‘Who told you that?’
‘I’m not sure now. Why, are you trying to keep it quiet?’
‘Just wondered how you knew.’ Nick feigned indifference and went back to the light he was trying to remove.
‘Actually, I heard you’d sold to Forest Havens,’ Adam remarked, but this time Nick gave no response. ‘You must have got a good price for that bit of land.’
‘What of it?’
‘Just making conversation.’
Nick smiled sardonically. ‘You always were a talker, Adam.’
After that Nick wouldn’t be drawn by anything Adam said, so he left him to it. He heard a sound from behind the barn, and curious to see what it was he went around there, but as he got closer to the corner he heard the clanking of a chain and glimpsed the edge of what looked like a doghouse. The clanking stopped, and he heard a low throaty growl. He remembered the warning signs on the fence and decided he didn’t need to get any closer. Slowly he backed off.
He followed a track through the yard instead, and once he was sure that Nick couldn’t see him he followed one of the avenues through the piles of wrecks back to the one he’d found earlier. He hadn’t been sure then, but now as he surveyed the blue Vauxhall like the one in the photographs from the police accident report he was certain it was the one Ben Pierce was supposed to have been driving. It was still relatively intact, standing on all four wheels, though the tyres were flat and the roof was partly caved in. Above the windscreen was a jagged hole where a chunk of metal had been torn free, and every other panel on the rest of the body was dented as if somebody had taken a sledgehammer to it.
Adam yanked open a door. The upholstery and dash were smeared with mud and dead leaves and other debris, and a dank smell of decay rose from the interior. At first there appeared to be nothing to see, though the glove compartment was closed despite the lock being missing. Out of curiosity he tried to open it but it was jammed solid, so he looked around and found a metal rod beside the remains of an old Land Rover, which he used to pry the lid open. He saw then why it had been jammed. The back of the compartment had been crushed leaving only a narrow space inside. He squeezed his hand in and pulled out the damp remains of a service manual and what was left of a chocolate bar. Further back he felt something else graze the tips of his fingers. It felt soft and slightly damp but before he could get it out he was startled by a voice behind him.
‘What are you doing in there?’
He turned around and found Nick watching him. He was holding a heavy wrench in a vaguely threatening manner.
Adam stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. ‘Isn’t this the car those boys were killed in? I thought I saw something.’ He held up the remains of the chocolate bar he’d found. ‘I think it’s past its sell-by date though.’ He tossed it back inside and started back towards the barn.
Nick stared at him suspiciously, then followed. ‘Your car’s ready.’
When they got back to the barn Adam wrote out a cheque for the amount he owed, though he was taken aback when Nick told him how much it was. ‘That’s a bit steep isn’t it?’
Nick shrugged. ‘I can take them off again if you like. New ones’11 cost you four times that.’
It wasn’t worth arguing about, so he tore out the cheque and handed it over. ‘Thanks.’
Nick put it in his pocket without looking at it. ‘Any time.’ He watched with a gleam of amused satisfaction in his eye as Adam got in behind the wheel and when he was about to leave leaned down to the window. ‘Drive carefully.’
After leaving the yard Adam drove to a small village a few miles north of Brampton where he drove around looking for the address George Hunt had given him over the phone. It turned out to be a small cottage at the end of a row opposite a duck pond. It was a little after nine-thirty by the time he arrived. He went down the short path, through a neat little garden bordered with flowers, and as he reached the door it was suddenly opened by a late-middle-aged woman who was struggling to put her coat on. Her eyes widened when she saw Adam and she uttered a small gasp of surprise.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said.
For a second she stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Adam Turner. I arranged to meet your husband.’ He glanced at the number on the door, wondering if he’d got the wrong house. ‘Councillor Hunt?’
