The Witch Maker by Sally Spencer

face.
    â€˜You see?’ he asked.
    â€˜No, I don’t,’ Woodend admitted.
    â€˜Zeb won’t serve the fairground people, an’ neither will the shops. We don’t want their money – an’ we don’t want them.’
    â€˜So why are they here?’
    â€˜The Witch Burnin’s a public event, an’ as such, it has to be licensed. The county council wouldn’t grant that licence unless we agreed to allow it to be open to everybody – an’ that includes the fair.’
    â€˜But you’d rather nobody came?’
    â€˜That’s right. It’s like I told you – there’s no point to a bridge unless it runs over a river, an’ there’s no point to Hallerton without the Witch Burnin’.’
    â€˜You’re jokin’, aren’t you?’ Woodend asked incredulously. ‘You have to be!’
    â€˜It might seem like a joke to you, sir,’ Thwaites told him reprovingly, ‘but that’s how we see it.’
    â€˜So everythin’ that goes on around here has no purpose if it doesn’t support the Witch Burnin’?’ Woodend asked, trying to understand.
    â€˜That’s right, sir.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because that’s the way it’s always been.’
    â€˜This is the 1960s,’ Woodend said. ‘There’s a television in nearly every home in the land these days. There’s planes that can fly you all the way to Australia in little more than a day. Bloody hell, the Yanks’ll be puttin’ a man on the moon in a few years.’
    â€˜But what’s that got to do with us, sir?’
    Woodend sighed again. ‘Let me see if I can get this straight,’ he said. ‘You claim that nobody in the village would want to kill Harry Dimdyke because he was the Witch Maker?’
    â€˜That’s right, sir.’
    â€˜Which, as far as you’re concerned, means that he could never have got up anybody’s nose? Which, in turn, means that nobody could ever hold a grudge against him, or want him dead?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜You told me two things earlier. The first was that the Witch Maker never marries, an’ the second was that the burden of his office makes him an old man before his time.’
    â€˜That’s quite correct, sir.’
    â€˜But even dead, Harry Dimdyke looked far from clapped out. In fact, I’d go so far as to say he seemed to be a very vigorous man who’d never have been happy with a life of celibacy.’
    â€˜I’m afraid you’ve lost me there, sir.’
    â€˜Most murders have either money or sex lurkin’ somewhere in their background. We ruled out one, so that must leave the other. Harry Dimdyke wasn’t gettin’ his oats at home, so where was he gettin’ them?’ Thwaites glanced down at the table. ‘I wouldn’t know about that, sir,’ he mumbled.
    But he would, Woodend thought. He’d bloody
have to
!
    â€˜Was he havin’ an affair with somebody’s wife?’ the Chief Inspector pressed. ‘Is that the big secret you’ve been tryin’ to keep from me?’
    Thwaites said nothing.
    â€˜Well?
Was
he dippin’ his wick in somebody else’s candle holder?’
    â€˜I’m afraid I couldn’t say, sir,’ Thwaites replied stonily.
    â€˜This is a village!’ Woodend exploded, unable to keep his temper under control any longer. ‘You can’t fart in a place like this without everybody knowin’ about it. An’ you’re tryin’ to tell me you don’t know whether or not Harry Dimdyke was gettin’ a bit on the side?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜If I think you’re holdin’ back on me, I can make things difficult for you,’ Woodend threatened. ‘In fact, with a little bit of effort, I can make them bloody impossible. So, for your own good, can I suggest you start pullin’ with the rest of the