Healers by Ann Cleeves

even in front of other people. He said she only taught dummies. Anyone could do that. Then he started seeing this woman at college … That only seemed to make him worse. More arrogant, more full of himself, you know.” He paused, drank the last of his coffee. “Mum started getting panic attacks. Rushing in her ears, palpitations. She thought she was dying. She went to her GP who wanted to put her on tranquillizers. I said “No way” and suggested she went to the Old Chapel.”
    “When was this?”
    “Last summer. When I came back from Twyford she was really bad. She’d just broken up from college and she was always worse in the holidays.”
    “We found an appointment card among her things for July 20th. Would that have been her first visit to Mr. Abbot?”
    “Yeah, I think so. I’m not sure if she actually saw him again but she got involved with other activities at the Old Chapel. That’s where she was on Sunday afternoon.”
    “Was she?” It was more than Ramsay had hoped for. “Thank you, that’s very helpful.” He paused. “We know that your mother went away for a weekend last autumn, but we can’t trace where she was staying. Might she have been with friends from the Old Chapel?”
    James took a long time to answer. He turned away and his eyes filled with tears.
    “She was at a weekend retreat at a place called Juniper Hall in Cumbria. It was organized by the people from the Old Chapel …” He paused and Ramsay thought he was going on to say more, but he fell silent, absorbed it seemed by memories of his own.
    Just one last question,” Ramsay asked gently. “Do the names Lily Jackman and Sean Slater mean anything to you?”
    James shook his head and Ramsay was not quite sure whether the gesture meant an answer ‘no’ or simply that he could not face any more questions.
    On the way back to Mittingford Ramsay called in at Prue Bennett’s house. She lived in Otterbridge, not far from the McDougals. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d known Val. He thought that they would have got on. But when he pulled up outside there were no lights at the windows and though he rang the front doorbell over and over again there was no reply.
    Chapter Twelve
    Ramsay took Hunter with him to interview Daniel Abbot and wondered if he would regret the decision. Jokes about pins and needles he could do without. Access to the Alternative Therapy Centre was by some narrow stone stairs, which must once have led to the chapel’s gallery and then there was a large, pleasant space, very light, with a polished wooden floor and comfortable chairs. The practitioners’ treatment rooms led off. Behind a desk sat a young and pretty receptionist, barely, it seemed to Ramsay, out of school.
    “We’d like to see Mr. Abbot,” he said.
    “Have you got an appointment?” She seemed newly scrubbed, glowing with health and enthusiasm. She made Ramsay feel old.
    “No,” he said. “We’re from Northumbria police. It’s rather important.”
    “I’ll just see if he’s free.” She pressed a button on the telephone and spoke into the receiver. “If you’d like to take a seat, he’ll be out in a minute.”
    They sat on the comfortable seats. There was a low coffee table scattered with magazines and leaflets extolling the virtues of aroma therapy and osteopathy. Ramsay picked up a magazine and began to read an article on “Healing the Inner
    Child’. One of the doors opened and Abbot came out.
    He was not what Hunter had been expecting. He was big for one thing, strong and fit. He looked as if he ran five miles before breakfast and lifted weights. Hunter admired physical strength. Sticking pins into people was a funny kind of job but having seen the man he wasn’t inclined to dismiss acupuncture out of hand.
    “Inspector,” Abbot said, ‘how can I help you? I’ve already given a statement to your constable.”
    “There’s been a development,” Ramsay said. “Perhaps we could talk in private?”
    “Of course,