âIt's a notion, certainly.'
âWe should tell the police.'
âYou mean I should?'
âThey haven't a clue otherwise.'
She smiled, drew a card, found it was a black three and went out with three of the little beggars.
âGlad we're not playing for money,' said Daniel bitterly.
They had just finished reckoning the score when from the hall came the sound of a gong summoning them to lunch.
Their pate and Melba toast were already in place. When Mrs Pavitt came in with the main course her mouth was a tight line. âThe cleaners have come,' she announced. âThey're at it now.'
This was the company the police had recommended, professionals accustomed to sanitising scenes of crime.
âDid they say how long it would take?' Anna enquired.
âAll afternoon.'
âIn which case we might as well go out and leave them to it.'
But her attempt at discretion came too late. The housekeeper had already killed any appetite the boy had. He pushed back his
chair and rose from the table, white-faced. âI can't eat anything. Oh God, why do we have to stay here? Gran, you said we could go to London.'
âI suggested a London shrink. He, or she, could have come here, but you wouldn't hear of counselling.'
âBut a hotel, just for a while. Anything to take our minds off ⦠what happened.'
âThe police insist we stay close. It wouldn't be easy to avoid sympathetic neighbours if we put up at a local inn. No, you've broken the ice here already. I promise it won't get any worse than it is now. Believe me, each day it will ease just a little.'
âIt's so shitty awful. I don't know what to do.'
âIf you can't eat your lunch, which incidentally is really very good, why not go for a walk? Or, if you're feeling unwell, lie down. You can join me in the van later.'
He stared resentment at her, but she continued eating. Better to appear callous than make things worse with sloppy sympathy.
When he had left she laid down her knife and fork, unable to face more. âNo dessert, thank you, Mrs Pavitt,' she called from the doorway.
From the gun room window she watched her grandson striding off uphill in the direction of the woods. She had never quite realised until then the physical nature of grief, the actual heaviness of heart, so much more than a poetical image. She felt her whole body ache with compassion.
Â
At a little after three, a red Toyota swung round the corner of the house. Anna Plumley came down the caravan steps as Beaumont got out. âBad news, I'm afraid,' he told her. âWhere's the boy?'
âGone walking. He should be back soon. Come inside and tell me what you've discovered.'
Perhaps Daniel had caught sight of the car from his viewpoint up among the trees. He turned up a few minutes later, eager to speak with the DS.
âDid Gran tell you about the poacher?' he demanded. âHow he's into badger-baiting, which would have made my father hopping mad.'
Beaumont listened with interest. âBen Huggett, you say. We've a constable lives in the village. He'll be able to tell us more about him.'
âBut don't you see? My father could have threatened to report him, and Huggett'd know he'd get crucified in court. He'd want to get back at him.'
Beaumont regarded the young man evenly. âDid Huggett have a key to the house? Because there wasn't a break-in. And your father was unlikely to open the door to him in the middle of the night, storm or no storm.'
âMaybe that was it. He called to say a tree was down, cutting off the lane. Or a high power electric cable severed. Anything to get in.'
âAnd then what? The man's a poacher, you say. Not a mass murderer.'
Even Anna Plumley blinked at such forthrightness. It silenced Daniel.
âAnyway,' Beaumont said, âit's another matter entirely I'm here about today. I'm sorry to say your young lady didn't make it after all. She died during the night. So we need you to come down to the station for questioning. It could be a case for careless driving, or at worst manslaughter. A car will come for you tomorrow morning at nine-fifteen. You need to be prepared for staying on a while.'
âIf he's charged, surely he'll get bail,' Anna pleaded. The sergeant was being unnecessarily brutal.
âIn the lap of the gods. Or of Crown Prosecution.'
Bitterly Daniel turned on his grandmother. âAnd you said it wouldn't get any worse!'
Â
That night he was too weary to barricade himself into his bedroom. Anna was woken at a quarter past two by a wild cry of terror. She switched on her light and pulled a housecoat over her pyjamas before rushing in. Daniel was huddled against his pillow, one hand clutching his upper arm tight against his chest.
âA bad dream,' Anna soothed.
âNo, it was real. I woke and she was there, standing over me. I
was scared, lashed out at her. Pure reflex. And I've bloody put my shoulder out!'
Because he'd struck at thin air. Charleen was dead, and he'd been the cause of it. Small wonder he had nightmares.
Daniel wasn't the only one in the house to be haunted by dreams. When Anna fell asleep again she regressed some six years to when the children were small. But at that time she had never brought them a kitten as a present, knowing the farm had feral cats enough.
In this new version of her visit little Angela had been enchanted. She bent to scoop up the white, furry bundle and held it high over her head. âOh, aren't you the prettiest little thing!'
As she swooped, the edge of her briefs had shown in relief under the stretch jeans. Anna considered the tight-packed little backside. History had been made when girls started wearing trousers. She'd been a schoolchild herself then, defying her own grandmother's frequent disapproval. Even in the chilliest winters, with a touch of sciatica, old Granny Penfield had never overcome that early distaste. Anna, however, accepted that today girls were different and must be allowed to choose their own weekend uniforms. At least that hint of briefs had shown that Angela wasn't bare underneath.
