The Body in the Woods

by Neil Richards

  Jack tilted his head. He looked at Sarah.

  “Really? Here?”

  But before Billy could answer, Sarah turned to see Bruno. Close up — although his body was lean, his arms bulged, biceps tight in his Cherringham Cricket shirt.

  Not someone you wanted to be angry with you — at all.

  And then, amazing moment, Bruno reached out and with a meaty hand grabbed Jack’s white shirt near the collar, balled it up.

  Bruno’s other arm dangled by his side like a prehistoric club.

  She looked at Jack.

  No laughs now.

  “You stupid American bastid! Think you’re funny, hmm? Having a go? Maybe you’d like to have a little,” Bruno looked around at the crowd, all eyes riveted, “private party, just you and me.”

  Then Bruno leaned his weasel-like head close to Jack’s. Most could not hear his next words.

  But Sarah could.

  “I’ll kick your arse from here back to New York, I will.”

  Only then did Jack raise his right hand. She thought he was going to push that drunken, sweaty head back.

  But instead Jack — looking calm but definitely tense — placed his hand on Bruno’s with the shirt material balled tight inside the first.

  “You know, Bruno, I’d be glad to have you try that. Might even serve as a public service.”

  Sarah saw Jack’s hand tighten. His hand cupping Bruno’s knuckles. She saw the hand muscles tense. Veins visible.

  And in Bruno’s eyes, perhaps that first wince of pain.

  “But I do think this isn’t the time or the place to put an oaf like you in his proper place.”

  And those words seemed to act like an electric current to Bruno’s dim-witted brain. His club-like arm flew up, and Sarah thought that there could be no way Jack would avoid getting smashed by it.

  And as strong as Jack was, that wouldn’t be pretty.

  Until — another hand reached up, flew up fast to Bruno’s wrist.

  Snapped onto that wrist.

  Then a voice.

  Amanda.

  “Bruno.”

  And as if Amanda had some magic power over the man, Bruno froze.

  Amanda gave a smile to the onlookers in the pavillon as if this was standard fare for a cricket tea, after an even more unusual cricket match.

  Bruno released his hand from Jack’s shirt, Jack letting go as well.

  Then, despite Amanda standing right there, Bruno had a last whispered word for Jack that Sarah could hear.

  “Later …”

  To which Jack smiled, nodded and replied. “Would be my pleasure …”

  And with that Bruno turned, and stormed away, the people in the tent parting in his wake.

  Sarah watched him head over to a scruffy white van, parked in the car park.

  He fumbled for his keys, then seemed to realise he was way over the limit to drive, and staggered off, cursing and muttering to himself.

  ***

  “That nerve you wanted to hit …” Sarah said to Jack.

  “I know. Think I nailed it. Maybe that’s also my cue to leave this party. Get out of this uniform.”

  “I agree. Time I took Daniel home too. Then tonight, at the carnival …”

  But then Brian Larwood walked over and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  “Think you made a new friend there, Jack.”

  Jack grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

  But then Sarah saw Brian let his smile fade a bit.

  Larwood knew these people, this village.

  Knew things — that Jack didn’t.

  “All fun aside, best be careful. That one, well, I’m pretty sure he’s capable of just about anything.”

  “You knew him — back in the day?” Jack said. “I hear you were our local cop once upon a time.”

  A nod. “Just tread lightly. Not that I doubt what would happen if he actually tried to tussle with you.”

  Jack laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  And then — she saw Jack shoot a look right at her. Something clicking for him.

  Though Sarah didn’t have a clue what.

  “Hey, Brian — I’m going to head home, shower. But thinking, later, feel like some steaks, martinis, on The Grey Goose? Share some stories?”

  Brian laughed again. “I think you’ll have the edge on me there. Cherringham’s pretty sleepy compared to the streets of New York.”

  Another look from Jack.

  “Oh, I dunno. Sarah and I, we’ve been finding them … not so quiet. What do you say?”

  “Love to.”

  “Great. My boat’s a couple of hundred yards upriver from the bridge. Can’t miss it.”

  Larwood nodded in the direction of the Cherringham team who — minus Bruno — were toasting their success.

  “Better go and raise my glass to the noble victors, eh?”

  Jack smiled.

  And Brian walked away.

  ***

  Sarah waited a moment. And then …

  “So that. Just social?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Something he said actually. About his warning. Or maybe we’ll just trade stories from the trenches over a couple of rib-eyes.”

  She took a breath.

  “Okay then, if you’re going—”

  “Yup. Gotta dash. Speak later.”

  “Right.”

  And she watched Jack slip away, the post-game refreshments having veered away from the near-fight, back to sandwiches and beer. She started to look for Daniel, trying to remember what might be in the fridge for his supper.

  And wondering whether Chloe might get in touch.

  Where was she now? Berlin? Prague? Every day a new country, it seemed!

  She shook away the thought and returned to her mental audit of the fridge.

  Maybe tonight it was going to have to be a frozen pizza.

  33. Dinner on the Goose

  “There you go, Riley,” said Jack, laying down the bowl of dog food on the deck of the Goose. “No excuse to pester us for leftovers now.”

