5,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Saxon Publishing
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
When the body of a naked man is found in the middle of a barren field, a rural community is left in shock – and fear.Discovering that someone is offering money in return for information about the dead man and anyone connected to him, Detective Kay Hunter realises there is a dark side to the victim’s past.When a key witness disappears and a web of deceit and lies threatens to derail the investigation, she fears the worst.Can Kay and her team of detectives find out who is behind the man’s murder before another victim is targeted?Turn to Dust is the ninth book in the Detective Kay Hunter series by USA Today bestselling author Rachel Amphlett, and perfect for readers who love fast-paced murder mysteries.Praise for Turn to Dust:“Deliciously twisted!” Goodreads"Kept me on my toes from beginning to end in a series which goes from strength to strength" Goodreads
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
Ähnliche
Turn to Dust
A Detective Kay Hunter crime thriller
Rachel Amphlett
Copyright © 2020 by Rachel Amphlett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. While the locations in this book are a mixture of real and imagined, the characters are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Reading Order & Checklist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
About the Author
Missed a book? Download the FREE Official Reading Order and Checklist to Rachel Amphlett’s books here
Also available in audiobook:
Chapter One
The crows should have alerted him.
Ducking and wheeling across a bleak late spring sky, the birds cawed and cackled as they swooped upon the muddy undulating landscape before rising to the air once more.
They seemed distracted, hesitant to leave the field in pursuit of the tractor that rumbled over the adjacent land, dragging a seed drill in its wake. Back and forth, back and forth, following the furrows left behind from the plough only weeks before.
A cold wind whipped across the field, shaking the hedgerows and threatening to tear the ripening buds from a cluster of hazel shrubs that hunkered under a canopy of birch. A second blast of air shoved against the metal five-bar gate, rattling the chain looped between the frame and a wooden post.
Luke Martin blew into his hands and wished he’d worn an extra pair of socks.
Instead, the damp mud oozed around his calf-length rubber boots and chilled his toes, and every breath he took was expelled in a cloud of condensation.
His fingers fared little better.
The thermal-lined gloves he’d purchased had promised on the label to protect his extremities from temperatures down to five below zero Centigrade, but he reckoned now that the claim was overambitious.
He became aware of a vehicle approaching, the purr of the engine running under the crackle and snap of branches and woodland detritus disappearing under its wheels.
Luke turned away from the field to see a battered four-by-four round the corner in the single track.
Its roof caught on low-hanging tendrils of ash and oak while the vehicle rocked from side to side, the suspension groaning under duress.
Sunlight reflected off its dirt-streaked windscreen, obliterating the driver’s features, but not the way his hands gripped the steering wheel.
Gesturing to a grass-covered verge to the right of the gate, Luke walked around to the side of his own car as the four-by-four creaked to a standstill moments before the ratchet of the handbrake reached him, almost as an afterthought.
The driver swung his door open and swore as his boots met the soggy earth.
Tugging his woollen hat over his ears to protect his balding skull, Luke moved around to the front of the four-by-four and stuck out his hand.
‘Maybe Sonia was right,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should have taken up golf instead. That’s what most blokes our age do.’
‘It’d still be bloody freezing.’ Tom Coker took the outstretched hand in a tight grip, then glared at the mud smeared along the side of the vehicle. He jerked his chin at Luke’s car. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘About fifteen minutes. Traffic was lighter than I thought.’
‘Had a look yet?’
‘It doesn’t look too boggy. Hard going, but not waterlogged like I thought it’d be.’
‘That’s something, at least. Let’s get a move on. The longer we stand around here talking, the colder we’re going to get.’
Luke wandered back to his car, popped open the boot lid, and eyed the equipment laid out on a tarpaulin to protect the carpeted lining.
He lifted out the shovel first – an ancient tool passed down to his father by his grandfather, and now his. Since moving to the smaller house in Seal six months ago, he was using it for his hobby rather than tending a vegetable patch any more, and he remembered why when his back twinged as he straightened.
