*Oh . . .' Malpa.s.s looked alert, interested. *How is she?'

*Deceased.'

Sylvia Malpa.s.s gasped. Ronald Malpa.s.s's brow knitted. He remained silent for a few moments and then asked, *What happened?'

*We don't know but she has been identified as being one of the bodies found at Bromyards.'

*Bromyards?' Malpa.s.s queried.

*The big house,' Sylvia Malpa.s.s explained. *It's been on the news . . . in the papers.'

*Ah . . . yes, of course. Oh dear, poor Angela . . . we did wonder.'

*How did you know her?'

*Socially . . . not really very close but we knew her.'

*How? How did you know her?'

*Socially. As I said.'

*Can you be a bit more specific, please?'

*We were in the same bunch of people, the same group.'

Carmen Pharoah sighed, *If you could be . . .'

*Alcoholics Anonymous,' Sylvia Malpa.s.s explained. Then she addressed her husband. *It was going to come out.'

*Thank you,' Carmen Pharoah smiled at Sylvia Malpa.s.s. *No shame there, alcoholism is a disease . . . no shame at all.'

*There shouldn't be,' Ronald Malpa.s.s added, *but there is the stigma, it's always there. But I am dry now . . . we both are.' He held his right hand outstretched, palm down, fingers pressed together. *Rock steady,' he said with a note of pride in his voice. *I couldn't have done that at one time, I would have been shaking like a leaf. Dried out about fifteen years ago, before that there is a ten year gap in my memory, can't remember a thing I did in those ten years . . . but now . . . I still enjoy the sensation of waking up with a clear head.'

*Good for you,' Thomson Ventnor said. *I know it can be quite a battle.'

*Yes. Why? Are you . . .'

*No,' Ventnor said. *I'm not.'

*So,' Carmen Pharoah attempted to pull the conversation back to the relevancy of their visit. *Angela Prebble was in Alcoholics Anonymous?'

*Yes, she was.'

*And that was the extent of you knowing her?'

*More or less . . . well . . . we became friends but not close friends. She was from the West Coast of Scotland and had difficulty settling in Yorkshire, though I confess you do hear Scottish accents quite a lot in Yorkshire, in the pubs and the shops.'

*You go into pubs?'

*Oh yes,' Malpa.s.s smiled. *Why not? I enjoy pubs . . . I . . . we . . . Sylvia and I, just don't touch alcohol but pubs are enjoyable places. We are aware that just one drop of alcohol and we'd both be off the wagon. We watch each other.'

*So we met Angela at AA and then met socially outside AA meetings, a coffee and a chat, but that's all.'

*Very well.'

*Now we do our own thing. We offer alcohol abuse counselling, on a one-to-one, or couple-to-couple basis. Have you ever been to an AA meeting?'

*Can't say I have,' Ventnor said.

*Me neither.' Carmen Pharoah noticed a pleasant scent of furniture polish in the room, not too strong, not overpowering, but there, in the background.

*Well, they are large . . . as the name implies, very anonymous and that suits many folk, but we found that others need to feel more like individuals with personalities and ident.i.ties, and need one-to-one or couple-to-couple support and advice. So we thought we'd offer our experience to others. We let AA know and they refer people to us . . . in fact we are . . .'

*Yes, Mr Malpa.s.s,' Pharoah interrupted him. *We'll be on our way soon. Did you see Angela Prebble at all around the time of her disappearance?'

*I can't recall. It was a long time ago you see . . . years . . . ten years. I really don't know how long ago it was . . . I think I was sober then.'

*You were,' Sylvia Malpa.s.s smiled warmly. *You had to have been, we met her in an AA meeting, you'd stopped drinking.'

*Of course, I had gotten sober; I was a dry alky by then. We joined a drink watchers group which was a spin off from mainstream AA.'

*Drink watchers?'

*Yes, we didn't need the AA approach, "h.e.l.lo, I'm Ronald and I'm an alcoholic"; we just needed human company to help fill up the evenings, but not necessarily talk about our battle with the bottle. So we'd meet in cafes. In the summer we'd go for walks along the river. We just helped each other get through those awful hours from five until eight p.m. We found that if we could reach eight p.m. without a drink then the desire went. It wasn't for everyone, some folk drank at home at any time of the day or night, but if you drank because you needed human company and then the drink took you, then our little group was a good place to be . . . human contact, a chat, but we kept each other off the booze.'

*Very good.'

*So we'd get through until eight and then disperse and meet up again a couple of evenings later.'

*Not every evening?'

*No, we couldn't sustain that. If one of our group could not get through the evening they could go to an AA meeting.'

*Quite a lifeless house, I thought.' Carmen Pharoah drove slowly away from the Malpa.s.s house.

*Sort of,' Ventnor glanced to his left at a 1930s' Rolls Royce parked sedately in the driveway of a neighbouring house. *Dead . . . lifeless as you say. No plants . . . no books on the shelves.'

*And alcohol is an issue again. This entire investigation is looking like it's booze related.'

It was Sat.u.r.day, 15.37 hours.

FIVE.

Sunday, 14th June a 09.15 hours a 21.45 hours

in which two inquiries converge and the kind reader hears of Thomson Ventnor's private issues.

Hennessey reclined in his chair. *Booze, the demon drink,' he sighed and raised his eyebrows. *Seems a likely thread, sir, a likely common denominator,' Carmen Pharoah sipped her tea. *Veronica Goodwin evidently had a significant problem, so did Angela Prebble and Mr Penta was angry about being abandoned in favour of AA . . . and alcohol may also explain the unidentified victim, a woman in her sixties, I think she was.'

