Slaughter in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  Emily was curled awkwardly on the sofa, her head pushed into a corner and her feet angled against the arm at the other end. It looked about as comfortable as a seat on a longhaul flight. ‘Are you awake?’ Thea whispered.

  ‘Not really. That was a very long night, let me tell you. I had quite nasty dreams, with Daddy covered in blood. I’m traumatised, you know. I’ll have flashbacks for the rest of my life. There was all that vile stuff on me.’

  Thea was struck by a sudden resemblance between this sister and the other one. Jocelyn, so different in appearance, could adopt the exact same voice and use the exact same words. ‘You sound just like Joss,’ she giggled.

  ‘Oh, I might have known there’d be no sympathy from you. Did I hear you talking to somebody upstairs?’

  ‘Our mother phoned. She wanted to know what you were doing here.’

  ‘And I suppose you told her,’ Emily groaned.

  ‘Yup. She said it must have been horrible for you. That was after I told her to stop being a silly old nuisance.’

  ‘Aunt Pamela,’ Emily nodded. ‘Did it work?’

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘Good.’ Emily seemed to lose focus, staring as before into a corner of the room, and seeming to forget where she was.

  ‘I’ll go and make some tea, then.’

  ‘Coffee,’ Emily corrected, giving herself a shake. ‘I’ve got to have coffee. And I’ll need to borrow some of your clothes.’

  Emily left soon after eight. They went out to the car together, and Thea inspected the small scratch on a rear wheel arch, which Emily said had been inflicted by her clumsy turn in the gateway. The car was very clean, otherwise, treated as it was to a weekly wash. ‘That’ll be easy enough to fix,’ she said reassuringly, fingering the scratch.

  ‘Maybe. They’re usually worse than they look. It might need a whole new panel.’

  ‘Surely not.’

  Emily was scrutinising her car with close attention. ‘Looks all right otherwise,’ she said softly. ‘Now I see it in daylight.’

  ‘So – the police took you to Cirencester and back, did they?’ Thea was still trying to flesh out the picture of what had happened. ‘Or did they let you drive yourself there?’

  Emily heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘That was another thing – there was endless discussion about it. In the end they drove me, because I was “emotionally disturbed” – and covered in yuck. I didn’t really want to get it all over my seats. They brought me back again later.’

  ‘Did they keep your clothes?’

  Emily nodded. ‘They want to do tests on them.’

  ‘You’re their only witness,’ Thea said, as if this fact had only just dawned on her. ‘Whatever you tell them has to be vitally important. Especially your description of the killer.’

  ‘Killer,’ Emily echoed. ‘Yes. Except I’m a lousy witness. I never even glimpsed his face.’

  For the tenth time, Thea tried to visualise the precise details – the shouts and shadowy figures; the rain and mud and sense of unreality. ‘It’s like a nightmare,’ she said.

  ‘I know it is.’ Emily was suddenly forceful. ‘A total bloody nightmare.’

  It was a signal to shut up, but Thea still had niggling questions. ‘So tell me again,’ she insisted, ‘why you came back here, instead of going straight home?’

  ‘I told you. It seemed too far to drive. I was so shaky and confused. And Bruce would have made such a fuss. Plus the boys would have woken up and demanded to know what was going on. Besides you needed to know everything that had happened, and it was much easier to tell you face to face.’

  ‘Right.’ It made good sense, and Thea felt vaguely flattered that she had been given such a prominent status by her big sister.

  Emily had helped herself to a long-sleeved top and cotton trousers from Thea’s meagre collection of clothes. ‘Will you ever get yours back?’ Thea wondered. ‘And what about shoes? I haven’t got any I can spare.’

  Emily shuddered. ‘I don’t want them,’ she said. ‘But there’s a pair of sandals in the car somewhere, luckily. I drove in bare feet last night,’ she added wonderingly. ‘I’ve never done that before, but I didn’t want to waste time looking for the sandals.’

  ‘Well, it was only half a mile or so, as far as I can work it out.’

