Authors: Rebecca Tope
‘Right, sir,’ said Den gloomily. He couldn’t fault the logic, however strong his sense of injustice might be.
When questioned again that morning, with Den present, Hillcock had sighed and slowly shaken his head. ‘I don’t remember anything more than I’ve told you already.’ He said it over and over again. The solicitor, summoned by Gordon’s mother, sat motionless and impassive throughout.
‘Please try, sir,’ DI Hemsley had persisted. ‘It is very important, as I’m sure you’ll realise. Shall we go back a bit? When did you last see Sean O’Farrell alive?’
‘About ten-thirty yesterday morning.’
‘And how would you describe his frame of mind?’
‘He was all right. A bit grumpy at the change.’
‘Grumpy? Change?’
‘I told you – I’d asked him to swap that afternoon’s milking with me. I’d do Tuesday if he did Saturday. I had plans for the weekend. It made him grumpy – though hardly more than usual. You wouldn’t call Sean a cheerful man at the best of times.’
Den took note of Hillcock’s pallor after a night at the police station. He didn’t suppose he’d managed much sleep. But his manner was calm and relatively cooperative; he didn’t seem frightened or defensive. Den looked at Gordon’s hands, clasped loosely in his lap, just visible over the edge of the table, as the DI continued his questions. Had they wielded a heavy fork and thrust it twice into another man’s body? Den had seen the hands of murderers before, had even suffered unpleasant dreams about them, but he knew better than to suppose that he could identify guilt from them. Gordon had short fingers and square palms. The joints were pronounced, the nails clean. None of the oil that Sean O’Farrell had had ingrained into his skin and nails could be found on Hillcock. Did the farmer leave the unpleasant jobs to his employees, while he contented himself with paperwork and an occasional stroll along his hedgerows?
Hemsley appeared to have run out of questions, giving the solicitor an opening to push out his chin and demand that his client be
permitted to leave. With a sigh, the DI nodded. ‘We would ask that you remain in the vicinity for the next few days,’ he said. ‘Detective Sergeant Cooper will be interviewing the Speedwell family this morning, and there will be further forensic examination of the yards and buildings. Please ensure that nobody goes into the barn where the body was found until we give you the all clear.’
Gordon snorted slightly, but said nothing. Then, in a sudden rush, all four men got to their feet and skirmished briefly at the door before leaving the room in single file.
Den and Danny exchanged a few more words before going their separate ways. ‘Mrs O’Farrell says that Sean went back up to the yard after lunch – at two o’clock,’ Hemsley observed. ‘If Hillcock was there too, why does he say he never saw him?’
‘It’s a complicated collection of buildings,’ Den explained. ‘They could easily have missed each other.’
The Inspector put his hands together, pressing a fingertip into a spot beneath is chin. ‘When did Speedwell last see O’Farrell?’
‘I don’t think I asked him,’ Den flipped through his report and shook his head. ‘But it looks bad for Hillcock, eh?’ he couldn’t resist blurting.
‘No alibi for that forty minutes, inconsistencies, opportunity …’
‘And not a morsel of proof,’ Hemsley reminded him. ‘Early days, my friend. And a mind so open, I could get the Millennium Dome into it. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Den let a short silence elapse, cementing his serious intent, before continuing, ‘I said I’d go and interview the milk recorder woman this morning. Mrs Watson. She’s got a lot of background information – knew both men and how they behaved towards each other.’
‘And she was there,’ the Inspector said. ‘That’s the most important thing about her. What’s she like physically?’
Den didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Quite sturdy,’ he acknowledged.
‘I thought she might be. And she was there alone, unobserved, for the best part of an hour. What’s more, she was oddly calm and collected when you arrived, according to your report. You follow my drift, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘So, I’d expect you to see her again today. But don’t leave Speedwell for long. I need to know all you can find out about him. Cross your fingers there’s prints on that fork and O’Farrell’s blood on someone’s clothes. Should get results on all that later today – at least the blood groups. You
and Mike did a good job last night, you know. Very thorough.’
‘Thanks,’ Den nodded. Despite Hemsley’s earlier impatience, Den was aware that neither of them had any sense that this was a complex mystery to be solved. Such murders were, after all, the exception. Far more common was the red-handed, smoking-gun scenario, where the stunned perpetrator was taken in for questioning, charged, remanded, tried, sentenced, in the slow, jerky style of the legal system, and all was well with the world again within the year.