‘Come on, old man,’ said Coker. ‘Dennis said he wants to prep this field tomorrow, so we need to get a move on.’
Luke glanced over his shoulder. ‘Any problem with the contract?’
‘None at all – if we find anything, he takes a thirty per cent cut and the rest is ours.’
‘Sweet.’ He tugged the metal detector out from its swaddling of blankets, and shut the car boot. ‘Is this the only field we can use?’
‘For now. We’ll get another go at it towards the end of September after the harvest, and he said there might be another field nearer to the house on the other side of the woods we can take a look at as well.’
‘Let’s go, then.’
Luke fumbled the chain as he looped it away from the gate, his numb fingers clumsy while his thoughts turned to the flask of hot coffee Sonia had packed alongside two tuna salad sandwiches she’d insisted he take with him. The flask and food remained in the car, and would do so until mid-morning.
Losing track of time was one of the reasons he enjoyed metal detecting.
‘Have there been any finds near here?’ he said as he fastened the gate back in place and stumbled across the furrows alongside Coker.
‘Not on Dennis’s land, but then I don’t think he’s ever had anyone take a look. There were a couple of thirteenth-century brooches found a few miles away three years ago. And lots of musket balls.’
Luke groaned. ‘Always the bloody musket balls.’
‘I remember when you used to get excited about those.’
‘That was before I hit double figures. Honestly, if Charles I’s lot wasted that much ammunition during the Civil War, it’s no wonder they lost to Cromwell’s army. They obviously couldn’t shoot straight for shit.’
His friend snorted, then stopped and surveyed the landscape before them. ‘It’d be so quiet out here, if it wasn’t for those bloody birds. Dennis reckons he can’t even hear the A20 unless the wind’s blowing in this direction.’
Luke squinted against the cold chill that snapped at his coat collar, then inhaled the rich earthy air. ‘Beats being at work, too.’
‘You busy at the moment?’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘In between contracts. I spent yesterday sending out quotes, and a couple of those should come through in the next week or two. You?’
‘Skiving. I was meant to be rendering a house over at Sevenoaks this morning, but I sent two of the lads instead. Okay, shall we split up?’
Luke turned his attention to the rolling landscape, the noise from the tractor carrying over the hedgerow.
And still, those bloody crows. Caw, caw, caw.
‘I think I’m going to head down there. Looks as if it has a slight rise, then an indentation marked on the Ordnance Survey map I took a look at before you turned up. It might yield something. What about you?’
Coker pointed to the hedgerow separating the barren field with the one where the farmer worked. ‘I’ll start there. There’s a ditch system that runs parallel to the boundary. It could be an old trackway or something, so it’s worth checking out.’
Luke bumped his fist against his friend’s outstretched hand. ‘Be lucky. Break in a couple of hours?’
‘Sounds good.’
Pulling the headphones up over his head and adjusting the pads over his ears, he switched on the machine and listened to its beeps and whirrs as it nestled into the setting he programmed. Satisfied he was ready, he began to march towards his intended search area, sweeping the metal detector in front of his feet as he walked.
It’d be sod’s law if he missed a find in his hurry to reach the contoured land he had set his mind on.
The world contracted around him as he worked, the movement of the metal detector right to left and back almost trance-inducing. Any worries about work deserted him while he focused on what he was hearing.
He moved without purpose, simply staring at the tufts of long grass that were poking through the earth in a last-ditch attempt to claim it before barley seedlings took over for the summer months.
After a few minutes, he raised his gaze to his left to see Coker with his back to him, intent on his own progress. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but a competitiveness rose in Luke’s chest as he turned back to his work.
He wanted to be the one who found it.
The find.
Sonia joked that it was his vain hope of paying off a chunk of the mortgage before their son left home. Of course, his chances were slim – but a man could dream, couldn’t he?
The birds grew louder as he approached the rise in the field.
He could hear them over the beeps and squeaks in his headphones.
Luke scowled at the top of the incline, and then stopped.
