The Circle

'From Chichester, yes. Did you hear what I just said? It's murder.'

'What are you then — a friend?'

'I met Miss Snow a few times in the past two weeks, that's all. Through the writers' circle. She's the secretary. Was she in there?'

'So you belong to this circle?'

'I've been to one meeting. Look, this isn't about me. I'm not important. I'm telling you Miss Snow was under threat, for God's sake.'

'I heard what you said, Mr Taylor.'

'Naylor.'

'When you've calmed down we'll take a statement. Can you call at the police station later today? Give your details to the officer over there before you leave.'

With that, DI Cherry strolled off towards a police response car.

'Bloody hell.'

Shaking his head in disbelief, Bob went over to pass on his name and address. If this was the level of interest from the police, he wasn't surprised poor old Maurice was still in custody.

'Bob!'

He turned to look at the taped-off area where the shout had come from, and his spirits had a lift. Thomasine was there waving, with Dagmar at her side. As soon as he'd passed on his name and address he went over to them.

'Was she in there?' Thomasine asked.

'Seems so. They're saying bugger all.'

'Poor little soul! It wasn't an accident, was it?'

'They're not saying. My guess is that someone torched the house, like they did Edgar Blacker's.'

Dagmar said, 'Who in the world would want to harm Miss Snow?'

He shook his head, at a loss for an explanation. 'I need a coffee. How about you two?'

The Costa shop in West Street was the nearest place open at this time. They carried their coffees upstairs, where they had the space to themselves.

'They'll have to release Maurice now,' Dagmar said. 'They will, won't they?'

Maurice wasn't high in Bob's thoughts right now 'If it's up to the dipstick I just met, I wouldn't hold your breath.'

'Someone else will be in charge,' Thomasine said. 'If it's a murder investigation they use detectives.'

'He was a detective. Does anyone know what time this happened?'

'Some hours ago. I saw it on TV. If it's anything like the fire that killed Blacker, it was started at night when no one was about.'

'What a wicked thing,' Dagmar said.

'She was a sweetie,' Thomasine said.'I can't understand this.'

'Have they got her out?' Dagmar asked.

'There can't be much left of her to get out,' Bob said. 'From what I could see, the fire got a grip before anyone arrived. It burned like a furnace inside. The place is just a shell now.'

'It's appalling,' Dagmar said. 'And you're right, Tommy. She was a lovely person, always helping people in trouble. All the work she did for the women's refuge, working in the charity shop. They're going to miss her.'

'So are we,' Thomasine said. 'She did great as the circle secretary. Don't know why she took it on. It's not a job I'd want, with people like Anton ready to jump on any mistake you make.'

'She was glad of the chance to work with Maurice,' Dagmar said, and added at once, 'I don't mean that unkindly. She was very high-minded, and so is Maurice, but there is some satisfaction to be got by a single lady linking up with a nice man in a worthwhile enterprise.'

There speaks the romantic novelist, Bob thought. He'd always thought of Dagmar as the one who fancied Maurice the most.

Thomasine's mind was elsewhere. 'Is it safe to assume the killer is the person who phoned Miss Snow and tried to lure her to the boat house?'

'That's my reading of it,' Bob said. 'Same m.o., basically.'

'M.o.?'

'Latin, isn't it? Same method. Killing by fire. Dead simple and not much risk. They must have stuffed some inflammable material in the space under the boat house for it to go up like it did. A fire doesn't take that quickly without paraffin or something.'

'Do you think they realised it was you inside and not Miss Snow?'

'I shouted plenty. They heard me.'

'What you're saying is that it was a trap meant for Miss Snow and when you walked into it they decided you'd better go instead?'

'Abso-bloody-lutely. I knew too much already.'

'And for a time they must have thought they'd succeeded, unless they watched you climb out on the roof.'

'I sensed they'd gone by then. Light the blue touch paper and run.'

There was a silence between them for a short while, as if no one wanted to make the dread conclusion that united them. At length it was Thomasine who spoke it.

'Let's face it. These fires all have a connection with the circle. None of us is safe any more.'

'But why pick on us?' Dagmar said. 'We're no threat to anyone, a harmless group of writers. We're not the mafia.'

'Dag, one of us can't be harmless,' Thomasine said. 'Someone in the circle is a killer.'

'It could be an outsider.'

'I don't see it. Three fires, all linked to the circle. They know who we are and where we live.'

'But why? Where's the sense in it?'

'I think we've got to consider pyromania.'

'Come again?' Bob said.

'Pyromania. People with a thing about starting fires. A mental illness. They have this need to see places go up in flames.'

'I've heard of that,' he said, 'but you're wrong. Our fire-raiser is picking on people, not buildings.'

'Maybe.'

'No maybe about it. This was murder, Thomasine, murder the easy way. You don't even have to look your victim in the eye. You sneak up to the house, shove a firebomb through the letterbox and run.'

'Horrible,' Dagmar said.

'Is that how it was started?' Thomasine said.

'No one is saying yet, but the fire at Blacker's house started in the front hall. That's the method.'

'So what can we do — leave it to the police?'

He rolled his eyes. 'Right now, I have zero confidence in that lot. You and I know more about the members of the circle than the police do. Who have they interviewed? Only Maurice.'

Dagmar spread her hands in appeal. 'And he's innocent. No one can dispute that any more.'

'You think we can take this on?' Thomasine said to Bob.

Before he answered, Dagmar took a deep breath. 'It's a huge risk, isn't it? You're the two who have been asking questions and we know what happened to you, Bob.'

He said, 'Bugger that. I'm angry.'

'Me, too,' Thomasine said. 'I want to nail this bastard, whoever it is.'

Dagmar looked from one to the other. No question: they were in earnest.

'So why was Miss Snow killed?' Thomasine said.

'She got things going in the first place,' Bob said. 'She got onto me and asked me to do whatever I could to get Maurice released. She was dead worried that the police were going to stitch him up.' He stared into his coffee. "Well, she told me something in confidence, but I think this is the time to share it with you. Maurice did a short spell inside.'

The colour drained from Dagmar's cheeks. 'What?'

'There was trouble with a neighbour and Maurice overreacted.'

'This doesn't sound like Maurice,' Thomasine said.

'I'm not kidding. The neighbour was an arsehole. He made Maurice's life a misery. Two of his rottweilers took over the garden and Maurice flipped his lid and shot them. But the worst of it was that Maurice made a bonfire of some wood the neighbour had heaped against his fence. The fire got out of control and burnt some property including a boat that was under repair.'

'Now I understand,' Thomasine said. 'Maurice has form as a fire-raiser.'

'You said the fire was accidental,' Dagmar stressed, as if it was Bob's fault.

'That's what I was told, love, but there are two things you don't ever do in this country. You don't sit down during God Save the Queen, and you don't shoot somebody's pet animal. He shot two. A jury won't ignore that. He was sent down for a few months.'