by Salkeld, J J
‘How do you mean?’
‘What kind of things did this man know that suggested to you that he was acting on instructions from your brother?’
‘Oh, I see. Well, he knew all about our assets. The land, the houses, the cottages, valuables, all that sort of thing. That had to be coming from Rupert. Who else would have known?’
Hall left the question hanging and moved on.
‘And can you help with regard to Cliff Morrow? Did you ever see him with your brother?’
‘No, I didn’t. That was David and Barbara.’
‘And you still maintain that you never met, or had dealings with, Cliff Morrow?’
‘That’s right. I really don’t think that we moved in the same circles.’
Christopher Plouvin was smiling. And Jenkins was smiling too.
‘Is that all, Chief Inspector?’ he said.
‘Almost’ said Hall. ‘I just wanted to run something past your client, since he’s here, and is so keen to be helpful.’
‘I do hope that we’re not going to be treated to yet another of your flimsy theories. I would encourage my client, most strongly, not to join you in any of your flights of fancy.’
‘I just wondered if your client could think of another explanation for something, namely the fact that the person who was impersonating Rupert was so well informed about him.’
Jenkins held up his hand before Christopher could reply.
‘That was, I think, a rhetorical question. In any case, please don’t engage with it, Christopher.’
‘Very well’ said Hall. ‘It just seems to me that there’s another explanation, and it fits the facts equally well. Arguably rather better, actually.’ Hall paused, but neither Jenkins nor Plouvin spoke. ‘It’s just this. What if it was another member of the family who was keeping the impersonator informed? What if a family member was standing behind them, as it were?’
‘Please, Chief Inspector, do get on with it. I have a Law Society dinner tonight, and I’d like to arrive before the cheese course. Where is this leading, if anywhere?’
‘I’m simply suggesting that another possibility is that Rupert never left Cumbria, because he was much too dead to climb the stairs onto an aircraft, and that he was most certainly not guiding the actions of the person in South Africa who was impersonating him.’
‘Is that an accusation, Chief Inspector?’ said Jenkins, ‘because if it is then I will be expecting charges to be brought immediately.’
‘You misunderstand me. I just want your client to have the opportunity to comment on my alternative reading of events.’
‘I’m not a Policeman’ said Plouvin, ‘how should I know? All I can tell you is what I know.’
‘That’s fine, Mr. Plouvin. As Mr. Jenkins will no doubt confirm the usual procedure is for us to question suspects, and then to establish the truth or otherwise of what they’ve told us. And that’s what will happen now. The time around your brother’s departure will become our prime focus, and we will study every email, every phone record, everything in terms of the communications with and about your brother. And, believe me, we will find out which of our versions of events is correct: yours, or mine. And we’ll also be looking for your brother’s body.’
‘Please, Chief Inspector, this is distressing for my client.’
Hall ignored him. And, in any case, Plouvin didn’t look remotely distressed.
‘Would you like to know where we’ll be looking?’
Plouvin didn’t say anything, and for the first time Jane had the impression that he was struggling to retain his composure.
‘All over your property’ said Hall. ‘That’s where we’ll be looking. And of course we’ll start by having a good look at the Long Meg site itself. Anyway, that’s all for another day, isn’t it? For now I’d just ask you to be ready to answer further questions, and since you’re a person of interest in this case I’d ask you not to attempt to leave the UK without talking to me first. Mr. Jenkins will explain your rights and responsibilities in this regard I’m sure, even if it makes him a little late for his dinner.’
When the tape was turned off Christopher Plouvin got up slowly, and Hall noticed that he reached forward and used the table to steady himself. Hall always tried to suppress the feeling, but tiny moments like that always made him feel very slightly sorry for suspects, whether he knew them to be guilty or not. The empathetic sensation only lasted for a moment, not least because Hall knew that Plouvin’s guilt was still very far from established, but in a way he still relished it. Because it was good to be reminded that offenders were people too, and he couldn’t imagine the changes that Plouvin was facing if he was convicted.
