The Shadow Collector (29 page)

‘I was innocent.’

‘What about the reporter and that singer?’

‘I never even met them.’

‘But you’re responsible for their deaths.’

Lilith shifted in her seat, her short nails digging into the worn fabric of the chair arm. She wished she could see her tormentor’s
face and she was tempted to reach for the lamp and switch it on. But she knew the blade was there, half hidden by the cloak.

‘I never killed anyone,’ she said, summoning what little courage she had left. ‘Neither did my mother.’

‘She confessed.’

‘Her mind was so twisted by stories of witchcraft that she’d have admitted to any far-fetched tale the police put into her
head. I always told the truth.

The stranger raised a hand to push the hood back and as it fell Lilith caught her breath. That face had been etched on her
memory since that night. That pretty cat face twisted in hatred as the lips had formed the words. Witch, witch, witch.

She looked different now. Older. The features coarsened with the years. The hair was a different style and colour but those
eyes, glinting with hatred, hadn’t changed. Suddenly Lilith began to see how the conjuring trick had been done. And she knew
that people had died to maintain this particular illusion.

‘What do you want?’ Lilith asked softly.

‘It’s what
you
want. You’re can’t stand living with the guilt any more so you’ve decided to kill yourself.’ The determination in her voice
chilled Lilith’s blood.

‘If I’m going to die I might as well know what really happened. I’ve spent eighteen years wondering about it.’ If she played
for time there might be some way out.

There was a long silence, as though the visitor was deciding where to begin. ‘Our lives fell apart when you took my dad away.
Mum had a breakdown and never got over it. You destroyed us. Then you destroyed him.’

‘I never meant to hurt anyone. Your father and I were in love.’

‘Shut up.’ The words were barked like an order. ‘Why did you have to come and live here? You wanted to gloat, didn’t you?’

Lilith felt a sudden impulse to justify her actions. ‘Honestly I didn’t think you’d still be here. I needed to get away from
London after your father died and when I saw this place was for sale I thought … It was in Arnold’s village so it seemed it
was … meant. Mother started with dementia and I thought that if I could run a smallholding … if I
didn’t have to go out to work, then I could look after her. And I’d heard you’d moved away so …’

‘Well you heard wrong. When you came to live here it drove my mum over the edge.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I wasn’t going to have the smug, gloating bitch who ruined our lives and killed my dad living here in my village.’

‘I didn’t kill …’

‘Liar. I was going to kill you then I had a better idea. If you were put away for murder then everybody would know what you
were. I told Gabby we were going to torment a couple of old witches and …’

‘What happened to her? Is she still alive?’

There was a long silence. ‘Remember you saw us running away that night?’

Lilith nodded.

‘I’d brought a knife with me and as soon as we reached the woods I stuck it in her. I didn’t know it’d take her so long to
die.’ She smirked, as though she found the memory exciting.

‘Why did you kill her? I don’t understand.’

‘Because I needed evidence to put you away. And she was a snide little bitch who’d just pinched my boyfriend so she deserved
all she got.’

There was petulance in her voice, the petulance of the disturbed adolescent she’d once been, and Lilith felt a wave of cold
panic. Her tormentor was starting to lose control.

‘What did you do with her body?’ Keep her talking. Play for time.

‘I waited till I knew John would be home then I ran to the village and called him from the phone box. It was dark so nobody
saw me.’

‘John?’

‘The boyfriend she took from me. Ironic, isn’t it? I told him she’d fallen on the knife by accident and I needed him to help
me bury her. It was only a shallow grave but it didn’t matter because nobody ever went there.’

‘Why didn’t John tell anyone?’

‘Because I threatened to tell the police he killed her unless he did what I said and I made sure her blood got on his sweatshirt.
He freaked out but he went along with it. He knew I could be very convincing, you see. I’ve been convincing everyone I was
dead for eighteen years.’

‘Didn’t the police search the woods?’

‘They found everything they needed to put you away here in this cottage so they never bothered searching further afield. I
created an illusion. Shadows and mirrors. Misdirection, they call it,’ she said, pleased with her own brilliance.

‘How did you get away?’

Joanne – Arnold’s daughter back from the grave – leaned against the table and folded her arms. Lilith knew how powerful the
desire to explain can be; the need to justify your basest actions. She saw the knife clutched tightly in her hand, shining
and lethal.

