabbe eighteen,’ Gomer said. ‘No more’n twenty.’
‘What?’
‘Miles.’
Merrily sighed. ‘To this Pawson place, right?’
‘No traffic in Hereford, mind. Say half an hour, max?’
‘And what are we going
‘How did Jumbo know that it really was Lodge who slashed his tyres? Could’ve been pure coincidence, couldn’t it?’
Gomer snorted. ‘Put it together, vicar. Darren says he en’t stable. Somebody tells Lodge Gomer Parry Plant Hire’s been on his patch, Lodge goes straight round there and leans on Darren. Then he’s on the phone trying to put the frighteners on Mrs Pawson, only she’s in London…’
‘Didn’t Jumbo take it any further?’
‘Vicar, we en’t talkin’ about bloody Peter Marlowe yere. No, he didn’t take it no further. He backed off. What he says to me, he says, “Mess with Lodge, Gomer, you en’t dealin’ with a normal human being n’more.” ’
‘In what way?’
‘Mental, vicar. Lost it, blown it. Works on his own all night sometimes – been witnessed. Fires from the bloody hip when he feels threatened. And he en’t scared what he does. Feels he’s… nobody can touch him.’
‘Invulnerable.’
Ar. Met that type a few times.’
Gomer
, you
are that type
, Merrily thought dismally.
‘ “You’re pushin’ seventy, Gomer,” Jumbo says, “and Roddy Lodge en’t even forty. Don’t be a bloody hero.” ’
‘That was tonight?’
‘In the Swan.’
‘Look…’ Merrily sensed his absolute certainty and turned to face him, an arm around the wheel. ‘I accept that the guy’s erratic, possibly a little unhinged. I realize you were right to tell the police, and I think you should tell them again tomorrow.
I
’ll tell them.’ She turned the key in the ignition. ‘Tomorrow, though. Let’s just… go home now.’
She let out the clutch and the van lurched into the empty road. Gomer was silent for a while. Merrily considered the possibility that, in his state of desolation, he was simply demonizing Roddy Lodge. What little evidence there was still pointed at poor Nev.
‘He knows they en’t there, see,’ Gomer said after a couple of minutes. ‘These Pawsons. Knows they en’t there ’cept weekends. Plus, he likely knowed we was coming to take out this Efflapure come the morning. Her said her was gonner tell him, right?’
‘Sorry… what are you getting at?’
‘Suppose he was plannin’ to go for that tank ’isself, meantime?’
‘Gomer, for… Why would he do that?’
‘Keep his good name, ennit? Small county, vicar. Man like that couldn’t live with folk knowin’ Gomer Parry Plant Hire had come and took away his fancy tank on account he’d put it in the wrong place and it weren’t needed anyway. Plus, also – I just figured this – we’d have one to look at, then, wouldn’t we? We’d all know what a piece of ole junk it was. Suppose he was makin’ sure we couldn’t do that job at all, by torchin’ the shed, destroyin’ the gear? Listen, I en’t sayin’ he knowed Nev was in there. I en’t sayin’ that… yet.’
‘Gomer, I know this has been a… an unimaginably awful thing to happen, but is that even vaguely—?’
‘Meanwhile he comes for the Efflapure ’isself under cover of dark, just to be sure. Knowing he got the place to ’isself…’
‘Is that entirely rational?’
‘He en’t a rational man, vicar. If he’s done the job tonight, if he’s been and took the Efflapure, that’s evidence.’
‘Possibly. If the Pawsons stick to their story.’
‘Don’t matter if they don’t, vicar, we got it on tape on the machine.’
‘Yes. I suppose you have.’ Merrily drove slowly into Eardisley, the first village on the black-and-white tourist trail which ended up eventually in Ledwardine. At night – all dark oak, whitewash and shadows – the village shed centuries and the car-dealer’s showroom right in the centre looked surreal.
‘Seventeen, mabbe eighteen,’ Gomer said. ‘No more’n twenty.’
‘What?’
‘Miles.’
Merrily sighed. ‘To this Pawson place, right?’
‘No traffic in Hereford, mind. Say half an hour, max?’
‘And what are we going
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