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‘Felt sorry for her, did you?’
Robin glanced back at Carrie Curtis Woods’ house, then said,
‘I just don’t feel comfortable hanging around here. Shall we buy some food and eat in the car? We can pull over once we’re out of Thornbury.’
‘OK, as long as there’s plenty of food.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Robin, switching on the engine, ‘I remember your theory that nothing eaten on a car journey contains calories.’
‘Exactly. Got to make the most of these opportunities.’
So they purchased food on the High Street, got back into the Land Rover and headed out of Thornbury. After five minutes, Strike said,
‘This’ll do. Pull in by that church.’
Robin turned up Greenhill Road and parked beside the graveyard.
‘You got pork pies?’ said Robin, looking into the bag.
‘Problem?’
‘Not at all. Just wishing I’d brought biscuits in the first place.’
Strike took a few satisfying bites of his first pie before saying,
‘So: Carrie.’
‘Well,’ said Robin, who was eating a cheese sandwich, ‘there’s something off, isn’t there? Very off.’
‘Where d’you want to start?’
‘The dormitory,’ said Robin. ‘She was very worried talking about all of that: Daiyu going out of the window, the fact that there should have been two adults in the room, the special drinks. Whereas when she got to the drowning—’
‘Yeah, that all came out very fluently. ’Course, she’s told that story multiple times; practice makes perfect…’
The pair sat in silence for a moment or two, before Strike said,
‘“The night before”.’
‘What?’
‘Kevin Pirbright wrote it on his bedroom wall: the night before.’
‘Oh… well, yes. Why did all this stuff happen, the night before?’
‘And you know what else needs explaining? Reaney oversleeping. There’s something very fishy there. How did Carrie know he wasn’t going to turn up?’
‘Maybe she gave him a special drink, too? Or special food?’
‘Very good point,’ said Strike, reaching for his notebook.
‘But where did she get stuff in enough quantities to drug all these people, when she never went shopping and didn’t have access to cash?’
‘Someone must’ve been going out shopping, unless the church farms its own bog rolls and washing powder,’ Strike pointed out. ‘Delivery services weren’t nearly as common in ninety-five.’
‘True, but – oh, hang on,’ said Robin, struck by a sudden idea. ‘She might not have needed to buy drugs. What if whatever she used was grown there?’
‘Herbs, you mean?’
