During his childhood, he had spent hours roaming through the woods and across the farmland that surrounded the village. He thought he had seen every part of it. But he’d obviously overlooked this one, because it didn’t look remotely familiar.
To the left was the farm house, a large red brick building. From this angle, he could see two sides of it, so he could gauge the depth as well as the width. The house could accommodate a big family, possibly two. Unlike Ian and Tanya’s place, the farmhouse didn’t have a wall around it separating it from the rest of the buildings. Whoever lived here was clearly happy for work and home to merge into one.
Scanning to the right, Martin saw some single story outbuildings about twenty yards away from the house. They were painted white, but he could tell they were made of breeze blocks. He guessed they might be storerooms and possibly a small workshop. Further along there was a barn. One of the doors was open slightly, but he couldn’t see inside. Beyond the barn were some stables. The doors faced the farmhouse. There were four of them, two of which had the top half open. He could see shadows shifting inside, though whether they were horse or human he couldn’t tell.
So that meant there were three possible places from which he could be spotted: the stables, the barn, or from inside the house. But there was no reaction to his presence. Everything seemed perfectly still. It was almost too quiet.
He counted to a hundred twice, but no one came out to challenge him. They were either waiting for him to make a move, or they weren’t bothered by his presence.
His intention this morning had been to explore, but without getting too close to the locals. This was new territory, though. As he watched for signs of life, he decided he should have a look around. The worst that could happen was that he would be asked to leave. He could live with that.
So he walked into the yard.
The shadows had been horses. They poked their heads out so he could pat them when they spotted him. He wasn’t an expert on horses, but was surprised to see they were in such good shape. He might have expected to see healthy animals that were good for riding along bridleways and country lanes, but these looked more like racehorses. And friendly too. They were obviously used to being well treated. Stroking their necks was oddly soothing – Martin hadn’t realised he was so tense – and it was something of an effort to tear himself away.
His next port of call was the barn. It was clearly used for storage. To the right as he came in, there was a collection of equipment that he guessed must be for attaching to the back of a tractor. He recognised a plough, but the rest was a mystery to him. The tractor itself was parked alongside them. It looked like it had seen better times, its red paintwork faded almost to orange, the seat cracked and worn, which was hardly surprising as there was no cab to protect it. Martin guessed it must be even older than he was.
The other side of the barn was piled high with crates filled with vegetables. The earthy smell was strong, but not unpleasant. Presumably they were waiting to be collected and delivered to a local market or a wholesaler. He walked to the back of the barn, curious to see what else might be hidden away. But there was nothing. The barn was less than half full.
He expected the other outbuildings to be locked, but they weren’t. As he’d thought, one of the doors hid a workshop. The tools seemed antiquated, but had clearly been looked after. They were displayed in an orderly manner. Every hook had something hanging from it; shelving was placed in convenient reach of the two workbenches; any sets of tools were placed together and organised in order of size.
Two more doors revealed storage for grain and seeds of various types. A fourth door led to an outside loo. He stared at the polished dark wood seat for a moment. He couldn’t recall having seen a square one before. The high level cistern was clearly ancient, but appeared to be in excellent condition. What with this and the old tractor, it looked as if the place belonged to a farmer who was well past his prime. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t been disturbed was because the old duffer was too deaf to hear him.
There was just the house to look at now. Not that he was planning any breaking and entering. He just wanted to have a scout around, which took him only a couple of minutes. There was no sign of life inside. The kitchen door was partially open. He saw the table in the middle of the room, and stepped inside to take a closer look. Bowls and plates were set out haphazardly. It wasn’t clear how many people would have been catered for. Maybe three or four. There were six chairs around the table, and four of them were pushed back carelessly from it. A half-eaten apple lay on its side, the exposed flesh a light brown colour. In a bowl, a pear was in a similar state. A loaf of bread sat in the middle of the table, the knife still embedded in it where it was being sliced. Nearby a slice lay on a plate, bites missing from it. At the closest edge was a mug, two-thirds full, its contents disguised by a thin creamy film that lay across the top. Three tumblers were scattered amongst the crockery, only partially filled with water. The rims smudged where they had been drunk from.
This was breakfast, and whoever was eating it had been interrupted.
Martin looked around the kitchen, searching for the crocodile. He stepped back outside. There was nothing there either. The place was deserted.
Across the yard, he heard one of the horses moving around in its stable. It was the only sound. No birds, no breeze rustling nearby trees, not even a car on the road. He realised that was the key. The road wasn’t busy, but there would be the occasional vehicle. Certainly more than one every fifteen minutes, and he’d been here for longer than that. He couldn’t hear anything because they were surrounded by a natural barrier. The grassy mounds that formed the bowl around the farmyard kept most noises out.
Smiling, he recognised that he had allowed himself to be spooked. This was one of the most tranquil spots he’d ever been in. And the fact that the people who lived here had been disturbed could have been caused by anything. Granny had fallen and been rushed to hospital; a farmhand calling for help with cattle that had broken through a fence; the realisation that they were simply late for something. True it was odd that they’d left the house unlocked, but sometimes these things were forgotten about in the rush. He knew things weren’t right in the village, but he couldn’t assume everything he experienced was connected to it.
