"What else did the probation officer tell you?"
"That she's responding to her treatment; the medication's continuing and there have been no signs of a relapse, so far. She's doing her best to change, the woman said. She's wearing contacts now, and her wardrobe's a lot less like a nun on a weekend pass."
"Has she got a job?"
"Aye she has, ma'am. The probation service found her a placement with the Church of Scotland, in George Street. They had hoped she might have another go at teaching eventually, but the medical advice was against that."
"The Church of Scotland, eh. The Moderator and his wife were guests yesterday, weren't they?"
"Aye, and the new archbishop, but I don't think that any of them are in the frame, eh?"
Steele frowned. "Let's stay serious. George, okay?"
"Right, inspector, I'll get serious. Why are we sitting about here?
Why don't we just pick her up, then?"
"What for?" asked Rose. "The girl might have a genuine interest in religious art. It isn't an offence to gate crash a private function.
No, George; since you're so keen for action, you can get back into those tapes. Forget everyone else, just concentrate on Andrea
Strachan. Let's see whether we can catch her in the vicinity of the
Vargas Trinity at any time. Then let's see if we have a shot of her at the moment of the detonation of the device. You never know; we might get lucky and find a shot of her pulling the trigger."
"And if we don't?" the sergeant countered.
"Then we, that's to say you and DI Steele, will make further enquiries tomorrow, at the Church of Scotland, to see if the girl might have been there legitimately, through them, and at Candela and Finch, to check whether they issued informal invitations to anyone else.
"We'll keep her under surveillance, but I'm only going to move against this girl when all these avenues have been explored. She's a schizophrenic arsonist, George. If they hadn't done the probation deal over the church thing, she'd probably have gone to the state mental hospital at Carstairs. If she did torch that painting, that's where she's bound this time, for sure. She could wind up there for a good chunk of the rest of her life, so we cannot afford to make any mistakes."
Twenty-Four
As it happened, Alice Bierhoff was in church, on the other side of the central aisle, but not too far away for Sarah to catch her eye and throw her a look that was meant to say, Spread gossip about me, lady, and you "II wish you d never been born. But Alice, a short dumpy woman… She probably can't remember the last time she had any excitement in her life, thought Sarah as she looked at her… was either tougher than she looked, or had forgotten to put in her contacts, for she replied with a small wave and a sweet, knowing smile.
Sarah let it go at that, for she had enough on her hands with Seonaid and a restless, fidgety James Andrew. Jazz had not been best pleased when his mother had told him that the trip to the lake had been postponed, and he spent much of the service determinedly punching the thigh of his adopted brother, Mark, who had been given the task of trying to keep him under control.
Once or twice, as they rose for hymns, Sarah glanced around her, looking for a familiar face, but there was no sign of him… and he was way too big to be concealing himself among the congregation.
Finally they reached the business end of the hour, Ian Walker's sermon.
It took Sarah a while to take a grip of what he was saying, but finally she understood; his message was that while society had evolved in ways that only God could have imagined during the two thousand years of Christianity, the ten commandments still stood at the centre of the faith, and still encapsulated the values by which Christians should live their lives.
Sarah sat poker-faced when Babs caught her eye; she wondered whether the preacher's wife had suggested the theme, or even if she had let him in on Alice Bierhoff's chance discovery, and if this was his discreet way of registering disapproval.
If it was, she found it more than a little rich; she remembered, among other things, smoking a little grass with Ian in her freshman college year. While there might not have been a commandment that referred to that specifically, she was pretty sure that it was covered somewhere.
It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him of the occasion as he bade his congregation farewell outside the church, but she decided to keep it in reserve. By that time Jazz was virtually uncontrollable, Mark was complaining that his leg was numb and even the obedient infant Seonaid was becoming restless. '
"Are you going to behave?" she hissed at her younger son, as Babs Walker came towards them.
"Want to go to the lake," James Andrew muttered.
"I have told you; Auntie Babs has invited us all for lunch."
"Want to go to the lake."
"Maybe later, then; maybe we'll go for a little while. Will that make you happy?"
The child's expression softened, but only a little. He whispered something that she could not hear. Gratefully she handed Seonaid over to Babs, as she arrived beside her and crouched down beside him. "What did you say?" she asked him, quietly. Still his whispered reply was inaudible. "What?" she asked again.
"I want Dad," Jazz muttered, plaintively, on the edge of tears. "I want my dad."
Sarah felt her heart melt inside her. "So did I, son," she said, ruffling his hair as she stood. "So did I. But he's had to go away."
"Hi, guys," said Babs, brightly, holding Seonaid up in the sunshine.
"My, but you're a little beauty." The blonde-haired child gurgled and smiled at the attention. "You ready for lunch?" she asked Sarah. "My boys are looking forward to playing soccer in the yard with your boys."
"Sure, but Mark might opt out of the soccer; the only kind he plays is on a computer screen. As for James Andrew, Matthew might be able to handle him, since he's seven, but Daniel might find him a little rough."
"Rough? At soccer?"
"They play a slightly different game in Scotland; and James Andrew's learned from his father. Speaking of whom…"
"It's all right," Babs broke in, forestalling her. "Like I promised, there will be no extra lunch guest. I did call Ron, though. On reflection I thought I'd better tell him about Alice… before he heard from someone else, you understand."
Sarah understood very clearly. "What did he say?"
"My dear, he used language quite inappropriate for the wife of a Lutheran clergyman to repeat, and certainly not in front of the children. Let's just say that his view of Alice is in line with your own. Now come on; let's be going. Ian will be a little while, but the rest of us can head on back to the house now."
Lunch at the Walkers proved to be a pleasant experience, even if the soccer game did come to an abrupt end with Jazz, still dour and fractious, punching Matthew, the older of his hosts' sons. "I'm sorry, Babs," said Sarah, as her friend wiped the tears from his face and the blood from his nose. "This one," she threw James Andrew a thunderous look, 'who will, incidentally, be lucky to get within a hundred miles of the lake after that, has been impossible lately."
"He's missing his dad," Mark explained, coming to his brother's defence in a way that touched Sarah, even through her anger.
"Be that as it may," she said, trying to stay severe, 'he has to learn."
"He kicked me," Jazz muttered.
Once the peace treaty between the boys had been signed, they settled down to a chicken lunch, American style, although Sarah kept tight rein on the size of her children's portions.
"I enjoyed your sermon, Ian," Sarah ventured, finally, once the four oldest children had been released to watch television.
The preacher smiled. "I give them traditional values every so often," he said. "Babs suggested it was time for another round."