  He watched Riley, tail wagging, dig into the biscuits, then he stepped back to check he’d brought everything up from the little galley below.

  Gas barbecue all set — next to it a small table with steaks wrapped in foil and all his cooking stuff. On the main table, potato chips, olives.

  Vodka, vermouth, ice, lemon — check.

  And the little portable fridge crammed with beers.

  Jack loved these long summer evenings on the boat. The sun wasn’t due to set for another hour and the meadows on the far bank of the river seemed to float in the soft air.

  Through the trees up on the distant hill he could see the warm stone buildings of Cherringham — the skyline altered tonight by the shapes of the fairground rides.

  That’ll be lively later, he thought. Maybe even walk up there, catch a bit of the atmosphere myself.

  That was if he was done entertaining Cherringham’s one-time police chief.

  Not that entertaining was entirely the reason for inviting the guy over tonight.

  At the back of Jack’s mind was a feeling that the cop might unwittingly have some of the answers to the questions puzzling him and Sarah.

  He checked his watch — and looked down the river towards the bridge.

  And sure enough — bang on time — there was the figure of Brian Larwood strolling nice and easy down the footpath.

  One thing that’s the same the world over — invite an ex-cop to dinner and you can guarantee they won’t be late.

  Jack rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Not just for martinis, or even the rib-eyes to follow.

  There were plenty of things he missed about his old life back in New York. And one of them was evenings like this — kicking back over a few beers with other cops.

  Sure — the Cotswolds wasn’t the same as an East Side beat. But a cop was a cop, all the same.

  He stuck his hand up and Brian waved back and grinned.

  And Ja
ck started mixing his first martini of the night.

  ***

  Sarah cleared the kitchen table after her hurried supper with Daniel, loaded the dishwasher and set it going.

  Even with Chloe away, the job of running the house didn’t seem any less frenetic. Was it like this for other mums?

  She guessed other mums didn’t also combine parenting with a full-time job and moonlighting as a detective.

  Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong, she thought.

  Daniel had wolfed down his dinner then raced off to the village with hardly a goodbye. When she caught up with him later she was going to give him a little reminder of his duties around the house, carnival or no carnival.

  She went up to his room and gathered all his wet-weather gear ready for the regatta.

  Then she spent ten minutes hunting outside for his boat shoes — which turned out to be at the bottom of the garden, still in the kayak where he’d just kicked them off and forgotten about them.

  As she came back up the lawn, she heard the guinea pigs squeaking and scratching.

  She went over to the cage and checked their food and water.

  Nothing. And the cage still looked like it needed a real clean.

  Hmm, Daniel had promised he’d get round to it.

  Going to have words with him about that tomorrow.

  She scooped up some feed from the bag Jack had brought, topped up the water and went inside.

  Then she put a wash in the machine, set it going and folded some dry laundry to take up to Chloe’s room. When she’d finished putting it away, she looked around the room: bed made, carpet clear, surfaces tidy.

  My two kids — so different from each other, she thought.

  Though she knew Chloe could still have her crazy days.

  She turned the light off, closed the door slowly and headed downstairs.

  Chores done — she checked her watch. Great — she still had an hour before the fair would really get going.

  An hour, to get her head around this case that seemed to be constantly out of reach.

  She walked into her home office and turned on her computers.

  Then she picked up her marker pens, approached the white board and got to work.

  ***

  “Top up?” said Jack, holding the martini shaker.

  “Love it,” said Brian, taking a seat on Jack’s outdoor sofa. “But I’d better be careful. That is one mean drink.”

  “Take that as a compliment,” said Jack filling the shaker with ice. “Just give me a shout when you’re feeling peckish and I’ll get these steaks going. Got ’em up at that fancy farm shop. Best rib-eyes in the area.”

  “Right. I heard about that place. In my day we had a proper butcher in the village. Think it’s a gift shop now.”

  “Yep, guess Cherringham’s changed a lot. But you know — to me it’s still a pretty quaint place. I love it.”

  He took two fresh glasses and poured the drinks, then handed one to Brian and came and sat opposite. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” said Brian. “Thanks for showing me round the boat by the way. Couldn’t help noticing the pictures. Your wife?”

  The comment — unexpected. Jack looked away for a moment.

  Those thoughts. Always so hard.

  “Yes. My Kathleen,” said Jack. “Plan was she and I would be living here together. She loved England — used to bring me on vacation here. This boat was our retirement plan.”

  He took some potato chips.

  “Then — so fast — cancer. Came out of the blue.” Jack took a sip of the martini, the strong taste nearly burning. “So damn fast.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. So first, I was going to cancel the whole deal, the move, buying the boat. But my daughter — well, she got married, moved to the west coast. Said I should go ahead. Said Kath would have wanted it. Said it would be good for me. Wasn’t sure at all. Turns out — she was right.”

  “Seems like you settled in well.”

  “People are friendly, you know? Best of both worlds down here on the river — peace and quiet — but also plenty of bars and restaurants just a walk away. How about you? Miss the place? I hear you were quite the regular cop in Cherringham, back in the day.”

  “Miss it? Sure.”

