‘Do you have a catalogue?’ Meredith asked him.
Ted looked at Steve, who scratched his sparsely covered skull and shook his head. ‘They haven’t come yet from the printer’s. If you want, you can leave your address and I’ll send you one.’
‘Yes, we’d like that.’
Steve removed the pencil stub from above his ear and asked, ‘You got a bit of paper? If not, no matter. I got plenty in the office.’
The office was presumably the area shielded from the work floor by makeshift partitions. But Meredith had a notebook in her bag. She tore out a clean sheet and with Steve’s pencil wrote out her name and address.
Steve read it through carefully, folded it and stuffed it in his pocket. The pencil stub was returned to its home above his ear.
‘Thank you for showing us round,’ Markby told them.
‘Come again!’ said Ted.
Ted and Steve stood side by side and watched them leave.
‘Do you know what, Ted?’ said Steve when they’d left. ‘I know that feller.’
‘That right?’ said Ted, taking up his hammer and beginning to whistle through the gap in his front teeth.
‘He’s a copper.’ Steve’s face twisted into disapproval. ‘I don’t like them. It’s never a good idea to have them hanging round.’
Hammer aloft to strike a nail, Ted paused, then turned towards his partner. ‘Why? You haven’t got anything to worry about, have you? What sort of copper? How do you know?’
‘Seen him before, years ago. He used to be in charge over at Bamford police station. A chief inspector he was back then. Then I heard he’d got promoted and he left, went over to that big HQ building they’ve got over beyond Cheriton. He’ll be something important by now, I reckon.’ Steve sniffed. ‘They’re always canny, are coppers. They don’t let on who they are when you meet them off duty. They know people don’t cotton to them. He let that woman write out her name but he didn’t give his. Mitchell, she’s called.’ Steve slapped his pocket in which the paper with Meredith’s address resided. ‘But he’s called Markby. What do you reckon he was doing up at Overvale House?’
Ted shrugged and struck the nail with an unerring aim. He picked up another and placed it carefully. The hammer was raised again.
‘But then,’ said Steve with concentrated distaste, ‘I don’t suppose old Jenner deals with the small fry. If he’s got a problem, he’ll call in the top brass and top brass will come running for someone like Mr Jenner!’
Clunk! The hammer missed the nail and hit the wood. Ted swore. ‘If you’d stop rabbiting on about Jenner and some copper, I’d be able to concentrate and not go hitting my thumb!’ He put the bruised digit to his mouth.
‘All right, all right,’ said Steve placatingly. ‘There’s no law against being curious and no law against not liking coppers. I’ll get out of your way, then.’
‘You can clear the table, Mrs Whittle,’ said Alison on Saturday morning. ‘I don’t think Fiona will be down for any breakfast.’
‘I don’t understand,’ grumbled her husband, ‘how young people can lie in bed so long of a morning! You’d think they’d want to be up and about. They’re supposed to have energy, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Fiona is up and about,’ Toby said, sneaking the last piece of toast from the tray Mrs Whittle had just picked up. ‘Saw her earlier,’ he added indistinctly.
Jenner glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Earlier? Good Lord. It’s only half past nine now. If she got up, why didn’t she come down and join us?’
‘She went out,’ said Toby.
‘Out?’ Jenner and his wife both stared at the speaker in surprise. ‘Out where?’ Fiona’s father demanded.
Toby shook his head. ‘No idea. That is, I think she’s gone out for an early morning run. She had running pants and a red sweatshirt on and she was jogging away from the house. It was about eight, a little after? I saw her from the bathroom window.’ Toby swallowed his toast and looked wistful. ‘If she’d said she was going for a run, I’d have turned out a little earlier and joined her.’
‘You saw her at eight? She’s been gone a long time for a run. What’s she doing, running right round the estate? Well, I suppose I should be glad she’s keen to keep fit,’ Jenner muttered. He stood up and picked up his newspaper. As he did, some commotion could be heard outside in the hall.
Mrs Whittle returned, flustered. ‘Here’s Stebbings,’ she said. ‘I made him take his boots off and he’s making no end of fuss. But I wasn’t having him walk over my clean floor in dirty boots! He says he’s got to see you, sir, right away! It won’t wait!’
