‘The pointer on the Ouija board, it moves towards letters and …’
‘Oh yes,’ he smiled.
Henry thought his eyes mocked her. He doesn’t believe a word of it. Still, thought Henry. I don’t suppose I would either.
‘He said he wasn’t dead.’
‘At last,’ cheered Henry. Surely the reverend would take this seriously.
Reverend Ryan looked at her quizzically, for in another whisper, she said,
‘I think he’s stuck, you know?’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Henry waited patiently for Reverend Ryan to respond. His expression gave nothing away, but Henry could tell he had been taken aback. Henry felt sure he’d call his wife down from upstairs in a moment and ask her advice.
‘Call the police,’ she’d say, and Reverend Ryan would tuck in his shirt and together they would wait for the police to come.
Against his better judgement, Henry had decided that perhaps a vicar should have been his first port of call. Vicars knew all about death and dying more than anyone and no doubt something about that strange waiting place where people sometimes get stuck, or, as in Henry’s case, where something had gone disastrously wrong. They would go to the police station and someone would contact Imogen. That would put Jim in his place, thought Henry gleefully. His attention was quickly pulled back to the vicar.
‘I rather think you’re getting carried away with this,’ he said.
Faye licked her dry lips, then remembered the tea and took a large gulp from the flowery teacup.
‘Don’t you think we should help him?’
Henry was getting frustrated.
‘Don’t you think you should call the police?’ he demanded.
‘My dear Miss Wilson …’ the vicar began in a patronising tone. ‘I can assure you that Henry Frazer is most certainly dead and even if he isn’t, the most we can do is pray for him and I promise to include him in my prayers tonight.’
‘Would you?’ said Faye, looking relieved.
‘Of course, I’d be very happy to.’
‘You don’t think we should call the police?’
Reverend Ryan smiled indulgently.
‘I don’t think a dead person’s words are very reliable, do you?’
‘Why not?’ asked Henry. ‘No one’s word is more reliable than mine.’
‘I suppose the messages can get distorted,’ she agreed.
‘We would be discredited immediately, and it would do nothing for my reputation or yours.’
Henry gaped at him.
‘Well …’ said Faye, faltering.
‘Don’t give up,’ cried Henry. ‘I need to get this sorted.’
Reverend Ryan stretched, managing to pull out more of his shirt.
Henry had somehow ended up in the river and was unable to swim. In the movies drowning is loud and splashy, someone yells and waves their arms, and then they dip below the waves and come up in dramatic fashion while those on shore scramble to rescue them.Henry had been a lifeguard and he knew drowning never happened like that. Drowning is quiet. One minute your head is bobbing above the water and then it is gone. But Henry wouldn’t have drowned. Not in the park river. There should have been an autopsy. They would have seen then that Henry was as fit as a twenty-year-old. Henry didn’t fall into the water. He was pushed. He needn’t have worried about the suspicious mole killing him off or the big C. No, Henry needn’t have worried about them. There was only one person he needed to worry about. It was his wife he needed to fear; his wife who had plotted and carried out his murder. Henry felt very sure about that. Who else would want to kill him? He had no enemies. Lust can make you do all kinds of things. It had been the cause of numerous murders throughout history. Henry had read enough to know that the murderer is nearly always someone the victim knew. The woman he thought he knew so well; his wife, the stranger. The one person he had trusted the most. It had been her. He wouldn’t have made it easy, thought Henry. I would have kicked out desperately as I tried to swim to the surface. The dark dingy water swirling around me, trapping me, keeping me from the oxygen I needed. Henry’s lungs felt on fire just thinking about it. The hot embers couldn’t reach him now. He was chilled to the very bones of his being. Slowly everything would have faded away, painfully and quietly. He hadn’t been strong enough to overpower Jim. But why was he still here? Why hadn’t he gone to wherever dead people go? What was he supposed to do now? Clearly, Faye couldn’t help him, and the vicar was as good as useless. The insurance money, he thought with a jolt. It was most likely to do with that. Jim had talked her into it. Now, everyone was going to let him get away with it.
