Blood in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘No, of course not. But she could have got onto the sill, and then up from there. Or maybe she came in through the cat flap, as well as going out that way.’

  ‘Can’t imagine why, though.’ He frowned. ‘What if somebody deliberately pushed her in through the window? Wanting to scare us?’

  Thea was halfway out of the door, and paused only briefly. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said.

  She was gone for over an hour, and came back hot and pink and worried. ‘Not a sign of her,’ she reported.

  ‘Thea, it’s barely half past five in the morning. Nobody’s going to meet the thing at this hour. Put some of her favourite food in the shed, and she’ll come back of her own accord, like as not.’

  ‘I can’t rely on that, though, can I?’

  Phil was having to work hard to suppress his own rising concern. The prospect of informing the police of the escaped python was not appealing. Gladwin would get to hear about it and was not going to be at all impressed. He couldn’t blame her, either. People really should not keep such creatures in captivity. It made no sense and caused havoc when they got loose.

  Thea disappeared again for ten minutes. When she came back she had followed Phil’s advice and left some dead mice in the snake’s cage. ‘She’d got the catch to the cage undone somehow,’ she said. ‘I can’t have fastened it properly. And on top of that, I’d forgotten to close the window, after all the excitement last night, so it was easy for her to get out of the shed. I’m going to be in really awful trouble. I don’t expect Miss Deacon will pay me after this.’

  ‘What’s the catch like?’ His earlier suspicions had resurfaced with a vengeance.

  ‘It’s a hook, which snaps closed.’ She operated her fingers to demonstrate. ‘You push it through a little hole in an underneath bit,’ she explained. ‘To open it, you have to squeeze it hard to disconnect it.’

  ‘And you think a snake could get that undone?’

  ‘Well, somebody did. The door’s standing wide open. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t left the window open as well.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I’m useless at this job, being so careless.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s your fault at all. I think somebody deliberately fetched the beast and sent it in through the living room window, as a piece of mischief.’

  ‘What a horrible, stupid thing to do!’ Thea cried. ‘That poor snake. That’s so cruel. Who would do such a thing? And what would be the point?’

  ‘Revenge?’ he hazarded. ‘It’s the kind of thing a person might do to get their own back. Unless they thought a python was poisonous, and they hoped it would kill us.’

  ‘The only person who might want revenge is Soraya,’ Thea said slowly. ‘Or her father, more likely. And they did let the horses out – or so we think. It would be the same kind of act, using the animals against us. Getting us into trouble with Miss Deacon. But it still seems mad.’

  ‘Maybe it’s symbolic. The serpent in the Garden of Eden, something like that.’

  Thea gave this more serious consideration than he had expected. ‘Robin and Soraya do seem rather intense,’ she nodded. ‘Like people in some sort of sect or cult. But Fiona didn’t say there was anything like that, did she?’

  ‘No – but why would she?’

  ‘Because if they are Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses, that would be one of the first things she mentioned about them. It would be how the locals define them.’

  ‘Unless they all belong to the same outfit. Then it would go without saying.’

  ‘But they’re not,’ said Thea.

  ‘Not as far as we know,’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘Unless you count this Saints and Martyrs malarky as a sect. Which disapproves of cohabiting couples who come here and stir everything up the way we’ve done.’

  ‘But we’ve got Miss Deacon’s blessing. And it sounds as if anything Miss Deacon says goes.’

  ‘You’ve got her blessing, but I haven’t. I’m not supposed to be here. Janey came over the minute you got here, to check that out. It’s me they don’t like. And they know I’m sleeping here in the front room. They’d know the snake would make straight for me.’ He shuddered reflexively. ‘They must have known how horrific it would be. I’m going to have nightmares about it for the rest of my life.’

  Thea clenched her small fists. ‘Well they won’t get away with it. I’m going out again to find that snake, and this time Hepzie can come and help me.’ She had left the spaniel behind on her first search, worried that the dog would send the snake deeper into hiding. ‘She’s not much of a bloodhound, but she might be better than nothing.’