*Yes, sixty-one plus or minus twelve months,' Hennessey glanced at the ever expanding file, *just the sort of elderly down-and-out, an old soak who would not be missed, who had probably wandered into a different part of the country to avoid the shame of being as she was where she was known; came to York to be an unknown in a strange town so we have no record of her on our mis per files.' He tapped the desk top. *I've said it before and I'll say it again, the sooner we get a National Missing Person's Database the better, and I can't see why it should not be set up in these high-tech information technology days, seems to be the easiest thing in the world if you ask me. Well, enough of my ramblings for this fine, sunny Sunday morning. So it seems that we might have a breakthrough. We still have yet to notify all the next of kin and obtain confirmation of ID of all the victims. As I understand it, the families of Paula Rees, Rosemary Arkwright, Helena Tunicliffe, Roslyn Farmfield and Denise Clay have yet to be visited. We can address that now. I don't like making first contact in situations like this by phone, very insensitive, but it may be expedient.'

*A simple phone call asking if their missing family member had a significant drink problem. We can follow up with a home visit later to explain the reason for our interest and obtain help to confirm identification,' Carmen Pharoah suggested eagerly, *and also ask if they had any contact with the York Chapter of AA.'

*Good. Can you get on that?'

*Yes, sir.'

*So what have you got on, Yellich?'

*Working with the Crown Prosecution Service to frame the charges for the Askham Links manslaughter case but, unlike us, they don't work on Sundays, so I am at your disposal for any legwork.'

*Good. Ventnor?'

*Theft of prestige cars, sir.'

*Oh, yes . . . any progress?'

*Little to report, sir, but they're getting bolder, they'll make a mistake.'

*Yes, so you have time as of now for this case.' Hennessey tapped the file of the Bromyards murders.

*Yes, sir.'

*Good. Webster?'

*I also have time, sir. I am working on the burglaries of wealthy homes in the area, same MO and, like Ventnor, I am waiting for them to make a mistake.'

*All right . . . you see . . .' Hennessey leaned forward and clasped his hands together, resting them on his desktop, *I don't know how best to prioritize this, you see we have a code forty-one on our hands.'

*A murder!' Yellich sat forward in his chair. *As if the Bromyards case wasn't enough.'

*Yes. You were all committed yesterday and so I attended the murder scene. He . . . the victim, was an old, well oldish . . . a man in his middle years . . . positively identified as one James Post . . . strangled, head smashed in, found in a field just outside the city. Probably would be lying there still had not an alert member of the public put two and two together when she saw a column of flies hovering over something. I'll explain what I mean later, but the upshot of it is we have to visit his drum, an address on the Tang Hall Estate, so not a wealthy man. His brother, who identified the body, phoned later with his brother's address. He also has a key but I asked him to stay clear, it's going to be a lowlife petty criminal murder, brought on by some petty quarrel. It's nothing of the magnitude of this,' Hennessey patted the Bromyards murders file again, *but it's fresh, we're still within the first twenty-four hours, whereas with the Bromyards case we seem to be coming in when it's all over, no fresh evidence at all.' Hennessey fell silent. *I am going to the post-mortem of James Post; Dr D'Acre is coming in today to do it, to the delight of her daughters.' He smiled. *She told me that if she is at work on the weekends her daughters get to ride their horse, without having to compete with her . . . more time for them you see. But I have a visit to do before then . . . that name . . . the couple you visited yesterday afternoon, Pharoah and Ventnor . . . Malpa.s.s?'

*Yes.'

*That name rang bells with me and yesterday evening when I was exercising my dog I remembered. So, visit, then the post-mortem for me. Webster.'

*Sir.'

*I want you to go with Ventnor, collect the key from James Post's brother and visit his flat.'

*Yes, sir.'

*DC Phaorah, if you could address the phone calls you suggested?'

*Yes, sir.'

The woman's face melted into a smile when she saw that it was George Hennessey who had knocked on her door. *George,' she said warmly and bent forward to kiss his cheek.

*How are you, Tilly?'

*Getting there . . . do come in.'

*Thanks.' Hennessey swept off his panama and stepped over the threshold into Matilda Pakenham's house in Holgate. He saw that she kept it in a neat and clean manner and was burning a joss stick, which filled the house with the pleasant scent of incense.

*Are you studying?' Hennessey noted a pile of text books in the corner of the living room as he accepted her invitation to take a seat.

*Yes,' she smiled proudly, *just as I said I would if I got the chance . . . History, no firm plans as to what to do with the degree once I get it, but early days yet. I feel like an old woman when I attend lectures with all those female students who were in school uniform just a year ago.'

*You are younger than you are old, Tilly,' Hennessey smiled. *If you see what I mean.'

*Thanks.'

*Any news of the ex?'

*No, he seems to be leaving me alone. He didn't enjoy gaol, he couldn't charm the guys in there.'

*Well, not only am I calling on you to see how you have settled . . .'

*Settled is the word. If you hadn't bought me that meal that day I'd still be wrapped in a blanket in a shop doorway, picking out Edelweiss on that old tin whistle for a few coins in a plastic beaker.' She shuddered. *What a place to fall to . . . but they say that . . . they say you have to reach your gutter before you can start the long climb back to respectable living.'

*That's what Alcoholics Anonymous say.'

*Yes, good people . . . they helped me as much as you did.'

*It's actually that which I have called to ask you about.'

*Oh?'

*Yes, I want to pick your brains.'

*I'll make us some tea.' She rose from the scatter cushion on which she sat. *My brain will make for richer pickings if I am drinking tea. Join me, George?'