Authors: M.R. Hall
The Redeemed (8 page)
'I was there the first night Lennox came in,' Michael
Turnbull cut in. 'He had these dreadlocks and jeans with the seat hanging down
to his knees. I thought, here comes trouble.' Bobby laughed and patted Lennox
on the back. 'But in his two and a half years working for us,' Turnbull
continued, 'this man has taken and kept more poor and deprived young people out
of trouble than any government initiative ever could.'
The congregation rose to their feet again as Lennox bowed his
head and Bobby laid hands on him, saying, 'Lord, we thank you for your servant
Lennox and pray that your spirit will continue to guide and strengthen this
precious child. In Jesus' name we thank you for his service and pray that this
man you have named Strong will continue to bring succour to the weak. A-men.'
Bobby turned to face the crowd, and raised his fists in a triumphant salute.
'Now I feel strong, strong in the
spirit
!
I feel invincible, folks, because
God is the greatest power there is. And I want all of you who haven't yet given
yourselves to Christ to come forward and let him into your life. A few short
words and an eternity of salvation. Come on now, this is the moment, this is
your
moment. If the Lord could reach down into hell to save a
sinner like Lennox, how easy it will be for him to reach you.'
Jenny watched as a team of assistants in matching yellow MCG
T-shirts received the steady stream of worshippers who started to come forward.
The band struck up an upbeat but restrained rendition of 'Amazing Grace'; the
choir hummed in gentle harmony.
Some stood, others knelt as Bobby, Michael, Lennox and the
team laid hands on them and prayed. The big screen showed close-ups of the
newly converted with their tearful expressions of joy and gratitude. In a sea
of whispers she overheard snippets of prayer for relief from illness, addiction,
jealousy, freedom from debt. Men and women who had arrived as strangers wept in
each other's arms.
Bobby's unexpected roar echoed like a thunderclap around the
auditorium: 'Ladies and gentleman, the Holy Spirit is truly at work here tonight!
We are being visited with the blessing of the Rapture! A-men. A-men.'
A buzz of excitement shot through the crowd as pictures
appeared on the big screens of a middle-aged woman and two young men who lay
convulsing on the floor at the foot of the stage.
'Praise be. Praise be for your gifts of the spirit. Praise be
to Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour. Welcome him into your hearts,' Bobby
cried out as the slow-moving wave spread upwards through the rows towards
Jenny's. A vast ox of a man sitting immediately in front of her sank to his
knees, then fell prostrate in the aisle. A teenage girl tumbled out of her seat
and collapsed next to him. Jenny heard herself dismissing the spectacle as
collective hysteria even as she felt the wave breaking over her; a warm
sensation spread downwards from the crown of her head through her shoulders and
chest; her hands trembled and the strength bled from her legs.
On the brink of collapse and fighting the heaviness in her
limbs, Jenny forced one leg in front of the other and headed towards the exit.
Stepping between the fallen, she noticed Freddy among them. Lying perfectly
still, his eyes shone like a child's, and for a moment she thought him the
closest thing she had ever seen to an angel.
Jenny sat out the rest of the service in MCG's, drinking
lukewarm coffee and watching a live feed from inside the auditorium on one of
the several screens arranged around the deserted restaurant. Bobby brought
worshippers who had just experienced the Rapture up onto the stage and urged
them to testify. One after another they all described the same feeling: like
swimming in a river of love; an overwhelming sense of happiness followed by
peace beyond all description as they felt themselves floating upwards.
A waitress who had been wiping tables said, 'It started in
America. First it was only a few people, now it's hundreds and thousands. It's
just awesome.'
'What do you think's going on?' Jenny said.
'A new wave of the spirit. What else could it be?'
'People scream and faint at rock concerts.'
'Yes, but do they go out afterwards and change the world?'
Jenny handed the waitress her empty cup. There was no answer
to that.
The church offices were situated behind a locked door at the
far side of the shop. Jenny pressed the intercom and was answered by a male
voice. 'Hello, how can I help you?'
