The Body in the Woods

by Neil Richards

  Then Miriam stopped.

  “And I’m guessing, Miriam. You thought that might have something to do with Tim Simpson’s private life, hmm?”

  Miriam nodded. “That’s what I thought. The two of them —going away. I didn’t want people — other people — to know. At least, at first, that’s what I thought. But now, still with no sign of Tim, no word, I had to tell someone.”

  The woman took a deep breath. This was hard for her. “I decided — to tell you.”

  The woman looked away. Some teenagers had occupied one of the picnic tables. Soon people would start showing up with their lunches. This place — suddenly not so secluded.

  Then Miriam looked back at Sarah. “Maybe it’s all nothing, you know. But I had to tell someone.”

  Sarah patted the woman’s right hand.

  “You were right to tell me. And Miriam, not to worry, I can also be discreet. No matter what we learn about what happened to Mr Simpson.”

  And with that, Sarah thought Miriam was going to cry.

  She sniffed, the moment passing. “And I’d better get back to work.”

  Sarah smiled, thinking — you’re not the only one.

  She started her car, and slowly backed out of the parking spot.

  40. When Things Come Together

  An hour later, and back in the office, Sarah raced through a proofread on a brochure that Grace had been putting together.

  “The online copy’s pretty much the same text,” said Grace putting a coffee on Sarah’s desk. “Is okay?”

  “More than okay,” said Sarah. “Couple of typos — I marked them — but otherwise, good to go. Great work, Grace!”

  Grace’s face broke into a big smile.

  Thank God for Grace, thought Sarah. Time to dig into what Jack found.

  She quickly brought up the Rolex site — which turned out to be easy to navigate. Designed to facilitate the process of authenticating Rolex watches sold around the world, Sarah found it simple to create an account, password, and then gain entry to the limited database.

  Then it was just a matter of entering the watch’s serial number.

  The site — sluggish — took a while to respond.

  And — there it was.

  The date the watch was sold.

  June 5, 1998.

  And where the watch was purchased.

  Barcelona.

  She sat back in her chair.

  Thinking of Larwood, living in Sitges.

  Sarah knew the place from her student trips there: a beach-front town filled with cafés, restaurants, clubs. And also expensive homes that sat in the nearby hills, looking down on the town and the Mediterranean.

  And Barcelona — just a thirty-minute train ride away.

  She picked up her phone. Called Jack.

  And while the phone connected, she thought of Bruno’s fall.

  His push.

  Could someone like Larwood be capable of more than trying to throw Jack off the trail?

  Larwood had been on Jack’s boat during the carnival. But even so — could he be connected to Bruno’s accident?

  Then — Jack’s voice.

  “Sarah?”

  “Jack — can you talk?”

  “Yup. Just arrived at the regatta. How’d you get on in Bourton?”

  And she told him what had happened that morning. How Rogers had kicked her out — but how Miriam had then sought her out.

  ***

  Jack stopped in his tracks — staring out across the full car park towards the river where the regatta was due to start in just half an hour.

  “You’re sure it was Bruno she saw?” he said.

  “Jack — I got a good look at his van at the cricket match. Got to be the same one.”

  “So Tim went off with Bruno. And never came back.”

  “Looks that way,” said Sarah. “Think I should go check out Karin’s place? That’s where he’s living these days, apparently.”

  Jack thought about this.

  “Not sure. Maybe we do that together, hmm? When we know a bit more about what the hell’s going on.”

  “Okay,” said Sarah, “how about I go talk to Lionel instead? He’s staying at The Bell. Just up the road.”

  “Good idea. Maybe press his buttons? But Sarah — after last night — be careful.”

  “Always.”

  Jack tried to process the new information — make sense of the connections. “Bruno and Tim — I don’t get it,” he said. “What’s the link? Were they working together?”

  “I doubt it,” said Sarah.

  Jack looked down to the river: rowers were out already, warming up.

  “And why two cars?” said Jack, half to himself.

  “What?”

  “Just thinking aloud,” he said. “Hey — nearly forgot — you find anything about the watch?”

  “I did, Jack. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  Then he listened as Sarah now told him what she’d found on the Rolex site.

  ***

  When Sarah had finished, there was silence. She could imagine how Jack was feeling.

  “It’s not a coincidence — is it?” she said.

  “No,” said Jack. “Harry and Brian with a condo near Barcelona — and then a body turns up just a couple of miles from Cherringham with a watch bought there? That’s no coincidence.”

  “Think Larwood is going to be there — at the regatta? Now?”

  “Bound to be. Seemed real interested in things. And if he’s pretending that he just popped back to Cherringham for the carnival, I’m sure he’ll show up, nice and casual.”

  She hesitated.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “That game he was playing? Two can play at that.”

  Sarah sensed that Jack was putting a plan together.

  “Look. I gotta dash. Running late. One more thing. The movie tonight — after the carnival procession? Everyone usually goes to that?”

  “You mean like Harry, Amanda …?”

  “And her sister, if she isn’t by Bruno’s bedside.”