  They found the sandals on the floor in the back, and Emily got into the driving seat. She was pale and frowning. ‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ she said, making no move to start the engine. ‘I’m really sorry about all this. If only I hadn’t been such a fool, turning the wrong way like that. I wasn’t really thinking, you see. Not about roads and stuff. And now look at the trouble I’m in.’

  ‘You’re not in trouble,’ said Thea. ‘You were just the innocent bystander.’

  ‘Right. Yes. But all those questions…they’re not going to leave it alone, are they?’

  ‘Obviously not. Until they catch him, of course.’

  Emily sighed. ‘Oh, well…’ she shook her head with an effort.

  ‘Take it easy,’ Thea said kindly. ‘It’s been a ghastly shock for you. You must have actually seen him die.’

  Emily shook her head more vigorously. ‘So please don’t go on about it. I don’t know exactly what I saw. It was dark. And pouring with rain.’ She looked more miserable than Thea ever remembered seeing her. ‘I’ve got to go. Thank God it’s Sunday. At least I don’t have to get myself to work.’

  ‘Take some days off,’ Thea advised. ‘Compassionate leave – on two counts. Don’t try to be brave and British about it.’

  ‘And sit about at home obsessing instead? I don’t think so.’

  ‘OK. Well, they’ll probably have it all sorted out in a day or two, anyway. Even without a description from you, this bloke’s liable to give himself away. As we agreed last night, he’s sure to be covered in blood and not behaving normally.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, stop sounding like a detective,’ Emily snapped.

  ‘Sorry.’ Thea felt a need to justify herself, leaning down to speak through the open car door. ‘It’s just – the cases that Phil and I have come across up to now have all been rather more, well – civilised.’ She grimaced at the word. ‘Sounds daft, I know. A killing’s a killing, and you could argue there’s less wickedness in a spur of the moment rage than something that’s been planned. But this is so – shattering. The violence of it.’

  ‘Right,’ said Emily shakily. ‘And now I want to go home, if that’s all right with you.’

  It was past nine when Phil phoned, as Thea had known he would. Even without Emily’s murder, he would have called to check how she was getting on at Hawkhill. It wasn’t instantly apparent whether or not he knew about the connection between Thea and the killing

  ‘What’s it like?’ he asked. ‘Does the parrot like you? Has it eaten Hepzie?’

  ‘The parrot seems to be keen on security. The only thing it’s said so far is “Lock the doors, Daddy” which is rather funny in a way.’

  ‘What else is there – I can’t remember?’

  ‘Ferrets, cats and dogs. All quite amenable and easy. A bat which won’t leave me alone. You haven’t heard, have you?’ she added.

  ‘Pardon? Heard what?’

  ‘Last night. A violent incident where a man died? Somewhere quite near here, apparently.’

  ‘I did see something,’ he said warily. ‘But you’re quietly minding your own business, aren’t you, and not encouraging any mysterious or unlawful activity?’

  ‘I am, yes. But Emily isn’t. Emily – my sister, that is – is the only witness and she saw the whole thing.’

  He went quiet, and she heard a keyboard tapping. ‘Mrs Emily Peterson. That’s your sister?’ His voice had gone faint, as if there was hardly any breath behind it. It was an unfortunate coincidence that Thea’s sister had the same name as Phil’s dead daughter, a fact which ought not to have made any difference to anything, but which caused Thea to mention Emily less than she might otherwise have done. Now she felt as if thi
s delicacy was rebounding on her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Thea said. ‘I really am. But yes, she was trying to turn round in a gateway, and heard shouts and went to see – and there was a murder happening before her very eyes.’

  ‘Could happen to anyone,’ said Phil, utterly failing to sound amused. ‘Did he see her seeing him?’

  ‘Very much so, I’m afraid. She frightened him off.’

  ‘Well, we’ll do all we can to keep her identity confidential. But her name’s here on the file – open for anyone here to read. It could easily get out. Where does she live?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, but supplied the answer himself. ‘Aylesbury. Far enough away, I should think.’