Jenny looked into the lens of the built-in security camera.
'Jenny Cooper. Severn Vale District Coroner. I'd like to talk to the church
administrator.'
'That would be me,' the voice replied. 'Come on in.'
She pushed open the door at the sound of the buzzer, and was
met in a spacious reception area by a wholesome- looking young man in a neatly
pressed shirt and tie.
He shook her hand. 'Good evening. Joel Nelson. What can I do
for you?'
'I'm conducting an inquiry into the death of Eva Donaldson,'
Jenny said, almost without realizing that she had just made her decision. 'I'll
need statements from anyone here who had dealings with her. I thought you'd be
the best person to ask who they might be.'
'Right,' Nelson said, his face devoid of any trace of alarm.
'The first thing you should know is that Miss Donaldson didn't actually work
for the church. She was retained by the Decency campaign, which is an entirely
separate body.'
'But she spent a lot of time here.'
'That's true, but she wasn't part of the management, so to
speak.'
'A boy in the shop told me she was the leader of his study
group.'
'That's a purely voluntary role.'
'I see.' Jenny cast her eyes around the comfortably decorated
room. There were pastel-coloured sofas, two top-of- the-range plasma screens,
and several modern private offices separated from the reception area by
plate-glass walls screened with sleek Venetian blinds. The largest office was
signed 'Boardroom'. 'I'd be grateful if you could at least give me a list of
your employed staff so I can contact them.'
'Certainly,' Nelson said, and moved over to a computer
sitting on the receptionist's desk.
'Were you friendly with Miss Donaldson?' Jenny asked.
'In as much as we all try to be friends here,' Nelson said.
'I wouldn't say we were close.' He tapped on the keyboard and strolled over to
a printer, which was already whirring into life.
Jenny ran her eyes over the polished solid-wood shelving that
lined the wall behind him and noticed a section of box files marked 'Decency'.
'Does Decency have separate offices,' Jenny asked, 'or does
it operate from here?'
Nelson glanced back at her, then at the shelves, working out
how she'd made the connection. 'They have a small part-time staff here,' he
said, 'but the main office is in London.'
Jenny was about to ask if he could provide a list of their
employees too when Bobby DeMont, Michael Turnbull and Lennox Strong came
through the door, buzzing with excitement. Wiping his perspiring neck with a
towel, Bobby was saying, 'You think we couldn't be any more blessed, then we
have a night like tonight.'
'You were great,' Lennox said. 'The energy, man.'
It was Turnbull who noticed Jenny first, catching Nelson's
glance before turning to greet her with a warm hello.
'This is Mrs Jenny Cooper,' Nelson said. 'She's the coroner
looking into Eva Donaldson's death.'
'Ah, yes. I'd forgotten about that part of the procedure.'
Turnbull reached out a hand. 'Michael Turnbull.'
Bobby stepped forward unprompted. 'Bobby DeMont. Pleased to
meet you, ma'am.' He enclosed her palm with a hot, strong handshake. 'What a
terrible tragedy. Each time I met that woman I came away in awe. One of life's
fighters. A real inspiration.'
'Mrs Cooper would like to take statements from people who
knew her,' Nelson said.
'Didn't we already do that with the police?' Turnbull asked.
Jenny said, 'Don't worry, there's no fanfare or publicity. I
just have to make sure that cause of death is ascertained correctly.'
'I don't understand,' Lennox said. 'We've just had the court
case. There's more?'
'An inquest may only be a formality,' Jenny said, 'but
there's always the chance there were areas the police didn't look at too
closely.'
'Oh. Such as?' Lennox asked.
Bobby pressed a hand to Lennox's back. 'You're guaranteed
our full cooperation, ma'am. The church will help in whatever way it can.'
'Of course,' Turnbull said. 'When can we expect this to
happen?'
Jenny said, 'I appreciate the timing isn't great for you—'
'Can't it at least wait until the Decency Bill has had its
first reading?'