  “If she’s not, that in itself would be interesting. Guy’s in a coma — ex-husband or not. But, yes, everyone will be there. It’s pretty much the high point of the whole week. They hand out the awards too — so the Tylers are sure to attend.”

  “And who’s in charge of the show?”

  “Tony, I imagine,” said Sarah. “It’s American Graffiti, right? Your choice. Everyone’s looking forward to it.”

  Jack laughed. “Think they won’t be disappointed.”

  “Hmm? What are you up to, Jack?”

  “Must run but I’ll tell you later. Promise. See you down here by the river later this afternoon, hmm?”

  “Okay. I’ll keep my eye out for you — and your coconuts.”

  And she heard Jack laugh as the call ended.

  41. The Regatta

  Jack took a moment to look at the river, the boats, the crowds on both riverbanks — all here for the big event he planned.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure his light-hearted approach to a revered Cherringham tradition was such a good idea.

  He saw Ray downriver, in his barge’s dinghy, anchored near one of the turning points in the loop that the regatta teams needed to take.

  And down at the other end of the loop, he saw the line of small sailboats, all paired. Some had gone full out in the costuming department, following the American–British theme.

  One boat held redcoats, cherry red in the glorious sun. Their teammates in another sailboat, all in Continental Army blue.

  Wherever had they gotten those revolutionary war costumes?

  And in another, GIs, looking as if they might be taking their daysailer to hit the beaches of Normandy.

  British soldiers in the other.

  And one team even went for cartoon characters, along national lines of course. A Mickey and Goofy teamed with what looked like a Pooh Bear and Piglet.

  How would they ever handle th
e sailing in such outfits? That would be something to see.

  Then he spotted Daniel, on a small floating dock near the starting point. And true to his word, Daniel had stacked a mighty pile of coconuts.

  Everything looked all set, just awaiting the starter pistol to be fired by none other than Lady Repton.

  Apparently the ancient but feisty dowager’s role was another Cherringham tradition.

  Jack looked around for Brian Larwood. As much as he just wanted to enjoy this race to come …

  Talking to Larwood … confronting Larwood … was far more important.

  But it was going to have to wait.

  Then — the gunshot.

  A puff of smoke, and the first line of sailboats set off, racing to the mound of coconuts, before tacking, and hurrying to Ray at the turn-around point.

  ***

  Sarah knew the girl at the desk of The Bell Hotel

  A peer of Chloe’s — someone she had seen her daughter and friends hanging with.

  Then — the name came to her.

  Claire.

  “Hi Claire.”

  “Oh, Ms Edwards, hello? You not down by the river?” The girl made a face. “Wish I was. I hear they’ve got some strange things planned for this year. Oh — how’s Chloe?”

  ”Well, I’ve not heard from her for a couple of days. But I’m sure she’s having fun.”

  “Bet she’s having a smashing time.”

  “Not too smashing I hope …”

  Claire smiled. “Um, Ms Edwards, can I help you? You need something?”

  “Actually I do. You have a Mr Lionel Townes staying here?”

  Claire suddenly looked unsure. “Oh, we’re not supposed to say anything about anyone staying at the hotel.” Claire leaned close to Sarah. “I could get sacked for that, you know.”

  Sarah nodded. As much as she wanted to speak to Lionel Townes, she didn’t want to get the girl in trouble.

  But then Claire looked left, then right. “Ms Edwards, I know what you and your American friend did, last year. When we had that trouble at our school? That was good what you did.”

  The girl took a breath.

  Then locking eyes, she went to the cubbies for guests’ keys and mail.

  And, as if simply checking it, she went to one cubby hole. Reached in, took a key out, then replaced it.

  The number of the cubby: 303.

  When Claire turned back she wore a smile.

  Sarah nodded.

  “Nice chatting, Claire,” Sarah said. And then she turned and headed towards the big open staircase.

  She knew Lionel’s room would be on the third floor. As she climbed the last flight of stairs she heard voices from the corridor above — one of which she recognised.

  A female voice. Hard. Clipped.

  Karin Carter.

  Sarah stopped on the second floor landing and stepped back out of sight behind a laundry trolley. Peering over the top, she saw Karin appear on the turn of the stairs above her, then head down.

  The woman looked serious, intense.

  And as Karin passed, Sarah saw her pause and stuff a fat envelope into her handbag — then carry on down the stairs.

  Interesting. Had she just been to visit Lionel Townes?

  Maybe it was a good idea after all that she hadn’t gone to the Carter house.

  So much for Karin being by Bruno’s bedside.

  Sarah carried on upstairs until she reached the third floor. Room 303 was just opposite.

  Down the corridor she could see a chambermaid at an open bedroom door.

  Within shouting distance if she needed it …

  She took a deep breath. Was this crazy? For all she and Jack knew, Lionel might be behind the murders. Right now — was she about to enter the lion’s den?

  Or was Lionel just a mouse?

  Only one way to find out …

  She knocked on the door.

  ***

  The race began, and the redcoats were first to swing by Daniel’s float, one of the team awkwardly reaching out and grabbing a coconut.

  Now they had to sail to where Ray waited, transfer the coconut to him, and hurry back to their partners.