  While she was gone, Phil lay back and let himself doze, having a growing hunch that the coming day would see little opportunity for rest. If he could persuade his back to relent enough to let him get up and dressed, that would be a good start. But first, just a few more minutes of sleep would be very restorative…

  ‘Found her!’ came Thea’s triumphant cry, forty minutes later. ‘Safe and well under the horses’ trough. It was all thanks to Hepzie, clever little thing. And you know, she – Shasti, I mean – seemed quite glad to go back home. I think she was scared out there in the wide open spaces.’ She was babbling in her relief, kicking off her shoes and ruffling the spaniel’s long ears in congratulation.

  ‘That’s good,’ mumbled Phil, only half awake. ‘Did you put a padlock on the cage?’

  ‘I would if I could find one,’ Thea said wholeheartedly. ‘Maybe they sell them in the local shop. What time does it open?’

  But Phil gave no response. He was thinking about the string of uncomfortable awakenings he had had in Hector’s Nook, and resolving that there would not be any more. Enough was enough – but he had no idea how he was going to convey his decision to Thea.

  She produced a full English breakfast in the glow of her relief from snake anxiety and began to make plans for the day. It took Phil several minutes to break through her prattle and make her understand that he had undergone a change of heart. ‘No,’ he said, rather loudly. ‘No, I don’t want to go to an arboretum or a farm park or a holy well on top of a hill. Sorry – but I think this is as far as it goes. I can’t pretend any longer that it’s OK for me to have an unscheduled holiday while there’s so much going on out there.’

  She blinked at him in confusion. ‘But you said—’ she began.

  ‘I know what I said, and I’ve changed my mind. A policeman is never really off duty, as you know full well, and I’ve spent too long as it is just pottering about down here. If somebody did send that snake in through the window, then they did me a favour. It was a wake-up call. Sorry, love, but I’m going back to the flat this afternoon, where at least I’ll be close at hand if they need me.’

  His flat was in Cirencester, a two-minute walk from the police station. He had a computer linked to the police network and a dedicated phone line. As long as he could manage to sit at the desk, he’d be able to help with some of the checks and analyses associated with any of the ongoing cases – as well as keeping abreast of developments. He said it all knowing perfectly well that it was untrue. His reasons for leaving Temple Guiting had little or nothing to do with his work. But Thea took it all at face value, at least initially.

  ‘Can’t you leave it one more day?’ she asked. ‘They can’t be that desperate for your help if they haven’t phoned all week. Besides – which case is it you think you’re needed for? The ricin nonsense or the skeleton under the tree?’

  ‘Both – or neither. I just feel I should be back in action. We’re not getting anywhere here, are we?’

  ‘Aren’t we?’ she said, in a hollow voice. ‘I thought we were doing quite well, considering.’

  ‘Oh, Thea,’ he sighed. ‘I didn’t mean us. Although—’ He gave her a probing look, remembering her lack of sympathy, her irritability and failure to enter into some of his moods. ‘Well, I’m not sure we’ve been doing too well on that front either, have we?’

  She seemed stunned. ‘Haven’t we? I’ve been re
ally glad that you’re here – somebody to talk to and eat with. I thought it was all quite good fun, in spite of your back and the bloody silly bones. I know I’m not particularly good at nursing – I did warn you about that. But haven’t you enjoyed meeting Janey and Pritchett and the others?’

  ‘Enjoyed?’ he repeated. ‘They’re all suspects in a murder enquiry. How could I enjoy meeting them?’

  ‘Is that how you see them?’

  ‘Perhaps not entirely, but I can’t just forget that a man was unlawfully killed and buried only three hundred yards away. It’s virtually certain that at least one of the people we’ve been socialising with knows something about it, even if they didn’t personally slaughter him. And I’ve been pretending to be an ordinary guy – not taking notes or questioning them. How do you think that makes me feel?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she said stiffly. ‘I thought you were happy to leave it all to Gladwin. You said it was her case and she wouldn’t appreciate you interfering.’

