The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,109

Simon Walden and Matthew couldn’t see how he’d have bumped into Christine or Lucy.

Matthew was still worried about the Salters, wondering if his conversation the evening before might have been the cause of Lucy’s disappearance. He tried to run again in his head the one question that seemed to have caused anxiety, but he thought he might have imagined the response. He couldn’t see how it might be relevant to Walden’s murder, and that, after all, had started the drama.

Then he thought that it would be a mistake to call the Salters anyway. It was clear that Grace had lied about Dennis; she’d certainly lie again to give the man an alibi. He got on the phone to Ross.

‘I need you to go to the Salters’ house in Lovacott. Take a couple of uniformed officers. Be polite. Super polite and apologetic. We’ve got absolutely no grounds for a warrant, so you’ll need to be persuasive to get in. Blame me. Or make up some vague story about Lucy having been seen in the area. If they let you look round the house, it’ll mean she’s not there, but you might pick up something useful. Find out what they were doing when Lucy went missing. I’d be very interested to know if they were in Barnstaple at lunchtime.’

‘Yeah, boss. Of course.’ Matthew could tell he was delighted to be released from the routine of canvassing in the town centre and manning the phone. The earlier moodiness disappeared in a flash. He had no emotional baggage with the Salters and no reason to fear the encounter.

Matthew longed for release too. He yelled to the remainder of his team that he’d be out for an hour, that they should phone him as soon as there was any information and he headed away towards the town centre.

* * *

He went to look for Edward and Caroline in the church. On his way, he stood for a moment in the quiet cobbled alley. Lights were coming on in the alms houses beyond. Through an uncurtained window he saw an elderly couple sitting together on a sofa, watching television. The old man turned and gave his wife a peck on a wrinkled cheek. She smiled and took his hand. Matthew thought he’d never seen such affection between his parents, wondered again about Mary Brownscombe, the farmer he’d visited with his father when he’d been a child. He hoped his father had found love there.

There’d been some sort of meeting in the church and the couple were just clearing up, folding chairs. Matthew had bumped into a middle-aged man and three teenagers on his way in but Ed and Caroline were alone now. They hadn’t heard him come in and had paused for a moment and were talking.

Matthew stood at the door and looked inside. The Brethren had worshipped in dusty halls and gloomy living rooms. This was a church in the evangelical tradition and here there was colour: banners on the walls, more rainbows and doves, all with a message of peace and redemption, bowls of flowers. At the back in one corner, a box of toys to keep bored children amused during the service. Edward Craven was tall and thin, faintly reptilious; he wore jeans and an open-necked shirt. Matthew would have put him down as a social worker too, if he hadn’t known he was a cleric.

Their conversation seemed earnest, important, but Matthew was too far away to hear what they were saying and as soon as he started walking up the nave they heard his footsteps, fell silent and turned to face him.

Caroline started moving towards him. The artificial light in the church reflected from her round glasses, so he couldn’t quite see her eyes. ‘Inspector. We were just talking about the woman from the Woodyard who was missing. Is there any news?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘Do you know her?’

‘Not through work, but I’ve heard Gaby talk about her. Gabs goes down to the day centre once a week to teach art.’ She looked back at the tall man, hovering behind her. ‘This is Edward Craven, my friend and the curate here. He’s been an absolute inspiration behind the mental health project at St Cuthbert’s.’

Matthew turned towards him. ‘And you volunteer at the Woodyard too?’

‘I used to, before I got so involved with everything going on here.’ Ed’s voice was warm and deep. Matthew thought it was a good preaching voice, though it was hard to imagine the man in the pulpit. He