glass and shook his head. 'Let me tell you the funny thing about Eva. She could walk naked onto a set and have sex with six guys in front of a full crew, but ask her to make a simple phone call, it'd take her half the day to pluck up the courage.'
Jenny said, 'We all suffer from our contradictions.'
'Yeah,' Cassidy said, 'we certainly do.'
Unless the whispers Starr had received from Cassidy's priest contained something darkly sinister, Jenny couldn't see that Eva having entertained ambitions to be a straight actress gave her any reason to conduct a full inquest. Of course it was logically possible that Craven hadn't killed Eva; he could have gone to her house and, acting on some strange animal impulse, urinated on her door mat without actually coming into contact with her, but that wasn't what he claimed. He denied having been there at all. Her lawyerly instincts, ingrained over fifteen years of practice, told her it was unethical to explore possibilities that a criminal defendant hadn't suggested in his own defence, but as a coroner she had to force herself to think differently. She wasn't bound by any one version of events; she could investigate and test whatever theory she wished. Her overriding duty was to uncover the truth. She could feel her conscience drawing her towards holding an inquest, but at the same time another voice was warning her to beware.
Wrestling with these conflicting thoughts as she walked back to her car, she passed a fly-poster among the many plastered on the outside wall of the multi-storey. An attractive young black man pointed out of the picture above the caption, I'm on a mission. Are you? Beneath the caption, it said: Come to where the love is. Mission Church of God, 5 Fleetway.
She told herself it was purely idle curiosity that made her drive across town at the end of the day to see for herself. At the south-east edge of the city off a busy road through
Bedminster, she turned into the vast and busy car park for what she had remembered as a multiplex cinema, bowling alley and pizza restaurant. Ross had had his thirteenth birthday party here. She and her ex-husband, David, had celebrated the occasion by yelling at each other in front of all the kids, ensuring Ross never invited any of them home again. The cinema and alley had now been knocked into one vast barn of a building, in front of which stood an illuminated white cross which reached higher than the peak of the roof. The former pizza restaurant, which occupied a separate chalet-style building opposite, had been re-branded 'McG's'. All the parking spaces near the building were already taken and the rest were filling quickly. Slipping into a zone reserved for employees and official visitors, she pulled up next to a sleek maroon-coloured sports car that made her ten-year-old VW look like a wreck.
She joined the horde of casually dressed families and groups of teenagers heading for the main entrance of the Mission Church, unable to stop herself becoming infected by the excitement in the air. Black and white kids, parents and infants, all mingled together, eager to join the same party. Loudspeakers set high up on poles relayed the sound from inside: a big congregation clapping and cheering as a choir and full band belted out a catchy gospel number. Jenny found herself alongside a group of lively teenage girls who swung their bodies in time with the chorus. Straight ahead was the entrance to the main auditorium. Grinning teenage boys wearing MCG T-shirts shook hands with the faithful as they went in, saying, 'God bless you, brother,' and 'Welcome to God's house.' To the left was an open- plan retail area that resembled an airport mini-mall. Jenny's eye was caught by a sign hanging over one of the aisles that said 'Decency'.
Stepping out of the flow of worshippers, she entered the shop. One entire centre shelf was filled with Eva Donaldson's scarred face staring calmly from the cover of Fallen Angel: How God Saved a Porn Star. Jenny picked up a copy and was leafing through the pages of simply written prose when she became aware of a TV screen further along the aisle on which an interview between Eva and a young pastor was playing. Dressed demurely in a dark suit and silk blouse buttoned up to the neck, Eva wore her hair back from her broken face, proud of the scars that gouged