by David Beard
‘Did a bit, but frankly it was a closed shop. My studies were the most important thing and I didn’t have the time to run around canvassing for that sort of work. To be straight, Dexter, I never saw it as a career, it was just a means to get through uni unscathed. I didn’t want to be living out of a suitcase all my life. It is not as glamorous as people think, the stress can be unbelievable and those behind the scenes making all the money are pretty harsh characters. Anyway, I met Hector. So, now you know why I am so damned stupid at times.’
‘Is there anything else you can surprise me with? Anyway, you have done well with your studies.’
‘I was going to do a PhD but you’ve got to stop putting off getting a real job and do something. Hector and I got married and we didn’t want to be to be tied to London. He got himself a good job down here and, well you can guess the rest.’
Smalacombe decided the heart to heart had gone on long enough and he didn’t want to respond with his life’s history so he returned to business. ‘What bothers me about this case is I can’t find a direction.’
‘Connections are developing. However, as you said before, we must broaden things and look at the other side of Crossworth’s life,’ Emily commented.
‘There are so many people we need to see, why is it taking us so long to get around to it?’
‘Because we are sitting on a rock in the middle of Dartmoor enjoying ourselves.’
‘We’re working,’ he changed tack, ‘let’s get back to this morning’s info. She was alone,’ he returned to Grubb’s surprising comment once more.
‘What a revelation!’ Emily interrupted. ‘Where in hell was Crossworth?’
‘No! That’s where he ended up.’
Emily shook her head and laughed. Once again, he couldn’t resist a stupid remark, no matter how dark the material. ‘Seriously, he met her somehow.’ She broadened the conversation, ‘I was also thinking; do we need to interview Willy Whitecroft, the accountant at Rollisade? I wonder if he knows who those two blokes are. I wonder too, if he can enlarge upon Rollisade’s problems and why is he so uncooperative?’
‘You’re right. We will do Whitecroft and then start the new tack tomorrow. We must continue to find out all the pertinent people Crossworth was connected with and we will begin to interview them. It may be no more than a wasteful interlude: at least, if it is, it will give us some respite. We have got to get to Bristol and we must interview some of Heather Lynley’s acquaintances.’
‘Lovers,’ she corrected. ‘The bits I cannot rationalise is her abandoned car, the keys of which are missing, his stolen keys, her blasted mobile and then, why was she laid out and why was her handbag left, even with a birthday card in it?’ Emily listed the points and tapped her heels gently against her extraordinarily hard seat.
‘I agree, and also how did Crossworth end up miles away and nearly back home? The PM makes it clear that they were murdered on Dartmoor at the same time,’ Smalacombe reasoned.
‘We’ve been over this already. They were killed on Sunday evening and at some time put in Lynley’s car. But the PCSO down at the canal insisted Crossworth was not dumped there until after dark on the Sunday.’
‘Why did they stop at Two Crosses?’
‘According to what we have been told, she was obsessed with the place,’ Emily explained.
The conversation stopped for a while as they both returned to their thoughts. It was Corndon who resumed the interaction. ‘I think I know, Dexter.’ She looked across at Two Crosses in the distance and pointed. ‘It was their afternoon out and they went for a walk… and other things of course. It’s what people do on holiday.’
‘He wasn’t with her. She was alone.’ Smalacombe returned once again to this dilemma.
‘If Grubb is telling the truth. I have come to the conclusion that Crossworth must have been with her. All right, he wasn’t at the hotel but he was with her on the Sunday.’
Smalacombe still had doubts of their reasoning and he backtracked, ‘She ate alone. He didn’t even have the biscuits after the you know what. Was the timing of death just a coincidence? Have we got this wrong? Dartmoor is a big place; they could have been apart. We don’t know if they were shot by the same gun and we won’t if we can’t find the cartridges or even have some idea of whose bloody gun it was.’