The field rolled down towards a boundary that Luke knew bordered a stream – it was another of his and Coker’s targets for the day’s exploring in the hope they’d find traces of a Civil War encampment that was rumoured to have been in the area.
The crows had clustered together – a murder, he recalled – halfway between his position and the boundary. They bickered and called to each other as two or three birds at a time rose into the air, then dived back and noisily shoved their way back into the centre of the flock.
‘What the––’
He pushed his headphones off his head, looping them over the back of his neck, and frowned.
He couldn’t see what was causing so much interest for the crows because whatever it was lay in a smaller indentation in the field.
Dead fox?
Badger?
Intrigued, Luke wandered over to where the birds gathered, ignoring their indignant squawks as he drew closer, sending them into the air once more.
The crows landed a few paces away, dark beady eyes watching him, daring him.
A pale-pink form lay stretched out between the furrows caused by the tractor’s wheel ruts, muddy tyre tracks creating a zig-zag pattern that reflected his unsteady progress.
Luke frowned as the form became a shape, and then the shape became the outline of a man.
A naked man.
‘Are you all right, mate?’ He kept his voice jovial, despite the spike in his heart rate.
What was he? Drunk?
He’d have to be, out here exposed to the elements, except––
Luke stopped, then swallowed.
Throat dry, a bitter acidic taste on the back of his tongue, the reality caught up with his brain.
The man wasn’t drunk.
His whole body lay contorted within the brown soil, his arms at unnatural angles. His legs – Jesus, what had happened to his legs? – were disproportionate in size to his torso, and mud splashed over his skin as if he’d tripped over without trying to break his fall.
And his face––
Luke turned away, stomach churning, and saw then what the crows had been doing.
The man’s eyes were staring at him from another furrow, accusing, bloodied and torn.
And at his feet, all around Luke’s frozen toes encased in his useless thermal socks and rubber boots, were teeth.
Lots and lots of teeth.
Chapter Two
A bleak sky laden with rain enshrouded the splashes of light that flashed through the thick canopy of trees above the potholed woodland track.
Detective Inspector Kay Hunter held on to the strap above the passenger window of the mud-splattered pool car, the springs in the worn seat squeaking with every bump as the vehicle rocked from side to side.
Beside her, Detective Sergeant Ian Barnes clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath when a branch twisted and smacked against the windscreen, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
‘Should’ve nicked one of the Land Rovers from Traffic,’ he said.
She held her breath as the car went through a deep puddle, and wondered whether she should raise her feet off the floor in case water began to pool under the door seal.
Barnes accelerated, the mud relinquishing the car with a thick suck of reluctance, and then the trees thinned out, exposing an area of broken ground.
A line of cars were parked haphazardly alongside a bramble hedgerow bisected by a metal five-bar gate, and Kay spotted two patrol cars emblazoned with the Kent Police logo beside a dark-coloured van.
She opened the car door, swung her legs out and reached for a pair of wellington boots she’d thrown behind the passenger seat when Barnes had collected her from home half an hour ago.
Barnes was doing the same, replacing his leather lace-up shoes with a battered pair of boots. He turned to her once done.
‘Ready?’
‘As I ever will be.’
The wind caught her hair as she rose from her seat and slammed the car door. Peering over the roof, she spotted two white-suited figures moving from the van to the gate, one carrying a silver-coloured metal suitcase.
Beside one of the patrol cars, three men hovered as a police constable spoke with them.
Barnes joined her. ‘Witnesses. Hughes said two of them were metal detecting – one of them found the body. The other bloke must be the farmer who owns the land.’
‘Let’s have a quick chat with them first, and then go and see what Harriet’s lot are doing. Is Lucas here yet?’
‘His car is over there – behind the tractor.’
‘Okay. We’ll catch him in a moment. Who was first on scene?’
‘Ben Allen, from Tonbridge. He was on a routine patrol when the call came through from the farmer, and nearest to the scene.’
On cue, Ben emerged from the driver’s seat of the second vehicle, murmuring an update into the radio clipped to his vest. He nodded when he saw Kay and Barnes heading towards him, and ended the call.
