by Rebecca Tope
The morning had been so badly disrupted that she could hardly think what she should do next. Five days of snow must be close to a record for Gloucestershire, and she wondered how the world beyond her own little lane was faring. Traffic had to be flowing more or less normally on the larger roads, lorries bringing fresh stocks to the shops in Northleach, children returning to school, all the normal comings and goings of civilised life. But she still couldn’t get her car out, and things were still as frightening as before.
With an idea of finding out how things stood, she tuned to the local radio station again. She caught the midday news, which began with a summary of the road conditions and the few remaining closures and cancellations. Then it went on to report the finding of a woman’s body in deep snow close to the village of Hampnett. A farmer’s dog had made the discovery the previous evening. The police were saying little, but they were pursuing an investigation into the identity of the woman, and the cause of death.
Thea’s gorge rose in a wholly uncontrollable surge of alarm. By any measure, this second body must have died only a few fields away. There had to be a connection between this discovery and the dead George Jewell. Two people had died in the snow in the same week, within half a mile of each other. Without even thinking, she reached out for the phone, already repeating Phil Hollis’s number to herself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
But before he could answer, she thumbed the stop button. What was she going to say to him? It needed some proper thought first. She winced at the imagined conversation that she might have had. Phil, there’s a murderer out there, killing people and leaving them in the snow. Come and save me. Was that what she believed and wanted? She remembered his curt dismissal of the day before when she’d phoned him. Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis was too important to run around at the whim of a former girlfriend. And too proud, she supposed. He had shown Thea his weaker side some months earlier, and she had not responded well to it. They had both emerged from that episode with much less certainty about the relationship, and the damage had proved fatal.
And yet he remained her default saviour, she noted. Who else was going to protect her in these alarming house-sitting jobs she persisted in accepting? Phil was probably decent enough to at least listen and reassure, and perhaps send a junior police officer to check her defences.
But there was someone else she could turn to – how could she have forgotten? She picked up the phone again and keyed another number.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Jess sounded weary.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course. I had rather a hectic weekend, that’s all. What’s the matter?’
‘Did you hear about the second body they’ve found near here? A woman this time. Have you any idea what’s going on? They must have been murdered, surely?’
There was a pause. ‘Mum, I’ve only just got up. I was out all night. You’ll have to start again from the top. Is it to do with those footprints you saw on Friday? You never called back, so I assumed it must have all turned out OK.’
Thea struggled to think straight. ‘Don’t you know?’ she said wonderingly. Much of her amazement derived from her own failure to update her daughter on the events of the weekend. Embroiled in George and Janina and the birthday party, she had actually forgotten Jessica completely.
‘Mum, why do I keep having to remind you that I’m based in Manchester, not Birmingham? We don’t get your stories here. Not unless they make the national news.’
‘It was a man, a dead man, who made those footprints. He was called George, and I found his body. Twice, in a way. It was moved. Now there’s another one, not much further away. It would be easy to kill someone by leaving them in the snow to freeze, wouldn’t it?’
She could hear the deep, slow intake of breath. ‘From the top?’ Jessica prompted. ‘None of what you just said made the slightest sense.’
Thea took a similar breath and slowly recounted the whole story. She concluded by saying, ‘I’m really scared, Jess. More than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m cut off here – nobody can get in or out except by foot.’
‘People do die in snow,’ Jessica said thoughtfully. ‘I mean, they get disoriented and lost and wander around in circles till the cold gets them. Where you are is the worst affected part of the country. Worst for fifty years or something. People have forgotten how dangerous it can be.’
‘I know, but even so…’ Was she being stupidly paranoid? It still seemed most likely that George had deliberately killed himself. Perhaps this woman had, as well. It did seem quite a handy way to commit suicide – painless and relatively tidy. Maybe George and the woman had made a pact. That was a far more acceptable idea. But the radio report had suggested foul play, without actually saying it.
‘Well, you’ll probably find the local police want to speak to you again, anyway,’ Jessica said. ‘You’re involved with the first bloke, after all. They’ll be able to reassure you better than I can.’
That hadn’t occurred to her. Another flurry of anxiety curdled her insides. ‘They might think it was me who killed them both,’ she wailed.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Jessica crossly.
‘Well, they might.’ As happened more and more often these days, their roles had reversed, and Thea felt like the child in the relationship.
‘Listen, Mum. There’s something I think you should know. Nothing to do with Hampnett or snow or dead people. It’s Phil.’
‘What about him?’ The anxiety burgeoned. Had he had another accident?
‘Well, I heard on the grapevine that he’s seeing someone. It seems to be fairly serious, from what I can gather. I know you and he have finished, but I didn’t want you to make any blunders.’
‘It’s another police person, isn’t it?’ Her sudden certainty on this point was inexplicable logically, but it fitted what she knew of the man.
‘Right. I met her once. She’s uniformed, an inspector. She’s called Laura. She was doing some sort of course when I was at college, so I know her a bit.’
‘And she’s pretty and sweet and kind and young,’ supplied Thea.
‘No, actually. She’s tall with a long face and freckles. Masses of freckles, all over. She’s clever, and has a very loud laugh. And I’d say she was a bit older than you.’