‘As you have said, according to the PM, his clothes were covered in gorse and various flora only found on ground higher than you will find at the canal. He was here somewhere where he met his death and my guess is, with her. They had a tryst. Maybe he came out on the afternoon to Two Crosses. The problem is there is nothing on the mobile records to suggest they contacted one another.’ Something else suddenly crossed her mind, ‘How did he get there? Where was the other car? Oh shit, back to square one once again.’
‘You are right; they had to be together,’ he gave a short blow through his nostrils, ‘humph, we know why but how? So, which way did they go for the walk? Either to Wind Tor or the other way to Hambledown?’ Smalacombe questioned and waved his arm, indicating the directions as he looked across to the area. ‘They went for a walk, you say.’
‘Or for open air sex,’ she added.
‘Oh, I’m glad it was you who said that. What are you suggesting?’
‘We know she did indulge and with the skirt the wrong way around, no underwear; sounds like a hurried cover up. I think they were picked off out there. Needle in a haystack but there are tracks. There is no reason for them to take a hard walk through the gorse. I suggest we go and walk around there and see what we can find. There are still many hours of daylight.’
‘No open air sex, I promise.’
‘That’s a relief, Dexter. Back to normal,’ she added referring to her country boy assessment.
They picked up and walked back to the car. ‘That is a really good office up there, Emily.’
‘Could we move?’
‘Not really. The post is pretty irregular, the broadband is awful and the seats aren’t comfortable. We will go back to Dartmeet and get a cup of tea and then we will move on. What about thunder and lightning with it?’ Smalacombe suggested and noted she seemed confused. Something else she didn’t know about, he wondered?
‘I don’t want to get wet.’
‘Thunder and lightning is a cream tea with golden syrup rather than jam.’
‘Wow! That sounds good. Can’t wait.’
They sat by the river in the cafe’s garden, the scones and tea were brought to them.
‘This is just beautiful, Dexter. The scones measure up and I am getting paid for it.’
‘Not all bad is it. It would be better in a pub,’ he mused but well aware that it was not his colleague’s ideal destination.
‘Oh come on! Tonic water or this? No brainer!’
‘As always you are right. Cream tea and a beer don’t go well together.’
‘In which case it would be a cream beer wouldn’t it?’
‘Oh, let’s move on. This is an interesting part of the river. Have you noticed how rocky the bed is?’
Low branches hung over the river on the other side cooling the black still water beneath a steep wooded terrain. But the river was filled with a plethora of large boulders as far down as the bridge in the distance; the water on their side of the river had difficulty finding a course to circumnavigate them. Further down a family were sitting on the rocks enjoying a picnic and a little boy in a bright red shirt was wandering across the remains of the clapper bridge.
‘Heaven, Dexter.’
‘Freda and I often come and sample the scones. Lovely place.’
‘Where do the rivers meet?’
‘Just below the bridge. It will be a bit of a struggle but we are going to have to tear ourselves away from this. I have to say, this morning has not been wasted but now we have to put it to the test.’
They arrived at Two Crosses and were pleased to see the car park was still sealed off. They parked on the other side and then stood by their car deciding on which way to walk. After much cons
ideration Smalacombe came to a conclusion.
‘The murders were carried out in daylight. This is August, so there would be other people around. They couldn’t have done it in sight of here or within earshot and certainly they would not have been able to carry the bodies back, well not in daylight. Also, they couldn’t carry two bodies over a distance. I’m saying they, it may be just one.’
‘So, what are you suggesting?’
‘Wind Tor is too close. This rough track to Hambledown can take a car quite a distance into the moor. I think, if we have this right, the murder was committed up there,’ he pointed towards Hambledown. Most people don’t venture that far, so the murderers would have been fairly safe. They, he, I don’t know, would have waited around until dark, carried the bodies to the track and brought the transport up. Ah, that tells me, there was more than one.’