‘Oh yes. Yes. That’s right. George mentioned it I think. I’m sorry, I’m running late.’ She glanced at her watch and finished shrugging on her coat. ‘Look, I really have to go. I’m going to miss my bus. He’s in the kitchen.’ She gestured vaguely behind her. ‘I’m sorry. I have to run.’ As she edged past him she looked at her watch again. ‘Sorry about this.’
‘That’s okay,’ he assured her.
‘Just go through.’ The woman hurried to the gate where she stopped and looked inside her bag as if she’d forgotten something, then apparently satisfied she started walking quickly along the street with her coat flapping about her as she tried to button it with one hand and search in a pocket with the other.
Adam watched her go and then contemplated the open door and the quiet hallway. He noted the prints on the wall, several line drawings of nudes that had a classical feel and reminded him of pictures from books on Greek mythology. A narrow staircase led to the upper floor, and a door on the left led to what appeared to be a lounge. He glimpsed the corner of an upright piano. From somewhere towards the back of the house, where he assumed the kitchen was, came the murmur of voices.
‘Hello?’ He debated whether to ring the bell or simply go in. In the end he rang the bell, but when nobody came he went tentatively along the passage. From behind a closed door the murmured voices grew louder. It was, he realized, the sound of Radio Four. He pushed the door open, and a man with a grey close-cropped beard looked up in surprise.
‘Councillor Hunt? I’m Adam Turner. Your wife let me in. I think she was in a bit of a hurry.’
Understanding dawned and George Hunt smiled and rose to his feet, hand extended. ‘Come in, sit down.’ He looked along the hallway. ‘I’d better just close that door. My wife gets a bit flustered in the mornings. Hang on a minute. There’s tea in the pot if you’d like some. Help yourself.’
Adam sat down, taking in the plate with a half-eaten piece of toast and the folded newspaper. The kitchen was cramped but homely. A small garden was visible through the half-glass back door. The radio on top of the fridge was an old-fashioned Roberts and beneath it a number of notes and some photographs were stuck to the door with colourful gnome magnets.
When Hunt returned Adam apologized for interrupting his breakfast, but Hunt waved his apology away.
‘That’s alright.’ He turned the radio off before he sat down again. ‘Sorry about Judith. My wife. She was always late for everything, even when we were courting. Can I offer you some toast?’
‘I’m fine thanks.’
‘One of life’s small luxuries when I have a late lecture. A leisurely breakfast,’ Hunt explained.
‘You work at the college?’
‘Hmm,’ Hunt said. ‘For my sins.’ He glanced towards the fridge where Adam had been looking. ‘Those pictures were taken last year in Spain. That’s my daughter Elizabeth.’
Between a chubby-looking Hunt and his pale wife, stood a slim smiling teenager. She was a pretty girl of around seventeen or so, her youth emphasizing the age of her parents, both of whom must be approaching sixty at least, Adam thought. Not far from retirement. A time when many people these days were under huge financial pressure.
‘You’re a journalist you said?’ Hunt asked.
‘That’s right.’ Adam explained that he was doing a piece on the protest and was interested in background on the development. He asked the same questions he had of Carol Fraser, questioning Hunt’s change of position. The answers Hunt gave echoed what his fellow councillor had said inasmuch as Hunt claimed that though he’d initially been opposed to the plan he was convinced to change
his mind by the potential benefit to the local community. To Adam’s mind, however, Hunt sounded less as if he was quoting from a policy document. Reservations seemed to resonate through his reasoning.
‘Couldn’t the same case be made by almost any developer?’ Adam questioned, playing devil’s advocate. ‘I mean, there’s always going to be an upside to these things. Another factory gets built on a green-field site, but the factory means jobs, a stronger local economy and so on.’
‘True,’ Hunt answered reflectively. ‘But this is a particularly depressed area. As I’m sure you’re aware, the economy here is rural-based, and farming has taken a beating in the last few years.’
‘And you believe the answer is to turn the Castleton Estate into a holiday park?’
Hunt smiled ruefully. ‘What I believe personally is not the issue. My job as an elected official is to represent the view of the people who voted for me.’
