"Yes, well, do something with the flaming thing before it goes off again." He watched Fred take the gun, break it open and remove the second cartridge. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Barnes, get up and stop belly-aching. You're damn lucky Dr. Maybury had the good sense to keep the barrel down." He hauled him to his feet and snapped on the handcuffs. "You're under arrest. Constable Williams will read you your rights."
The boy was still sobbing. "He tried to kill me."
"There's gratitude for you," said Paddy, shaking plaster from his hair. "Jon nearly blows his own foot off to protect the little scum and all he can do is accuse him." He looked at Jonathan's stricken face, saw the obvious danger signals, and glanced across at Fred with a Gary Lineker finger to eye gesture.
Calmly Fred took the boy's arm and steered him towards the door into the hall. "I suggest we check on the rest of the house, sir. I don't like the idea of Miss Cattrell alone upstairs." He closed the door firmly behind them.
Half an hour, thought McLoughlin, and it seemed more like a year. He smoothed the stubble on his jaw and stared thoughtfully at the young constable. "I can't help you, Gavin. You're a good copper and it's not my place to tell you what to do. You must make your own decision."
The young man glanced through the drawing-room door where Fred was helping Phoebe restore order. "I agreed to do the patrols with you because of him and the old lady really. They're decent folks. Seemed wrong to abandon them to yobbos."
"I agree," said McLoughlin dryly.
He frowned. "If you want my opinion, the Chief Inspector's got some explaining to do on this one. You should hear what Molly has to say about when she and Fred first came here. The house had been totally vandalised. Mrs. Maybury and the two kids were living in one bedroom which Miss Cattrell and the lad, Jonathan, had managed to clean up. According to Molly, Mrs. Maybury and Jane were so shell-shocked by the whole thing they didn't know if they were coming or going. Molly says you could still smell the piss even after three months, and the mould on the tomato ketchup had started to grow inwards, into the walls. It took them weeks to scrub the place clean. What's the Chief got against them, Sarge? Why wouldn't he believe them?"
Because, thought McLoughlin, he couldn't afford to. It was Walsh himself who, all those years ago, had created the climate of hate in which this woman and her two young children could be terrorised. For him, and for whatever reason, Phoebe had always been guilty, and his prolonged and hostile hounding of her had led inevitably to others meting out justice when he failed to prove it himself. "He's a small man, Gavin," was all he said.
"Well, I don't like it and I'm going to say something. It's not what I joined the Force for. I asked Molly why they didn't call the police in when it happened, and do you know what she said? 'Because madam knew better than to ask help from the enemy.' " He scuffed his foot shyly against the floor. "I'm planning to take Molly and Fred around and about a bit, no fuss, nothing like that, but I'd like them to know we're not all enemies."
McLoughlin smiled down on the bent head. If Williams wanted to wrap up his affection in the guise of community policing, that was fine with him. "I'm told she makes a damn good lardy cake."
"Bloody brilliant!" The young eyes sparkled. "You should try some."
"I will." He pushed the lad towards the front door and the waiting cars. "It won't do Eddie and his mates any harm to spend the night in a police cell, so book 'em and lock ' em up. If Mrs. Maybury wants to press charges in the morning, then we'll fill out all the sheets then. But I don't think she will. She laid the first stone of a bridge this evening."
"And Barnes?"
"Keep him on ice for me. I'll be in first thing tomorrow morning. I'll take his statement myself. And Gavin?"
"Yes?"
"He would have talked anyway. He couldn't have resisted it. He's too arrogant to keep quiet for long. You'll see. Tomorrow, without any pressure from me, he'll give us the whole works."
A weight seemed to drop from the lad's shoulders. "Yeah. Anything else I should do?"
"Bell his parents in a couple of hours, three o'clock, say, tell them we're holding their son, and get them down to the Station. But, whatever you do, don't let them talk to him. Keep them waiting through the dark hours till I get there. Just tell them he's confessed to ten years of persecution. I want them softened up."
Williams looked doubtful. "You'll never get a prosecution after ten years, will you?"
"No." McLoughlin grinned. "But for a few hours, I can sure as hell make them think I will."
Paddy was another who took his leave reluctantly. "You'll have to come out of retreat now," he told Phoebe and Diana. "One way and another the door's been forced. It's a damn good thing too. It's time you made a bit of an effort. Come down to the pub tomorrow. It's as good a place as any to start." He shook hands with McLoughlin. "Jack in the job, Andy, and join me in starting a brewery. It'll need a strong hand at the helm."
"I don't know the first thing about brewing."
"I wouldn"t want you for your brewing skills. That's my province. Organise the business, find me customers, get me whole thing rolling. You'd be good at that. I need someone I can trust."
McLoughlin grinned. "You mean someone Customs and Excise trusts? You're too anarchic for me, Paddy. I'd be a nervous wreck in three months, trying to remember what I was supposed to be hiding."
Paddy gave a roar of laughter and punched him on the shoulder. "Think about it, old son. I enjoy your company." He left.
Jonathan had retreated to an armchair where he sat in embarrassed silence, studiously avoiding everyone's gaze. His anger had long since abated and he was desperately trying to come to terms with what he had done to Peter Barnes. He could find no excuses for his violence. Fred coughed politely. "If there's nothing more I can do, madam," he said to Phoebe, "I'll be heading back to the Lodge. The wife and young Jane will be wondering how we got on." Jane had been sleeping at the Lodge with Molly for the past few nights while Fred patrolled the grounds with McLoughlin and PC Williams.
"Oh, Fred," said Phoebe with genuine contrition, "I'm so sorry. I am so sorry. I never really thought you were one of them. It was the shock. You do believe that, don't you? I'll take you down for your tetanus tomorrow."
Fred looked at his bandaged hand, washed, disinfected, cried over and dressed by Phoebe and Diana amidst a welter of apology. "I think, madam," he said severely, "that if one more word is said on this matter I shall be forced to give in my notice. I can stand a lot of things, but I can't stand fuss. Is that understood? Good. Now, if you will excuse me?"
"I'll drive you," said Phoebe immediately.
"I'd rather the young doctor drove me, if that's all right. There's something I'd like his opinion on."
The door closed behind them.
Phoebe turned away to hide the dampness in her eyes. "God broke the mould after He made Fred and Molly," she said gruffly. "They never deserved any of this and yet they've stuck with us through thick and thin. I've made up my mind, Di," she went on fiercely, "I will brave that wretched pub tomorrow. Someone's got to make the first move and it might as well be me. Fred's been going there for years and no one, apart from Paddy, ever talks to him. I'm damn well going to do something about it."
Diana looked at her friend's, furious face. "What, for instance? Hold your shotgun on them till they agree to talk?"
Phoebe laughed. "No. I am going to let bygones be bygones."
"Well, in that case, I'll come with you." She looked at McLoughlin. "Can we do that? It's all over now, isn't it? The Inspector was very curt over the phone but he seems to have absolved us."
He nodded. "Yes, you're absolved."
"Was it suicide?" asked Phoebe.
"I doubt it. He was a confused old man whose memories of Streech survived all his other memories. I think he made his way back here, looking for somewhere to die."