As he walked into the reception area, intending to collect the keys to a pool car, Den came face to face with Lilah. The shock was none the less for knowing her involvement with Dunsworthy. He looked down at her familiar features and all the old feelings returned, like a tsunami. He had to clench both fists rigidly at his sides to prevent himself from wrapping his arms around her.
‘Hi,’ he said warily.
‘Don’t you
hi
me,’ she snarled. ‘I know what you’re doing. I’ve come to demand you release Gordon this minute. You know as well as I do this isn’t about him – it’s your revenge for me dumping you!’ She spoke shrilly and at least three police officers heard every word.
Den hovered between anger and embarrassment. The former took momentary precedence and
he clamped one hand tightly onto her shoulder, turning her towards the outer door. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered. ‘We’ll talk about this outside.’
She resisted at first, but when his grip only tightened, went with him, a mulish expression on her face. Outside, he backed her against the rough stone wall of the building and leant his face close to hers. ‘Listen to me,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve told the DI all about the situation at Dunsworthy. There’s nothing you can accuse me of that will cut any ice with him. There isn’t going to be the least little bit of prejudice in this investigation. Because of you, in fact, it’s going to have to be the most thorough for a long time. If your Gordon
is
guilty, by the time I’ve finished, it’s hardly going to be worth the defence’s time showing up at the trial. But they will. If he pleads not guilty he’ll have every chance to defend himself. And what’s more, he’s just been told he’s free to go home, having helped us with our enquiries. Everything’s been done by the book, so you’d better just sit back and let the law take its course. If ever there was a fair investigation and trial, this is going to be it.’
She wrenched herself free, eyes blazing back at him. ‘Fair!’ she spat. ‘When you’ve already got a completely closed mind about Gordon? Don’t make me laugh. Let me tell you this, once and for all – Gordon did not kill that man. Gordon
would never, ever do a thing like that. He simply isn’t capable of it.’ Tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away impatiently. ‘This has ruined everything,’ she complained with alarming bitterness. ‘And you talk about fairness! If anything was ever unfair, it must be this. Why can’t I just get on with a nice normal life for once?’
Den’s anger was ebbing slowly, leaving space for the pity that had been edging in as he listened to her. ‘Since when was life fair?’ he asked gently. ‘But I know you’ve had a raw deal and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this.’
‘Don’t be
nice
to me, for God’s sake!’ she said. ‘We’re enemies over this, Den. If you’re going to try to prove that Gordon’s a murderer, that makes you my adversary, and I’ll do everything I can to stop you. Someone else killed Sean O’Farrell and I’m going to find out who!’
The pathology report was faxed through to Detective Inspector Hemsley, giving the actual cause of death as exsanguination from a ruptured aorta, resulting from a puncture wound. There was also severe damage to liver and spleen caused by two of the six wounds discovered on the body. The fatal wound was one of the upper row, although such was the damage to the other organs that it was probable that death would have
resulted from them even without the injury to the aorta. The most acute pain would have come from the lower injuries. It was estimated that death would have occurred barely one minute after the attack, but that it would have been feasible for the victim to walk or even run a short distance within that time, despite substantial loss of blood from several of the wounds.
‘Nasty,’ said Danny, on the mobile to Den to relay the salient points of the report. ‘But mercifully quick.’
‘A minute probably seems a long time if you’re in agony,’ Den replied, trying not to imagine how it would feel to die in a barn with only five lame cows for company.
‘Where are you, by the way?’ Hemsley asked. ‘We’re going to have to keep close tabs on you today. Don’t go wandering off on some tangent without calling in first.’
‘I’ve just pulled up outside Mrs Watson’s house. I’ll be with her for about an hour, I would think. Then I’ll go to Dunsworthy and speak to Ted Speedwell. I also told Mrs O’Farrell we’d want to speak to her again. And there’s the old granny at the big house who’s the only other person we know for sure was around the place when the killing happened. Someone ought to see her.’
‘There’s no need for you to do it all yourself.
Young Mike’s looking for something to do. I’ll send him over to talk to the granny now. Then he can meet you at the cottages at … say, eleven or just after?’
