Cold Justice

by Lee Weeks

  ‘This is all crap. You’re talking to the wrong person.’ Marky shook his head. He looked as if he wanted to leave. ‘I was barely sober myself that night. I have no idea what went on. I mean – it was my eighteenth birthday.’

  Lauren kept her eye on the scarecrow as she walked at the edge of the ploughed field. She wasn’t a lover of them. It had always scared her when she watched The Wizard of Oz as a child. The time when he was set on fire had made her scream. Still she couldn’t see the farm, but there was the top of a barn coming into view at the middle top edge of the field and she could see a gap in the hedge. She looked back at the gate again – it was further now to go back than it was to go on. All this trauma, tiredness, unbearable anxiety in her life right now had affected even the way she coped with quite ordinary events like a scarecrow in the middle of a field and screaming big orange-beaked gulls that seemed to have drops of blood on their beaks.

  She stumbled over the clods of earth and fell on her knees. Russell jumped up on her. The earth was hard in peaks and she felt a sharp dig into her kneecap as she landed hard and awkward. As she went to push herself back up she felt the whoosh of feathers near her face and the scream of a gull as it flew so close to her that she could see its beady eyes glaring angrily at her.

  Shit . . .

  She stood and dusted herself off and looked towards the scarecrow, whose head seemed to move as the gulls came down and nestled over its face and bit chunks from its feet, hands and face. Lauren kept staring at it.

  ‘You wanted to beat the crap out of Toby and teach him a lesson for getting with Kensa? She’s a local girl, you said yourself you loved her in your own way – must have stung a bit? She chose some posh kid who was a piece of piss compared to you tough farm boys,’ said Carter.

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ replied Marky. ‘We just wanted a bit of fun. Towan got nasty with her and Ella had been a girlfriend of his. He hadn’t got over it. I don’t remember what happened. I was too drunk.’

  ‘No you weren’t, Marky. You were all looking for a fight that evening – fuck or fight, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, I didn’t touch them. I wouldn’t. I don’t remember anything.’

  ‘But you were happy for Toby to be blamed for this attack on Kensa?’

  ‘It wasn’t up to me. I was told that it was down to him and I accepted it.’

  ‘Of course you did, it got you and the others off the hook. And afterwards no one spoke of it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Kensa just forgot about it?’

  ‘No . . . she changed. She got into drugs, sex with just about anyone and everyone. She didn’t seem to care about anything any more.’

  ‘Do you think she is capable of snatching Samuel?’

  ‘I guess so – what does it take? I don’t know. She’s probably angry enough.’

  ‘If she took him, where would she hide him?’

  ‘Kensa knows all the stone huts and the deserted second homes. At some time she’s been in a lot of them. That’s where he’d be, in someone’s second home.’

  ‘And, if not Kensa, is there anyone else here that you think could have had a personal reason to want to take Samuel?’

  ‘No, why would they?’

  ‘As some kind of retribution? Some form of blackmail? Revenge? Some people in this community are very aggrieved that Toby has inherited the house.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re saying this to me. I’m not responsible for any of it. I don’t know where the boy is.’

  Lauren stood where she was and then took one careful step after another towards the scarecrow. She didn’t know why, but she knew she couldn’t bear to walk any further into the field. She could turn and run but something held her there. Something in the way the gulls opened their beaks and screeched at her both mesmerized her and repulsed her. Something in the way they watched her. She tucked Russell under her jacket as they swooped down to attack him.

  The scarecrow had a farmer’s hat but it was tilted to one side where the seagulls’ wings had flapped so hard and dislodged it. The scarecrow’s head hung down. He seemed to be focused on the space ten feet ahead of him. His arms were not outstretched, they were caught behind him, tied to the pole. He had on a blue checked shirt with patterns of red. As she walked further forward the seagulls became more aggressive. They stared at her with their beady eyes and now she saw the crows, black and shiny, their long thick beaks stabbing at the scarecrow’s feet. They hopped about the red churned soil and lunged at the angry seagulls. They turned to glare at Lauren.

