The Body in the Woods

by Neil Richards

  My kind of cop, he thought, looking forward to the rest of the evening.

  And maybe helpful in making some headway at last on the case of the insurance man and the body in the woods.

  34. All the Fun of the Fair

  Sarah walked up the hill past the Ploughman’s into the centre of the village, through dense crowds of locals and visitors. A couple of years back, the Carnival Committee had suggested adding a fair to the week of celebrations. There were plenty who’d argued against.

  But now she thought — no wonder Daniel was racing to get here!

  The place was absolutely buzzing.

  On each side of the High Street stood the traditional stalls, all lit up and decked with flags of all kinds (but this year mostly Stars and Stripes and Union Flags entwined).

  Up the middle, past the village hall and on into the square, stood the big fairground rides, most already packed and in full swing.

  Giant carousels, bumper cars, a ghost train, a helter-skelter, and beyond them — towering above the village hall — an enormous Ferris wheel.

  Lights flashing, great neon displays, music blaring, hooters, sirens all mixing into one massive festive atmosphere.

  Sarah worked her way up the High Street, wondering how she would ever spot anyone in this crowd that she wanted to talk to.

  If not, she thought, I can always get back to the computer. Put some more hours in.

  She’d pulled up the archive of the Cherringham local paper from twenty-five years ago — and, page by page, had been going through it. A wide search, looking for anything that even remotely connected to what she and Jack were now calling “the usual suspects”.

  So far — she’d drawn a blank. But she’d only reached 1995. Plenty of pages to go …

  As she drew level with the village hall, lit up with flags and banners — her eye was drawn to the balcony, filled with people.

  A private party going on, it seemed. And there — at the edge of the group she saw Harry Tyler — champagne flute in hand, talking into his phone.

  She climbed the steps to the main doors of the hall and peered inside: the place was packed.

  Tables stood around the lower meeting room with banners above each one — it looked like a reception for the local charities that benefited from the carnival fund-raising.

  She thought about heading upstairs. But the staircase was blocked with a rope and a hard-eyed PR woman with a clipboard: clearly this was an even more exclusive affair — offering the dubious honour of champagne with your local MP?

  No chance of getting a quiet chat with Harry tonight. She turned and headed back into the bustling street.

  “Sarah! How about this?” said a voice behind her. She turned to see Grace — her young partner in the web business — standing with her boyfriend Nick, both drinking beer from plastic glasses.

  “Grace! Yes — it’s pretty amazing,” said Sarah. “You been on any rides yet?”

  “All of them,” said Grace her face flushed with excitement. “I totally want to go again, but Nick here is wimping out.”

  “It’s the screaming I can’t stand,” said Nick, grinning. “Seriously — you two go and have some fun. I’ve seen some mates in the Angel — catch you there later, Grace?”

  And with a wave he was gone.

  “Come on then,” said Grace.

  “What do you recommend?”

  “The pendulum. It’s awesome. Oh — you eaten already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because you certainly won’t want to afterwards.”

  Sarah laughed and followed her young assistant towards the looming giant arm of the pendulum.

  Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw a sudden movement and heard shouting.

  She turned and looked across the street. A scuffle had broken out on the edge of the crowd.

  She saw a bunch of young guys, backing away from an alley that led onto the High Street, hands up as if to say “we don’t want trouble”.

  From the darkness of the alley appeared a figure she recognised.

  Bruno Carter. Still drunk, from the look of him.

  He jeered at the young guys who headed away up the street.

  Sarah watched Bruno make gestures at their backs, then turn and swagger off into the crowd.

  And as she watched, she spotted another figure standing motionless, smoking a cigarette, in the shadow of the village hall.

  Karin Carter. Bruno didn’t seem to have even noticed her. But she’d certainly seen him.

  Sarah watched the woman flick her cigarette stub into the street, and take out her phone. Then she turned and disappeared round the other side of the building.