‘Morning, guv.’
‘Morning, Ben. Everything under control?’
‘It’s a quiet one – no-one around here, apart from these three.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where his colleague had corralled the witnesses. ‘Lucas got here fifteen minutes ago, and already confirmed life extinct. Not that there was much doubt of that.’
‘We heard it’s the body of a man,’ said Kay. ‘Unknown to the farmer, is he?’
‘Not much of a body left, to be honest, guv. I’ve never seen anything like it.’ Ben wrinkled his nose.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s all deformed. And naked.’ The police constable shook his head. ‘It’s a strange one.’
‘Can you introduce us?’
‘Of course.’
Kay followed him across the slippery mud to where the three men huddled at the side of the patrol car, almost as if they were trying to put as much distance as possible between them and what lay in the field.
Introductions made, the two uniformed officers excused themselves and wandered over to the gate.
Kay turned her attention to the farmer. ‘Mr Maitland, I apologise – you may have answered similar questions from my colleagues, but we have to learn as much as possible about what’s happened here. How long have you farmed this land?’
Maitland took a shaking drag from the cigarette held between his finger and thumb, and then squinted at her. ‘Me personally, about thirty years. It’s been in the family for a couple of hundred.’
‘What do you farm?’
‘Crops, mainly. Barley, wheat. The wife’s got me trying lavender this year for the first time. Not sure how that’ll work out.’
‘When was the last time you’d been in that field, prior to this morning?’ said Barnes.
‘Last week. Tuesday. I was turning over the soil ready for the seed drill. It was due to be planted tomorrow.’
The farmer broke off, his face glum as he stared at the makeshift cordon of blue and white police tape.
Kay turned to the two men beside him. ‘Which one of you found the body?’
‘That was me,’ said Luke.
‘Are you all right?’
The man shrugged. ‘Do you know who he is?’
‘Not yet. Did you recognise him?’
‘No. I’ve never seen him before. Well, as far as I could tell. His face was all smashed in, and––’
He stopped, covering his mouth with his hand.
Kay reached out for his arm. ‘Take your time. It’s okay. I know this is hard.’
‘The crows had had a go at him, I think. I saw them when I first got here at half eight. I wondered why they weren’t following the seed drill in the other field like they usually would.’
‘Did you touch anything?’
‘God, no. I yelled across the field to Tom, told him to stay back and that there was a dead body, and we got out of there. We put the metal detectors and stuff in the cars, and then went over to tell Dennis. We called triple nine after that.’
‘Dennis, did you enter the field with the body in?’ said Kay.
‘No. Figured you lot wouldn’t thank me for that.’
‘Good. All right, we’ve got your statements so you’re good to go. Luke – if you need to, speak to your GP about what you’ve seen, okay? Don’t bottle it up.’
He nodded, and then sloped back to his car alongside Tom and the farmer, all three men murmuring under their breath.
‘Want to take a look now?’ said Barnes.
‘Yes, come on.’
They wandered over to the gate, and Kay greeted the police officer who handed a clipboard to them.
‘Thanks.’ She scrawled her signature across the crime scene entry record.
Barnes lifted up the tape and she ducked underneath, her gaze already taking in the second cordon that had been erected close to where the man’s body had been found.
A group of white-suited CSI technicians crouched in a broken semicircle, each of them working methodically to record any evidence that would help to work out why the man had been killed and how he had died.
The Home Office pathologist, Lucas Anderson, stood outside the cordon, his head bowed as he watched.
‘Lucas,’ said Barnes.
‘Morning,’ he said, the paper suit crinkling as he held out his hand. ‘Death has been declared. I’ll complete the paperwork when I get back to my car so they can move him once Harriet’s lot have finished, but it’s unusual.’
‘Cause of death?’ said Kay.
Lucas pursed his lips. ‘You know I don’t like to posit assumptions, Hunter.’
‘Come on, just your initial thoughts. Please.’
At that moment, one of the CSIs stood and moved to the side, and Kay got a clear view of the dead man.
