extract from 'STRANGE BLOOD'
Megan lost track of the time as she pulled out page after page of handwritten accounts of Wiccan spells and rituals. The name Raven cropped up time after time. There was never any other name alongside it. Nothing to convey whether this was a real name or some alias assumed for the purposes of witchcraft.
When she came to the last page Megan threw the empty folder on the table and sank back into one of the wicker armchairs. She felt hollow inside. In her hand she was holding evidence that would set any prosecution counsel dancing round the room in glee. How could she have got it so wrong? She thought about what she had just read, trying to be objective. There was no proof that Tessa was the author. Her name appeared nowhere. But Megan had no real doubt that she had written the notes and it would be a simple matter to compare the handwriting with letters signed by Tessa. Nevertheless, Megan thought, it seemed bizarre that such stuff had been penned by a woman who, two years later, was described as a pillar of the local church. She looked again at the last sheet of paper she had uncovered:
'Raven made love to me in the ruins at Whiteladies Abbey. We were not supposed to be there. He was due to give a talk tonight about Candle Magic. We had booked Saint Paul 's church hall and about fifty people turned up to hear him. But the Born Agains were out in force. They blocked the doors and refused to let us in. They were waving banners with phrases like ‘Get Thee Behind Me Satan' and other such rubbish. They have no idea, these people. They think all magic is Black Magic. They condemn us from a position of total ignorance. It is people like them who were responsible for the Burning Times.. .'
The Born Agains. Not a very flattering description of the people Tessa had apparently regarded as her friends when she died. So what had happened, Megan wondered? Had the decision to give up her lover been fuelled by a conversion experience? And how would he have reacted to her joining the ranks of the enemy? Whichever way round things had happened, Megan thought, there was plenty of motive for murder.
She was so absorbed that she failed to recognise the tone of her mobile phone, which was ringing inside her bag on the kitchen table. The policeman brought it through to the conservatory, holding the bag out in front of him as if it were a bomb about to explode. She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before taking it from his outstretched hand.
‘Hello, Megan.' Steve Foy's voice was gruff and he sounded excited. ‘I think we've got him!'
© Lindsay Ashford 2005