‘It’s in that direction then,’ Emily pointed towards Hambledown. ‘I’ve just thought of something else,’ she added. She returned to the car and took up a file. ‘Look here, Dexter.’ She handed him two photographs. ‘These are from Lynley’s Facebook account. Samantha told us her mum was obsessed with somewhere close to here. The caption says, “This is my outdoor home”.’
Smalacombe studied the photographs carefully. ‘Just check the view in the background. We can pin point the place with that perspective. Let’s go.’
They began their walk with one on the right of the track and the other on the left. They studied carefully where they were treading. Both found it difficult as they wished to look at the scenery around. One thing was clear; there were tyre marks, which confirmed a vehicle had recently travelled along there. At the point where the track petered out, they stopped and studied it carefully.
‘Dexter, if you are right, this is as far as the vehicle went. One has been here look; you can see where it turned.’
Smalacombe bent low and looked carefully at the ground. ‘There are footprints here too; there are signs of activity. We need to check if these tracks match Lynley’s car.’ A pony crossed in front of them, stopped and shat right in the vital area. ‘Fuck me! That’s all we need. Just tell him to clear off, will you.’
‘I will, but I am not up to telling the black cattle just behind you to go.’
‘Bullocks!’
‘No! They’re behind you.’
‘The locals call them black bullocks,’ Smalacombe explained.
Corndon snorted, held her hand over her mouth and laughed loudly, ‘I thought we were back to normal again and you were being rude to me. Sorry!’
‘Yeah, yeah! Emily, this looks good. Unfortunately, this area has been much disturbed, which will make it difficult for forensics and we haven’t helped. I don’t think we can get much from the footprints; could be anybody’s. We’ve inadvertently walked over it for a start. There are a couple of outcrops further up there. I reckon we need to take a closer look.’ He checked the photographs, ‘We’re not there yet but the background is coming around. We are not far off. Have we got a signal here?’
‘I can use the satellite contact, Dexter. You want me to get people out to seal this off?’
‘What’s pony language for Keep Off?’
They carried on up the slope towards the great mound of Hambledown. They spent much time around the first outcrop but found nothing and the background was still not aligned to the photographic image. They moved further up to the next clutter of rocks and repeated the procedure. This time the details of the scenery did line up with the photographs and elements of the foreground were in place.
‘This is it, Emily.’
‘Dexter, over here,’ Corndon beckoned him. He came across to her. ‘You are a bloody genius. Look here.’ At the side of an isolated but large rock were signs of activity. The grass, although short because of the animals grazing, was flattened, as something had lain there.
‘Could be a bullock chewing the cud, no more.’
‘What, and having a cup of tea as well?’ She pointed to two used tea bags.
‘You’re right and look over here,’ he moved around to the side of the rock and in a dip sheltered by another rock overhanging it, was a rucksack.
‘Oh, this is too much. This is just about the most exciting moment of my life,’ Corndon went to pick it up.
‘No, don’t touch it. Nothing moves until we get forensics up here. It needs to be done and in a hurry too. Be careful where you tread: keep away from the area. Ring Milner, tell her where we are and that we need someone up here, by helicopter if necessary.’
‘It will be costly; she won’t like it, Dexter.’
‘After my conversation with her, she will like it even less if I spend the night up here with you.’
‘Point taken! And Freda! And my old man! I will explain these things as delicately as possible.’
Smalacombe continued to comb the area and he was aware that light would soon begin to fail.
‘They are on their way. They are bringing someone to stay overnight and a team will be here first thing tomorrow. It won’t be more than an hour. They have pinpointed our position because of my mobile of course.’
‘Make sure they know of the area where the car turned. That needs sealing off as well.’ Smalacombe ordered.
‘What if we have this wrong?’
‘Got to take the chance but we haven’t; look here,’ he pointed to the rock and the ground behind the flattened area.
Corndon looked as closely as she dared at patches of black and brown. ‘Blood?’ She studied the area more and noticed fragments of black plastic. She pointed to them, ‘I reckon these are bits of a shattered mobile.’