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Different, isn’t it?
‘What happened to him?’
‘Good question,’ said Lucas. ‘Look, I won’t give my official opinion on cause of death until I’ve completed the post mortem––’
‘But you do have an opinion,’ said Barnes. ‘What is it?’
‘The only time I’ve seen vaguely similar injuries like those to his legs is from suicides. Specifically, people who have jumped from buildings.’
Barnes squinted at him. ‘He’s in the middle of a field, Lucas.’
‘I know. I said it was unusual, didn’t I?’
Chapter Three
A cacophony of activity filled the incident room as detectives, uniformed police officers and administrative staff jostled for space and called out instructions and good-natured insults to each other.
Kay stood in front of a freshly wiped whiteboard at the far end of the room and stared at the photographs Detective Constable Gavin Piper had pinned to the board moments after Barnes had uploaded the files from his phone upon returning to the town centre station.
Outside, the jangle of mid-morning traffic filtered through the windows, the sounds fading in and out of Kay’s consciousness as her mind worked.
She nibbled at a ragged thumbnail, and then uncapped a pen and scrawled her initial thoughts onto the board.
‘Here you go, guv. Soup. Thought it’d help you defrost.’ Gavin grinned as he held out the mug to her, and then jerked his chin at the photographs. ‘Do you think he died by accident, and someone moved him there?’
‘I honestly don’t know at the moment, Gav.’ She blew across the hot surface, and took a sip. ‘Who made this?’
‘I did. My sister and her boyfriend bought me a soup-maker for my birthday. First time I’ve tried it out. That one’s spicy parsnip. Is it all right?’
‘Yeah, it’s good, thanks.’
‘I hope one of those has my name on it, Piper,’ said Barnes as he joined them, and then smiled as Gavin handed him a mug from the tray. ‘Champion.’
‘Round up everyone else, Gav – let’s get this briefing underway, and then we can get back to work.’
Kay waited while the burgeoning team of police officers joined their admin colleagues and wheeled chairs to the front of the room. Once they were ready, she provided a brief overview about the investigation and who the key points of contact would be.
As Senior Investigating Officer, she would still be responsible for reporting progress to Detective Chief Inspector Devon Sharp, but at least his role meant she wouldn’t have to spend too much time at Headquarters trying to argue her case for more personnel to be assigned to her investigation.
Introduction complete, she tapped her finger on the nearest photograph. ‘We’ve got the first of these printed off, Ian. Fingerprints have been taken but while we’re waiting for those results, take a look at this. There’s a small tattoo on his bicep here. It’s old, but can you make out the letters underneath it?’
‘Hang on.’ Barnes put his soup mug on the desk next to the whiteboard, then fished his reading glasses from his inside jacket pocket before staring at the image. ‘Looks military, doesn’t it? The writing’s all faded though – I can’t make it out.’
‘Bet it says “Mum”,’ said Gavin.
‘Very funny.’ Kay peered at the photograph. ‘Isn’t there someone over at Headquarters who knows this sort of stuff?’
‘I’ll give Joanne Fletcher a call,’ said Barnes. ‘There might be someone within the media relations team who can assist. Sharp will probably have some ideas too, given his time in the military police.’
‘I’ll catch up with him when he gets here. Send over the photo to Joanne as well though, on the proviso the media team don’t share it with the press. The last thing we need is for that to be broadcast before we’ve got some answers.’
DC Carys Miles wandered over, notebook in hand. ‘Simon Winter just called from DarentValley Hospital – Lucas is going to do the post mortem tomorrow morning, but he says the teeth have been sent over to a specialist orthodontist for examination.’ She frowned. ‘Were his teeth not in his mouth?’
‘No,’ said Barnes. ‘Most of them were all over the ground next to him. Along with his eyes.’
‘Ew.’ Carys wrinkled her nose. ‘Baseball bat to the face, was it?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Kay. ‘Lucas had a few thoughts, but he won’t commit to an opinion until the PM has been done. In the meantime, can you get onto Rural Crimes and see if they’ve had any problems in the area lately?’