  ‘I was wrong,’ he snapped. ‘I see that now.’

  ‘Well, I don’t understand what changed.’

  ‘I had a wake-up call,’ he repeated doggedly. ‘No more or less than that. Put it down to having a snake in bed with me.’

  She kept a quiet serious eye on him, saying nothing, as he drained the last of his coffee and heaved himself out of the chair. Miss Deacon’s walking stick had been retrieved from its place beside the front door, and he leant on it with both hands, feeling like an old man in a children’s picture book.

  ‘You couldn’t have taken notes or asked questions,’ she said levelly. ‘Not if you’re not actively part of the team. I do know that much. Besides, you’re way too senior for that sort of work.’

  They both remembered, at the same moment, the first time they’d met. He had been asking questions then, interviewing Thea in a room at the station, his leg in a plaster cast. ‘That isn’t true,’ he said. ‘Nobody is ever as senior as that, in CID.’

  ‘OK. So you’re packing up and driving back home today – is that right?’ She kinked an eyebrow at his efforts to stand up straight and move across the room, and he realised that she had begun to see through his excuses. ‘And I can just get on with it here?’

  ‘You’ll be all right.’ He had spent months trying to protect her, warn her when he knew she was in danger, rushing around the area searching for her and her precious dog, only to find that she had been quite capable of looking after herself. Even a Sir Galahad tired eventually, when he saw his efforts unappreciated. ‘You just have to keep out of people’s way until Sunday.’

  ‘You won’t be able to drive,’ she said with crystal clear finality. ‘And I’m not going to take you. I think you’re being ridiculous. If you’re fed up with me, I can understand that, but this guff about needing to get back to work doesn’t convince me at all. If you really wanted to be involved, you could call Gladwin and ask her to give you a summary of where she’s got to. Then you could perhaps follow a few things up for her, or give her some advice. Just like you have been doing,’ she finished fiercely. ‘Don’t you think she’d use you if she needed to, having you right here on the doorstep?’

  He turned gingerly, in the kitchen doorway and faced her, his mind in turmoil. He hadn’t meant to say anything about their relationship, hadn’t even known there was anything to say, until she pressed the button. He felt trapped and thwarted, the constant nagging pain in his back acting as a low-level torture, preventing him from thinking properly. He didn’t really want to go back to work, although his conscience was prodding him about it. He didn’t want to separate from Thea with bad feeling and unintended hurts still raw between them. What he wanted was for the pain to stop, for everything to be all right, and the world to stop attacking him and his fellows. There was a connection in his mind between the people who made ricin in order to poison large crowds, and the person who sent a snake into his room in the night. And knowing that Thea would belittle and dismiss both dangers as almost entirely imaginary did nothing to console him. There was evil intent behind both acts, and that alone was enough to warrant concern and proper action.

  ‘It isn’t you,’ he said. ‘I’m just in a mood. I’m being pathetic.’

  ‘A mood?’ she echoed. ‘All this is just a mood?’

  ‘I’ve never been much good with physical pain,’ he admitted. ‘It addles my brain. I’m not much of a stoic.’

  ‘You’re a wimp,’ she said, only fractionally more softly. ‘Detective Superintendent Phil Hollis is a wimp. I should get posters printed and send them to all your colleagues.’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ He wanted to make an elaborate point about the way the increase in female police officers should have made it more acceptable to show one’s weaker side, when in fact it had done the opposite. But he needed to sit down, his muscles losing the struggle to stand erect and manly.

  ‘I think I’ve been making it harder for you,’ she acknowledged. ‘Not only am I a lousy nurse, but I jerked you about in the car last night and made it all ten times worse. Let’s see if I can make up for it somehow.’ She frowned thoughtfully for a moment. ‘What’s the most comfortable position for your back?’