‘Be careful, don’t touch anything,’ Smalacombe continued to be worried about compromising the area.
She wandered off and looked around. Something caught her eye behind a gorse bush, close to the rucksack. She went over, picked up a stick and dangled a pair of knickers at the end of it. ‘Conclusive! No worries, Dexter, this tells us everything.’ She carefully replaced them.
‘And you were right as well. Open air sex. We have to wait. Let’s sit down and enjoy the view again.’
‘Look behind you, Dexter; beautiful sunset.’ They were silent for a while and then something occurred to Emily. ‘How come the murderers left the rucksack and the knickers? Surely, they would have got rid of such tell tale signs?’
‘All the moving around was probably after dark and they had forgotten or could no longer see or find the stuff. Emily, we’re dealing with prats. Even the most violent bastard would be uptight and worried about how to dispose of the bodies. The last thing on their mind would be to search around. The rucksack was hidden; no doubt to keep it out of the sun. You only saw the underwear by accident when you moved over there in broad daylight. When she was aware that someone was approaching them, as you suggested, she hurriedly covered herself with her skirt, and wrongly. She didn’t have time to fetch her knickers. It’s now too dark for us to search, but if empty cartridges can be found…’
‘How could the culprit get within a couple of metres in this open space without being seen and how did he know they were here?’
‘Clearly, for me someone was stalking them: answers your previous question. They knew of her stay at the hotel. If you lie down behind that rock and pretend to be busy, as they were, you will see very little.’ Emily moved. ‘No, don’t go there. I was just suggesting how it was. It does depend from which direction the culprits came though. Maybe better if they came down behind from the top.’
‘What must have followed next stinks of retribution and hatred. Why take Crossworth all the way to the canal? Why not just leave them both here to rot? This is very, very nasty and clearly they wanted us to find the bodies quickly. Killing them wasn’t enough. They displayed them.’
It was almost dark when the helicopter arrived and two men jumped down complete with camping equipment, stakes and miles of blue tape.
‘I’m in trouble again, Emily, I shall be late for dinner when I get home.’
&nbs
p; ‘Me too!’
‘We’ve got to find our way back to the car; we’ve got no bloody torch.’
‘Ask the helicopter pilot to give us a lift.’ They both smiled.
‘It’s going to take bloody ages.’
‘We can see the outline of the horizon and that will be visible for some time. I am more worried about ruining Hector’s cooking.’
‘As always, great minds think alike.’
They picked their way carefully back with the help of light from Emily’s mobile and the horizon was most beneficial. Emily kept her eye on one point and they were soon back to the rough track.
CHAPTER 7
Freda was concerned; Dexter seemed to be under greater pressure than usual and he barely had the time to talk with her since he became involved in the murder investigation. They sat facing one another at the breakfast table in the kitchen. He was studying papers and had his laptop open just at the side of his bowl of cornflakes.
‘Can’t you give it a rest, just for a moment? Do you know what time you arrived back for dinner last night?’ she moaned.
He looked up, pursed his lips and slowly shook his head, ‘Late?’
‘Not good enough, you could have let me know.’
‘I’m sorry; I left my bloody mobile in the office.’
‘There is always some excuse.’ She stopped and attended to her breakfast and then began again on another issue. ‘I’m sitting here with just my dressing gown on. A few years ago you would have put your breakfast to one side, let alone do work at the same time.’
Smalacombe gave her a broad smile, ‘Oh, Freda, what can I say? I’m getting to the point where I have had enough of this bloody job but it is one of those things you have to do properly or not at all. My new sergeant will be here shortly, we have an interview to conduct and I have to prepare myself.’ He then decided he should respond to her comments, ‘My point is, if we started and then had to stop half way through, it would be even worse.’
‘Your temper would be, and for the rest of the day. We’re only talking a minute and a half anyway!’ They laughed heartedly.