Addy looked up. ‘Must be a couple of years. Maybe longer. He’d heard I’d finally persuaded Mr Douglas to sell me the Smithy’s Forge and he wanted to check I was doing OK.’ She looked wistful. ‘He knew it was my dream. Wish he’d talked me out of it now, of course. This sniper bawbag’s killing more than people.’
Bawbag –ballbag. Poe had to admit, Scottish slang was far more colourful than English slang. He said, ‘Itdoeslook quiet out there.’
Addy glared at him. ‘It looked quiet out there when that first wee lassie was killed. Now the bawbag’s come back for second helpings, it’s bloody dead. I rang round the other venues and they’re all empty. I have the money for one more month of nothing coming in. After that’ – she ran her finger across her throat – ‘I’ll be dead and buried.’
‘How long ago did you buy the Smithy’s Forge?’ Mathers asked.
‘Eight years ago. I’d been there twenty-odd years by then. Got a job as a weddings and events assistant when I left school. Didn’t miss a day.’
‘You must enjoy it?’
Addy smiled for the first time. ‘I’m not selling weddings, I’m sellingdreams. Even the repeat customers, the ones who see the marriage as something to endure until they feel the urge for yet another wedding . . .’
‘They’re addicted?’ Poe said, surprised.
Addy lit a cigarette. Sucked half of it down and said, ‘You’d be surprised what people can get addicted to, Sergeant Poe.’
Bradshaw nodded vigorously. ‘Poe’s addicted to Cumberland sausage, Joanne Addy,’ she said. ‘He eats it at least once a day.’
‘Great contribution, Tilly.’
‘Thank you, Poe.’
Addy continued as if that bizarre exchange hadn’t happened.
‘I have one customer who gets us to provisionally pencil in her next wedding while she’s still wearing white from the current one. And that’s fine. The heart wants what the heart wants. And I’ve loved working in the Smithy’s Forge since the moment I set foot in the place. Maybe I’m an old romantic, but I knew I’d own it one day. Call it fate or something. I don’t see it as a job or a career; I see it as a calling.’ She tapped out a new cigarette and lit it from the old one. ‘And now it’s over. Of all the difficulties the Gretna Green wedding businesses face, no one had considered something like this. An eejit sniper.’
‘Is there no help available?’ Poe asked.
‘It’s not like the pandemic. There’s no government assistance this time and the insurance company are claiming it’sforce majeure.’
Bradshaw had told Grantham Smythe, owner of the Mill Forge, the wedding venue where the first Gretna Green victim was killed, thatforce majeurewas French for greater force. It was a catch-all phrase for when the slippery bastards in insurance were trying to deny claims. Unlike an act of God, which only included natural events that couldn’t have been foreseen,force majeureincluded extraordinary situations caused by human intervention. War isforce majeure. COVID wasforce majeure. So were striking unions. Infrastructure failures.
It seemed insurance companies had added snipers to the list.
Chapter 60
‘Do you have a recent photograph of Raymond, Mrs Addy?’ Mathers asked.
Addy shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t let anyone take his photograph. It had something to do with his job before we got married. He said it was a security issue. I thought he was talking a load of pish, bigging up his life before we met, but now I think hemighthave been in the SAS. Something like that anyway.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because he never talked about what he’d done, not even when he’d been drinking. I asked him countless times, but he was a vault when it came to his past.’ She looked at Mathers, her eyes pinched. ‘And now I think I’d like you to tell me why you’re here.’
Mathers glanced at Flynn and at Poe. Flynn nodded. So did Poe.
‘We think Raymond is calling himself Ezekiel Puck now, Mrs Addy,’ Mathers said. ‘Does that name mean anything to you?’
Addy nodded. ‘I don’t know where it came from, but he occasionally used it. I think he may have even used it when he was roped into being a witness at a wedding renewal. Renewals aren’t official ceremonies, so it didn’t really make much difference. I think he used it as his character name on that stupid game he was obsessed with.’
‘What game was that?’ Poe said carefully.
‘Disincentivise. No, that’s not it. It was something like that, though.’
‘It’s calledDezinformatsiya,’ Bradshaw said. ‘It’s an espionage role-playing game. It’s based on the books of Johnle Carré. Players can play either side of the Cold War. Ezekiel Puck is the world’s top-rated player and he’s on a bunch of theDezinformatsiyamailing lists. It’s how we identified him.’
‘That’ll be right,’ Addy said. ‘Le Carré was Raymond’s favourite author. Why are you asking about his joke name?’