‘Will do, guv,’ said Carys. ‘What about the farmer, Dennis Maitland – did he see anything?’
‘No, and I don’t think he’s going to be much help. I had a look online and those two fields are on the outer boundary of his land. He says he ploughed the field last week, and hasn’t been back since. I suppose until it’s all planted up, he doesn’t need to. There’s nothing there to steal, is there, Ian?’
The detective sergeant shook his head. ‘I guess that’s why he was happy for the two blokes to use their metal detectors – it’s not as if they could cause any damage at the moment.’
‘Why strip him naked?’ said Kay, flipping the pen between her fingers. ‘Whoever did this could’ve simply taken any identification off of him.’
‘He could’ve been wearing a uniform, ma’am.’ Probationary Detective Constable Laura Hanway’s voice carried over the heads of her colleagues. ‘Might have been military, or perhaps a private security guard for something. Especially given the tattoo, perhaps.’
Kay wrote her suggestion on the board. ‘Good start. Anyone else?’
‘Building on from that, perhaps there was something else about the clothing,’ said Sergeant Harry Davis. ‘If it wasn’t a uniform, they might have had some sort of distinctive logos, or labels that could tie him to a certain place or person.’
‘Yes, another good point,’ said Kay. ‘There were the remnants of a plastic zip tie around one of his ankles, so whoever did this restrained him before he was killed.’
She ran her eyes over the man’s prone body in the second of the photographs. ‘Okay, what about the location? Why there? Harriet’s team have taken casts of footprints, but so far they’ve only matched the boots our witness, Luke Martin, was wearing. They’ve taken other prints into evidence, but those might take some time to work through – the farmer told uniform there’s a footpath running alongside the left-hand boundary to that field.’
‘Depends how long he was out there before being discovered, I suppose,’ said Carys. ‘It rained on Friday night. Maitland reckons he ploughed that field last Tuesday so if our man’s body was dumped between then and when it rained, any footprints belonging to a suspect or suspects might have been washed away.’
Kay turned away from her team and ran her eyes over the notes she’d added to the board.
No evidence, no identity, and no witnesses to the crime.
How the hell were they going to solve this one?
‘First steps,’ she said, facing her team once more. ‘House-to-house enquiries within a one-mile radius of the farm, and I want CCTV and Automatic Number Plate Recognition data from all roads passing within a mile of this land as well. Carys – can you get onto someone at Headquarters and have a sketch of our victim’s face composed from these photographs so that we’ve got something appropriate to show homeowners? I’m not letting anyone see these images – they’ll have nightmares for months.’
‘Will do, guv.’
‘All right, everyone. Dismissed. Let’s get a move on with this.’
Chapter Four
Gavin flicked up the collar of his wool coat and pulled the knitted beanie hat down over his ears before shoving his hands in his pockets.
Despite the mid-morning air temperature being reported as almost into double figures on his car dashboard, an aching chill clung to the damp air in the tree-lined lane, and weak sunlight cast a yellow-grey hue to the sky, sparkling in the puddles that lined mud-streaked grass verges.
Up ahead, two patrol cars were parked in a lay-by, the occupants already door-knocking at a cluster of properties huddled at the side of the lane that appeared to be old farmworkers’ cottages.
He peered over the roof of the car as Laura emerged from the passenger seat, swearing through gritted teeth as she zipped up her coat.
‘Bloody hell, Gavin. What happened to the early spring we were meant to be having? It’s freezing out here.’
He grinned, then gestured up the road towards the nearest cottage. ‘Shall we make a start? Think yourself lucky you’re not in uniform anymore.’
The probationary detective constable grinned. ‘Thank God. February nearly broke me – that last shift scuffing around the town centre in three inches of snow at two in the morning dodging puddles of vomit…’
She shook her head, a sense of wonder in her voice.
Gavin locked the car, checked over his shoulder for traffic, and then led the way towards the houses.
‘How are you settling in?’
‘Really well, thanks. I think it helps that everyone is going out of their way to make sure I don’t feel out of my depth.’