  “Come on,” said Grace, grabbing her arm. “We can just get on the next ride.”

  And Sarah went with her, wondering what further havoc a drunken Bruno was going to wreak before the night was out.

  ***

  “Perfect steak,” said Brian, taking another bite. “You know your way round a kitchen, Jack.”

  “Know my way round a barbecue maybe,” said Jack. “Summertime — do pretty much all my cooking up here on deck.”

  “Why not? This, salad, some chips — french fries to you — pretty healthy diet I reckon.”

  Jack handed the ex-cop another beer.

  “So what do you think?”

  Jack had taken Brian through the story of the body up at the dig — the discovery, the forensics and finally the missing watch. He watched as Brian put down his knife and fork and took a sip of wine.

  “To be honest, I think you’ve got a case that’s going to go very cold very soon.”

  “It’s been pretty chilly so far,” said Jack, “but that’s what I’ve been thinking too.”

  “I just can’t really see that you have any leads.”

  “Nope. There’s still the watch, I guess.”

  “Maybe. Don’t give up hope quite yet. But it’s a long shot.”

  “And no bells ringing for you? Nothing you remember happening in Cherringham twenty years ago that might link up to the body?”

  “Sorry. Nothing comes to mind. Nothing at all. Which — I have to say — cheers me up no end.”

  Jack laughed — thinking — gotta like a cop telling it the way it is …

  “Because that means you didn’t miss anything at the time?”

  “Exactly,” said Brian with a big smile. “I’m smelling of roses — which is always nice.”

  Jack laughed.

  “I know,” said Brian. “It’s kind of selfish of me.”

  “Brian — you kidding? I totally get it. I’d feel the same way, believe me.”

  “You imagine coming back to an old beat and discovering you’ve missed a major crime?”

  “And some smart-Alec from outta town is all ready and waiting to show exactly how you failed.”

  Brian laughed and raised his glass. “Here’s to smart-Alec cops — and may the good guys always get the better of them.”

  Jack laughed and clinked his glass. “Course — sometimes there is a good case for smart-Alec cops,” he said, “and maybe you’re that very cop tonight.”

  “Go on,” said Brian. “Now you’ve got me really interested …”

  “So — here’s the thing. I think we may have another murder on our hands — right here in Cherringham. And this time it’s not twenty years old. Not even twenty days.”

  Jack saw Brian raise his eyebrows.

  “Tell me more.”

  And Jack told Brian about Tim Simpson — how it linked to the body in the woods and why he thought the insurance salesman might have been murdered.

  ***

  “Enough, enough!” said Sarah, stepping out of the ghost train arm-in-arm with Grace.

  “I haven’t laughed so much in years,” said Grace — which set them both off giggling again.

  “I thought those things were supposed to scare you.”

  “Think we’re maybe not the target demographic,” said Grace, nodding at the line of tee
nagers — lots of couples — lining up to disappear into the dark on the train.

  “Let’s go find Nick and I’ll buy you a drink,” said Grace. “Come on, you paid for all the rides.”

  They headed back up the street to the Angel and joined the throng at the bar.

  While Grace ordered the drinks, Sarah looked around the pub and saw Nick at a table in the corner. He waved and she waved back.

  This was fun.

  Just like the old days before kids, she thought. Larking around at the fair, dropping in for a couple of drinks at the pub …

  For a second she worried about Daniel — then thought, hey, he’s old enough to look after himself.

  And Chloe — well whatever she was up to on a summer’s night in Italy or Croatia or wherever — there was nothing Sarah could do by worrying about it.

  She smiled at the thought. Then, through the window of the pub, she saw what looked like Amanda Tyler hurrying past.

  Jack did ask her to keep an eye out!

  This might be her only chance of catching Harry tonight.

  She called over to Grace to keep hold of that drink. “Just popping out, be back in five!”

  Then she headed out of the door and looked up the street — and yes, it was Amanda.