It was time to move on. He couldn’t honestly say his curiosity had been fully satisfied, but he would have to make do for now. Crossing the yard, he headed for the opening that he guessed would take him across the farm. He didn’t want to go back the way he’d come, and he had no desire to return to the road.
At the stables, he stopped to stroke the horses. They nuzzled him playfully. For a few moments, he let everything else slip from his mind. He had no real experience with horses. They’d been around during his childhood, but only those ridden around the lanes by a select few of the villagers. He’d never ridden one, or even helped out in stables. Yet he felt drawn to them, and enjoyed the warmth they showed him, with no requirement for him to give them anything back other than the palm of his hand as it ran up and down their necks. It would be very easy to just stay here and share time with these wonderful animals.
Even as he became aware of that idea, he heard a sound behind him. Footsteps. Turning, he saw a tall woman walk out of the barn. She was about fifty yards away, so it was difficult to tell, but he guessed she was almost six foot. Her hair was long and dark and tied back in a pony tail. She wore a work shirt, jeans and boots he would normally have associated with a labourer. Yet she walked with an elegance that belied her masculine attire. He caught only a glimpse of her face before she headed for the house. That first, brief impression suggested she was in her thirties. And attractive. Not in the sexy, sophisticated way that Tanya McLean was. Nor did he immediately think of her as a classic beauty. But there was definitely something about her...
She obviously hadn’t spotted him, though. And as she had just emerged from a building that had been empty only minutes earlier, he pushed any thoughts of attraction from
his mind as he began to wonder how that had happened. It seemed judicious at this point to conceal himself. The edge of the stable block was only a couple of feet away. Patting the nearest horse in a gentle goodbye, he moved around the corner, glancing back to make sure she hadn’t turned and seen him. She hadn’t, but two more people were coming out of the barn. Two men this time.
Ducking out of sight, he didn’t see the taller of the two men look in his direction and smile to himself.
Four
Driving back from his meeting, Ian was feeling pleased with himself. The bank manager had been caught on the hop by his promptness. Together with Ian’s charm – accomplished through years of practice – he had been easy to persuade of the merits of the renegotiated loan. He had at least three months of breathing space. It wasn’t enough to allow him to sit back and relax, but it would be one less distraction so he could focus on the important job of getting the cottages built and sold – or finding another solution to their problems.
Not that he could do anything practical about that until he was home. With the worry about the bank out of the way, he allowed himself to reflect on his conversation with Martin the night before. He’d expected it to be awkward, especially when Tanya showed no signs of going to bed before their guest returned from visiting his family. Her decision to leave them alone had made it easier. Even so, in spite of his many years of experience of dealing with people, he still wasn’t sure how to tactfully go about accusing someone of having a fling with his wife.
Martin broached the subject first.
“It must have seemed strange seeing Tanya holding my hand.”
Ian hadn’t realised that either of them had been aware that he was watching them when they crossed the farmyard that afternoon. His experience told him to keep his mouth shut and listen.
“Who was the band that sang When You’re in Love With a Beautiful Woman?”
Dr. Hook, Ian thought. The nail had been hit squarely on the head.
“I used to listen to those words and wonder what it would be like to feel all that insecurity and jealousy.” Martin seemed to be gazing into space as he said this, a rueful half-smile on his face. “Still wonder sometimes.” His focus returned to Ian. “I’m guessing you do know what it’s like.” He paused, but must have realised that Ian had no desire to interrupt him. “She was genuinely disturbed by what she experienced in the clearing. I think she just took my hand because she needed to feel comforted.” His smile broadened, but it was an awkward one. He shrugged, and that didn’t seem very natural either. “I’m not sure I was the right person to offer comfort, but I was the only one there at the time.”
He glanced towards the door, as if expecting Tanya to storm in and confront them over talking about her behind her back. The door, slightly ajar, didn’t move. Ian had heard the familiar creaks of the floorboards overhead, and knew she was well beyond earshot.
“If you are concerned about me being here, I will understand,” Martin had continued. “It’s too late for me to find anywhere else to sleep tonight, so I’d prefer it if you let me stay till morning. But I can be gone first thing.”
His candour was disarming, and Ian had felt his reservations diminish. He knew it would be impossible for them to disappear altogether. As the song said, you watch your friends and you look for lies. He hadn’t caught her out yet, but he had his suspicions. And there was no guarantee that Martin was telling the truth. But as they talked, he felt more at ease with their guest, and when he went on to describe the events in the clearing, Ian was intrigued. Which was why they’d arranged to leave early in the morning so he could see for himself.
And it had been very spooky. Ian had walked through the woods many times, often passing through, and occasionally even stopping in, the clearing. There had never been anything out of the ordinary there before. No strange sights, no palpable sensations. This morning, it had been like visiting a completely different site. The layout was identical. Nothing had altered physically, apart from the congregation of birds. Yet he felt as if it was his first time there. Much as he wanted to be able to explain that to himself – let alone anyone else – he couldn’t.