‘I lay low in a disused barn on Jessop’s land and I got John to bring me what I needed.’ She paused. ‘He became famous, you
know. He changed his name to Zac James and moved his whole family away from here but I bet he was always terrified that his
secret would come out one day. Maybe that’s why he went on that farm show – he needed to convince himself he’d got away with
it. Facing your demons they call it. He was in and out of rehab so he knew all about demons. He saw me one day.’ She laughed.
‘He
must have been shitting himself. I’d photographed him burying Gabby, you see. I’ve still got the pictures but they’re well
hidden where nobody’ll ever find them. I kept them as my insurance policy, just to make sure he didn’t have a fit of conscience.
But in the end I knew he couldn’t be trusted.’

‘So you killed him?’

‘I didn’t have a chance to get to him while he was on the farm show but one day I saw him drive past in that blue Porsche
of his and park at the Ploughman’s Rest. After that it was easy.’

Her words were cold. Unemotional. As though killing meant nothing to her. Her friend, Gabby, and her former boyfriend, John,
had been disposable – she’d used them for her own twisted purpose then discarded them. Hatred had blinded her to any human
compassion. And now that hatred was focused on Lilith.

‘So you planned the whole thing to get me arrested?’

‘Got it in one. Before John arrived to help me bury Gabby I came back here and smeared your pigsty with her blood and I cut
myself so that if they did tests they’d find mine there as well. I’d read about some gangsters feeding bodies to pigs and
I thought it was a nice touch. I hid Gabby’s bloodstained clothes and some with my blood on in your outhouse along with a
few other things I’d collected. Black magic things so the police would know what they were dealing with. Then I lay low and
waited and a week later I told John to call the cops from a phone box at Morbay station. John gave me some cash and I went
to London. I’d met this bloke in Millicombe – rich guy from London who was down here on holiday. He let me stay with him for
a while. I’d already told him I was nineteen and given him a false name – I’d chosen it off one of the
gravestones in West Fretham churchyard. It wasn’t hard to change my identity.’

She was talking quickly now, delighting in her own cleverness. ‘I lied about my age and worked in a pub. Then I met another
bloke who was married and he set me up in a nice little flat. I changed my appearance, shed my pathetic past and ended up
working in PR while you rotted in jail.’

‘But you came back to the village. Why was that?’

‘I managed to brazen it out for a while. My mum wasn’t here any more and I was careful to keep myself to myself. It all worked
fine till you came back then everything started to go wrong.’ The words sounded peevish. ‘First John came back here for that
stupid programme. Then that bitch of a journalist began watching the house and I knew she was onto me.’

‘So you killed two people …’

The woman who had once been Joanne Trelisip stepped forward, looming over her. ‘No, like I said before, you killed them. If
it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened. You’re a jinx. You’re cursed.’

‘You sent me those athames, didn’t you? You wanted to make sure I’d get the blame again.’

‘It’s what you deserve.’

Lilith felt a stinging blow across her face. Then a sharp pain as the knife pierced her flesh.

Joe stood by the gate watching with Fin at his side, his eyes fixed on the distant cottage. The dog had found more bones but
now seemed to be satisfied with his hoard. Joe had piled them up next to the hedge. Rib bones, thigh bones, a pelvis. He would
alert the police in the morning. Or would he? If they were on Lilith’s land, they were
probably connected with her in some way. Maybe he’d think about it.

Suddenly he saw something flit out of the cottage and disappear down the drive like a wraith. It didn’t look like Lilith.
It was smaller and lighter and moved like a creature of the night, a thing of shadows.

Fin began to bark as if he sensed something was wrong. Then without warning he left Joe’s side and hared down the slope towards
Devil’s Tree Cottage, stopping every so often to make sure his master was following. Long experience had taught Joe to heed
his dog’s instincts so he headed after him.

The cottage was in darkness but when he pushed the front door it swung open. Fin entered first while Joe hesitated on the
threshold. Then Joe heard barking, loud and urgent, and followed the noise.

At the entrance to the parlour he almost stumbled over a dark shape lying on the ground. And when he lowered his torch he
saw that it was Lilith.