Afterwards Hall wrote an email to the team with an update, and then he went looking for Jane. But she’d already left for home, and he gathered that she was about ten minutes ahead of him. He was pleased to hear it, and he hurried back to his desk. With a bit of luck he could get away in another half an hour.
Tim Williams didn’t often reflect with much pleasure on his working days, but for once he considered the modest side benefits of working in the bank. It was a happy co-incidence that Jane Francis was a customer, with her main account down in the Peak District but a joint account with a man named Andrew Hall at his own branch. He always enjoyed scanning the accounts of customers and trying to imagine their lives, but these two were almost too dull to be worth the trouble. Solvent, creatures of habit, their lives must be stultifyingly safe and unimaginative. He wondered what Jane’s partner might do? A teacher perhaps; geography maybe?
The house was pretty much what Williams had expected, a dull modern box at the top of a cul-de-sac on an eighties estate. There weren’t any cars parked on the street, and there wasn’t anyone about when he arrived, so he had to park towards the junction of the road. He decided to take a risk and have a walk up to the house, and his heart was beating hard in his chest as he did so. But he forced himself to take his time, and have a good long look. The side gate was chained, but he’d be able to climb over it in a second or two. And there were no houses behind either, so the garden wasn’t overlooked at all.
He strolled back to the car, then sat and waited. Every time a car drove past he felt the excitement build, but every time it quickly faded. But eventually Jane’s car did pass him, and pull onto the drive. She got out of the car, pulled a couple of bags of shopping from the front seat, and went into the house. About five minutes later Williams saw the curtains being drawn in the bedroom at the front on the right. That must be their bedroom. She must be getting changed. This would be a perfect time, he thought.
But then he reminded himself that he’d only come to look, this time anyway, so he wasn’t even tempted to open the door of the car. And he was just about to leave when another car, an old BMW, drove past him and parked alongside Jane’s car. The man got out, stretched, and looked round for a moment before he walked to the door. Williams decided that he wasn’t a geography teacher, even though he did look a bit like one. Perhaps he was a policeman too. Williams was strangely encouraged at the thought. If that was true it would all be even more thrilling.
Thursday, 20th June
The major incident truck was back at the stones by the time that Hall arrived, and a civilian helicopter was just taking off from the adjacent field. Hall was pleased to see that the lorry had been parked so that it was easily visible from the farmhouse. Sandy Smith was standing next to the truck, watching the helicopter take off.
‘I bet the Prof twenty quid that we’d find the stiff, not him’ she said to Hall when he walked over, ‘and he seems to be taking it a bit too seriously, the old beardy bastard. Mind you, I hear we’re paying half the cost of that chopper.’
‘Will our dogs be any use?’ asked Hall, trying not to think about the budget.
‘Oh aye, they might. I borrowed a couple more from Yorkshire, and another from Lancashire, so if there’s decomposing human flesh to be found, then they’ll sniff it out.’
‘So it’s not just
the Prof who intends to win the bet then, Sandy.’
‘Fucking right. This is our turf, not his.’
‘Is Tonto about?’
‘Aye, he’s doing his usual trick, walking around looking into the middle distance, the prick. He seems to have forgotten that it’s just a bloody nickname. He seems to think he’s channeling Sitting Bull or something, these days.’
‘I expect he’s working out his suggested list for ground penetrating radar. We reckon that Rupert was killed two years ago, so even Tonto says he doesn’t reckon he’ll be able to spot any signs of soil disturbance, unless they picked an especially unsuitable spot, or didn’t dig a decent sized hole.’
‘So you’re sure there’s twenty quid to be won then, Andy? You’re sure that Plouvin is under here somewhere?’
‘Not certain, Sandy, no, but it is a racing certainty that Plouvin is dead. I think we’ve pretty much exhausted the goodwill of our South African colleagues, who in fairness do seem to have quite a few other things to think about, but we’re certain that the man claiming to be Plouvin most definitely wasn’t, and that whoever he is, he’s been there since day one. They managed to find the owner of an apartment block where our man lived for a month or two after he arrived, which was good of them, and it most definitely wasn’t Plouvin.’