  And she was moving fast.

  ***

  Quickly Sarah raced after her, past the last of the fairground rides, through the lines of the big trucks that had brought them, towards a small section of the village square that had cars parked.

  Only a few street lights on up here: the square was mostly dark and silent.

  And somehow, intimidating.

  Sarah slowed, keeping to the shadows.

  Was Harry in one of these dark cars? It seemed a little unlikely.

  What was Amanda doing?

  And as Sarah followed, still thirty yards behind, she saw Amanda turn and check behind her.

  Instinctively, Sarah stepped back into the shadow of one of the trucks, watching, until Amanda moved on. Sarah almost creeping to stay out of sight.

  Amanda drew level with one of the cars and looked around again. No doubt about it now — she definitely didn’t want to be seen.

  Then she reached down and opened the passenger door.

  Sarah saw the internal light click on. A man sat in the driver’s seat.

  And it wasn’t Harry. No — this man she didn’t recognise.

  The MP’s wife leaned in across the front seats and the two of them talked briefly, intensely. In the last second before the car light flicked off, Sarah saw Amanda lean close and kiss the man.

  For a good long time …

  Then she pulled back up and got out of the car. Shut the door, straightened her dress and headed back towards the fair.

  Right towards Sarah.

  Sarah spun round to the front of the truck and crouched as low as she could, pressed hard into the shadow. Amanda walked past quickly, just two yards away, not spotting her.

  She stood up in time to see the driver door open — and the man get out. He locked the car then headed the same way. As he passed, Sarah got a good look at him.

  Tall, sharp suit, moustache. She didn’t recognise him — but he perfectly matched exactly Jack’s description from the other day.

  The mystery visitor to Tim Simpson’s guinea pigs.

  Lionel Townes.

  What was Amanda Tyler doing with him?

  And what were they both up to now?

  Sarah stood up and watched him disappear through the trucks, heading towards the lights of the fair.

  She hurried after him.

  Harry, Karin, Bruno, Amanda, Lionel. All here in the square somewhere. Something definitely happening. But what? And how could she follow all of them?

  Then as she emerged into the bright lights of the fair again, she saw the Ferris Wheel …

  And had an idea.

  35. A Long Way Down

  “So you don’t think it’s suspicious?” said Jack, pouring Brian a coffee and settling back into the old beaten up cane sofa that sat on the corner of the deck.

  “Oh I’m sure there’s plenty to be suspicious about,” said Brian, “but I’m seeing things a slightly different way.”

  “Go on.”

  “This guy, Simpson? From what you told me, a loner. Bit of a mystery. Twenty years ago maybe has some kind of breakdown — which by the way does ring a bell, got a memory there was an incident in one of the pubs, a fight he got involved in. Back in Spain I still got diaries, I can check for you.”

  “Appreciate that.”

  “Welcome. So the guy’s a tad odd, hmm? Round peg, square hole. Doesn’t come back to Cherringham — but then turns up when this dig starts, sneaks around in the woods watching.”

  “If Ray’s got it right.”

  “Well, true. This Ray of yours sounds a little unreliable.”

  “Maybe, sometimes more than a little.”

  “Nevertheless. The body’s dug up, Tim goes missing, cashes in fifty grand. You know how that plays for me?”

  Jack shrugged.

  “Tim’s actually your missing link in the real murder case. What if he’s your killer all those years ago? Who knows why — relationship gone wrong? Jealousy? Drugs? Crime of passion? Kid buries the body, has a breakdown, leaves the village, gets over it — then hears about the dig, comes back to check, sees the worst, panics. Takes the money — does a runner.”

  “What about the emails?”

  “Dunno. Pretty flimsy — not like a real blackmail letter. Maybe sends them to himself?”

  “And the whole vacation thing — Morocco?”

  “Just a cover.”

  “So you don’t think Tim’s been murdered?”