Journal of Alison Hadness, September 28th 1643

Elizabeth hath denounced me and such is the fear in the town that men came to seize me and drag me before the Magistrate.
Dorcas was near death when I was taken and her feet have turned black and foul smelling. Many in the town have fallen ill
with the same malady and I am blamed. William too is become weak and blind. I pray to God that the truth will be found and
yet I am a sinner, an adulteress, so this may be my punishment
.

The dolls Elizabeth made were discovered and held up for all to see that I was a curser of innocent Christian souls. My attempts
to explain that one of the images was myself and that Elizabeth was responsible for the abomination fell on the stoniest of
grounds. It is well known that a witch can never speak the truth
.

On the instructions of Elizabeth the Magistrate’s men made a thorough search of the house and came upon divers and terrible
things in the cellar beneath the chamber where Elizabeth sleeps. A coffin with a wax doll stuck with pins in the form of a
man which was terrible to behold
.
And on the floor was painted a star which they said was a witch’s sign. Elizabeth lied, saying it was my private chamber where
I conjure demons. Yet I know now it is she who conjures the devil in her quest for vengeance. I told this to the Magistrate
and denied all but I was not believed
.

When I was taken to the house of the Magistrate I was stripped and examined by two women of the town. They dealt with me roughly
and I could see the hatred and fear in their eyes. I was a witch and I bore the mark of Satan, a teat from which I suckled
my master. They were deaf to my pleas and I knew that there would be no mercy
.

My neighbours were brought in to denounce me, to say they saw me with the devil and that I cursed them with spells and many
have died or writhe in agony of my making. They cannot take me to Exeter to stand trial for the town is besieged so I am thrown
into a cellar in the Magistrate’s house where I starve
.

Wesley watched as the crime scene people went about their business under the floodlights that had been brought to Devil’s
Tree Cottage for the occasion. He had only been home an hour and a half, just time to have a quick word with Michael and shovel
down his dinner, before he’d received the news that Joe Jessop had found Lilith Benley stabbed in her cottage. When Joe was
asked whether he knew where Lilith had been since her disappearance, he’d said nothing. Wesley would have another word with
him later. The concerned neighbour story didn’t wash somehow.

Gerry had been chatting to some CSIs and now he came to join him. ‘She’s lost a lot of blood,’ he said. ‘They’re taking her
to Tradmouth.’

‘Think it’s a suicide attempt?’

‘Jessop thinks he saw someone running away. And there was no weapon near her.’

‘Attempted murder then.’

‘There are clear signs of a struggle. She put up a fight.’

Wesley’s mobile rang. To his surprise when he answered he heard Geoff Gaulter’s voice. Like them, he was working late.

‘Sorry if I’ve disturbed anything but I just thought I’d let you know. There’s been another development in the Simon Frith
case … if you can still call it a case now all the charges have been dropped.’

As far as Wesley was concerned the affair of Simon Frith was over. Egged on by her boyfriend, a silly teenage girl had lied
to get her tutor in hot water and now she’d confessed. But Gaulter’s next words grabbed his attention.

‘You know Jessica Gaunt said it was all Alex Gulliver’s idea? Well, I’ve had a word with Master Gulliver and he told me something
rather interesting.’

Wesley waited for him to continue, his eyes focused on the patch of drying blood on Lilith Benley’s carpet.

‘Alex’s stepfather – the author – asked Frith to give Alex some tuition for his GCSEs because Jessica’s parents recommended
him. But when Alex’s mum found out she went crazy and told Alex she’d heard Frith had a conviction for abusing a couple of
his pupils so there was no way she wanted him teaching Alex. She said Gulliver was stubborn and he’d take no notice if she
told him.’

‘Even after being told his kid’s tutor was a child abuser?’

‘It doesn’t make sense, does it? Anyway, she suggested that Alex persuade Jessica to accuse Frith of assaulting her so Shane
would be forced to back down. Now, we know for certain that Frith has no such conviction – there wasn’t a whiff of anything
like that before Jessica made her accusation. So
it begs the question, what on earth was the Gulliver woman up to?’

Wesley thanked him and stood for a while, thinking. Gerry nudged his arm. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m going to call Simon Frith. There’s something I just need to check.’