‘It probably helps that you’re a known quantity after helping out with that kidnapping investigation last year. When is your next exam?’
Laura kicked at a pebble in the road, sending it flying over to the other side where it bounced and skidded into a deep pothole with an audible splash.
‘The week after next. I’m trying to keep ahead on the revision work, but I don’t know how I’m going to do that now. I’d imagine we’re going to be working some long hours until we solve this one, aren’t we?’
‘I expect so. I had the same problem a few years ago – we had a couple of big cases one after the other while I was studying.’
‘How did you manage? I’m useless at getting up early at the best of times, and by the time I get home the last thing I want to do is sit and study – all I want to do is veg out.’
‘The only way I could do it was to put in a couple of hours when I finished my shift and study at my desk, or ask Hughes to book a spare interview room for me if I didn’t want to get interrupted. I found that if I did my revision at work, rather than try to do it when I got home, it became a part of my work routine.’ Gavin shrugged. ‘It seemed to work, anyway. It might be worth giving it a shot.’
Laura smiled. ‘I will, thanks. These houses – they back onto the woods near where the body was found, right?’
‘Yes.’ Gavin pulled out an Ordnance Survey map from his pocket, the edges already creased from where he’d folded it inside out. He held it out and pointed to the countryside depicted below the A20. ‘You’ve got Sevenoaks a few miles to the north here, and we’re here on this C-road. These are the farm cottages marked here. The field where the body was found is about here, and these are the woods that back onto the garden of the first property.’
‘Okay, got it.’ Laura shielded her eyes with her hand as they approached the house. ‘Rented, or owned?’
‘This one and the one next to it are owner-occupied,’ said Gavin, refolding the map and tucking it into his jacket. ‘The next-door neighbour owns and rents out the two properties on the end as well, so we’ll leave uniform to the rentals and do these two ourselves. That way, we can crack on and get to the next hamlet. Kay’s got five other patrols working the other side of Maitland’s farm as well. With any luck, we’ll have all of the initial statements done by the end of tomorrow.’
Laura shivered as a fresh gust of wind shook the hedgerow to their left, pushing a loose tendril of hair from her face. ‘How come we pulled the short straw being out here while Barnes and Carys get to stay in the warmth, then? Who did you annoy to deserve this?’
Gavin grinned. ‘I’m still classed as the new kid when it suits them, and you’ve only just joined. Hence, we get the cold weather work.’
‘Let’s get on with it then, shall we?’
He pushed against a moss-covered wooden gate into a shallow front garden, stepped aside to let Laura pass, and then wiped his hands together to lose the remnants of lichen that clung to his skin before rapping his knuckles against the front door.
Taking a step back and lifting his gaze, he noticed a handful of missing slate tiles from the gabled roof and paint peeling from the four windowsills that faced the lane.
If it wasn’t for the state-of-the-art satellite dish that protruded from the brickwork next to one of the two upstairs windows, he would’ve sworn that the surrounding woodland was trying to reclaim the property from its owner one season at a time.
The door opened on squeaking hinges after a few moments and a man peered out, his wispy grey hair sticking out in tufts either side of his ears.
‘Yes? Who are you? If you’re selling something, you can go back and read the sign on the gate.’
Gavin held up his warrant card and introduced Laura. ‘And what’s your name please, sir?’
The man took the warrant card from him, and inspected it before handing it back. ‘Humphrey Godmanstone.’
‘How long have you lived here, Mr Godmanstone?’
‘Thirty years in April. Inherited the place from my parents.’
‘Does anyone else live here?’
‘No. Did away with the wife a decade ago.’ He smiled, exposing crooked teeth. ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t kill the old tart. She buggered off. Took the two kids as well. Northampton, I think. That’s where her sister lived, anyway. Good bloody riddance.’
Gavin cleared his throat, knowing that Laura would be watching his every move in an attempt to learn from him, and wishing Carys was beside him instead.
He tried to ignore the heat rising from his neck to his jawline. ‘We wondered if we might ask a few questions about an incident we’re investigating in the area.’
