Ruthven was there even as the bellpull floated back against the wall.

“He did indeed m’lord,” said Ruthven in answer to the question about the mobile number. He moved to a desk at the end of the room and brought back a small metal address book, clicked it open and handed it to Melrose.

“Excellent, Ruthven. Surely you’re not thinking of driving to Exeter tomorrow morning? You just now got back.”

“Surely, I am. Macalvie wants Tom, too.”

“Well, if you insist on this hectic drive—nearly three hours it’ll take you from here—at least take the Bentley. It’s a bit faster than that police-issue thing.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Oh, yes, you could. Ruthven.” Melrose nodded at Ruthven.

Who went immediately to another room, returned and put the keys in Jury’s hand.

16

Tom Brownell didn’t have to be persuaded to go to Exeter after Jury told him about Macalvie’s phone call.

“Serial killer?” said Tom, as they drove a nearly trafficless M4 towards Devon. “I’d say that’s ridiculous.”

“I agree. But he’s come up with a few ideas over the years that struck me as impossible. They weren’t. Do you know Dennis Dench?”

“Forensic anthropologist? Sure. He’s brilliant.”

“Macalvie once argued that the bones under study belonged to a certain boy, a murder victim. Denny said no, the kid would have been, or the bones were, too young.”

“And Brian was right.”

“Of course. He always is.”

“It’s some kind of, I don’t know—imaginative grasp. Some combination of intuition and reasoning. I wish I had it.”

“You? Come on, Tom, no one’s got a better grasp—”

“But not intuitive. I go almost solely by pure reason.”

“So it’s you, Macalvie and me—what are we? The three wise men?”

“It’s the season for it, isn’t it?”

The nave of Exeter Cathedral was the longest medieval nave in the world. Jury stood with Tom Brownell, looking at the vaulted ceiling.

“The acoustics in this cathedral are so incredible I’d think a shot would have careened off these walls and that ceiling,” said Jury.

“Fireworks,” said Macalvie.

“What?”

“There were fireworks. Not in the cathedral grounds, of course, but out there—” Macalvie jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The city decided to allow a little pre-Christmas celebration. Only for about half an hour. Could have muffled a shot.”

“So I expect it was opportunistic,” said Tom.

“The shooter might have followed the fireworks, but how could he have followed the woman?” said Jury. “Unless he knew that—”

“That she was a regular, so to speak. And she was, according to the ladies I talked to. Very devout. Came here several evenings a week,” said Macalvie, “in addition to other times.”

“He knew she’d be here. But that means he was looking for her, not some random target. That doesn’t sound like a serial killer.”