Thea felt weak with the surges of ambivalent feelings. ‘Good for him,’ she said quietly. ‘I knew he wouldn’t stay single for very long. Men never do, do they?’
‘Some do. But no, he’s too good a catch to be missed. You’ve only got yourself to blame, you know.’
‘How do you work that out?’ Thea flashed, knowing there was quite some truth in the accusation.
‘You work it out. I’ve got to get on,’ Jessica flashed back.
‘So what do I do about these bodies?’ Thea asked after a short pause in which she summoned up the sense not to fight over Phil’s emotional life. Jessica had meant well in telling her what was going on, and she supposed she ought to feel grateful.
‘Why do anything? Just carry on as normal. The snow must surely be melting by this time, anyway?’
‘Thawing, not melting,’ Thea corrected. ‘And no, it isn’t. Not at all. It must be awful for farmers, making sure their animals are OK.’
‘Mmm,’ Jessica agreed without interest. ‘Well, Mum, I really have got to go. You’ll be all right, you know you will. I don’t know why you’re in such a state.’
‘Must be getting old,’ said Thea, trying to laugh. She wanted to go through it all again – the isolation, the cold and the unavoidable fact that two people really had died. ‘Anyway, thanks for listening. I feel better now.’ This was a lie, but she owed it to Jess to release her from having to worry.
‘Good. And I’m sorry about Phil. I like him, you know. It seems an awful waste.’
Thea made a wordless sound of acknowledgment and said goodbye. Her throat was thick and she found she had to sniff back tears. The year or so she’d spent with Phil had been good. It had shifted her away from the pa
ralysis of sudden widowhood, shown her that there were other opportunities out there, that she was still young enough to embrace them. Men found her attractive, she had no worries about that. And she liked them, with none of the scratchy criticisms of the latest manifestations of feminism, with all the bemused frustration that seemed to grip the modern woman. They’d managed to have it all – career, children, money – and still they weren’t happy. That had to be the fault of men, obviously, because they persistently refused to do the shopping or plan the holidays or answer the summons from the head teacher when Little Johnny misbehaved.
And then she thought of Simon, throwing himself into his son’s party, because his working wife had better things to do. And Janina, with her scathing contempt for Bunny. She, too, had toed the feminist line and called Simon lazy, which hardly seemed fair from what Thea had seen of him.
She made herself a cheese sandwich for lunch, noting that there was hardly any milk left. A glance through the freezer that Lucy had left at her disposal showed plenty of fancy ready meals but not much by way of basics. No bread, or simple things like sausages or chicken legs. She didn’t like to take the more expensive items, given how much she was being paid. A trip to Northleach was definitely becoming urgent. But knowing how early it got dark, and how unfriendly the afternoon skies could be, deterred her from making the trip that day. She should phone Old Kate, perhaps, and see if she could somehow cadge a ride via the other road, to the south.
She took Jimmy out again for his midday excursion, pleased to see the way Hepzie walked beside him, as if to offer a shoulder to lean on. She was only half his height, but probably weighed more. The lurcher was nothing but bones and sparsely covered skin. Really not a pretty animal by any reckoning, but no less lovable for that. His ready cooperation, and total absence of curiosity, was restful, if pathetic. The place where he peed had turned a dingy beige colour, with a path from the house to the spot showing some mushy grass where Thea had walked. The snow itself seemed more and more grubby and stained, even in places where nobody had trodden on it. The sparkle soon wore off – or perhaps it was all in the eye of the observer. That first morning had been so magical and thrilling. Now it was just a nuisance. She wasn’t sure she would ever enjoy snow again, after all this trouble. And that seemed a pity.
It was half past two when a new visitor knocked on the door. Hepzie barked, and the cat, which had been sitting contentedly beside Thea on the sofa where she was reading, streaked away into Lucy’s study. Neither animal did anything to calm Thea’s nerves.
Opening the door cautiously, she was relieved to see the familiar face of the police constable she had met twice before. I really should remember his name by now, she thought. He was getting to be quite a friend. With him was a woman she also recognised.
‘Hello!’ cried Thea with disproportionate pleasure. ‘It’s you.’
‘It is,’ agreed Detective Superintendent Sonia Gladwin. ‘Fancy seeing you again.’
Thea threw the door wide and ushered them in. It was some minutes before questions began to surface in her mind. ‘But…why are you here? Isn’t this a bit beneath your area of responsibility, or whatever you call it?’
‘You mean two frozen bodies on one weekend is too trivial for a DS?’ Gladwin smiled tightly.
‘You think they were murdered.’ Thea slumped. ‘Just when I’d convinced myself it was just a horrible coincidence.’
‘You knew there’d been another one, then?’
‘It was on the radio.’
‘Oh, yes. Well, actually, we can’t find any signs of violence on the first one.’
‘But…’ Thea prompted.
‘But the second one was deliberately killed, I’m sorry to say.’
‘Did they know each other?’
‘We haven’t ID’d the woman yet. Forties, well dressed. Nobody’s been reported missing.’