‘But as I understand it you have a record of defending the environment.’ Adam recalled Janice’s description of Hunt as being something of a greenie. ‘Wouldn’t the people who elected you have done so because they shared your views?’
‘The correlation between people’s beliefs and their actions is not always as clear as one might expect, Mr Turner, depending on circumstances. Offer a starving vegetarian a tasty lamb chop and see for yourself.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘A crude analogy perhaps, but true nevertheless.’
‘So, you voted in favour of the plan, though in fact you remain personally opposed to it?’
‘Correct.’ Hunt gestured around. ‘I have a simple and comfortable home, a loving wife and daughter, and I get a great deal of satisfaction from my work. I have a secure pension plan that will allow me to live comfortably until I die. Not everybody is so fortunate. Many people in this area are suffering great hardship. Personally I decry this kind of destruction to our countryside. Castleton Wood is a unique habitat. It’s all that remains of a landscape that has long since vanished from most of the country. I fight against this kind of thing whenever I can, but principles have to be balanced against human needs. Besides, if I go against the desires of the electorate I risk being voted out at the next election, and then there would be one less person to oppose people like Frank Henderson. Sometimes it’s better to lose the battle in order to win the war, you might say.’
‘Compromise,’ Adam said, echoing the term Carol Fraser had used.
‘If you like. It’s a part of life. Though you might also term it a strategy.’
‘You mentioned Councillor Henderson. I assume that you and he don’t see eye to eye on these issues?’
Hunt didn’t answer, merely regarded him thoughtfully.
‘This is off the record, Councillor.’
‘In that case, you assume correctly. Henderson cares only for himself, in my opinion. If he happens to make a decision that benefits the electorate he serves, it’s purely coincidental. Again, my opinion only.’
‘Councillor, and this is also off the record, are you aware of rumours that Councillor Henderson and perhaps others might have been offered certain inducements to vote in favour of the Forest Havens development?’
Hunt clasped his hands beneath his chin. ‘Off the record, I’m aware of such rumours,’ he replied carefully.
‘Do you give them any credence?’
‘Let’s just say, Mr Turner, that in the case of Councillor Henderson, very little would surprise me.’
‘But you don’t have any personal knowledge of them?’
‘No.’
‘Were you personally ever offered any kind of inducement to vote in favour of the development?’
Hunt smiled. ‘Notwithstanding the fact that if I had been I would hardly admit as much, the answer is no. I must add, however, that it’s unlikely that anybody would attempt such a thing. I think after fifteen years on the council my ethics are well established, and my record speaks for itself.’
‘Did you ever speak to David Johnson or anybody else lobbying for Forest Havens?’
‘Spoke to him, yes. He was persuasive.’
‘But he didn’t make any kind of offer?’
‘No.’
‘One last question. Did you ever meet somebody called Jane Hanson?’
‘The young lady from the protest camp? Yes, I met her on several occasions. As a matter of fact she asked me the same kind of questions that you are asking now.’
‘Do you know if she spoke to any of your colleagues on the planning committee?’
‘I assume she spoke to all of them. I know Henderson was complaining about her, and I saw her with Carol, that’s Councillor Fraser, once or twice.’
‘You’re sure of that?’ Adam asked. ‘You saw Jane Hanson with Councillor Fraser?’
‘Absolutely sure.’ Hunt paused, regarding Adam quizzically. ‘I take it there is a point to all of this?’
‘There is,’ Adam said, recalling how Carol Fraser had specifically denied having met Jane. ‘I’m just not sure what it is yet.’
When Adam arrived back at the New Inn early in the afternoon something was going on. John Shields’s Rover was parked in the car park along with several police vehicles and a small knot of curious onlookers had gathered outside the lounge room door where a uniformed constable prevented anyone from going inside, including Adam.
‘I’m a guest here.’ Adam produced his room key as proof. He could see Shields with his wife and their friends inside talking to Graham.
