The Shadow Collector by Kate Ellis

think she bears me much ill will.
     When I am about my work with my herbs she disturbs me not and I thank God for it for I cannot bear her hatred and her evil
     looks
.
    William came to my bed last night and I was forced to endure his advances. How I wish it would end
.
    Gerry kept asking how the hell it could have happened. The response from the officers meant to be keeping an eye on things
     was an embarrassed silence. Everyone had assumed Zac James had permission to leave the scene. It was a misunderstanding, that
     was all. Gerry fumed and issued vague threats but in the end they came to nothing.
    Now all patrols were on the lookout for Zac James’s blue sports car and Jessop’s Farm was being searched for a weapon or any
     bloodstained clothing. However, all the search turned up was a trace of white powder on the polished surface of the dressing
     table in Zac James’s room … white powder that turned out to be cocaine.
    The farmer, Joe Jessop, had been told to stay put in the run-down farm cottage nearby that had become his temporary home during
     the filming. Rupert Raybourn had checked into a hotel in Tradmouth, while the crew had returned to their rented cottage in
     the village so they’d be available for further questioning if needed. Gerry had promised that filming could resume in a day
     or so. But if one of the participants in
Celebrity Farm
turned out to be a murderer, the show certainly wouldn’t go on.
    Once they’d calmed egos and sorted everything out at the farm, there was someone else Wesley and Gerry wanted to see. According
     to Dorothy Benley’s statement eighteen years ago, Gabby Soames and Joanne Trelisip had beenstabbed in the stomach, exactly like the woman who’d just died. In view of the similarity, they had to speak to Lilith Benley
     again as soon as possible.
    Gerry sat quietly in the passenger seat as Wesley drove to Devil’s Tree Cottage for the second time that day. Wesley knew
     he was thinking, turning over the possibilities in his mind. Had Lilith killed again? Perhaps she couldn’t help herself. Some
     killers – the dangerous ones – couldn’t.
    When Lilith answered the door she was holding a wet dishcloth and the faded apron she wore looked as if it might once have
     belonged to her mother. She said nothing as she led them through into the kitchen where Wesley saw evidence that she’d been
     cleaning the cupboards. The place had been neglected for eighteen years, she explained. It was time she made a start.
    ‘You’ve heard about what happened next door?’
    It was difficult to read her expression as she put down the cloth and sank into a seat by the kitchen table. ‘A couple of
     policemen came round earlier to ask me if I’d seen or heard anything suspicious. I hadn’t.’
    ‘Have you seen a young woman hanging around nearby? Blonde; late twenties. Red coat.’
    ‘I’ve already said I haven’t seen anyone. Don’t you people communicate?’
    ‘The woman was stabbed in the stomach. That was how you killed your victims.’ Gerry’s words were almost brutal and Wesley
     saw Lilith flinch. ‘According to your mother you used a ceremonial knife – an athame, wasn’t it?’
    ‘That was taken off for examination at the time – I don’t have it now. Look, I didn’t kill those girls and I certainly didn’t
     kill this woman you’re talking about.’ She spokecalmly, patiently, as though she was explaining something to a rather dim child.
    ‘So was your mother lying about the girls’ murders?’ said Wesley.
    She turned her head away, fingering the thin fabric of her apron. ‘My mother was confused. She couldn’t tell fact from her
     delusions.’
    ‘There was the forensic evidence,’ Wesley continued. ‘And the girls’ bloodstained clothes were found in your out-house.’
    Lilith was staring ahead, her hands resting stiffly in her lap. Outwardly calm but Wesley could sense the turmoil inside.
     ‘You don’t seriously think I killed this woman, do