Free Broken Faith by James Green Page A

me as the one he used for you. Nobody knows anything, nobody except us and we’re not likely to talk, are we?’
    But Henderson had finished his wine and was pouring another glass so he missed Harry’s question and after a drink asked one of his own.
    â€˜What’s going on, Mercer? Why was Jarvis killed? Is it anything to do with us, did you do it?’
    Mercer almost laughed.
    â€˜No, you stupid bastard, I didn’t do it and I didn’t have it done. Why would I do it? I needed Jarvis alive, he’s no good to me dead is he?’
    â€˜Then who? Somebody shot him.’
    But this time it was Mercer who wasn’t listening. Something was niggling him. They’d been careful but –
    â€˜Which church does your old woman use?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜If the cops asked the question it must mean something. Which church?’
    â€˜The Jesuits’ one. It’s that big old one down by the –’
    â€˜I know where it is. What did they say when she told them?’
    â€˜Nothing. They didn’t seem interested.’ Then he remembered. ‘I think they were more interested in the other one.’
    â€˜What other one?’
    â€˜You know which one, Mater Dei, where Jarvis and I used to meet.’ Something clicked in Henderson’s brain. He reached across the table and took hold of Mercer’s arm. ‘Do you think they’ve connected me with Jarvis?’ His worried look moved up a gear and he began to sweat. Mercer brushed off his hand and looked at him. He would need to be sorted or he’d fall apart. Luckily he wasn’t just weak he was also stupid.
    â€˜No. They probably want to trace Jarvis’s movements since he arrived, background stuff. Nothing to worry about.’ The simple lie seemed to calm Henderson. He emptied his glass and poured himself another and drank half of it at one go.  Mercer watched him. ‘Are you driving?’
    â€˜No, I came by taxi. I knew after your call I’d need a drink and I’m not stupid.’
    Mercer didn’t bother to disagree.
    â€˜What else did they ask?’
    â€˜Nothing.’
    Mercer reached across and pulled Henderson’s arm back to the table as he was about to take another drink. The glass hit the surface and some of the wine bounced out.
    â€˜Think, you stupid bastard. What else did they ask?’
    The menace in Mercer’s voice brought on more sweat but Henderson did as he had been told and thought.
    â€˜The priest. They asked if the priest was there.’
    â€˜What priest? Where?’
    â€˜The priest at Mater Dei. They asked if he was there when Dorothy used the church.’
    â€˜Which priest?’
    Henderson thought hard again but this time drew a blank.
    â€˜I can’t remember. I never knew him. I only went with Dorothy enough times so it would look natural when Jarvis and I met up. I’m not interested in her damn mumbo-jumbo. Once Jarvis and I had made contact and set things up I stopped going. How do you expect me to remember a name? It was three years ago for God’s sake.’
    Henderson picked up the bottle and poured, but the wine stopped almost straight away. Henderson put the bottle down and motioned to the bar. The new arrival was still busy but with a different clean glass. He watched as the barman went across to the table. Henderson pushed the empty towards him.
    â€˜Another bottle.’
    â€˜Certainly, sir.’
    The barman picked up the empty bottle, gave the spilt wine a wipe with the cloth he was carrying and left. Henderson waited until he was back at the bar before he spoke again.
    â€˜Why did the woman policeman have that Costello with her? What’s a policeman from England doing here?’
    But Mercer wasn’t listening. He was slightly turned looking over his shoulder at the bar. He turned round and his attention went back to Henderson.
    â€˜Did you tell anyone we were going to meet?’
    â€˜No,