Anna awoke smiling. Then she remembered. That child was no more. The world had changed too much.
The sadness stayed with her. At breakfast she found herself admitting, âLast night I dreamt of your sister when she was little.'
âHard luck,' Daniel growled, observed her surprise and added, âWell, she could be quite toxic.'
Was she? Anna hadn't found her so. Impish sometimes, yes. Angela was the more daring of the two children, a tease in an attractive, elfin way. But then, as absentee grandmother, she had never seen them enough to know them well. She consoled herself that Daniel was at present feeling bad about his imminent visit to the police: it had soured the memory of his little sister.
When a patrol car with two unknown uniform officers arrived to pick them up he shied off it. âI'd much rather go in the Jeep, Gran,' he pleaded, and although she picked up the reason for his distress she refused. Then, packed into the rear of the patrol car,
she regretted it, sharing the feeling of being under arrest.
DS Beaumont kept them waiting ten minutes before taking them to a small interview room with four chairs and a table. As they settled, facing the detective, a second man appeared and seated himself in the fourth chair. Daniel darted him a wary glance. He was older, mid-forties, heavily built, had a lined, tanned face and mobile, dark brows like furry caterpillars.
âGood morning, Superintendent,' Anna greeted him.
Daniel was startled. Surely his misdemeanours couldn't rate anyone of that rank.
Yeadings introduced himself. âWe're thin on the ground at present,' he explained mildly. âI'm just sitting in on this.'
Beaumont began by explaining that the boy wasn't under arrest, and asking about his relationship with Jeff Wilmott. Daniel explained that they had met through the scout movement.
âSo you weren't at school together?'
âHe's seventeen now, works at a garage. I was away at boarding-school first, then I changed to Wycombe Grammar. When I joined the local scouts he was what they called a Ranger then, but he's given up since.'
âHowever, you still keep in touch?'
âI ran into him in a caff a while back and we got talking bikes.'
There was a knock at the door and Zyczynski entered. Immediately Yeadings rose and they exchanged places. He nodded at Anna Plumley and left the room. Beaumont continued the questioning.
âHe mentioned he owned a two-stroke? Which was when you asked to borrow it?'
âHire it. He agreed I could have it the weekend he was away with the Territorials. He's training with them to take an HGV licence â that's to drive Heavy Goods Vehicles â and he wasn't taking the bike along.'
âSo this was arranged in advance for that specific weekend, when you were due to attend a scout camp?'
âYeah. And I gave him an extra tenner to borrow his leathers.'
âHow much to borrow his girlfriend?'
Daniel spluttered. âNothing. I don't know what you mean.'
âBecause she wasn't exactly his girlfriend? Is that it? He boasted about this prostitute in Slough and you fancied your chances?'
âI don't know where you got that idea â¦'
âFrom Wilmott himself. So did he give you her phone number and then you fixed a date?'
The boy scowled and appeared to clam up. Then, abruptly petulant, he burst out, âJeff told me what pub she sometimes picked up punters in, that's all. I was at a loose end and I thought what the hell.'
âWhen was this meeting?'
âFriday evening.'
âYou must have impressed her if she let you stay over the weekend.'
Daniel smirked. âShe was expensive. I could afford it.'
âAnd now the young lady's dead. From a road accident. And we have only your word on what happened.'
âShe was alive enough when I explained it the first time.'
âAlive, but unconscious. So she couldn't give her version.' Zyczynski had taken over from Beaumont. Daniel was struck dumb. He threw an appealing glance at his grandmother who elected to stay silent too.
âAs it happens,' Zyczynski said, âI've just come from your friend Jeff Wilmott. He too is in hospital, at High Wycombe. Another road accident. You having destroyed his two-stroke, it seems he borrowed a bigger beast and crashed into the rear wing of a car, shooting a red light.'
Beaumont gazed with mock innocence at the ceiling. âSignally failed to stop.'
Anna stared at him with shocked suspicion.
âMy colleague does puns,' Z excused him. âWe're so used to it we don't groan any more.'
âRight.' Anna managed to overlook Beaumont's defective empathy and demanded, âBut Jeff Wilmott, how is he?' His misfortune struck her as further jinxing that stemmed from the carnage at Fordham Manor.
âHe's in an orthopaedic ward with an injured shoulder blade
and extensive bruising, but should be out in a few days.'
Beaumont turned again to Daniel. âMeanwhile,' he stressed, âwe are short of any witness to your presence at the girl's flat on Friday night.'
Daniel closed his eyes, mouth twisted sardonically. âHow could there be anyone? Do you think we invited an audience? And why Friday night? You can't think I'd anything to do with â with what happened at home?'
âDaniel, we all have to cooperate,' Anna cautioned. âThey asked me too, remember? I'd no alibi at all.'
âWell I've told them everything I can.' He turned on Beaumont. âI don't see why I had to come here after you'd already questioned me at home. This is harassment. I shall complain to â to my solicitor.'
âAh yes, I was coming to that,' said the DS imperturbably. âYou should think about consulting a brief with regard to any future charges concerning your biking mishap.' âWhat charges are likely?' Anna asked tautly.
