"Have you made that public?" asked Jinx, in a detached tone of voice, as though she didn't care what the answer was.
"About the key ring? No. It's been a low-priority investigation because the prostitutes didn't want to talk."
"What are the chances of this man still having the key ring on him?"
"Pretty good, I would think."
Jinx closed her eyes suddenly, and Blake thought she saw tears on the lashes. "I gave mine away," she said in an unsteady voice. "I didn't think there was much to celebrate, not after my father lost his temper. In any case, he paid for it, and I made a vow a long time ago never to accept anything from him again." She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids before lowering them to look at the young policewoman. "The irony is, when I gave it away I said 'I hope it brings you luck.' " She ran her tongue round dry lips. "But I think the luck must have stayed with me."
"Who did you give it to, Miss Kingsley?"
"A vicar. He's Anglo-Catholic and he said the F could stand for Father. Father Harris. He has a parish in a village called Frampton. He's better-looking than Miles," she said in a strained voice, "but they aren't unalike. Simon's thinner and not so dark. His sister confused them once, so you mustn't blame the prostitutes for getting it wrong."
Blake listened to the tremors in her voice. "Would the sister be Meg Harris? Your friend who was murdered?"
"Yes."
"Did this Simon have something to do with that?"
Jinx's eyes grew huge. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said. "I'm so sorry."
Blake moved her feet rapidly as vomit sprayed across the carpet.
THE VICARAGE, FRAMPTON, HAMPSHIRE-12:25 P.M.
Blake drew to a halt beside the other police car and switched off her engine. "What's going on?" she called to a uniformed copper by the front door. "Is the vicar in there?"
"Not as far as I know."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Last I heard, he was stinking to high heaven of roast pork on Stoney Bassett airfield."
To whom it may concern:
I don't believe in God but I have stood with the Host in my hand every Sunday and professed belief on behalf of others. I wonder sometimes if it would have been different if I had believed, but I don't think so. If God exists, He had no power to change what He had ordained, that I must be brother to Meg. There is no greater torment than to love a woman you can't have.
People will say I am mad. Perhaps I am. Yet it's a strange madness that brings meaning to the actions men say are wicked and confusion to those they condone. They say I'm a good priest, yet I stumble in black night before the altar of God's flesh and blood, and only see clearly when Man's flesh and blood is warm between my hands. Then I understand that sacrifice is necessary if the dark rooms of the mind are to be cleansed, for purpose takes over and what I do becomes inevitable. I am alive. I see truth.
It starts again CONFUSION
Meg became a WHORE but I knew why and forgave her. She said, better a generous whore than a spiteful wife. She was open and honest and hid nothing from me. There was no love only physical gratification and excitement, until
SECRECY
terrible uncertainty - where is god - god sleeps - but not Russell. Russell laughs and his laugh breaks into my head, smashing my brains - smashing - smashing Meg loves
russell simon hates god
Remembering is painful. I understand why Jinx prefers to forget. I have always hated Jinx. She made Meg jealous. What were Leo and Russell to my sister till Jinx made them desirable? Nothing. Little men of little worth, unJinxed. She turned them into gods and sent them back to Meg. With Jinx there is always
secrecy & SPITE unJinxed Meg is an honest whore
confusion again. Awful, terrible danger danger danger forget, forget whores young whores old whores You're wicked where's my hairbrush naughty boy smack smack I hope that hurts don't you look at your sister like that again wicked
wicked wicked
Where are they? Not in Hammersmith. The birds have flown because Jinx made them it was a SECRET but simon made Jinx tell kill kill kill - no WEAPON
god loves Jinx - miracles for her not for simon
she is SAVED
she follows simon to leo's house and simon says god's will be done amen But why does god save Jinx? Three times simon tried to kill her and three times god saved her. He didn't save Meg or Leo. They tried to save themselves with
lies
you don 't want the cat to die, Simon you love the cat let me go to hammersmith and feed the cat let the cat live the cat's imprisoned she means leo leo's imprisoned in simon's boot dead already like jinx imprisoned in a box in chelsea, buried alive in her coffin, dead if Meg disobeys
no one sees no one hears she begs for life too late too late please SIMON pretty please simon
simon says NO
forget forget forget forget forget forget forget forget
forget
simon says sorry
epilogue
FRIDAY, 1st JULY, THE NIGHTINGALE CLINIC, SALISBURY-11:00 A.M.
Detective Superintendent Cheever and DS Fraser waited in silence while Jinx read the letter that Simon Harris had left behind on his desk before setting out to take his own life. It was a chilling document, not least because the sickness it revealed was echoed nowhere else in his house, except perhaps in a single cassock which, although it had been cleaned, still showed positive where blood had splattered the front. Despite this and the letter, however, there was considerable unease about Simon's suicide, particularly in respect of the open petrol cans that had turned his car into a fireball, destroying all chance of forensic analysis, and the extraordinary order in his life that was in such contrast to the apparent disorder in his mind.
The police had not been able to discover a single parishioner in Frampton who found their vicar's homicidal tendencies even halfway credible. "He was a sweet man." "Nothing was ever much trouble for him." "Father Harris wouldn't hurt a fly." "He was the hardest-working priest we've ever had."
There was circumstantial evidence to show that he had been absent from the vicarage from lunchtime on Sunday, June 12, to the morning of Tuesday, June 14, but it hardly stood up to close scrutiny. "I noticed Simon's car wasn't outside on the Sunday or Monday night," said his next-door neighbor, "but he used to park it in his garage sometimes, so it may have been in there. I don't remember seeing him after morning service, but that wasn't unusual. We're busy people and we don't keep track of each other's movements. The car was certainly there on Tuesday morning. I had a form for him to sign and I had to walk round it to reach the front door. No, I didn't notice anything odd about him. He was in his usual good spirits."
Caroline Harris, quite destroyed by the disasters that had overtaken her family, swore that Simon had been with her and Charles on the Sunday and Monday night. She also claimed that he had been staying with them on June 27th when Dr. Protheroe was attacked. But when her husband was asked later to corroborate these stories he shook his head. "No," he said quietly, "I'm afraid neither is true." He had read his son's letter without obvious emotion and handed it back to Cheever with a request that his wife should never see it. "I blame myself," he said. "I should have realized how damaging it was to grow up in a house where the sexual act was viewed as something degrading and disgusting. Selfishly, I thought it was only I who was affected, but clearly. Meg confused it with love and Simon confused it with hate."