Mourn not your Dead

reminding Kincaid of a frustrated bull. “She did vile things to a small boy. I’ll tell you, Superintendent, if I ever find that bitch, I’ll kill her, and then it’ll be me you’ll have warming your cell.” He stared aggressively at Kincaid, chin thrust forwards, then when Kincaid didn’t respond he relaxed and sighed. “I felt responsible. Do you understand that? I should have seen what was going on, should have stopped her, but I was too caught up in my own misery.”
    “You still feel responsible for him.” Kincaid made it a statement.
    Brian nodded. “He got better over the years. The nightmares stopped. He did well enough at school, even though he didn’t make friends easily. Then when he went to prison it started all over again. ‘Separation anxiety,’ the prison doctor called it.
    “Superintendent, if Geoff is sent to prison again, I don’t think he will recover.”
    A movement caught Kincaid’s eye and he looked up. Will Darling threaded his way through the tables towards them like a barge easing its way down the Thames. “Sir,” he said as he reached the table, “there’s a... um, delegation of sorts... to see you.”
     
    THEY WERE CROWDED INTO THE TINY RECEPTION AREA—DOC Wilson, Rebecca Fielding, and behind them, a head taller, Madeleine Wade. The doctor had evidently appointed herself spokesperson, for as soon as he came into the room, she marched up and buttonholed him. “Superintendent, we want a word. It’s about Geoff Genovase.”
    “You couldn’t have had better timing,” Kincaid said, smiling. “You’ve saved us asking you to come in, as we need you to officially identify your things.” He looked over his shoulder. “Will, is there somewhere more comfortable—”
    “You don’t understand, Mr. Kincaid.” The doctor sounded exasperated, as if he were a recalcitrant patient. The vicar looked worried, and Madeleine looked as though she were enjoying the whole thing but trying not to show it.
    Stepping forwards, Rebecca put a hand on the doctor’s arm. “Mr. Kincaid, what we’re trying to tell you is that we don’t wish to press charges. We’ll be glad to identify the things for you, but it won’t make any difference.”
    “What the—” He shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Madeleine?”
    “I’m with them all the way. We’ll say we lent him the things and just forgot, if necessary.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin.
    “What about Percy Bainbridge?”
    “Percy has a tendency to be a bit difficult, all right,” said the doctor, “but Paul’s having a word with him just now. I’m sure he’ll manage to sort him out.”
    “And if he doesn’t?” Kincaid eyed them skeptically.
    The doctor smiled, and he recognized the battle light in her eyes. “We’ll make his life hell.”
    Kincaid rubbed the stubble on his chin between thumb and forefinger. “What if you’re wrong about Geoff? What if he went into the Gilberts’ house that night and killed the commander?”
    Madeleine stepped forwards. “We’re not wrong. I promise you, Geoff isn’t capable of killing anyone.”
    “You have no evidence,” added the doctor. “And if you try to pin this on him, I guarantee you’ll have half a dozen people suddenly remember they saw him doing something else.”
    “This is all a bit feudal, don’t you think?” When no one responded, Kincaid said on a surge of anger, “You do realize what you’re doing here? You’re taking the law into your own hands, and you have neither the knowledge nor the impartiality to do so. This is what our justice system is designed to prevent—”
    “We are not willing for Geoff Genovase to be sacrificed in order to test the fairness of the law, Superintendent.” The doctor’s brows were set in a straight line, and the faces of the others were implacable.
    Kincaid glared at them for a moment, then sighed. “Will, take care of the formalities, would you? I’ll just tell Brian he can take his son home.”
     
    KINCAID SCOOTED IN BESIDE GEMMA ON THE BENCH BEFORE Deveney or Will could outmaneuver him, then smiled at the disappointment on Deveney’s face. They had adjourned to a pub near the station, hoping to organize strategy as well as fill their stomachs.
    “The chief constable’s been on the blower,” Deveney said conversationally when they had ordered and were sipping appreciatively at their drinks.
    No one looked thrilled at the prospect of hearing what that exalted figure had to say, but Kincaid set