Reacting to Turnbull's anxiety, Bobby interjected, 'Hey, you
don't have to worry about that, Mike. A man's been convicted. This is just a
technicality.'
With a forced smile, Turnbull said, 'I do hope so.'
'There's really nothing to worry about,' Jenny replied. 'This
is perfectly standard procedure.'
'You'll forgive my concern when a bill threatening a
multi-billion-pound industry is about to be debated.'
'Calm down, buddy,' Bobby said, throwing Jenny a tense smile.
'It'll be fine.'
'Who knows, if everybody's helpful we might get it done
before then,' she replied.
Nelson took two sheets from the printer and handed them to
her. Jenny said a polite goodbye and promised to be in touch. As the reception
door closed shut behind her, she could have sworn she heard Bobby DeMont
mutter, 'Sonofabitch!'
Jenny carried
her coffee out
to the table on the lawn to catch the first rays of sun. The
house martins were already darting out from their nests under the eaves and
swooping for the insects rising up from the unkempt meadow on the far side of
the garden wall. The air was filled with the hum of bees and the raucous chorus
of songbirds: she envied the creatures their simple, unquestioning sense of
purpose. She was loath to admit it, but her visit to the Mission Church of God
had left her shaken. It wasn't the frenzy of the crowd or the sight of
otherwise sane and ordinary people reduced to convulsions which had played over
and over in her listless dreams, but Lennox Strong's testimony. It was only a
modern retelling of the hellfire sermons of the past, she told herself, a
cynical manipulation of all those members of the congregation with uneasy
consciences, but it had touched her nonetheless. As Lennox described his
descent into darkness she had heard her father's voice, 'You remember, Smiler.
You killed her.'
It was ridiculous. Her father was senile and Lennox Strong's
story, even if it were true, was merely the waking nightmare of a young man terrified
of death. She had no reason to be frightened; she had progressed beyond
irrational emotions. Her divorce was fading into history and she had the
attention of a handsome, thoughtful man whenever she desired it. By all
objective measures life was good; her only challenge was to start believing it.
Once she had achieved that simple step, everything else would follow. She would
be well again and her son could learn to trust her.
But simply forcing herself to look on the bright side failed
to lift her mood. A persistent knot of troubling and unwanted thoughts lodged
stubbornly while she washed the breakfast dishes and ran through her tasks for
the day. When the phone rang it was a welcome distraction. She hurried to
answer it, hoping to hear Steve.
'I haven't woken you, have I, Mrs Cooper?' It was Alison.
'I was just leaving.'
Her officer continued in a put-upon tone: 'Only I've had Mrs
Jacobs calling trying to get hold of you. Apparently the police say they're not
treating her husband's death as suspicious.'
'That was quick. I suppose she wants to know if we can move
as swiftly.'
'Not quite.' 'Oh?'
'CID returned his computer wiped blank. They claim it's a
mistake; she thinks they're hiding something from her. I tried suggesting that,
if they were, it might be for the best, but she's got it into her head there
was something going on at the Conway Unit they're hushing up.'
'I presume they told her about the swabs?'
'She doesn't believe it. She insists she'd have known.'
Jenny saw a long day stretching ahead. 'All right. I'll stop
by and talk to her on my way in.'
'Eva Donaldson's father has been melting the answer- phone.
He's furious about the post-mortem and is demanding to bury his daughter.'
'Tell him to come to the office. I'll try to explain.'
'Good luck.'
Alison rang off.
Replacing the receiver, Jenny felt a cold and unexpected
draught on the back of her neck coupled with the sensation of being watched.
She turned slightly and from the corner of her eye saw a flicker of movement
beyond the window: the outline of an adult, a man. She spun round. There was no
one there. She told herself it had been a trick of the light, but as she took a
step she felt her legs shaking. Heart thumping, she forced herself forwards to
the window and looked left and right, half-expecting to see the postman or the
old man from the village who, when the spirit moved him, cut the grass. The
garden was empty.