She had scarcely finished speaking before the gaunt hirsute figure of Stebbings appeared. He wasn’t wearing his waxed jacket, only his shirt and a thick knit pullover with holes in the elbows, and his trouser legs were soaked with water up to his knees. His wet socks had left dark footprints on the parquet. He ignored everyone except his employer.
‘You’d best come, sir. There’s been an – accident.’ He had paused fractionally before the last word and glanced briefly at the other two.
Jenner pushed back his chair and asked sharply, ‘What sort of accident? Where?’
‘It’s not far.’ Stebbings’ expression grew mulish. ‘I’ll tell you about it as we go, sir.’
‘You can tell us now, Harry, don’t be silly!’ said Alison unexpectedly.
‘I don’t want to be the one to bring you bad news, ma’am,’ returned Stebbings.
‘Out with it, Harry!’ ordered Jenner.
Stebbings shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s the young lady, sir. Miss Fiona.’
They all crowded towards him, expressing dismay and shock and asking questions at the same time.
Mrs Whittle, who had lingered in the hall, was heard to demand, ‘What are you on about, Harry Stebbings?’
But Stebbings wasn’t going to divulge any more. He simply turned and strode out. They followed, pausing impatiently while Stebbings resumed his boots at the kitchen door. Jeremy Jenner was growing angrier by the second.
‘Speak up, man! What’s happened? Where is my daughter?’
Stebbings didn’t reply but strode on and they hurried after him.
They were making directly across the lawns and appeared to be heading downhill towards the lake. After three glorious spring days of sunshine, the wind had moved round and brought with it echoes of the departed winter. The sky was clouded over and beneath it the lake was a dull grey disc absorbing the light and reflecting none of it. As they neared it there was a flap of wings and the goose rose from the water’s surface and flew, honking agitatedly, across the landscape towards the horses’ paddock. Above it, it turned back towards the lake and landed on the small island in the middle.
‘It’s got Spike upset,’ Alison exclaimed. ‘Is Fiona hurt, Harry? Why won’t you say?’
‘For goodness’ sake,’ Jenner snapped. ‘What’s happened to my daughter? Have you gone deaf, Stebbings?’
But Toby had spotted something ahead of them and broken into a run straight past the gardener towards the lake. Stebbings watched him, muttering into his beard. Jenner and his wife also began to run forward. The Labrador, Betsy, who’d followed, lumbered behind Alison. All arrived at the lake to see Toby on his knees beside Stebbings’ waxed jacket which lay on the ground near the jetty, covering something.
Jenner stopped, put out his arm and seized his wife’s elbow. ‘No, Ally, you stay here. Please. Hold the dog.’ The words were barked out as an order.
Alison, her face frightened, obeyed, grabbing Betsy’s collar. Jenner walked towards the jacket and the huddled thing beneath it. Stebbings had halted and watched him. Jenner walked very straight, his whole manner that of a man who knows that an unpleasant task lies before him but is determined to handle it correctly.
Toby had turned back the jacket. They could all see long blond hair spread on the ground and a sodden red sweatshirt. Toby looked up at the approaching Jenner, his face ashen. ‘Fi – Fiona …’ Toby stammere
d. ‘She’s—’
Stebbings’ harsh voice broke in. ‘She was floating in the water, sir. I waded in and pulled her out. I covered her over because that blasted bird started pecking at her. I phoned my boy on my mobile and told him to bring a sack over to catch the brute. He should be here by now,’ added Stebbings discontentedly, glowering into the distance.
‘You called your boy!’ Jenner had dropped on to his knees by his daughter. He dragged away the rest of the jacket. Fiona was lying on her stomach. Her head was turned to one side away from them and her open eyes stared blindly at the grass tussocks. ‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance?’ he went on furiously, before adding in a desperate voice, ‘Toby, do you know first aid? Resuscitation techniques?’
‘It’s too late for that, sir,’ said Stebbings in a flat voice. ‘She’s a goner. Face down in the water, she was.’ Unexpectedly he reached out and touched his employer’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. ‘I had a go, sir, at bringing her to her senses, getting the water out of her. It wasn’t any good. So I came up to the house to tell you.’