âCausing death by careless driving. Or maybe reduced to “without due care and attention”. Then there's driving a vehicle underage, without licence or insurance. Possibly claiming a false identity at the hospital.'
âBut it was a bloody fox caused the accident. I told you before!' the boy shouted. âWhy don't you listen?'
He put an urgent hand on Anna's arm. âGran, I haven't been arrested. We're free to leave. Let's get out of here.'
As he stormed through Reception with Anna in his wake, Yeadings was standing talking with a pale-faced man in a blue suit.
âYeah, that's him,' the man said when they had passed. âI noticed him special-like because of having the other chap's bike. I wondered if he'd pinched it, Jeff being away, like he'd said he'd be.'
âThat would be Jeff Wilmott?'
âYeah, I know him. A regular, like.'
âOne of Charleen's clients?'
The man paused, unwilling to admit that the pub served toms.
âA friend of hers, see. Look, I'm only a potman, clear the tables and wash glasses, like. I only noticed this lad because I'd slipped out for a smoke, and there he was riding up on Jeff's two-stroke with the red mudguards.'
âAnd you're sure this was Friday the twentieth?'
âSure as my name's mud if I don't get home before me missus asks where I've bin. She's got a thing about police stations.'
Yeadings nodded. âThank you, Mr Barker. You've been very helpful.'
He joined his two sergeants in the corridor. âYoung Hoad is vouched for in Slough until 11.10 p.m. when he left with Charleen, on wobbly legs. So that should clear him for the Fordham business. He's still responsible for the girl's death. Traffic Division can send us their paperwork on that.
âCome up to my office, both of you. I'd like to discuss the pathology reports on the Hoad family.'
As they shared out copies Z demanded of Beaumont, âYou didn't seriously think Anna Plumley could be connected with the crime.'
âIs that a statement or a question? I asked her for an alibi and she hadn't one. Any reason she should be excepted from routine enquiries?'
âNo. It's just that, if there's the slightest possibility she was at odds with the family, Daniel shouldn't be left alone with her.'
âDaniel as sole survivor,' Yeadings considered. âYou've spent time with them. Do you see any threat to him?'
âNo. She's protective, in a robust sort of way. Won't let him feel sorry for himself. Keeps him busy.'
âAnd how does he regard her?'
âNaturally he depends on her. At the same time he resents the need for her. At present there's nobody else and, in shock, he's almost totally self-absorbed. Whether he's genuinely fond of her I couldn't say. But there's nothing menacing in her toughness. He's not cowed by her.'
âThen let's pass on to the path reports. I'll summarize. First, Frederick Arthur Hoad, fifty-four; cause of death heart failure due to a .22 bullet penetrating the left breast, destroying his
pacemaker and being deflected to lodge in the right clavicle. The knife wounds were post-mortem. The bullet's upwards angle of trajectory was unusual, being at forty degrees to the horizontal. Dismissing Professor Littlejohn's whimsy of a pygmy, we're left with the choice of the killer crouched low or the victim already lying face-up on the floor.'
âThe main light was found on in the dining room,' Beaumont reminded them. âAnd there were only normal smudges on the switch, no blood. Can we suppose Hoad turned it on when he went for the gun? In which case an intruder, hearing him approach, would surely have hidden.'
âThe heavy dining table was out of position,' Z pointed out. âHe could have been under it, waiting for the right moment, aimed from there and then disturbed it in crawling out.'
âBut Hoad either saw or sensed someone there, aimed, and the shot went wild because he was hit at the precise moment of firing, thereby blasting the china cabinet.'
âSo was the intention to kill him? Or did it become inevitable as a wild act of self-preservation?' Yeadings asked them.
âThat's for Crown Prosecution to decide; not our worry,' Beaumont gave as his opinion.
âBut it is,' Yeadings disagreed. âEspecially as we're to have a profiler on the case who will expect some input from you on the question.
âAnyway, so much for the report on Hoad's death. The rest concerns his general health: no mortal disease and nil toxicology. He had eaten an adequate evening meal some six or seven hours before death and drunk the equivalent of three units of alcohol.
âNext, the two children. Again no disease found; in each case death by a single stab-wound to the heart. Could be due to basic anatomical knowledge or pure luck. No sign of resistance, so no helpful residue under the nails. No indication of which was first to be killed. Full stomachs, several units of alcohol taken, corresponding with what was missing from the sherry bottle. Angela Hoad's blood group not corresponding with that of either presumed parent.
âFinally we come to the female body found in the barn.'
âThe exhibit on display,' Beaumont insisted dourly.
âYes. Different from the others. We'll discuss that later. Death was due to multiple stabbing preceded by an attempt at strangulation by a flat ligature, which was probably insufficient to cause complete loss of consciousness. While held helpless and upright, she was stabbed twice; once under the right clavicle and also on the left upper arm. Marks on the right side of the neck indicate that she was dragged by some kind of lead, possibly a narrow leather belt, to the bales of straw where the final stabbings took place. There were fifteen wounds in all. Other bales were then arranged into a rough semicircle with her at the centre.'