Ally handed out coffees. Orzsak shook his head so Shaw took his. The liquid was hot, gritty, and pungent. Shaw was always astonished at how such a simple thing could make him feel a splinter of joy, even here.
Kennedy stood watching the men sleep.
‘And what do the voices say today?’ asked Shaw of Kennedy.
He shook his head, as if clearing it of other thoughts. ‘They’ve been silent.’
Shaw stood and looked back down the nave to Kennedy’s painting, completed now to the halfway stage above the pointed arch of the main doors — Patigno’s Miracle at Cana.
‘I did wonder why you’d left it out — the candle, the ultimate symbol of memento mori, of the passing of time, of death. In the original there’s a rather fine one, in a gold holder, at the centre of the table… just there, to the right of the skull.’ He walked to the wall, pointing up at the velvet-covered table, heavy with rotting fruit.
But Kennedy wouldn’t look. Instead Father Martin walked towards the mural, as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said, tapping a finger on the cold stone wall.
Valentine appeared at the small door with two
‘You couldn’t bring yourself to paint the candle, could you, Liam — because that was the sign, the signal, that you used to mark each of the victims after Mrs Phillips gave you the names.’
Kennedy came alive then, realizing for the first time that he’d made mistakes, that good intentions didn’t mean he hadn’t committed a great sin. ‘This is rubbish. Selected who — for what?’
Shaw ignored him.
‘The second time we met you, Liam, here, in the church, you were wearing a T-shirt with a slogan. Do you remember?’
Kennedy licked his lips. He did, and he put a hand over his heart where his pulse was beginning to race.
‘Voluntary Service Overseas,’ said Shaw. ‘I checked you out with their London office. They passed me on to Tel Aviv. You were at a kibbutz in 2008. A whole harvest — a good worker, even if you weren’t Jewish. And political too — speaking up for the Palestinians, for their rights on the same land. But that wasn’t so popular, was it? So you went to Jerusalem to work for an organization that didn’t discriminate — the Kircher Institute. And you could use some of your IT skills, at last. You helped them build their website. And when you came home you kept in touch, which is how you met Jofranka Phillips. But you were ill by then, and the voices were part of that. So what could she give you in return for your help? There’s a room up at the hospital — for the Hearing Voices Network. We had a look inside. PCs, an office.
Kennedy turned to Father Martin. ‘This is rubbish.’
‘And she’d have told you what she told me. That the donors each had a choice. And that once they’d taken that choice they’d be looked after. No evil could come from that. Is that what she said?’
Kennedy held a coffee cup but he put it down now because his hand was beginning to shake.
‘I’m not here to listen to you deny this,’ said Shaw. ‘I’m here because there is still something I don’t understand. It was one of your little kindnesses, I think, at first, to collect the men’s pills from the chemist. At first I thought that was it — that was how you were able to select the ones that Mrs Phillips could use. And it might have helped — but it wasn’t good enough. No, she had the files, up at the hospital, so she didn’t need you for that. But I checked with Boots.’
He took a list out of his pocket.
‘And that’s what I don’t understand, because only yesterday you picked up a prescription for Paul Tyler — and he disappeared six months ago. And there are others, men who haven’t been listed here, on your records, for months, even a year. So my question — and it’s an urgent one — is why. If these men have gone, why do you still collect their drugs?’
In the silence they could hear the uneven whirr of the electric clock over the vestry door.
The blood drained from Kennedy’s face.
‘I gave them to the captain,’ he said in a whisper. ‘He said they needed them — where they’d gone. That’s how they got away — on the Rosa. To the south coast.’ He
‘Was he lying to me?’ Kennedy asked, though Shaw could see he already knew the answer. It was the moment, Shaw thought, when Liam Kennedy realized he was a holy fool.
He stood, adjusted his jeans, and noticed for the first time the uniformed officers who’d slipped into a pew by the door.
‘I want to speak with Father Martin before I go,’ he said. ‘Can I?’
But Father Martin was already walking away, down the nave, with Ally Judd at his side. He knelt at the altar, crossed himself, then left his church without looking back.