  Then that boat had to do the loop, pick up that same coconut from Ray without tipping the boat or dropping it, and bring it back.

  First team to bring in five coconuts wins!

  And though Jack had been unsure about his obviously wacky idea, he saw people grinning, pointing — definitely enjoying the bizarre river spectacle.

  Might not be the kind of sailing competition that old Henry VIII would have commanded. But for Cherringham, on a sunny carnival day — it looked perfect.

  But then he took another look around.

  Off in the horizon — though this day was still brilliantly sunny — he saw a few greyish clouds had gathered like unwanted spectators at the event.

  Weather maybe about to change?

  Still no Larwood.

  He’d thought for sure the old Cherringham cop would appear.

  But had he left the village already? Gone back to Spain?

  Had Jack missed his opportunity?

  ***

  Sarah knocked again. Then a series of sharp, firm taps.

  Before hearing a voice.

  “Hang on. One sec. Be right there.”

  And Lionel Townes opened the door.

  He look confused, startled, expecting maybe a chambermaid.

  Or a return visit from Karin Carter?

  “Um, yes? Is there something wrong?”

  Jack wanted buttons pushed.

  If that’s what he wanted, then best she got started.

  “Mr Townes. Lionel. We need to talk.”

  “Hmm? What do you mean, talk? What about?”

  “About fifty thousand pounds.”

  Townes’ eyes went wide.

  “That’s what you were looking for, I imagine, at Tim Simpson’s house? Oh, and we also know about Sitges. Yes, and about your relationship with Amanda and Harry Tyler. Tim’s disappearance. Oh yes — and about what happened in Cherringham twenty years ago that led to the death of a young man.”

  And for a moment, Lionel Townes stood there. A statue. One hand locked on the door edge. His eyes glassy, as if he had suddenly been turned into stone.

  As if he’d been expecting this moment for years.

  And maybe he had …

  “You’d better come in,” he said.

  Then he turned, his shoulders slumped, and walked back into the room.

  She watched him sit on the corner of the unmade bed.

  “And shut the door behind you.”

  42. Confession

  Sarah closed the door, walked into the room and looked around to make sure there was nobody else in here. Checked the bathroom.

  But the place was empty.

  Apart from Townes, perched on the bed, looking like he’d been punched in the stomach.

  His case stood half-packed on a stool under the window. A laptop open on the desk.

  And, next to it, a small jewellery box. Sarah walked over, picked it up. Printed in gold on the lid, the words “Time Flies. Swindon”.

  She flipped it open. Inside — a Rolex watch on a little velvet stand. The metal strap tarnished and scuffed.

  She didn’t have to take the wristband off to know that it was — the Rolex.

  “Amazing how they can still work after so long buried in the ground — isn’t it?” she said.

  “How the hell …?”

  She turned to see him watching her. Then he leaned forward, his head in his hands.

  “What a bloody mess,” said Lionel.She took the chair from behind the desk and spun it round and sat, so she faced him — just a few feet away. Wanting to hold this mood of despair, keep his focus — knowing that he was ready to talk.

  “It is a mess, Lionel,” said Sarah. “And it’s not going to go away. In fact — it’s been getting worse — hasn’t it?”

  He looked up, his eyes wet.

  “Wh
at with your friend Tim gone. And now Bruno in hospital.”

  The names seemed to catch him short.

  “Tim went to M—”

  Sarah shot up a hand. “We know that’s not true, Lionel. Tim Simpson never went to Morocco.”

  Time to reveal the full charge book …

  “And then of course there’s the money. Not only the fifty grand you were searching for at Tim’s house when my friend Jack found you. But the money you just gave Karin Carter for the watch, I’m guessing. The special deal you arranged on the villa in Spain for Brian Larwood.”

  Lionel looked up, his eyes, probably laser-like when it came to financial finagling, now misted over.

  “Oh God.”

  Trapped. Scared.

  “Lot of money. Even for someone like you, someone who works in the City, a captain of finance.”

  That made Lionel stand up. And for a moment Sarah thought she’d gone too far, scared him too much.

  “Look, I don’t have to sit here, and answer your questions, your sleazy accusations. Whoever the hell you are, I can call my lawyer, and—”

  “You could do all that. Or — if you have done nothing, and to avoid the scandal — we can talk. I imagine you know that with doubts being raised, in any legal system, things can happen, you know? Things go wrong. Innocent people do get hurt.”

  Lionel waited.

  Then slowly …

  “What do you want?”

  “The truth.”

  The man seemed to be weighing the offer.

  Then she added, more softly. “Lionel. You know what happened all those years ago — don’t you?”

  A nod. And yes, a visible gulp.

  “You have to talk.”

  Lionel was not exactly made of the sternest stuff.

  Then, as if presented with a contract that must be signed, he opened his mouth, forming his one word with precision.

  The dance was over.

  “Okay.”

  And Sarah didn’t even bring out her notebook, since she had no doubt she’d remember every single word that Lionel would say.

  ***

  “It was August. Summer of ’98. I was working as Harry’s agent — he’d just been elected earlier in the year. Exciting times — so I was up and down from London most weeks.”

  Lionel looked away, as if back there.