‘So this was at night?’

‘Early morning. Police suggested the bloke had been driving too long. We tidied up the wall, thought no more about it.’

‘Until…’

‘Week or so later, Tim Loste, the choirmaster, hit a telegraph pole. Not injured, fortunately. And then there was a woman, lives up the hill, flattened her sports car on a tourist’s Winnebago.’

‘And they both saw this light?’

‘They both… saw a figure behind the light.’

He turned to the window. The summer sun had finally penetrated his flowerless garden, but it still looked as if it was clinging to winter. Syd Spicer too, Merrily thought, as he turned to face her.

‘And there might be another one, which is… a bit weird. Joyce Aird can tell you. They won’t talk to me about it. Joyce was waiting for me after the worship yesterday. We’d had some prayers for the victims of the night before, and Joyce said… She gave me a piece of paper with your phone number on it, which she’d obtained from the Diocese. Said it was time to seek help to remove the evil from our midst.’

‘So, essentially, you had me forced on you,’ Merrily said.

‘Me, I’ve been telling them, let’s get the council in… surveyors

… examine the road camber. Let’s not get carried away. Famous last words.’

‘What about the Land Rover driver, the chairman of the parish council. Did he see-?’

‘I haven’t even asked him, Merrily.’

She sighed. ‘Would you mind if I had a cigarette?’

Spicer put his head on one side.

‘You disapprove?’

He shrugged. ‘I have one occasionally. When I want to. You go ahead, if you need one.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Merrily dropped the Silk Cut back into her shoulder bag. ‘You said there was something a bit weird.’

‘Oh, well, that… Joyce wouldn’t talk about it. Not to me. Said it was best discussed with a woman. I suppose I’m getting a bit…’