  ‘Sitting or half-lying,’ he replied promptly. ‘At an angle of around twenty-five degrees between me and the support.’ He would have demonstrated with his hands, but he was still holding tightly to the stick. ‘The garden lounger is just about perfect.’

  ‘OK. Well, you’ll have noticed the sun’s shining again. I think we should put you out there with a pile of books or magazines, your phone, a drink of best lemonade and two more painkillers. I’d tuck a blanket round you as well, except you’d be too hot. Then I’ll take my dog and get out of your way for the morning. Then I’ll come back and make a delicious lunch, followed by a long lazy siesta to make up for the early start. We won’t talk or think or argue or anything. Does that sound acceptable?’

  He closed his eyes against the great wave of weakness that rushed through him. How had he become so pitiable, so out of control? could it just be his damaged back, bringing with it a host of profound fears? Fear of disablement, death, loss of self-esteem? Fear of being left alone, because the only woman who was permanently attached to him was his sister Linda, and she had plenty of her own problems. Thea would abandon him if he didn’t come up to her expectations, and who could blame her?

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll try and pull myself together by lunchtime. I’m sorry,’ he added miserably.

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said, much too coolly for his liking.

  She and the dog drove off, taking bottled water and some fruit. The sky was as blue as ever, the heat already quite un-British. Phil was settled under the willows, where the full blast of the sun would be kept away until midday. The silence was broken only by a distant drone of some agricultural activity – probably haymaking, he concluded. It felt like being in a parallel reality, where nobody ventured and nothing ever happened. He wasn’t interested in the books or magazines, but dozed fitfully, dreaming about his dogs, which were in his flat, chewing the cables of his computer, which abruptly turned into snakes that hissed in the animals’ faces. But Baxter, the Gordon setter, merely grinned his goofy grin and sat down watching the snakes slither harmlessly across the floor. The nightmare had been conquered and Phil woke up gently, with a welcome sense of peace overlying the guilt and worry at the way he’d been earlier with Thea.

  It took him several bleary seconds to focus on the object standing four or five feet away, in the bright sunlight. A very tall man was facing him, his expression desperate. In his hand was a small gun, directed right at Phil Hollis’s heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Giles Pritchett,’ he breathed, some seconds later. ‘You must be Giles Pritchett.’ Not only the extraordinary height, but the features that so closely resembled those of Pritchett Senior, had served to identify him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  Already he knew that a line had been c
rossed with utterly inevitable consequences for the gunman. It was not possible to point a pistol at a senior police detective and get away with it. In those first moments, Phil’s concern was more for the other man than for himself. A murky picture of a succession of interviews, charges, trials, punishments flashed through his mind. Even if he put the gun down now and walked away, there would be repercussions.

  It was a small weapon, in a large hand. It looked like a harmless toy, and Phil’s fuddled brain had to remind itself that there was death contained within it. It was not an automatic association – the fear was a long time coming. When it did finally hit, it was with almost as much physical force as if the bullet had already struck his flesh. Sweat flooded from his armpits and hairline, and his guts filled with a thick dark cloud that roiled in strange waves. ‘Put the gun down,’ he said with as much authority as he could muster.

  In twenty-three years as a police officer, this had never once happened to him. He knew people it had happened to, and had been present at their debriefing. He had trained and practised the correct procedure for when it did happen. You examined the situation calmly, kept control of yourself and, ideally, the gunman as well. You offered him respect and full attention. You tried to understand what it was he most wanted at this present moment. Compared to an ordinary untutored person, he was coping well. Only his skin and internal organs knew the truth.

  ‘What do you want, Giles?’ he asked, trying not to look at the steadily pointing gun. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘You know who I am.’ It was not a question, but there was surprise in the words.

  ‘I know your father. He told me you were missing. You look like him.’ Phil aimed, with partial success, for a neutral, conversational tone. Keep things normal. ‘What do you want?’ he repeated.

  ‘I want to kill you.’ It was said with a calm conviction that Phil found terrifying. ‘You’ve ruined everything, finding those bones.’