Den felt his usual reluctance to share an investigation. Although he was happy to solicit opinions and suggestions from colleagues at the briefing meetings, be believed the actual interviews with witnesses were most effectively done by the same person. This had been the main reason why the DI hadn’t pulled him off the case, he assumed. Nobody else would now be able to interpret those early, often subliminal, impressions, as well as Den could. So, in essence, Den Cooper was now the central investigating officer in the Dunsworthy case. The connections and contradictions, the nuances and nervousness, all created a picture that would never come together if different people tried to assemble it. But he supposed Granny Hillcock could be delegated more readily than anyone else.
‘Okay,’ he conceded.
‘Right,’ Danny snapped back. ‘As soon as we have an ID for the fingerprints on the fork, I’ll phone it through. It might affect how you approach the Speedwell chap.’
‘If they’re his, then it might,’ Den agreed with scant enthusiasm, thinking of Lilah and how triumphant she’d be if that turned out to be the
case. Thinking, too, that it wouldn’t actually comprise hard evidence. Speedwell worked on the farm – it might be his fork. On its own, such a finding wouldn’t incriminate him.
Den could see Deirdre Watson standing in the open doorway of her house, watching him, wondering, no doubt, why he hadn’t yet got out of the car. ‘I’d better go now,’ he said and disconnected the phone.
Deirdre Watson lived in a good-sized stone house, which must have once been at the centre of a farm. In the upheavals of recent decades, it seemed that the land had been sold off and most of the outbuildings demolished, leaving only a half-acre garden and a couple of sheds.
‘You got the message that I’d be coming, then?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Good of you to warn me,’ she said warily. ‘Come on in.’
As he settled in her warm kitchen, he had to force himself to attend to the matter in hand, while looking around the room for any distraction that might offer itself. Why did he feel as if the forthcoming interview was no more than a formality? The explanation was obvious, he realised. These interviews were merely designed to pre-empt any challenge to his objectivity. He was already convinced that Gordon Hillcock had killed his herdsman. He knew from the
man’s demeanour, and from something even less tangible. Forget Ted Speedwell and Deirdre Watson and any assorted hypothetical ramblers or nutters – sitting here now, Den could
taste
his certainty.
But he had to keep his mind open. He had to satisfy Hemsley that all the stones had been overturned. He declined the woman’s offer of coffee and sat up straighter, notebook open in front of him.
‘How long had you known Sean O’Farrell?’ he began.
‘Five years. Since I started recording at Dunsworthy.’
‘How did you feel about him?’
She sat at an angle to him, so they faced each other across a corner of the big pine table. Her face seemed flushed, her breathing a trifle shallow.
‘He was all right,’ she said, briefly meeting Den’s eye. ‘Efficient. Reliable.’
‘Did you ever meet him outside the farm? What do you know of his personal life?’
‘I would guess I’ve seen him three times in five years, off the farm. And then only to say a quick hello. I know he has an invalid wife and a daughter. He seems to have belonged to some sort of farming action group, as well. They meet at a pub somewhere. He talked about it a couple of times, while he was milking.’
‘Action group?’ Den echoed, writing the words in the notebook.
‘I don’t know what it’s about, really. They all seem to be farm employees, worried about the way things are going in the dairy industry. Everybody’s concerned, of course. To put it mildly. It’s a permanent state and lots of them have decided to do something. Just as BSE’s out of the way, we’ve got TB to worry about. It’s just one awful thing after another. From what Sean said, it’s mainly TB they’re bothered about at the moment. There’ve been a lot of reactors in the latest round of tests.’
‘On Dunsworthy as well?’
‘Bound to be – or so Gordon seems to think. It’s too soon to say for sure – the second test is due this week. Sean was full of it last month, but it wasn’t mentioned yesterday. Dunsworthy’s in a non-culling area, you see, though it’s only a mile away from the experimental area. Lots of people think the diseased badgers will just shift over here and spread TB even more than it is already.’
‘You’ll have to explain some of that to me.’
‘Surely you know about the Ministry tests? They divide the whole county into areas, and cull all the badgers in one area, while leaving them alone – protecting them, in fact – in another. Then, if the culled areas become free of TB, they’ll assume the disease is carried by badgers
and act accordingly. The trouble is, some farmers are already convinced of the link and if they’re in a non-culling area, they don’t like it. And there are studies that suggest that culling only
increases
the spread of TB. The whole process is viewed with contempt, quite frankly. The Ministry don’t help, either, by being so secretive about it. You can never get a straight answer out of them.’