“How long?” the Inspector asked.
“We’ll definitely need some time to figure it out. We’re still excavating it as carefully as possible, but my guess is that it’s been buried there for well over a decade,” she said.
“A decade?!”
Harper nodded, the moonlight skipping along her wavy hair. “Judging by the tissue quantities and the large number of roots that have grown around it. It’s why the excavation still has some way to go.”
Nicholls scratched his stubble and looked off toward the rhythmic blue glow being cast over the road.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Not much,” Harper replied. “The body is in a fetal position, but that could mean anything. Defending against an attacker, huddling for warmth, disposal into a small hole – I don’t know. That’s your job.”
Nicholls sighed deeply.
“We’re never going to close a case this cold.”
“There is one request I’d like to make,” Harper said, maintaining her cool, assertive tone of voice despite her slight alarm at the Inspector’s level of pessimism so early in the case.
“What’s that?”
“I’d like a second opinion on this body. There’s a lot of damage. It’s difficult to ascertain what may be suspicious and what is the effect of decay, root growth, or simply the person’s health in life. If I’m to make any judgments, I’d like the opinion of a forensic anthropologist.”
“Do you have anybody in mind?”
For the first time, DI Nicholls detected a slightly regretful expression on the face of Harper Jones. He immediately dismissed it as a trick of the light, but Harper’s somewhat wistful tone caused him to reconsider.
“Yes, actually.”
“Okay. Well, bring them on board. I’m willing to pull in anyone who can help.”
“That’s good,” Harper said, turning her head toward the road, “because I believe you’re about to gain another ally.”
Nicholls turned his head just in time to see a royal blue Mini Cooper pull up neatly behind a police car.
They watched as the large, unmistakable frame of Reverend Annabelle Dixon stepped out of the car and strode over to a nearby officer. After exchanging a few words, the constable gazed across the open stretch of land and pointed them out.
“Oh great,” muttered Nicholls as Annabelle waved cheerily and began striding toward them, her smile visible even in the darkness. Harper raised her torch to reveal where they were, causing Annabelle to squint and stumble backwards in its blinding glare.
“Don’t be proud,” Harper said quietly, as she turned back toward the woods. “The Reverend is a smart cookie – and you’re going to need all the help you can get with this one.”
DI Nicholls gazed at the looming figure of Annabelle coming toward him, arms in full marching mode. When she got close, she took one step too many and clattered into him.
“Oops!” she said, unconvincingly. “Terribly dark, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid I’m busy, Reverend.”
“Whatever’s going on, Inspector?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s police business and classified. The one thing I can tell you is that you’ll have to move along.”
Disregarding the Inspector’s dismissive tone, Annabelle decided to keep probing.
“It looks serious,” she remarked, turning her head toward the bright lamps of the forensic team. “I hope nobody was hurt.”
Nicholls remained silent.
Annabelle was rather fond of the Inspector, more than a little fond if the rumors were to be believed, but she found his silence somewhat rude and unfriendly. Not least because she had only recently helped the Inspector solve a particularly tricky case. Nonetheless, Annabelle, her big, warm heart nearly always bursting with generosity, was determined, happy even, to place the blame for the Inspector’s grumpiness on his long drive from Truro.
“Do you know whose body it is?” asked Annabelle, matter-of-factly.
The lines of DI Nicholls’ frown were so deep that they were visible even by the faint light of the moon.
“Who told you there’s a body?!”
“Nobody!” Annabelle responded jovially. “I simply noticed the forensic team working busily away. There are only two things I can think of that would demand so many people be plugging away at the ground – the discovery of treasure or a dead body. And you don’t need so many policemen to unearth treasure!”
Annabelle laughed easily, unable to notice the Inspector’s scowl in the darkness.
“I’ll hope you’re not planning to go around telling people there’s a dead body in the woods, Reverend.”
“Heavens, no! But I don’t imagine it’ll be a secret for long.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, this road gets rather busy in the morning. It’s one of the main commuter routes. You’ll have plenty of rubberneckers spreading gossip before most people have had their morning coffee!”
Nicholls sighed defeatedly. He hated gossip, especially when it involved a case of his and even more so when it involved a case as open as this. Once it started, he would be stumbling upon more red herrings than one would find in a mystery novel.
“Goodbye, Reverend,” DI Nicholls said, decisively.
“Bye, Inspector!”
Both of them took a step in opposite directions before DI Nicholls looked back.
“Reverend? Your car is that way.”
“Oh I know, Inspector. I’m still on my daily rounds and thought I’d pay the good Ms. Alexander a visit.”
Nicholls considered trying to dissuade the Reverend, but he knew her well enough to know it was a lost cause. He nodded grimly and headed back toward the forensic team.
Annabelle was not immune to the Inspector’s bizarrely downbeat manner, and she could only surmise that whatever – or whoever – was buried in the woods behind Honeysuckle House was a cause for great concern. If anyone knew what was happening, it would be Shona Alexander, her bouncy young nephew being the only one who frequented those woods daily.