Wesley made the call. And when he’d finished he walked to the door and discarded his crime scene suit. Gerry followed, full
of curiosity. ‘What did Frith say?’

When Wesley told him, both men hurried out of the cottage. They took the car and when they pulled up in front of the Old Rectory
a few minutes later, Wesley saw the lights were on.

They were approaching the front door when it suddenly burst open. Shane Gulliver was standing there, framed in the brightly
lit doorway, his arms outstretched. As soon as he saw them he roared, a primal, desperate sound, and fell to his knees, sobbing.

Gerry rushed over and squatted down beside him while Wesley dashed past him into the hall.

‘I need a drink,’ said Gerry.

Wesley knew they should have gone straight to the incident room after the ambulance had taken Gwen away and the statements
had been taken. But instead Gerry had headed for the Ploughman’s Rest and ordered himself a large scotch. Not his usual tipple.
Wesley was driving so he made do with a shandy.

Gerry downed his scotch and ordered another. ‘How did we get it so wrong eighteen years ago?’ he asked, staring at the optics
behind the bar. ‘I was never particularly happy with the way the investigation went. Seemed too neat somehow.’

Wesley said nothing. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

‘How did you know it was her?’

‘I didn’t know for certain till I talked to Simon Frith. Della said he’d taught History at Dukesbridge Comp when Joanne and
Gabby were there. I had to ask him whether he’d actually taught them and it turns out he did. He’d taught Joanne all those
years ago and she couldn’t risk being recognised if he came to the house so she dealt with the situation by screwing up his
career.’

‘I just can’t understand why the hell she came back here, Wes. Surely there was always a risk someone would recognise her.’

‘I don’t think she wanted to come back but Gulliver presented her with a fait accompli when he bought the place. Can you imagine
the scene? “I’ve just bought a lovely house in the Devon countryside. Perfect … except for the fact that it’s the one place
you don’t want to see again in your life … ever.” No wonder she wouldn’t have her picture taken … or venture into the village.
OK, she’d changed her appearance over the years but …’

‘She couldn’t resist seeing her mother though.’

‘The dead walk. Everyone thought Pauline Parry was deluded but she was telling the truth. She had seen her dead daughter.’

‘Joanne must have got the shock of her life when Lilith was released from prison,’ said Gerry, taking another sip from his
glass.

‘That’s probably when she decided to arm herself with those knives … like an insurance policy. I reckon she pinched them from
the Mumfords’ place when she was at their last party. Easy to conceal in a large handbag. Three unused ones with the labels
still intact were found hidden at
the Gullivers’ place, you know. And she took the precaution of ordering some in Lilith’s name to incriminate her.’

‘So she had it all planned?’

‘When Boo Flecker was stalking Gulliver intending to expose his lies about his background, Gwen must have thought she was
onto her. She probably wasn’t. It wouldn’t have occurred to her that one of the girls had survived. But once she found out
that Lilith was back in residence Boo did start researching that story again too in case she could come up with a new angle
… or get an exclusive interview with the notorious murderess.’

‘The big story?’

‘Probably Shane Gulliver being a public schoolboy. Mr Big. Of course it’s always possible that Boo might have looked at those
press cuttings, seen Gwen and put two and two together. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. But it’s no wonder Gwen panicked
when she saw her hanging round and decided to use one of the knives on her. And Zac James was playing a dangerous game too.
Once she knew he was back in the village she couldn’t take the risk of him seeing her and giving her away. She must have bided
her time waiting for a chance to get him alone.’

‘And did he see her?’

‘I think so but he wasn’t sure. That’s probably why he wanted to talk to Laurence Roley. But she wasn’t taking any chances.
Will Lilith live?’

‘She’s in a bad way so it’s too early to say.’ Gerry bowed his head.

‘It must have been a hell of a strain for Joanne to keep up the deception. Shane Gulliver had no idea that he wasn’t the only
one living a lie.’

‘You’re right, Wes. Joanne blamed Lilith for everything
bad that happened to her including her mother’s breakdown. When Lilith and her mother moved here she tormented them until
she hit on the idea of taking the ultimate revenge. That sort of bitterness can only end one way.’

‘I’m worried about Alex … for him to witness his mother …’

‘It looks as if she was injured when Lilith tried to defend herself. Tripped on her own knife, managed to get back home but
didn’t make it up the stairs.’