  “Seems like a bit of a stretch to me, Jack. Not even dead, I’d say. Jumped in the car, loaded with cash, and took off. Could be anywhere — Scotland, Wales. Caravan somewhere, lying low, right now.”

  “And the connection to Todwell?”

  “Yeah, that really sounds like a red herring to me. So what if the guy worked there as a student twenty years ago? I can hardly remember what I was doing two years ago, let alone twenty. Don’t blame the Tylers for not remembering.”

  “They did seem to be hiding it. Least, seemed that way to me.”

  “Maybe. Can’t say I really knew them myself but I never heard a bad word said about them. They always came across as a nice couple — plenty of money, to be sure, but gave lots of local lads jobs over the years — opportunities, chances. And Tyler — good MP. Yup. Think you’re barking up the wrong tree there, Jack. They’re givers, not takers.”

  Jack nodded.

  Made sense. Maybe Brian was right. Maybe he and Sarah had been coming at this from the completely wrong angle.

  Jack saw Brian look away, towards the village, the lights of the fair flashing neon colours in the night sky. On the far horizon, a half moon rising. The sound of music and distant voices drifted down towards the river.

  “God. Hope that doesn’t go on too late,” said Brian. “My room looks right out onto the square.”

  “You going to stay for one more?” said Jack. “Got a nice single malt needs testing.”

  “Well — why not?” said Brian, smiling. “No way I’m getting to sleep with that racket still going on. Might as well put the time to better use.”

  “A man after my own heart,” said Jack, heading below for the bottle and the best crystal.

  A nightcap.

  Though Jack had more on his mind than just a final drink with his new friend.

  ***

  Sarah sat back against the leather seat in the carousel of the Big Wheel and waited while the operator pulled the metal bar across her lap and locked it into place.

  She watched him step away, cigarette in mouth, and check there was nobody else wanted a ride.

  Above her, she could see the other seats filled with excited teenagers and couples, the wheel lit with a thousand bulbs against the sky.

  Then — with a lurch — they
were off.

  Slowly, she rose into the darkness. Below — a perfect view of the rides and the stalls, and the hundreds of revellers still crowding the High Street.

  She saw the lower meeting room of the village hall still lit up, though the upper floors were now dark; the sponsors’ party seemed over.

  Just one or two figures moving around in the darkness of the balcony, presumably clearing up.

  As she reached the top of the circuit she could see over the hall right across Cherringham, to the Ploughman’s at the edge of the village and beyond to the boats on the river, many still lit up.

  Is Jack down there right now, out on his deck in the moonlight? she wondered

  Such a gorgeous summer night.

  And now as her seat swung lower again, she peered into the crowd, looking for faces she could recognise.

  The stalls were all doing good business: people throwing hoops, firing cork guns at targets, trying to win dopey prizes, lining up for hot dogs and burgers …

  Somewhere down there, she was sure, were Amanda and Harry. Something was going on tonight down in those streets, she was sure of it. But what?

  Slowly the seat looped round at ground level. She saw Grace and Nick and gave them a wave. Grace held up a glass of wine and grinned — oops, forgot that, thought Sarah.

  Then up into the sky once more. Rising away from the lights, level now with the village hall balcony again, her eyes scanning the crowd, searching …

  … and catching a movement on the balcony that didn’t quite make sense.

  The shape of a man moving fast — as if running away, or maybe staggering? Falling?

  Then getting up, with difficulty. Wavering. And then another shape there on the balcony — what was happening? Some kind of crazy fight? A drunken brawl?

  Sarah stretched in her seat, leaning out into the void to see, as the wheel reached its height — and started its dizzying descent again.

  And as she dropped out of the sky, so she saw someone drop from the balcony too.

  A man, in shirt and jeans, tumbling, arms flailing, legs bent, upside down, the thirty-foot drop seeming to go on forever …

  And now she heard a shout. A panicky cry. Louder even than the thudding music that blared from the speakers of the rides.