She walked briskly closer to the welcoming light of Honeysuckle House’s decorated windows. Pots of herbs, and aromatic flowers were neatly arranged beneath them. As she opened the wooden gate to Shona’s wildflower garden, she noticed Constable Raven coming in the opposite direction.
“Constable Raven!”
“Oh, hello Reverend. Strange to see you out this late.”
“It’s not that late, Constable. The days are simply getting shorter.”
Jim Raven looked up at the sky.
“I suppose you’re right. It’s going to get cold soon, I’d better get my boiler fixed.”
“Constable,” Annabelle said, seriously. “What is all this fuss about in the woods?”
Constable Raven shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Reverend. I’m under strict orders from Detective Inspector Nicholls to keep this as secret as possible.”
“I had a feeling you might say that. But it must be something rather concerning to have the Inspector so worked up.”
Raven allowed himself a wry smile. “Are you referring by chance to the chief’s foul mood? I’m afraid that’s got nothing to do with the case. He’s been acting like he swallowed a wasp for weeks now.”
“Why?” asked Annabelle, leaning forward with keen interest.
Raven shook his head.
“Constable Colback tells me nobody in Truro has the faintest idea what’s bothering him. It’s an even bigger mystery than the body in the woods. Ah—”
Raven stuttered, looking for something to say that would distract Annabelle from his slip of the tongue. Annabelle chuckled.
“Relax, Constable. I had already figured that out.”
Raven’s shoulders dropped a full inch, deflated. “It’s nice of you to fib, Reverend, but I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Forget about it, Constable,” Annabelle said, stepping past him. “I’ll see you about the village, I expect.”
&
nbsp; “Yeah,” muttered Constable Raven, still shaking his head at his own stupidity.
“You’re not planning to ask Ms. Alexander about this, are you?”
Annabelle smiled. “I was actually planning to ask her how she was managing to keep her basil so vital at this time of year, but I expect this will be a rather unavoidable subject.”
Constable Raven nodded as if receiving bad news, before turning around and making his way out of the garden and back toward the crime scene. As he went on his way, he decided that his spilling the beans was no fault of his own. It was Reverend Annabelle. She simply had a very sharp knack for uncovering secrets.
CHAPTER 2
ANNABELLE RUNG THE doorbell and almost immediately heard Shona Alexander’s Scottish brogue grow louder as she made her way to the door.
“I think this is quite enough for one night. I’ve already fallen behind on my chores. I’ve got an unbelievably muddy school uniform to mend, and — Oh! It’s you, Reverend!” Shona’s flustered face appeared at the door. Her expression had quickly turned to one of relief when she saw who was standing there. “I’m sorry, Reverend, I’ve just been run ragged by all these policemen and their questions. There are only so many times you can tell people that you don’t know anything before you start going mad.”
“I understand, Shona. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Reverend,” Shona sighed. “I just need a little peace and quiet.”
“Is Dougie holding up?”
“Oh, that little rascal,” she said, gesturing the Reverend inside and closing the door, “he’s indestructible. He was shaken more by the Inspector than the body, I think.”
Annabelle nodded ruefully as she entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Shona picked up the kettle.
“Tea?”
“That would be lovely,” cooed Annabelle.
“How are things at the church?” asked Shona as she sat down.
“They’re ticking over smoothly,” Annabelle said, “which is all you can really ask for. I think Philippa has been rather bored lately, honestly. The church accounts don’t make for riveting reading at this time of year, not during the quiet time between the summer fête and the harvest festival. I’m sure she’ll have plenty to talk about tomorrow though, once the news spreads. What about you?”
“Och,” Shona said, waving the comment aside. “I’ve got more than enough to occupy my mind these days.”
Annabelle noted the sadness in Shona’s liquid-blue eyes. She was an attractive woman, though she had never married. After spending her formative years in Scotland, she had moved down to the south of England in order to pursue her passion for painting and pottery. Her family had been wealthy, and supportive, yet the young Shona Alexander was keen to strike out on her own. She had moved to Honeysuckle House, a property her family had owned for generations, full of excitement at her impending independence. But after years of only moderate success in her artistic endeavors, she had settled into a life of quiet routine; the odd exhibition in Truro, taking on the occasional commission, and more recently, the task of caring for her nephew.
Shona had always lived a life of her own design, but in recent years she had felt a lack of something profound, something larger than herself that she could dedicate herself toward. Her sister’s illness had only added to her moroseness, and though the arrival of Dougie had offered plenty to occupy both her mind and hands, it had also reminded Shona of what she had been missing: companionship. She was lonely.
“How is your sister doing?” Annabelle asked softly.
“She’ll be having a test next week to see, so I’ve got my fingers crossed.”
“I’ll say a prayer for her.”
“Thank you, Reverend. I think she’s finding the chemo tough.”
Annabelle nodded solemnly. Shona stood up and got to work making the tea. Annabelle gazed at the paintings around the room. They were mainly watercolors that depicted the various familiar hills and locations of Upton St. Mary. She had always loved Shona’s work, and indeed, had first become friends with her when commissioning a small piece that now hung in her church office.
“Annabelle!” squealed Dougie from the doorway.
