“Or,” continues Elizabeth, “you can forgive us, and believe us when we say we were trying to help. You can let us apologize for our overenthusiasm, because we did know what we were doing was wrong, but we did it anyway. We know you’ve spent the last twenty-four hours in the dark, and we know we are in your debt. And if you forgive us, then tomorrow morning, on a wild hunch, you can order a search of the Garden of Eternal Rest. You can dig up the body, you can send it to your own forensics team, who will tell you it’s a male who was almost certainly buried in the early nineteen seventies, and then we’ll all happily be on the same page.”
There is a moment’s silence.
So,” asks Chris very slowly, “you’ve reburied the bones?”
“We thought it was best,” says Joyce. “To give you the glory.”
“I’d leave the grave in the top right-hand corner till about fourth or fifth, if I were you,” says Ron. “Don’t want to make it too obvious.”
“And in the meantime,” continues Elizabeth, “we can all have a nice evening, and no more shouting. We can tell you everything we know. So you can really hit the ground running in the morning.”
“You could even share a bit of information with us if you thought that was appropriate,” adds Ibrahim.
“How about some information about the custodial sentences you can get for perverting the cause of justice? Or disturbing a grave?” says Chris. “Up to ten years, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, we just went through all this, Chris,” sighs Elizabeth. “Stop grandstanding, and swallow your pride. And besides, we’re not hampering, we’re helping.”
“I didn’t notice either of you digging up a body,” adds Ron to Chris and Donna.
“We have certainly done an awful lot of the work so far,” says Ibrahim.
“So this is how I see it,” confirms Elizabeth. “Either you arrest us, which we would all understand, and Joyce, in fact, I think would actually enjoy.”
“No comment,” says Joyce, nodding happily.
“Or you don’t arrest us, and we can spend the rest of the evening talking about exactly why someone buried a body on this hillside sometime in the nineteen seventies.”
Chris looks at Donna.
“And we can also discuss whether that same person has just murdered Ian Ventham to keep it secret,” says Elizabeth.
Donna looks at Chris. He has a question.
“So you think the same person might have committed two murders? But nearly fifty years apart?”
“It’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” asks Elizabeth.
“It’s an interesting question we could have been asking last night,” says Chris.
“It might have been useful to know we could be looking out for someone who was right here in the nineteen seventies, and is still right here now,” adds Donna.
“We really are sorry,” says Joyce. “But Elizabeth was adamant, and you know Elizabeth.”
“Let’s move on,” says Elizabeth. “Put this behind us?”
“Do we have a choice, Elizabeth?” asks Chris.
“Choice is overrated; you’ll learn that as the years fly by,” says Elizabeth. “Now, to business. What do you make of the priest, I wonder? Father Mackie? Might he have been around when this place was a convent?”
“I take it from that question that you haven’t been able to find out anything about Father Mackie?” says Chris. “Shame to see a chink in your armor.”
“My inquiries are ongoing,” says Elizabeth.
“No need, Elizabeth; we’ve cracked that one for you,” says Donna. “It’s Dr. Mackie. Not a priest, never has been, never will be. A doctor in Ireland, moved over here in the nineties.”
“That’s very curious,” says Elizabeth. “Why pretend to be a priest?”
“Told you he was a wrong ’un,” says Ron to Ibrahim.