  ‘Phil, stop talking to yourself and explain. Do you know who the victim was?’

  ‘Not confirmed yet, as far as I can see. I’ll have to get Jeremy in to brief me. It won’t be my case. At least, I’m assuming it won’t.’

  ‘Hang on – it’s Sunday. Are you at the station?’

  ‘No, no. I’m on the laptop at home – but I checked in first thing, to keep up with what’s been happening. All done by remote control. All I need is a password and I can see everything that’s been put on file. Saves a lot of time.’

  ‘And you don’t even have to get out of bed.’ She was thinking how flimsy the barrier of a single password was, and how a clever criminal or dodgy police officer could be accessing Emily’s details as they spoke.

  ‘Excuse me. I was up before eight, doing my exercises.’

  ‘Is it better?’

  ‘Every day and in every way. I can actually twist sideways now. I’d forgotten that such a thing was possible.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So where’s Emily now?’

  ‘She’s gone home already. I was hoping I could settle down with my jigsaw and forget there was ever an incident last night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Definitely. But I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Believe me, Phil. I’m not even interested. One man bashes another to death and runs away – not a very fascinating story. Plus, I’ve had enough of death this past week or two. I want to smell the flowers and read PG Wodehouse and pretend everything’s all right.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he approved. ‘Be nice to yourself for a bit.’ For no reason at all, an image of the man with the vivid blue eyes floated across her vision. The nicest thing she could imagine, just then, was a chance to get to know him better. The stab of shameful horror at this blatant piece of infidelity made her gasp.

  Phil mistook it for a huff of laughter, and gave an echoing chuckle. ‘I mean it,’ he said.

  ‘Right. Are you going to come and see me one day? Take me out to lunch?’ Since his back was hurt, there had been no proper sex between them, a deprivation that Thea was beginning to find oppressive. That, she told herself, was the root of her outrageous thoughts about the blue-eyed stranger. Not a very worthy explanation, but the best she could find.

  ‘I’ll try,’ Phil Hollis promised.

  Thea did her best to put the whole thing out of her head, but it was a losing battle. Questions kept arising unbidden, as her unruly imagination attempted to construct a full picture of what had occurred. She still had no precise idea as to where the killing had taken place, hoping it was further from Hawkhill than Emily believed. Then it occurred to her that Emily must have had a location to report to the police when she phoned them – how could they ever have found her otherwise? There were details she had not included in her account to Thea, and who could blame her? The police questioning must have been wearying at best. But the gaps in the story provoked an unwelcome curiosity in her mind, which she knew would be hard to quell.

  Stop it, she adjured herself. Hadn’t Emily already told her off for thinking like a detective? Too many murders over the past year had warped her brain and made her search for subtleties that did not exist. This was a sad and messy fight between two young men, a fight that had gone too far, fuelled by drink or drugs and maybe a girl in the story somewhere. The aggressor would be suffering agonies of remorse and fear this morning, unable to believe what he’d done, knowing his only avenue was to present himself to the authorities and submit to his rightful punishment.

  Then Phil phoned again. Thea was outside with a mug of coffee, the spaniel at her feet. For once she had kept the mobile close at hand, consciously training herself to make proper use of it.

  ‘Now, listen, love,’ he began cautiously. ‘This is turning out to be a bit more complicated than we thought.’

  Before her mind could engage, her body had reacted. Her heart was suddenly filling her entire chest and something fuzzy had lodged in her throat. ‘Oh?’ she said.

  ‘The dead man. He’s a university lecturer – an Oxford don, apparently. His brother’s a vicar, standing in for a few months in the Slaughters. He – the victim – was staying at one of the big hotels in Lower Slaughter. It’s astronomically expensive and very select.’

  ‘So what’s complicated?’

  ‘Come on, Thea. You don’t get that sort of bloke brawling in a dark field, for a start. He wasn’t drunk or drugged.’

  ‘No, but he could easily have been mugged. I don’t see why you’re sounding so doomy about it.’