  She was within twenty feet of the scarecrow now and she couldn’t keep her eyes from it. Its head drooped forward and down. The seagulls jabbed their beaks at its head. Pulling at the straw. But there was no straw. This was a Guy Fawkes type of scarecrow, it was meant to represent a man. She tried to see what they had used for a face. Its head was too obscured by warring gulls and opportunist crows to see properly. The scarecrow wore baggy old trousers under his shirt. He had a watch on his wrist.

  Lauren took one more step and a seagull pecked furiously at the head of the scarecrow and the hat came off and the head was jerked and jolted between the gulls as they fought over it. White and grey feathers so bright in the gloom of the day; so sharp-edged and brightly contrasted against the black crows.

  Mommy . . . Mommy . . . She gasped.

  She could hear it in the screams of the gulls.

  I’m here. I’m here . . . Mommy . . . Mommy.

  Their voices so angry, and they flew at her to ward her off. They scratched her face with their sharp, blood-specked beaks and when she touched her face there was blood on her fingers. Russell tried to wriggle free and run. He was squealing in fear.

  Now she was within ten feet of the scarecrow and the more she looked at its hands and feet the more she saw blood. She tried to look away but the screaming gulls seemed to both repel her and compel her to come closer.

  Here, here, here . . .

  She could hardly breathe. So caught in the middle of the swirling gulls and the black crows that at first she didn’t see the scarecrow’s head tip backwards and she saw he had no features, just blood and white gristle and loose-hanging shards of flesh.

  As Willis and Carter walked along the lane towards the farm they heard the deafening cacophony of gulls and crows – and in among the sound was a woman screaming.

  Chapter 35

  Carter called Pascoe aside to talk in private. Pascoe excused himself from the doctor who had come from Penhaligon to certify the death. Stokes’ body was still attached to the post.

  ‘SOCOs are on their way, sir, they are coming from Truro,’ he said as he got near to Carter.

  ‘Okay, I need them to start working on the scene, but I’ve asked for my colleague from the MIT team to come down and he’ll be taking over when he arrives first thing in the morning.’

  Pascoe looked at him curiously. ‘We have a specialist team, they can handle it.’

  ‘I know and I appreciate that, but I have my reasons. This farm is of interest to us in the abduction case. I don’t want anything overlooked while we’re investigating two separate cases.’

  ‘It’s up to you, sir.’ Pascoe looked slightly put out.

  Carter went to find the Stokes family and Marky in the farmhouse kitchen.

  ‘My sympathies,’ he said, standing in the doorway.

  ‘Are you going to cut Martin down?’ asked Marky. ‘You can’t just leave him tied to the post. It’s not right.’

  Carter looked around at the broken crockery on the floor. Mawgan was sweeping it up. Towan was sitting at the table, holding a mug of coffee. He was staring at the table top. His hands were scraped with grazes and blood. His shirt was dirty with blood and mud.

  ‘I appreciate how upsetting it must be to you all but Martin Stokes needs to stay where he is until the forensics team have arrived. He will be covered with a tent as soon as they get here – I suggest you wait in here for the next hour until that’s done. I will n
eed all your clothes,’ said Carter. Towan didn’t move. He didn’t look at Carter. ‘And, no one leaves this farm until they’ve been seen by the forensics officers.’

  Marky nodded. He was standing resting against the Aga, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was set in a stony mask of anger and grief.

  ‘Where’s the woman who found him?’ asked Towan.

  ‘Lauren’s gone.’

  ‘She could have done it,’ Towan muttered into his mug.

  ‘Not likely though, is it, Towan?’ Carter said. ‘The doctor said he’d been dead an hour at the most. When did you see him last? Mawgan?’

  ‘When he left to bury Misty. Towan went with him. That was the last time I saw him alive.’

  Towan laughed. ‘Yeah . . . and you think I didn’t see that coming, you stupid bitch? If you think you and Marky are going to stitch me up over this one – think again.’