‘I’m afraid nobody’s allowed inside for now, sir. If you could come back in ten minutes or so I think we’ll be finished.’
‘Finished with what?’ Adam asked, but he couldn’t get anything more out of the constable. His first thought had been that there had been some kind of accident, but there was no sign of damage to Shields’s car, and nobody appeared to be injured.
In his room he stood by the window where he could keep an eye on what was happening outside while he phoned the Courier and asked for Janice Munroe.
When he was put through he told her about his meeting with Carol Fraser the day before. ‘When I mentioned Jane, the councillor said she’d never met her. I think that’s unlikely don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Janice admitted.
‘So, I was wondering if you could do a little digging for me. Councillor Fraser told me that she and her husband own a farm. Is there any way you could find out more about it? Get some kind of fix on their financial situation.’
‘I’ll try,’ Janice said, though she sounded reluctant.
‘You never really know what people are capable of when their backs are against the wall,’ Adam said.
‘Yes, I know. I like her that’s all.’
‘I liked her too. But I’m sure she wasn’t telling me the truth when she said she hadn’t met Jane. I talked to Councillor Hunt this morning. He was quite open about the fact that he’d met her, and that she was asking questions about the committee.’
‘Alright, I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks.’
Outside the window the whoop of a police siren sounded and died. Down in the car park the two couples from Birmingham had appeared with several uniformed police officers, including Graham. Another car had arrived with a man and a woman who looked like detectives.
‘Where are you?’ Janice asked.
‘In Castleton at the pub where I’m staying. Something’s happening here.’
‘Anything I should be interested in?’
‘Could be. I’ll call you back.’
He went downstairs and practically bumped into Mrs Shields. He tried to remember her first name. ‘Is everything alright? It’s Pauline isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ She looked flushed and what at first glance he’d thought was worry he now saw was a mixture of confusion and excitement. ‘It’s been quite a day I can tell you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to make of it.’
Just then one of the detectives opened the door of an unmarked car and John Shields and his friend got in the
back. ‘Where are they taking your husband?’ Adam asked.
‘Back up there. To where we found it.’
‘Where you found what?’
She looked at him wide-eyed. ‘Don’t you know? I thought you knew. Our John pulled something out of that lake where we went fishing today. We went where you told us, down the end where that rock is.’
‘What was it?’
‘A bone,’ she said, then dropped her voice, her eyes dramatically wide. ‘A human bone. Looked like it was a bit of somebody’s leg. It had bits of stuff still stuck to it. You know.’ She shivered at the thought.
She explained what had happened, though there wasn’t much to tell, really. After Shields had realized what it was he’d hooked they’d packed up and come back to the pub where he’d called the police. They’d had to wait for some other officers to arrive and now Shields was going to show them exactly where they had been fishing.
‘I said I didn’t want to go back there,’ she said. ‘Not me. Gives me the creeps it does.’
As the cars started to leave Graham glanced over and saw Adam. He frowned when he saw Pauline Shields and then came over.
‘Mrs Shields told me what happened,’ Adam said. ‘Is it true that it was a human bone they found?’
‘We don’t know what it is yet but chances are it’s just an animal bone. Probably a sheep or something.’
‘Seems like a lot of police interest for a dead sheep,’ Adam observed sceptically.
‘It was too big for a sheep,’ Pauline Shields said indignantly.
Graham frowned at her. ‘Well, whatever it was we’ll find out soon enough, but we don’t need any journalists jumping to conclusions before we do.’ He threw a warning look at Adam and then went back to his car.
Excusing himself from Pauline Shields, Adam went back to his room and called Janice again.
‘A human bone?’ she echoed when he related what was going on. ‘And there was me thinking nothing would ever happen around this bloody place. Do you know where they’re going?’
‘Yes. Actually I was the one who told them where to fish.’
‘Would you take me there if I meet you at the pub?’
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