‘Such as?’
‘Could we come in?’
‘No.’
Gavin forced a smile. ‘Not to worry. We’re investigating the death of a man whose body was found on the outer boundary of Maitland’s farm.’
‘Is that so?’ Godmanstone’s hand dropped from the door, and he leaned against the frame, his arms crossed. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘I understand the woodland at the back of your property joins onto that land? We’re conducting house-to-house enquiries in the area to try to ascertain whether anyone has noticed any suspicious activity in the past week, or whether you’ve heard anything.’
‘Like what?’
‘Strangers to the area, perhaps hanging around in the lane. Any vehicles that have seemed out of place, or anything of yours – garden tools and the like – that might’ve gone missing in recent weeks.’
‘Haven’t spotted anything. And if anyone tried to steal anything from the garden shed, they’d have to get past the geese first.’
‘Geese?’ said Laura.
‘Yes, young lady. Geese. Better than guard dogs. Cheaper – and if you tire of them, at least you can eat them.’
Gavin gritted his teeth, then ploughed on. ‘Have you heard anything strange at night, anything that seems out of place here?’
‘No. Once the light’s out, I’m asleep. I don’t wake up until the radio comes on at seven o’clock for the news. Mind you, these days I don’t know why I bother – only puts me in a bad mood before I’ve even started the bloody day.’
‘All right, Mr Godmanstone.’ Gavin snapped shut his notebook and forced a smile as he held out a business card. ‘Thanks for your time. If you could––’
The door slammed shut.
Gavin sighed, and pushed the card through the letterbox, then turned to Laura.
The detective constable covered her mouth with her hand, but couldn’t hide the creases at the corner of her eyes.
‘Not a word, Hanway,’ he said over his shoulder as he pushed through the garden gate. ‘Not a bloody word.’
A woman stood on the doorstep of the house next door, grinning as they rounded the corner of the low privet hedge that separated her home from Godmanstone’s property.
‘He’s a delight, isn’t he?’ she said without rancour. ‘I don’t know why he keeps the geese – he’s enough to scare anyone.’
‘It takes all sorts, Ms––’
‘Mrs.’ She held out her hand. ‘Beverley Winton.’
Gavin made the introductions, noticing the splodges of white paint that covered the woman’s fingers, and then jerked his chin towards the properties to their right. ‘And you own these as well, I understand?’
‘That’s right. We’re doing up this one at the moment, and then that’ll be available as well. Did you want to come in?’
‘If we could, thanks.’
‘Sorry about the mess. Don’t trip over the dust sheets – I’ve been painting the stair balustrades this morning. I don’t know how paint manufacturers get away with putting “only one coat” on the tin. That’s the third lot on there, and I’m still not happy with it.’
She opened a door into a cluttered living room. Curtains billowed at open windows, and Gavin ran his gaze over the packing cases stacked against one wall.
‘We just have a few questions,’ he said. ‘We’re investigating the death of a man who was found in one of the outer fields to Maitland’s farm this morning. We wondered if you’d noticed any suspicious activities in the area over the past week?’
The woman paled. ‘A dead man? No – I haven’t noticed anyone new around here. The lane is pretty quiet once anyone living along here has gone to work. It’s the same in the evening. Do you think we’re in danger?’
‘We’re inclined to believe this is an isolated incident, Mrs Winton,’ said Laura. ‘Have you noticed anything that might be considered unusual for this time of year? Or any thefts from your garden shed, for example?’
‘My husband, Peter, hasn’t mentioned anything. He keeps the shed locked anyway, just through habit after we lived in town for so many years. We haven’t got the same trusting nature that our tenants do.’
‘Or geese,’ said Gavin.
‘No, thank goodness.’ Winton managed a laugh, then her eyes grew serious once more. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I can ask Peter about it when he gets home, if you like?’
‘That would be much appreciated, Mrs Winton,’ said Gavin, and handed her a business card. ‘Even if you think it might not be significant, it’s best to let us know.’