‘Could her injury be self-inflicted?’

‘It’s always possible, Wes. We won’t know till we have a chance to interview her. She’s been taken to Morbay and she’s undergoing
surgery. Good job they took Lilith to Tradmouth.’

They fell silent, staring into their drinks. And when they’d finished they returned to the incident room. But neither of them
felt much like celebrating.

Wesley didn’t get back home till just after midnight and when he crept into the house he found Pam waiting up for him, curled
up on the sofa in her towelling dressing gown, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. Shane Gulliver’s latest
offering. The thought that Gulliver would be able to write about misery and tragedy from first-hand experience from now on
flashed through his head.

‘Where’s Neil?’

‘In bed. He was tired. All that fresh air up at Princes Bower. That and a bottle of Merlot. He wants to know what’s going
to happen to Harriet Mumford, by the way. Says those horrible doll things officially belong to her so he’ll need her permission
to display them in a museum.’

‘They’ve brought her in and she’ll be questioned in the
morning. I’d say those dolls are the least of her worries with a charge of conspiracy to murder hanging over her. Although
she’s claiming that it was self-defence – said she’d suffered physical and mental cruelty from her husband for years. It wouldn’t
surprise me if she got off. She’s a very persuasive lady. How’s Michael?’

‘Did his homework without a murmur. It probably won’t last.’

Wesley slumped down by her side and kissed her. And when she handed him her glass, he took it gratefully.

Three days later Wesley received a message that Lilith Benley was asking to see him. She was still extremely weak but the
doctors were optimistic. Likewise her tormentor, Joanne Trelisip alias Gwen Gulliver, was still in hospital following surgery,
under police guard and under arrest.

According to reports from the officers on duty outside her private room in Morbay Hospital, her son, Alex, had been spending
a lot of time at his mother’s bedside, talking in whispers, holding her hand. If she hadn’t been a ruthless murderer, the
officer said, it would have been rather touching. Shane Gulliver, on the other hand, hadn’t visited at all.

The previous day Joe Jessop had showed up at the incident room to tell them about the bones from the copse. The bones were
piled up by the hedge if the police wanted to see them, he’d said matter of factly. His statement had sent the crime scene
team hurrying down there and now the place was festooned with police tape. A skull was recovered from the woodland. And from
what Lilith had already told them about Joanne’s confession it was probable the bones belonged to Gabby Soames. Like Lilith,
the pigs had been blameless. And for the Soameses, living their new lives up in
Durham, the pain of the past would come flooding back once more.

Wesley found Lilith propped up in bed, tubes sprouting from her arms and a bleeping machine recording her every heartbeat.

Struggling to speak, she managed to thank him and ask about Joanne. Wesley had to tell her that so far she’d refused to make
a statement to the police. For the moment they were relying on Lilith’s account of the confession she’d made, the confession
she’d thought would never be repeated.

Then Lilith asked about Alex. Strange that she should be so concerned about the boy, Wesley thought, when his mother had caused
her to spend eighteen years in jail for something she hadn’t done before trying her best to kill her.

‘I haven’t seen him,’ Wesley answered. ‘But I believe he’s being looked after by his stepfather.’

‘I hope he’s all right. It’s not his fault, you know.’ Her voice was weak and he knew every word was an effort. ‘It’s always
the children who suffer. I’ve come to see that now.’

Wesley touched her arm gently, a gesture of reassurance he couldn’t have imagined making just a few days earlier when, like
everyone else, he’d believed in her guilt. ‘What will you do when you get out of here?’

‘Sell Devil’s Tree Cottage. If anyone will buy it after …’

‘It might be best to change the name.’

‘Like Joanne did. You can change a name but you can’t change what’s inside. It’s an unlucky place, Inspector. Mother and I
were never really happy there.’ She closed her eyes and the ghost of a smile played on her dry, bloodless lips. ‘Joe says
I can stay at the cottage where I’ve been …’ She searched for the word. ‘Hiding, for as long as
I like. I think he’s lonely in that farmhouse on his own, you know. I think he likes having someone nearby. I suppose I’ll
have to do something with Devil’s Tree Cottage if I want to sell. It’s in a terrible state.’