  “Guess you don’t miss guys like that Bruno, hmm?”

  “Like a hole in the head,” said Brian. “One-man crime wave, that guy.”

  “Not good he’s back in the village?” said Jack, fishing for any information he could get. “I hear he’s checked in with his wife.”

  “Yeah. I heard that too. She’ll get tired of him soon enough — kick him out again.”

  Jack took another sip of his martini, and watched a lone rower in a skiff, heading gently downriver, blades catching the sunlight.

  “Guess you couldn’t really escape the job, hmm?” he said, turning back to Brian.

  “That’s right. If you’re a cop in a town, you’re always a cop — in uniform or out. Like being a teacher and living next to the school.”

  “Back in New York, lived in a totally different neighbourhood. Jeans and a ‘T’ — the only people knew how I spent my days were good pals and other cops.”

  Jack nodded. Waiting a moment, Then:

  “Mind me asking — you get early retirement?” said Jack, offering the plate of chips.

  Brian grinned.

  “Look too young, hmm?” he said. “I’ll take that, thanks!”

  Jack laughed.

  “My back went, picking up some drunk round the back of the Ploughman’s. Spent six months trying to get it fixed. Then they offered me a deal to go and I took it like a shot.”

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, late nineties. Writing was on the wall for these village police stations already — downsizing. Had three constables working under me back then — these days you’re lucky if there’s still one full-time cop in the station.”

  “True,” said Jack. “So you just moved on?”

  “Wife and I bought a place out in Spain. Took a year out. Back got better …”

  “Sunshine and swimming, hmm?” said Jack.

  “You bet.”

  “Kath and I did a couple of trips. Loved it. You down in the south?”

  “No, Catalunya. Town called Sitges, on the coast, just down from Barcelona. We bought a bar, ran that for a while. Then — well — my wife …”

  Jack saw him pause, and guessed what he was going to say.

  “My wife … same story, Jack. Never expected it. Thought she’d outlive me. Guess that’s how you saw things too?”

  Jack nodded. Brian was skating over this, but he knew those feelings so deeply.

  “Kinda teaches you to enjoy the good times while you can,” said Jack.

  “Hard lesson.”

  Jack looked around. The slow-moving river. The sun beginning to dip behind the far hills. A family — mum, dad, small kids — on a little dinghy with an outboard, chugging home he guessed after a day on the river.

  The kids waved.

  Jack and Brian waved back.

  “But you stayed?”

  “Sure.”

  “So you don’t really come back to Cherringham?” said Jack, turning back. “Must admit, I don’t recall seeing you around.”

  “Not much to come back for,” said Brian, reaching for some potato chips. “Got a new life out there. Good friends. Love the climate. Like this all year round. Middle of winter you can still sit outside sometimes, warm sun on your face.”

  “Any particular reason you’re here now? Apart from the cricket game?”

  “Ha, don’t know how I got roped into that! No — I had some business to deal with over here, couple of elderly relatives to check up on.”

  Jack watched him as he drained his glass. He had a feeling that Brian had something he wanted to talk about.

  And he figured the less he pushed, the more he was likely to hear …

  ***

  Sarah s
tepped back from the whiteboard, put her pens down.

  One one side, the shape of a body and the words — John Doe. The mysterious body. On the other — a photo of Tim Simpson.

  From both, she’d drawn lines — to people, places, evidence in the investigations.

  Tom Vining, the missing watch, Ray Stroud …

  Rogers, Lionel Townes, Todwell House — Amanda and Harry Tyler.

  Fifty thousand pounds. Morocco. The missing car. The year — 1998.

  Then — Karin and Bruno who didn’t connect to the body or Tim but seemed to have it in for both Jack and Sarah.

  The lines between all of these criss-crossed the board. The two cases seeming to invite a link between them — but nothing coalesced.

  Sarah felt frustrated, not knowing where they could go next.

  What would Jack do? she thought.

  That was simple: go back to the beginning and work the case. Dig deeper. If the connections are there you will find them — just work at it.

  ***

  “There was maybe one other reason for coming back,” said Brian. “This body they found upriver. Read about it online.”

  Jack waited.

  “Maybe it was on my watch — you know?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Twenty years ago, they said in the report. What if I was still here then? In charge? It got me thinking — did I miss something? Something I shouldn’t have?”

  “Know the feeling,” said Jack. “But all these years later — there really anything you can do?”

  “Dunno,” said Brian. “You tell me. Word is you’re on the case. And from what I hear you and your pal Sarah have a better record solving crimes than the local constabulary.”

  Jack smiled. “Guess you could say we don’t operate with the constraints that the locals have to. Constraints — you’ll know them, for sure?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “But hey — you know what? I should bring you up to speed on where we are. Maybe between you and me we might make a little headway. What do you say I get the steaks on and we have ourselves a working dinner?”

  “Sounds good. And to be honest — I miss being a detective.”

  “Let’s drink to that,” said Jack. “Time to move onto the beers?”

  “Point me at them.”

  Jack grinned and they both got up. While Brian headed for the fridge and the beers, Jack turned up the barbecue and got to work on the steaks.