  ‘Muggers don’t hang about in Cotswold fields. They don’t lose their rag and kick people to death with massive blows to the head.’

  ‘So there wasn’t a weapon? No knife or anything?’

  ‘No knife. Your sister said something about a stick, but she couldn’t have seen it clearly.’

  ‘That’s right. I’m surprised she could even see as much as that.’

  ‘There’s more. Brace yourself.’

  Thea made a wordless sound of invitation to reveal the worst.

  ‘We’re not happy with your sister’s story. It doesn’t hang together. Thea – there must be something important that she isn’t telling us.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Phil refused to give away any details, merely repeating that as it stood, Emily’s story raised some puzzling questions. Thea would not allow herself to be thrown by something she felt sure was a failure on the part of the police to think clearly.

  ‘So?’ she challenged robustly. ‘It would hardly be surprising if she forgot something, or made a mistake. You’re always saying how witnesses only provide fragments of the whole picture. And they fill the gaps with their own imagination, without knowing they’re doing it.’

  ‘Yes, yes, all that’s true. This is different. There’s something you don’t know – or I assume you don’t. I oughtn’t to be telling you, of course. Your loyalties are very likely to lie with your sister. But—’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ She had jumped ahead of him. ‘You’re right. If you’re going to present me with a choice between my sister and the forces of the law, I might well choose the former.’

  He said nothing, silently letting the dilemma stand. Thea’s throat felt strange again.

  ‘Phil, she’s never been here before, she doesn’t know anybody in these villages. She can’t possibly have been involved in that killing in any significant way. You’re going to tell me she’s protecting the killer, or there’s the blood of a third party on her clothes, or – I don’t know.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to tell you either of those things. But I am going to tell you that the injuries on the body don’t match with what she told us. The body wasn’t curled defensively. No damage to the hands. This wasn’t a fight of any kind. The man was attacked suddenly from behind, blows rained on his head and neck. One vertebra is shattered.’

  She clung to her initial position. ‘I can’t see how that contradicts what Emily said. She admits it was dark, and by the time she got to the scene, the killer – or killers – had run away. What’s the big deal?’

  ‘You might be right,’ he conceded. ‘But everyone’s coming up with all kinds of questions. This all happened only yards away from a big hotel, and dozens of people. Why didn’t your sister go there immediately and ca
ll for help? Why stay out there in the dark with a dead body? Wouldn’t she be scared?’

  ‘She was probably too shocked to think straight – and she didn’t know it was a hotel. She might not even have realised it was there at all. She was totally lost.’

  ‘That’s another thing. How is it possible to get lost between Lower Slaughter and the main road? It’s barely a mile.’

  ‘She must have turned the wrong way out of my gate – I wasn’t watching and didn’t think to give her directions again. If she did that, she’d have gone towards Upper Slaughter, then around in a big loop somehow. I don’t know – I haven’t worked out the lanes myself yet.’

  ‘Well, it’s difficult to make sense of it – why she chose to turn round in that little gateway, for example.’

  ‘Oh, this is ridiculous!’ Thea flared. ‘You’ve no cause to be suspicious of her at all. I know what it’s like getting lost in these little lanes. I’ve done it myself. The signs don’t make any sense unless you know how the places relate to each other. She knew she’d come out on a road she recognised eventually.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain why she turned round where she did.’

  ‘Phil, stop it. What are you implying, anyway? What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I don’t want you to do anything. I want you to be aware of what the evidence suggests.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘That your sister hasn’t told us the whole story. I won’t say any more than that.’

  Another silence as Thea’s head filled with swooping dipping thoughts, like a room full of bats. ‘Well, that’s not saying much, is it?’ Then she remembered what Phil had said about the victim. ‘Um – hang on a minute,’ she added, thinking he was about to curtail the call. ‘You said the victim was an Oxford don. What was his name?’

  She heard him tapping the keyboard briefly, before replying, ‘Dr Samuel Webster, MA, D. Phil.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Thea faintly.

  Phil’s tone altered dramatically. ‘What do you mean?’ he snapped.