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‘Don’ you fink I should try’na to expose ’em? Write one of them bloody misery books? Well,’ she said, before Strike could respond, ‘they’ve got far better lawyers than I can afford on a fire fighter’s salary, an’ I get enough grief about the UHC, just from people like that arsehole knowing.’
She jabbed an angry finger at Baz, who was now standing alone at the bar.
‘I won’t be publicising anything,’ Strike assured her. ‘I only want to—’
‘Yeah, you said on the phone,’ she interrupted, ‘an’ I wanna say somefing about that Kevin Pirbright bloke what rang me. There was this one fing ’e said an’ it really bloody upset me.’
‘What was that?’
‘It was abou’ me mum,’ said Abigail, ‘an’ ’ow she died.’
‘How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?’ said Strike, though he already knew.
‘She drowned, off Cromer beach. She was epileptic. She ’ad a fit. We was swimming back to the beach, racin’ each other. I looked round when it was shallow enough, and I fort I’d won, but… she’d disappeared.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Strike, ‘that sounds extremely traumatic. How old were you?’
‘Seven. But that bloody Kevin guy, on the phone…’e wanted me to say my father drowned ’er.’
Abigail drained her glass before saying forcefully,
‘’S not true. My farver wasn’ even in the water when it ’appened, ’e was buying ice cream. He come sprintin’ back when ’e ’eard me screamin’. ’E an’ anuvver man dragged Mum back onto the sand. Dad tried to give her mouf-to-mouf, but it was too late.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Strike again.
‘When Pirbright said Dad killed ’er… it was like ’e was taking somefing… it’s about the only good fing I’ve ever ’ad to ’old onto, from before Chapman Farm, that they loved each ovver, an’ if I ’aven’t got that, then it’s all shit, you know?’
‘Yes,’ said Strike, who’d had to work so hard to hold onto the good in his memories of his own mother, ‘I do.’
‘Pirbright kept sayin’, “’E killed her, didn’ ’e? ’E did, didn’ ’e?” An’ I was saying, “No, ’e fuckin’ didn’” an’ I ended up telling ’im to fuck off and I ’ung up. It shook me right up, ’im finding me and ringing me at work,’ said Abigail, with an air of faint surprise at her own reaction. ‘I ’ad a couple of really bad days, after.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Strike.
‘’E said ’e’d been dropped by ’is publisher. Seemed to fink, if I give ’im enough gory details, ’e’d be able to get another deal. You’ve read ’is book, ’ave you?’
‘There isn’t one,’ said Strike.
‘What?’ said Abigail, frowning. ‘Was ’e lying?’
‘No, but his laptop was stolen, presumably by his killer.’
‘Oh… yeah. I ’ad the police call me, after ’e got shot. They’d found the station number in ’is room. I didn’ understand at first. I fort ’e’d shot ’imself. ’E sounded weird on the phone. Unstable. Then I seen in the paper ’e was dealing drugs.’
‘That’s what the police think,’ said Strike.
‘It’s ev’rywhere,’ said Abigail. ‘That’s the on’y fing the UHC gets right, no drugs. I’ve dragged enough junkies outta shitholes they set on fire by accident, I should know.’
She glanced around. Baz was still standing at the bar.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Strike.
‘Oh. Cheers,’ she said, surprised.
When Strike returned with a fresh glass of wine, she thanked him, then said,
‘So ’ow d’you know abou’ these allegations ’e made about the church, if there was no book?’
‘Pirbright was emailing our client. D’you mind if I take notes?’