Leaving to go to his meeting had been harder than he’d imagined. There was something about the place that he felt drawn to. But he was also aware that it must be similar to the way a rodent is hypnotised by a snake. He was drawn to it, yet it felt somehow dangerous.
As he wound the Land Rover through country lanes, that thought seemed preposterous. Overhead, the sun was shining down. Nearing the village, on either side of him, the ever-present trees had given way briefly to open farmland. In the distance a herd of cows stood idly watching the world go by. All was well with the world. Deep inside, though, he knew he had felt something that suggested all was not well with the world.
Turning off the road and up the track that took him home, it occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t the clearing. The other common factor for both Tanya and him had been that they had Martin with them. That thought didn’t stay with him for long. As he pulled into the farmyard, the police car parked outside the kitchen gave him something else to think about.
Five
Everybody tempts her, according to the song. And at least since they’d moved up here, that’s what Ian had felt was happening. It stood to reason, then, that a man in uniform would have Tanya positively drooling, so as he entered the house, Ian was preparing himself for the worst. Instead, he was confronted with a very irritated wife standing with her arms folded across her chest and an expression on her face that would leave no one in any doubt that she was not happy about them being there.
Sure enough, the officer was hardly movie star material. As he introduced himself, Ian took in his appearance. He guessed he barely made the minimum height requirement. Not that he was short, but with a burgeoning waistline he certainly didn’t come across as particularly imposing. In his early twenties, the tightness of his uniform didn’t bode well for his future health prospects. With short-cropped ginger hair and a more than generous sprinkling of freckles that gave his face an almost orange hue, Ian could understand why the officer’s physical limitations had outweighed the potential attraction of the uniform.
They were all standing. Tanya had clearly not offered a seat or any other form of hospitality.
“Been here long?” Ian inquired casually, pulling a chair out from under the kitchen table. As he sat down, he gestured for the others to join him.
The constable nodded his thanks. “About five minutes. I was just explaining why I was here to Mrs McLean.”
“Apparently, they think Martin’s stolen a van and murdered a dog.” There was something about Tanya’s tone that made Ian wonder if she hoped their guest might be guilty. He looked at her questioningly, but she seemed not to notice. Or possibly chose not to. She remained standing.
Constable Oakes introduced himself properly, and relayed his experiences at the Post Office. He finished by explaining: “I’m not here to make any accusations against anyone. But the information I was given at the shop suggested the possibility of a link between the incidents last night and Mr Gates’ arrival in the village.”
“Of course, Officer.” Unlike his wife, Ian felt there was nothing to be gained by antagonising the Police. Due deference would at least help to rebuild any bridges Tanya might have broken down. Though from the appreciative glances Oakes gave her, Ian wondered if he might have underestimated how much a man will put up with from an attractive woman. “What can we do to help?”
He had got on well with Martin, both last night and this morning. But he had no real reason to defend him, or to be confident that he wasn’t guilty of any crimes. Not that he had any reason to consider him guilty either. But it was clear that the only appropriate thing to do here was cooperate with the inquiry.
Oakes had been referring to his notebook while he was talking. He turned now to a blank page. “Can you account for his movements at all last night?”
“Any particular time?”
<
br /> “I can’t confirm anything specific because I don’t want to lead you in any direction.”
“Fair enough.” As the first time Ian had met Martin was on the cusp between afternoon and evening, he started there. Although Tanya didn’t add anything to his comments, he occasionally looked to her if he was unsure if he had recalled everything correctly. Her only confirmation was a curt nod.
When he had finished, Oakes read back through his notes for almost a minute. The silence was uncomfortable. Ian briefly wondered whether it was a deliberate psychological strategy, but from his assessment of the constable so far, he guessed he was just a slow reader – and probably a slow thinker as well.
Eventually, Oakes looked up.
“You said he left the pub some time between eight and eight-thirty.”
“That’s right. I wasn’t keeping track of the time, but I would imagine it was around quarter past. I know he was going to be late for...” What was it? An appointment? It suddenly struck Ian how odd this meeting of the Gates family seemed. “...his family reunion.”
“And then you didn’t see him until quarter to eleven?”
“Or thereabouts.” Ian didn’t want to be pinned down on a time that he genuinely wasn’t sure about.
“And you think he was at his parents’ house in between times?”
“That’s what he told us. I assume you’ll want to check that with them anyway.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Well if it’s any help, I know his father and brother will be working on our development at the moment. I’ll happily show you the way myself.”
Oakes looked up from his notes, apparently incapable of concealing his suspicions. Columbo, he wasn’t. “His father and brother work for you?”
“It’s more of a partnership at the moment,” Ian said, immediately wondering why he felt he needed to explain himself. At the same time he understood that Oakes was making all kinds of connections in his head that would probably take him nowhere, but could lead to some awkward conversations and unnecessary revelations.
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