“Hello, you!” Annabelle replied as the boy walked toward her.
“Dougie! Where are your manners? You’re to call the Reverend, ‘Reverend’.”
“It’s fine,” Annabelle said, tousling the young boy’s hair affectionately. “You’ve certainly been the center of attention today, haven’t you Dougie?”
Dougie beamed proudly.
“I found a skeleton!”
“Dougie!” exclaimed Shona. “It was just a bone!”
“But I heard them say it was a skeleton!” Dougie asked, utterly confident in his assertion.
“Those insensitive police,” muttered Shona disapprovingly. “They’ve only got their minds on their work and never think of how it affects people.”
Annabelle smiled sympathetically.
“It’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said, half to Shona and half to Dougie. “Whoever is buried there died a very long time ago.”
Shona brought the tea and biscuits to the table.
“What makes you say that, Reverend?”
“Well, they’ve been digging like a bunch of hyperactive moles all evening,” Annabelle said, craning her neck to look out the window at the bright glow emanating from the woods, “and it looks like they’re still at it. Whatever is in the ground, it’s firmly planted there.”
“The murderer could have dug a hole and put him in there last week! I saw it in a movie!”
“Dougie!”
Annabelle chuckled.
“Possibly, but then you would have tripped over a fleshy arm – not a bone, Dougie.”
Dougie made a disgusted face and shook his head in an exaggerated motion. “Eurgh!”
“I’ve lived here for fifteen years,” Shona said, thoughtfully, “and I’ve never heard of anybody going missing in the woods.”
Annabelle shrugged.
“Maybe they’ve been there even longer than that. Or maybe it was a poor homeless person who froze to death.”
“Makes me shiver to think what could be lying in the ground. Just on your doorstep.”
“Maybe it’s the ghost!” Dougie shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Hush now, Dougie,” Shona scolded, “whatever it is, it’s none of our business now.”
“Wait a minute,” Annabelle said, a curious expression on her face, “did you say the ghost, Dougie?”
Dougie nodded, afraid to speak in case it resulted in more admonishments.
“You mean, there’s rumors of a ghost in those woods?”
Dougie nodded again, his lips visibly pressed together, as if they would be compelled to speak if he didn’t suppress them. He looked at Aunt Shona, who shrugged her permission for him to talk to Annabelle.
“Miss Montgomery’s sister! She went missing in the woods a long, long time ago. Everyone thinks she died. Jack said he saw her running through there one time wearing a white dress. She looked much younger than Miss Montgomery, because she was only young when she disappeared. Ryan said it’s because she went to see a film with a boy, but Angelina says that’s rubbish because girls go to see films with boys all the time. She even dared Ryan to go to see a film with her to see if—”
“Miss Montgomery, your teacher?” Shona asked, knowing that unless she interrupted, Dougie would spin a story without an ending, forever and ever, amen.
Dougie nodded, gulping down air to catch his breath, so fast was his speech. “The one who told me off for doing my homework about Professor Xenomorph instead of the book she gave us. I didn’t even read the book. Frank’s teacher said that so long as you read, it doesn’t matter what it is. Reading is itself a–”
“Okay, Dougie,” Shona said, placing a hand over his arm and drawing him close to calm him down, “don’t go getting all excited again. You’ll never get to sleep. Why don’t you go brus
h your teeth? I’ll be up to read you a story as soon as I finish my tea.”
“Bye Reverend!” Dougie shouted quickly, as if in an incredible rush, his energy eager to be channeled into something, but his mind racing too quickly to find whatever that something might be.
Shona chuckled softly at the sound of his feet thumping quickly up the stairs.
“That boy has a mind that goes places as quickly and as randomly as his feet.”
“Perhaps,” uttered Annabelle slowly, lost in her own thoughts, “but I doubt he was lying about those rumors.”
“Reverend, surely you don’t think there’s any value to them. They’re just idle ghost stories! The kind of thing that children make up all the time about their teachers.”
Annabelle nodded her agreement, but her eyes were still fixed somewhere in the distance of her thoughts.
“I suppose. Though even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Annabelle and Shona sipped the last of their tea simultaneously, before the Reverend slapped her knees and stood up.
“Well, I should get going. I’ll drop by soon to see how you’re getting on – though I’m sure you won’t be bothered any more by all of this. It’s purely a police matter now.”
“You’re welcome here anytime Annabelle. It was nice to see someone that wasn’t wearing a uniform today.”
Annabelle chuckled as she made her way to the door. Before she opened it, she turned and clasped Shona’s hands in hers.
“Send my best wishes to your sister.”
Shona nodded respectfully.
Annabelle stepped outside and began the long walk across the dark, open field toward her beloved blue Mini, guided by the flashing police lights and bright glow of the woods, her mind rolling with thoughts that were as lively as the young boy she had just left who was right now tossing in his bed trying to get to sleep.
Though Annabelle felt weary and ready for a good night’s rest by the time she pulled into the yard that separated the church of Upton St. Mary and the small white cottage she called home, her mind was spinning with possibilities and theories.
Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 2