  ‘Well?’ Carter looked at Marky.

  ‘It’s true Mr Stokes ordered Towan to go and bury the horse. The last I saw was them going out to do it. I left here and went down to my cottage for a shower. You came after that.’

  Towan pushed his mug away and sat back in his chair so that he could see everyone properly. ‘And me and Dad got outside and I decided I had better things to do. I went to see if Marky had finished my surfboard. I went to his workshop. I went to check in the farm store next door. I’m supposed to be in charge of ordering when stocks get low.’

  ‘Who else was here today?’

  Towan reeled off the list.

  ‘And Raymonds?’ Carter looked surprised.

  ‘He left a while ago; he picked up some things from the farm and drove up over the field, left that way,’ said Towan.

  ‘He didn’t come up the lane, we would have passed him,’ Carter pointed out.

  ‘He came over the back too. There’s a lane we use for getting the cows into the far fields.’

  ‘Mawgan, are you okay?’ Carter was staring at the bandages around her knuckles. One had slipped down as she bent her hands around the broom handle and he could already see the blackening and swelling around her knuckle. ‘Looks pretty nasty that.’ She shook her head but kept sweeping. ‘What happened here? Does someone want to tell me?’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ said Towan. ‘Just a bit of high spirits among siblings. Mawgan went off like a wild cat.’ He smiled.

  ‘Was Kensa here?’

  ‘She still is,’ answered Marky.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Upstairs in my room,’ answered Mawgan. ‘I was going to take her home but she’s in no fit state. Not since her horse was stamped to death.’

  Towan tittered to himself.

  ‘What happened there?’ Carter asked.

  Marky and Mawgan looked at Towan to answer. When he didn’t, Marky did instead.

  ‘Bluebell’s in season. Towan thought it would be funny to have a stallion fight, except Brutus is two and Misty’s eighteen – not ever meant to be a fair fight. Thankfully it was over quickly.’

  Towan looked up and around the room. He turned his chair to look at Carter.

  ‘Disappointing, really.’

  Carter shook his head and stepped back out into the yard. He called an officer over to stand where he had been.

  ‘Start writing down your statements. I’ll send a Scene of Crimes Officer up here to take DNA swabs, and so on.’

  Carter walked back down the lane to see Willis talking to the forensic teams who had arrived and were getting set up.

  ‘This is Phil Leonard, the Crime Scene Manager from Penhaligon.’ Willis did the introductions. ‘DI Dan Carter, my colleague from MIT 17.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you. I understand you have your own team arriving tomorrow?’

  ‘Correct. But we need you to make a start.’

  Leonard was nodding thoughtfully as Carter spoke. His eyes were on the field where Stokes’ body, covered in a net, was being temporarily protected from further attacks by the birds.

  ‘We’ll carry on as we would normally here, and leave the rest of the farm to your guy.’

  ‘Good, appreciate it.’

  ‘Can we keep these birds off?’ Leonard asked, as the herring gulls continued trying to attack both the body and the forensic officer approaching to work around it.

  ‘Here.’ An officer appeared with a packet in his hand and gave it to Willis as she stood watching from the gate. ‘If you hang this over a tree and light it, it will get rid of the birds.’

  She took it from him and read the instructions, then borrowed a lighter and walked back up the lane to the adjoining field. She hooked the string of bangers over a sturdy part of the hedge between the two fields and lit the rope. As she walked back down the lane she shouted over to Carter that he was about to hear a noise. When it came it boomed over the fields and scattered the birds as they flew squawking up and away.

  ‘Shit!’ Carter laughed and Leonard shook his head, smiling.

  ‘Willis – bit of an understatement.’

  Leonard called back to the officer managing the forensic equipment. ‘We’ll need to take him down and get a tent up.’

  They unloaded the tent from the trailer and brought it into the field. An officer was taking soil samples from around the base of the post.

  Willis came back to stand at the gate.