‘But you didn’t tell us, did you?’ Toby snapped at him. ‘You said there had been an accident. We thought she might be hurt, sprained an ankle or something! We didn’t expect this!’
‘Dad?’
They had all been unaware of the presence of another person. A youth had approached them and stood nervously a few feet away. ‘I brought the sack.’ He held up a rough hessian sack.
‘Right,’ said his father curtly. ‘Took you long enough. Just get in the boat and row over to the island and see if you can catch that bird.’
Darren edged towards the jetty, his frightened eyes fixed on the body of Fiona.
‘Is she all right?’ he asked.
Jenner looked up at him, his face distorted with despair. ‘All right? No, of course she isn’t bloody all right! She’s dead!’
Darren scrambled into the boat with a terrified look at Jenner. His father cast it off and the youngster began to row towards the island where Spike patrolled the shore.
‘How could it happen?’ Toby asked bewildered. ‘Did she fall out of the boat or off the jetty? She could swim.’
Stebbings cleared his throat and made an awkward gesture with his long arms, flapping them to either side a little like the goose its wings.
‘There’s something else, sir.’
‘What?’ Jenner’s voice cracked as he looked up at the man. ‘What else?’
‘I turned her head that way so as you wouldn’t see it straight off. But if you just turn her to face the other way, you’ll see there’s something on the other side, an injury like.’
Both Toby and his cousin stared down at the body of Fiona, their attitudes frozen in horror. Jenner started to put out his hand and then withdrew it. It was Toby who said gently, ‘I’ll do it, Jerry.’ He cupped his hands around Fiona’s head and turned her to face them.
Her hair fell back and revealed broken skin and a faint indentation at her left temple.
‘She hit her head,’ said Stebbings. ‘Or something like that.’
They had forgotten Alison who had been sitting and listening. At Stebbings’ words, she let out a sharp cry. They looked towards her and saw that she had buried her face in her hands and was rocking herself backwards and forwards. The dog was nuzzling at her, trying to get her attention, but Alison was lost in dreadful anguish.
Jenner got to his feet and hurried across to her. ‘Take it easy, darling. Perhaps you’d better go back go the house—’ She seemed not to have heard him. He prised her fingers gently from her face and said anxiously, ‘Alison?’
She looked up, wild-eyed. ‘It’s happened again, hasn’t it? Fiona’s dead and she’s died just the way Aunt Freda died!’
By the time Alan Markby arrived on the scene it was quite crowded. The family were not to be seen but the police were there, including Jessica Campbell, easily identifiable by her short-cropped dark red hair. In addition he saw Stebbings and a youngster who must be his son, Darren the would-be photographer of celebrities. The boy was holding a large hessian sack which bulged with unknown content.
Markby had left his car under the chestnut trees and walked to the lake. Jess Campbell saw him coming and came to meet him.
‘This is a funny business, sir.’
Markby, his hands thrust into his pockets and the wind whipping up his fair hair, muttered, ‘Yes.’Then he took his hands from his pockets and said more politely, ‘It may be even stranger than it already looks. I’d meant to ask you to take over investigating a campaign of poison pen letters aimed at Alison Jenner. Now there’s a sudden death in the family and I have an inbuilt dislike of coincidences. Who found her?’
Jess nodded towards the Stebbingses, father and son. ‘The gardener. I’m afraid he moved the body but it’s understandable. She was in the water, face down, so he says. He thought there might be just a chance of saving her if she’d just gone in, so he pulled her out. He tried to resuscitate her but had no luck, so he covered her with his jacket and went to tell the family.’
Markby nodded. In theory a dead body ought not to be moved before the police arrived but the average member of the public would naturally try to save a life if there was the slightest chance it was possible. It was a pity Fiona wasn’t exactly where she’d been when discovered.They’d have to rely on Stebbings for details. It would be better if there were a second person to back up Stebbings’ account.
This led Markby to ask, ‘Was that boy with him?’
