Tell the Truth, Shame the Devil(52)

Bish again felt Katherine eyeing him. “What are your thoughts, Chief Inspector Ortley? You seem to have some—I can tell.”

Bish’s opinion on the subject was simple. What was said in the confines of one’s home should sometimes remain there. But he didn’t believe the Parkers would appreciate the honesty.

“My thoughts these days are always on the kids,” he said, retrieving his notebook. He scribbled out his email address and tore out the page. “Can I have the security tape from the day your garden was destroyed?” he asked, handing it to Parker. “And a list of any speaking engagements you were invited to prior to the vandalism?”

“There’s no security tape,” Ian Parker said.

“It got damaged,” Katherine said.

“If that’s all, we’ll be off now,” Parker said and turned briskly to his wife. “I’ve booked us a table for morning tea in town.”

She looked surprised. “I’ve already arranged to drive up to Canterbury with Sadia for a bit of sightseeing,” she said.

“With who?”

“Sadia Bagchi. Manoshi’s mother.”

Parker’s look was one of disbelief. “Why would she want to go to a cathedral?”

“For the art and the history,” Katherine said, irritation in her voice. “Honestly, Ian, I’m going for a drive with the woman. Not converting her to Christianity.”

Bish was becoming quite a fan of Katherine Barrett-Parker.



Before he left, he went up to see Fionn. The door was shut and he heard laughter coming from inside.

“He’s got a visitor,” one of the nurses told him cheerfully. “Two mornings in a row. Go on in. I doubt he’ll mind.”

But he shook his head, glad the kid had friends coming through. “I think he’s spent enough time with us oldies around him.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He went to walk away, but stopped. What if it was Violette or Eddie in there?

“Is it a girl?” he asked the nurse.

“No. One of the lads in his form from school.”



Back home, Bish stopped at his local for a drink. He had avoided it for weeks, not wanting to explain why he wasn’t at work, so he sat at the back surrounded by TV screens. It was somber viewing. A Sky News special edition of three of the funerals taking place. White balloons hovering above Astrid Copely’s village in Devon. A transcript, read aloud, of the heartbreaking eulogy by Julius McEwan’s childhood best friend. The coffin carrying Lucia Ortez being carried up a stony outcrop in Basque Country to an eight-hundred-year-old chapel by the kids she grew up with, all of them taking their turns. Add to that Bish’s memory of Stevie’s funeral and the drowned body of the anonymous girl in the Calais morgue, and it was too much to bear.

Grazier rang for an update and Bish told him about Katherine Barrett-Parker’s vandalized garden.

“When did it happen?” Grazier asked.

“Back in May.”

“Did they report it?”

“No. And surprisingly, their own security footage for that night got damaged.”

“What are you thinking?”

“She’s hiding something,” Bish said. “Perhaps an affair. She may know whoever was responsible and wants to keep it from her husband.”

“I’ll get Elliot to look into it.”

“No, I’ll do it—”

“I need you for something else,” Grazier interrupted.

According to Grazier, Noor LeBrac had received a letter from her daughter. Although it had been intercepted in the prison mail room, a decision had been made by the acting governor of Holloway to release it to LeBrac. Apparently there was nothing in it of concern, but the Home Office wanted it regardless.

“And you want me to go in there and wrestle it from her?” Bish said. “When?”

“Now.”

Bish had lost count of how many drinks he had already consumed.

“Grazier, I’m not—”

“Get to Holloway. Ask her politely to hand it over, and we’ll take care of politely asking the officer in charge of mail to send anything from Violette straight to us in the future,” Grazier said. “There was another bashing this afternoon. Same age as Violette. Same coloring. The parents don’t want it made public. Tell LeBrac that if she doesn’t give you the letter she’s putting her daughter and Eddie Conlon’s life in danger.”

Bish could just imagine how much Noor LeBrac would appreciate being told she was the one responsible for her daughter and Eddie’s being in danger.



Grazier, or the power the Home Office thought they had over Holloway, was slipping. That, or the acting governor was trying to make a statement.

“There’s no Bish Ortley on the list to see anyone today,” he was told by Allison, the efficient woman from the visitors’ center who usually accompanied him to Officer Gray’s post. Her expression always seemed to warn against trying to charm her.

“But you know who I am,” he said.

“Yes I do, Chief Inspector Ortley, but there’s nothing here to say that a visit has been approved.”

“Then it’s probably been organized directly with Officer Gray.”

She picked up the phone, punched a few numbers, and waited a moment before asking if Chief Inspector Bish Ortley was authorized to visit Noor LeBrac.