‘So you reckon we’ll find him here, under the stones?’
‘Has to be possible, doesn’t it? As I mentioned to someone else I think, psychologically, the Plouvins would probably want to bury their brother on their land. And maybe we found the second body first. Think about it, Sandy, let’s say they buried Rupert near the stones and got away with it for twelve months. That would make it the natural place to get rid of Morrow, a year later.’
‘But why not something more ingenious? If I wanted to kill someone out here I wouldn’t bury them. I’d chuck the body in a silage clamp, or distribute him around the fields with the muck-spreader, after he’d matured in cow shit for a few months. The bacteria would eat the body in no time, I’m sure of it.’
‘There’s always some killing you’ve got to do around the farm.’
‘Come again?’
‘It’s a line from a Tom Waits song, which actually refers to a murder in this country, nearly two hundred years ago, the murder in the Red Barn.’
‘Fuck me, Andy, but you’re a mine of useless information. But I’m serious, why not let a bit of anaerobic digestion take care of Rupert?’
‘Maybe they did. Maybe neither of you will win your bet, even if Rupert is dead. But maybe they just don’t have the sort of low criminal mind that you possess Sandy, or perhaps they didn’t think of it, or maybe they thought it was all a bit undignified. Unbecoming, if you like.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, Andy. You’re always the man for a fucking theory, I’ll say that. And I assume you’ve got this Morrow down as the killer?’
‘Yes, it certainly looks that way. The current hypothesis is that he was hired by the Plouvins to kill their older brother. He was paid in cash that he then flashed about, but last year he decided to come back for seconds. He probably thought that the Plouvins would be too posh to protest, let alone blow his insides out with a six bore.’
‘He thought having another bash was like trying to persuade them to let him put another layer of bitumen on their drive, you mean?’
‘Stop it, Sandy, or I’ll let the political correctness squad loose on you. Morrow wasn’t even a Traveller, and I’m sure that those that do, lay an excellent layer of tarmac. I just wouldn’t use them myself, that’s all.’
‘And you wouldn’t want them doing your mum’s drive either, eh? I get you, Andy.’
Hall smiled. ‘Anyway, when Morrow came back and asked for more cash one of the Plouvins decided it wasn’t going to happen, and blew various bits of Morrow all over a Scheduled Ancient Monument. And then they buried him more or less where he fell.’
‘Have you thought about trying metal detectors, Andy?’
‘That’s a bit old-school, isn’t it?’
‘And you’re not? I’ve seen trendier grand-dads. I was just thinking that since they just tipped Cliff Morrow into that hole with his bling still on him they might have done the same with their brother.’
‘Do the landed gentry have bling? I wouldn’t have thought they needed it. I thought it was mainly about owning the view, all that?’
Sandy grinned. ‘Well you’re closer to that sort of business than I am, Andy. I’m just saying, it might be worth a try. I could liaise with the County Archeologist and get it sorted.’
‘Do that, Sandy, thanks, and when Tonto returns from the reservation let’s put our heads together and work out which targets to hit first. I’ve got a couple of ideas of my own.’
‘Sounds like a plan. A shit plan, obviously, but you’re the boss. Well, at least you are until they give Jane your job.’ Hall smiled. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, Tonto did mention that the farmyard was re-laid eighteen months ago. He spoke to the contractor earlier.’
Hall grimaced. ‘I hope we don’t end up digging it up. Putting it back down again would probably bankrupt us, the way things are going.’
‘Don’t worry, that’s what the radar is for, Andy.’
An hour later the helicopter had gone, much to Hall’s relief, and a van full of students had turned up. A couple of the uniformed cops were trying their luck with the girls, and not getting very far. This wasn’t a surprise, because Sandy Smith was there too, and Hall guessed that she’d be offering all and sundry her usual range of comments about truncheons and handcuffs. Hall was glad to be able to call her in to the truck and get the meeting started.
‘We’ve filmed the whole area from the air’ said Wilkins, ‘and we’ll begin our analysis straight away, but it’s far from certain that we’ll spot anything relevant.’