‘His son? No, not when the body was found. There was a large bird here, a Canada goose. Apparently it lives around the lake. It began pecking at the body, that’s why he covered her up. Stebbings has a mobile phone and called his own house to ask his son to come with a sack to catch the bird. He didn’t call an ambulance because, he says, he saw she was dead. Nor did he call the family because, again he says, he felt he ought to go up and tell them in person. He’s a funny sort of bloke. So that’s what he did and they all came running down here. The goose was still causing trouble. It’s taken them until now to get hold of it. It flew out to that island.’ Jess pointed. ‘The lad rowed out there and tried to grab it whereupon it flew back to this side. So he had to row back and both of them tried to catch it while waiting for the police. They managed it about five minutes before the first police car turned up. It’s in that sack. It was creating a heck of a fuss when they put it in, apparently, but once inside, it quietened down.’
Markby’s heart sank. Was there anything about this scene of an unexplained death which hadn’t been thoroughly disturbed before the arrival of the first police officers? ‘You mean, not only has the boat been moved, too, but they’ve been running up and down the shoreline after the goose?’
She understood his meaning. ‘I’m afraid so. Great bootprints everywhere. The boy skidded about and fell over twice, he says. There are great gouged areas of earth to prove it. Before that Stebbings himself and then the Jenners and a chap called Smythe had all trampled the entire immediate area.’ She paused. ‘I understand you know the family, sir?’
‘It’s a very recent acquaintance. I lunched here yesterday with them because they wanted to talk to me about the poison pen letters. That was my first and only meeting with Jenner and his wife. Has a pathologist attended?’
‘Dr Fuller’s on his way. A local doctor’s been already and certified her dead. He was here when I got here. He’d been called to attend Mrs Jenner.’
They had been moving as she spoke, nearing the body. Beside it they stopped.
‘She’s received a blow on the left temple,’ Jess went on. ‘Dr Fuller might be able to tell us, just by looking at it, whether it could have been fatal or not. She might have drowned, of course. It’s possible she climbed down into that little boat and fell out. She could then have struck her head. I’ll arrange for a diver to go into the lake.’
Jess stared thoughtfully at the rippling surface. ‘Stebbings waded in and brought the body out. It can’t be ver
y deep near the edge. I don’t know about further out but it’s deep enough to need the boat if you want to get to the island. That was still tied up, Stebbings swears, when he found her. The boy untied it to row over and try to catch the bird. She wouldn’t have gone for a swim in all her clothes and there’s no reason to suspect suicide.’
Markby contemplated the body. ‘We all came down here yesterday to look at the lake.The dead girl, Fiona Jenner, wouldn’t come with us because of that Canada goose. It had attacked her before. It patrolled the area and was very territorial. In view of that, it’s strange that she should die here. She avoided the spot.’
‘Dr Fuller’s here, sir,’ said a nearby officer.
The pathologist was making his way towards them, bag in hand. He was a short, rotund man and had donned a one-piece protective suit which made him look like a child’s toy. The impression was enhanced by the cheery smile which he seemed to have at all times in all circumstances.
‘Good morning, good morning!’ he greeted them. ‘And what have we here?’
They stood back and let him get on with his preliminary examination. ‘That’s a nasty blow,’ he said, ‘but I doubt it would have killed her. I’ll do the post-mortem as soon as possible. Have you been in touch with the coroner’s office?’
‘I’ll do it right away, sir,’ said Jess.
‘Then, provided the coroner gives clearance, I’ll do it this afternoon.’ Fuller got to his feet. ‘We have a rather important family gathering this weekend. I’d like to get business out of the way.’
It was, of course, Easter Saturday. Markby found that, in present circumstances, he’d forgotten that. But it was a holiday period. Not only Fuller but others had family visits and social outings arranged. That applied to the team who would have to be assembled to investigate this unexpected death. No one was going to be very happy about that. With a start of guilt he remembered that he and Meredith were supposed to be lunching at his sister’s house today. Paul, his brother-in-law, was a trained chef and a cookery journalist. Lunch with them was always to be savoured and preceded by Paul’s devoting the entire morning to creating delicacies in the kitchen. Cooks could be temperamental and Paul was no exception. If they got to his sister’s house at all today, it would be late. Lunch would probably be ruined.
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