"Why weren't you worried about Leo parking his car in Shoebury Terrace if you thought your father was having him and Meg waitched?" asked the Superintendent.
She lifted her head to look at him and for the first time he understood some of the agonies she had been through. "I was. I tried to persuade him to leave it in Richmond but he wouldn't go along with it. He said that was taking the whole thing to ridiculous lengths. But you see, I knew what had been done to Russell and they didn't. I spent a nightmare week at the Hall, worrying myself sick. I made Leo phone every day to let me know they were all right and to make my family think everything was normal. Then he phoned on the Friday afternoon to say they were leaving thing the next morning, and it was safe to come back and make the announcements. And I thought, thank God, it's all over-I've made a complete idiot of myself, but I don't care." She held a handkerchief to her eyes. "I can't explain it because I don't believe in second sight or precognition, but I knew the minute Leo told me he wanted to marry Meg that they were going to die. It was like having cold water thrown over me." She looked wretchedly towards Alan. "So I put two and two together and came up with Adam, and if I hadn't, then maybe, just maybe, they'd still be alive."
"No," he said. "It would have made no difference. At least Adam was a terrifying enough prospect to force them to listen to you. They'd have been dead a week earlier otherwise."
She held out Simon's letter. "Except that I made them keep the secret," she said, "and that's why he killed them. It was the secrecy that made him do it."
"No," said Alan, who had read the letter before he took the two policemen to Jinx's room. "He was a very disturbed man. Jinx. It was his illness that made him do it, and nothing you could have done would have stopped that."
"The doctor's right, Miss Kingsley," said Superintendent Cheever. "The only person who might have guessed that Simon murdered Russell was Meg. She was closer to him than anyone else, in all conscience. If it never occurred to her to be afraid of him, then there's no reason why it should have occurred to you." He paused. "Did she ever show any fear of him?"
"Not in the way you mean. She's been afraid for him as long as I've known her. 'If only Simon were more like me,' she always said, 'he'd be okay.' She was worried that he was becoming a bit of a loner. He never seemed to have any friends. I remember her saying once, 'He never plays at anything except being a priest.' "
"Didn't it occur to her he might be ill?"
Her expression clouded. "She asked me once if I'd noticed anything odd about him, and I said: 'What sort of thing?' 'I think he pretends.' she said. 'I'm sure he hates our parents, Mother in particular, but he never says anything unkind about her or to her. I'm the exact opposite. I'm always rude about her because she's a square peg in a round hole and won't do anything to change it, but I'm actually quite fond of the old bag, and okay, Dad's a sanctiimonious old buzzard, but I wouldn't have him any different.' " She pressed her lips into a thin line to stem her tears. "She wondered if I'd ever got the impression that Simon hated them, but as I never had, she let it drop. I know she always thought he was far too withdrawn, but I think she put that down to religious fanaticism. I'm sure it never occurred to her that he had anything to do with Russell's death." She laced her fingers nervously. "Well, it never occurred to anyone."
"That's very clear-thank you. Let's move on. Tell us about the Sunday afternoon and this incident in your garage. What was that all about? Presumably the reference he makes in his letter to the birds having flown, and the phrase 'It was a secret but Simon made Jinx tell' had something to do with it?''
Her hands began to tremble so violently again that she gripped them in her lap until the knuckles shone white. "It's what he says. I told him where they were. He knew they'd left Hammersmith, you see, because Meg didn't answer the phone." She stared at Cheever in desperation. "It was-he thought they'd gone to France, but he made me-I was the only one who knew." She brought herself back under control with an effort. "He came after lunch to apologize for what Meg had done," she managed. "He said he'd prayed for me during services that morning but realized prayers weren't enough and he needed to come and commiserate in person. So I laughed"-her voice broke again-"and said there was nothing to commiserate about. I said if anyone needed commiseration it would be poor old Meg in a few months' time when she discovered she'd tied herself to a mean, self-serving bastard." She swallowed painfully. "I shouldn't have laughed. I think he guessed I'd known about it for a while. He was so angry-kept talking about secrets, called Meg a whore-" She lapsed into a long silence.
"What did he do then?" asked Frank gently.
She shook her head.
"I think it might be easier if I tell you," said Alan. "When he news came through yesterday that Simon was dead, Jinx told me as much as she could remember of what happened." He squatted down and pressed a warm, protective hand to the nape of her neck. "Would you like me to do that, Jinx?"
She looked into his face for a moment, then looked away again. Why couldn't he see what he was doing to her? She was far too emotionally disturbed to survive an Alan Protheroe undamaged. She wished he would take his hand away. She wished he would go to the other side of the room. Oh God, she wished- "If you're allowed to," she said curtly.
The Superintendent nodded. "I have no problem with that Doctor."
Alan straightened. "Then I think it's important you understand how terrifying it is to be confronted with an individual whom you've known for years as a mild-mannered nonentity, but who, without any warning at all, becomes dangerously psychotic. This was Jinx's experience that Sunday afternoon. It's difficult to say what Simon's diagnosis would have been if he'd ever been examined, but it seems clear that he was suffering from some very extreme paranoid disorder, probably of a sexual origin, either centered on his mother or his sister, or both. I think this hatred he had of God may well have been a more general hatred of any dominant male figure, because he seems to have seen the sexual act as a degenerate exercise. Only whores enjoyed it; therefore for a man to enjoy it, he must either employ whores or make respectable women miserable." He looked inquiringly at the Superintendent. "Which may have been something his mother instilled in him. If she persuaded him that nice women found sex disgusting, then he would have had a very ambivalent attitude towards it in later life, particularly if his adored sister flaunted her libido while he curbed his by choosing voluntary celibacy within the Anglo-Catholic church."
"His mother clearly has problems in that area but I doubt she set out deliberately to destroy her son."
"I'm sure she didn't, and I'm sure there were other factors involved. For example, he hated being laughed at. That seems to have been one of the triggers of his paranoia. It may have been why he chose to enter the church, because he was more likely to be taken seriously inside it than he was outside. Another clear trigger was secrecy. As long as he knew what was going on, or thought he did, he could keep his paranoia under control, but the minute he discovered he had good reason to be paranoid, then the control deserted him. It's interesting what close tabs he kept on everything. Jinx says he used to phone her or Josh quite regularly, and I suspect he continued to do that after Meg and Leo were dead. He certainly phoned me to try and find out what information I had." He rubbed his shoulder thoughtfully.
"One of the complicating factors of a paranoid disorder," he went on, "is that while it may impair your functioning on certain levels, particularly where relationships are concerned, your thinking remains clear and orderly and you can function normally within your job and the wider social environment. Which is why I told you it was important to recognize what Jinx was suddenly faced with that Sunday, and equally important that she recognize it too." He looked down at her bent head. "She's been terrified of Simon ever since she started to remember what happened, but I'm afraid she feels she didn't do enough to protect Meg and Leo, isn't that right, Jinx?" She didn't answer, and Fraser, for one, thought he was being surprisingly insensitive.