  ‘It looks likely he was lured away from burying the horse,’ Leonard explained as he walked across to the corner of the field where a tractor stood sideways on to a pile of earth. ‘He hasn’t filled it in yet. Something got him down off his tractor, then there’s evidence of a scuffle and he was dragged from there to here. If the birds hadn’t opened up the wounds on his hands we might have been able to get someone else’s DNA on them. We might still get something from the postmortem. It was quite a big fight. We have shoe marks here, leather sole, but we can try for a match. The fact that someone killed him with an impromptu murder weapon speaks more of manslaughter.’

  ‘Yeah – they might have come up here just to talk to him and it turned into an argument.’

  Carter looked at Stokes’ body.

  ‘Was he dead by the time he got to here?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘They did a good job tying him onto it,’ said Carter. ‘It may have been manslaughter but they didn’t run away straight after – they had time to gloat.’

  Leonard was making a sketch of the body. ‘He’s secured with wire and there’s a spike driven into the base of his spine,’ he said as he drew the proportions of the stake in the ground. ‘Which I presume was meant to hold a real scarecrow in place. It had to be driven pretty hard into the base of his back to make sure he didn’t move.’

  ‘It’s not subtle, is it?’ Carter said as he moved to get a better view of the body without overstepping into Leonard’s zone. ‘Someone has really thought this through. Sort of a triumphant gesture, isn’t it? Bit like putting his head on a spike, but in a farming community way.’

  ‘Heads on spikes were a warning to transgressors – a deterrent,’ Leonard said as he wrote up his notes in the crime scene log.

  ‘Yeah – well, puts me off thinking of getting an allotment. Someone hates him – really hates him. Would it have to be a man to do it? Would he be too heavy for a woman to lift onto that spike, do you think? The killer has to ram it home.’

  ‘Someone used to lifting could do it, a man or a strong woman. I reckon he weighs about thirteen stone.’

  Leonard was called back to oversee the erection of the tent.

  Carter walked across to Willis: ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Robbo says he’s getting somewhere – he’s found one of the women who used to come to Cornwall. He’s talking to her today. She’s not happy to come to the police station but she’ll speak on the phone.’

  ‘While Kensa’s here at the farm recovering – use the time now to get down to that van of hers and have a really good look at the others too. Take Pascoe and five officers with you. You go into Kensa’s van on your own.
’ He lowered his voice. ‘I don’t want it trampled over. Have you got your forensics case?’

  ‘It’s in the car.’

  ‘Take it and keep in touch. I can’t see me leaving here for a few hours.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’ Willis went across to talk to Pascoe and organize the search team.

  Leonard walked back over to them. ‘Looks like we can cut the body down now. It can go to the mortuary ready for the post-mortem. We’ll wait for your man from the MET to tell us what he wants done about that but we’ll get all the paperwork in order.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m going to talk to the family again,’ Carter said, as he took off back up towards the house. He stopped in at the cottage to see Marky, who’d been allowed back to get some more clothes.

  ‘You want to tell me what happened at the house?’ Carter asked, as he closed the door behind him. ‘The place looks like after one of the Arsenal and Tottenham games. There’s debris everywhere and a lot of people nursing their wounds.’

  ‘A few broken plates,’ Marky said, ‘that’s all. I didn’t see anything else.’

  ‘Sure, okay,’ Carter sighed, exasperated. ‘Tell me . . . what is it with this place? Supposed to be a great place to live – everyone knows everyone else and you all look after one another – what kind of bullshit is that? You’d think you’d want to help me discover who killed one of your friends, but instead you’re trying to be as difficult as you can with me. You’re trying to give me the run-around.’

  ‘I’d like to help, but I just don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what you want me to say.’

  Carter sighed heavily again. ‘I see it. I can see what your problem is. There’s so much going on that’s secret in this village, isn’t there? So many things that no one wants to speak about.’

  ‘Probably.’ Marky rummaged through his pile of clothes. ‘And it’s never been any different. After you leave it will be the same,’ he said, as he rooted out two odd socks. He flashed Carter a look of defiance.