‘OK, thanks’ said Hall, ‘just give it your best shot. Tonto, how about you?’
‘I’ve walked as much of the site as I can, but they’ve got nearly 400 acres, and if they chose a sensible spot we’ve not got much chance of spotting any signs of a burial, not two full seasons on. And I’ve had a real good look around the stones too, concentrating on the areas not covered by the geo-physical survey, and there’s nothing to suggest recent disturbance. But that’s not definitive. Bury the body deep enough, wrap it well in non bio-degradable materials, then remove the spoil carefully, and I reckon it would be hard to spot in three months after burial, let alone two years.’
‘OK’ said Hall, ‘I appreciate that this won’t be easy and there’s bound to be some guesswork involved, so let’s hit the obvious targets first. The area around the stones, the farmyard, and I suggest we try the formal gardens round the big house too. Right down to the family chapel.’
‘Really?’ said Tonto. ‘I’d be surprised if they went for the garden areas myself. It would be hard to disguise the site, at least at first.’
‘Understood’ said Hall, ‘but they’re private gardens, aren’t they? They don’t let the public in, and I understand that Christopher often does some work in the garden himself. And, psychologically, I could see the brothers wanting Rupert to be in the grounds of the ancestral seat, even if it was a bit of a risk. Tonto, have you spoken to the gardener yet?’
‘Aye, I have. Can’t say I understood that much of what he said, but nothing rang any alarm bells with me. You want me to find exactly what works were done in the grounds two seasons ago?’
‘Got it in one.’
‘You know it’s going to cost us a bloody fortune to reinstate if we start digging up the ha-ha or whatever, don’t you, Andy?’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Let’s use all the technology we can first, and if they give us any decent targets then we can decide what to do. And I can lean on the family too. Maybe we’ll be able to get a confession out of one of them, if they know we’re getting really close. Just seeing thirty or forty people working here must convince them that we’re totally serious.’
Hall l
eft the three of them discussing the details of their approach. He got the feeling that all three were trying to second-guess where the body was most likely to be, and he didn’t like to tell them that he thought there was a pretty high chance that either Plouvin’s body wasn’t there, or that they would never find it. The financial realities meant that he’d have the full team on site for two or three days, tops. And to make things worse they’d need to be very sure before any serious digging commenced.
So as he drove back to HQ Hall thought about how best to keep the pressure on the Plouvins. He’d need some new information to use as a reason to speak to them again, but he knew exactly how he’d go about getting it.
Ian Mann and Jane Francis were waiting in his office when he walked in. Hall was unfailingly polite, but today he launched straight in.
‘Right, you two, let’s talk about Plan B. Let’s say we can’t find Rupert Plouvin’s body. Where does that leave us?’
‘With a hefty bill for filling in all the holes that Sandy Smith will dig?’ said Mann.
‘I’ve told her not to go digging anything up without my say-so’ said Hall. ‘I could see her having Long Meg and all her sisters dug up by teatime if she thought she was on to something. But look, we do have to acknowledge the possibility that we won’t find another body. Maybe Rupert isn’t even dead, though I doubt that. But unless they buried the body at or near the stones we might well struggle, and with no body we’ve got nothing but conjecture here. And there’s no credible link between Morrow and the Plouvins either.’
‘But couldn’t we build a case for conspiracy to murder Rupert?’ said Jane. ‘I’d have thought that any jury would realise that all this fake disappearance stuff only points in one direction.’
‘CPS says no, very firmly in fact. My learned friends are of the opinion that if we tried to take it to court with what we’ve got so far the only bleeding corpse on display would be that of my career. So I suggest we follow two lines, and really bet on one or both of them coming good. First, let’s follow the money, as our South African so sensibly suggested. If our informant was the Plouvin impersonator, and if he grassed up the Plouvins because they were stiffing him for money, then where is the missing cash? It must be getting back to one of the Plouvins somehow. Jane, will you take that? It’ll mean really getting stuck into the South African accounts, and working as fast as you can. Call in as many favours as you can from the forensic accountants. Just find me that money reaching the Plouvins.’