A thought flew into Thea’s head and out again. Obviously it couldn’t be right. The police would know if it was. She tried to concentrate on her visitors.
‘Why are you here, then?’ she repeated. ‘I mean…why me?’
Gladwin laughed. ‘How can you ask that, with your track record? Remember Temple Guiting, only six or seven months ago?’
‘Of course I do. And I don’t see the connection.’ In Temple Guiting, the previous summer, Phil Hollis had been the one to find the body, the heroic figure with a sore back and very little direct involvement in the case. ‘You solved that one pretty much on your own.’
‘No, Thea Osborne, I did not. I don’t entirely understand how you do it, but you have a knack for fingering the right spot when it comes to foul play. You went to the heart of it that time, and I’m hoping you can do it again now.’
‘I’m not with you,’ said Thea sulkily. ‘If we don’t even know who the woman is, I don’t see how I can help. I never saw George alive, either. Except…’ Again she remembered the bearded man in the road. ‘I might have done, on my first day here. But I never spoke to him.’
‘But you, unlike anybody else I can think of, went off looking for him, and found the trail from the field where he died to his body.’
‘So what? Nicky and Benjamin had already found him. I did nothing useful.’
‘Thea, don’t be stupid. Of course you did. You found him first, in the field, and then tracked him down. You went out on your own to find out what had happened – I don’t know anybody else who would have done that. Without you, we’d just have thought he died in his house. You’re crucial to the investigation, don’t you see?’
Thea rolled her eyes. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘And it would be pretty poor police work to conclude that a man could freeze to death inside his house, wouldn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily. We might never have been sure how or why he died. The signs are hard to spot after so much time. As it is, you’ve added about three new dimensions to the case, and I for one am intrigued.’
Despite herself, Thea was hooked. She liked Gladwin, the thin nervy woman with unorthodox methods and dark shadows under her eyes. It would be nice to get to know her a bit better – and much more than nice to have somebody listening and sharing and praising like this.
‘So tell me what you want me to do,’ she invited, with a smile.
‘Show me around,’ Gladwin replied. ‘Take me to the corner of the field where the body was, and retrace the route to the house.’
Thea looked out of the window at the grey sky. ‘Now?’ she queried. ‘It’ll be dark in an hour or two. And it isn’t easy walking. The snow’s still quite deep.’
‘Now,’ the detective insisted. ‘Robin…you can stay here. We’ll be an hour or so.’
The constable made a futile attempt to conceal his pleasure at this reprieve. But it was short-lived. ‘You could probably make yourself useful with a shovel,’ Gladwin went on. ‘See how far you can get in clearing the track we came down. Mrs Osborne’s probably desperate to get her car out by now.’
Thea swallowed down her instinctive protest. Surely that wasn’t police work? But perhaps it was. In a time of such drama, it was back to basics for everybody. With a sigh heaved more for effect than from any real reluctance, she got her boots and scarf and hat and gloves and led the way across the donkey’s paddock, and into the infamous field next door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They used the gate at the bottom of the field, and walked along to the hollow, where there was little sign remaining of the events of Friday morning. Further snowfall had softened the footprints and tracks made by men and cattle.
‘Tell me every single thing you can remember,’ Gladwin ordered. ‘And show me the precise spots on the ground.’
Thea did her best to recall every detail of her findings on both occasions – Friday morning and then Sunday, when she had tracked the sledge. Gladwin questioned her closely, expertly accessing memories she had overlooked before.
‘The bottle,’ the detective said. ‘Was it empty?’
Thea closed her eyes t
o re-envisage the object. ‘It was half buried in the snow, so I couldn’t see. But it was just lying flat, with no top on it, so yes, it must have been empty. I presume he drank it all as part of committing suicide. It would have sent him to sleep faster, wouldn’t it?’
Gladwin didn’t respond to that. ‘So what happened to it?’ she wondered. ‘Where is it now?’
‘Whoever moved the body must have taken it as well.’
‘Yes, but then what? There was no bottle in George’s bin.’
‘You searched his bins?’ Thea was surprised.
‘We did. We need an explanation for what happened to him, and a bin is often a good place to start.’
‘The person who moved him must have taken it home with him?’ Thea suggested.
‘Why would anybody do that?’
‘To make everybody believe that George hadn’t been dead when he was here. That he got up, collected his rubbish and walked home, where he later died.’
‘Possibly. But it raises a few questions, don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ said Thea. ‘I very much think it does.’
* * *
Gladwin didn’t insist on being led all the way to George’s cottage, much to Thea’s relief. Having apprised herself of the layout, and the way the fields and lanes all connected, she turned back towards Lucy’s Barn.
‘There were some tracks down to this gate,’ Thea remembered, as they stood looking up the hill to the donkey’s shed. ‘I think they were only made by Donkey, though. He must have been out that night, or in the early morning, and come down here.’
‘Was he wet?’
‘Pardon?’
‘If he’d been walking in the snow – especially if it was still falling – he’d have got wet when it melted.’
‘Only on his legs. I didn’t notice. He seemed a bit unsettled, that’s all I remember. At that point I didn’t think he’d been outside at all.’
‘So when did you see his tracks?’