The Body in the Woods

by Neil Richards

  “I know — sounds weird.”

  “Well shouldn’t be a problem changing the movie. It’s all a simple download, so my computer experts tell me! Mind telling me the title?” Now Tony grinned. “If that isn’t giving too much away?”

  Jack laughed.

  What a good friend Tony was. No questions asked.

  A keeper.

  And he told him the title …

  “I’ll get onto it right away. And I’ll handle the announcement. Invent some technical issue.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  And he watched Tony walk back to the finish line, phone in hand, already calling his technical team.

  Coming his way was Sarah.

  And from her face, he guessed she had some new information.

  Yes.

  Things had just turned even more interesting … and maybe more deadly.

  47. To Catch a Killer

  Sarah sat in the front seat of Jack’s Austin Healey Sprite and waved at the cheering crowds lining the High Street.

  She tried hard to smile.

  After all — this was the big carnival procession, the climax to the week’s festivities.

  Up ahead, right at the front of the line, she could just see the brass band leading the way, once again working their torturous spell on some American movie classics.

  Behind them, the floats and displays, packed with people dancing, cheering, waving.

  And then the line of vintage cars: the Mini Coopers, the classic taxis, big American cars with fins, even an old London bus.

  And behind them — she and Jack in his old sports car, top down in the last of the evening sun.

  She looked across at Jack, shades on, driving into the sunset, one hand on the wheel, one elbow resting on the door frame.

  His face set though.

  He’d told her the plan. And she’d told him about what she’d found at Karin and Bruno’s house. That news had made them both even more aware of what was at stake — and the risks involved — in what they were about to do.

  She’d thought he wouldn’t be pleased that she’d gone to Bruno’s place on her own.

  But, in fact, what he’d said made sense.

  “Sure. Sometimes you feel it’s just quicker to get on the damn case on your own. I understand that, Sarah. But always tell your backup where you’re going. Just in case, hmm?”

  And she knew he was right.

  Even though the farm had been deserted, she’d still taken a risk.

  And if — as now seemed oh so very likely — Tim Simpson must be buried somewhere under those scrubby fields, whoever had put him there would surely not hesitate to kill again.

  She and Jack had discussed telling Alan straight away about the car in the garage, so the police could start digging …

  But Jack had persuaded her that tonight’s plan was the quickest way to uncover the killer.

  And she had agreed.

  Digging up the farm would have to wait a day.

  Poor Tim Simpson, she thought. Lured to a lonely death, killed because he knew too much.

  She looked at the cheering crowds lining the pavement. Soon they would reach the top of the High Street — and the cars would peel away to drive on towards Todwell House.

  There, she knew — on the grand sweeping lawn that rolled down to the river — the big screen was all ready and waiting. The cars would line up.

  Champagne would be served. Canapés. A party atmosphere.

  On a great summer night.

  And then, with the sun set, the guests would return to the cars and Cherringham’s Great American Drive-in Movie Night would commence.

  Just two weeks ago she’d been so looking forward to this evening, so thrilled to be a part of the fun.

  The edge had gone from that excitement.

  But now, as the cars speeded up, and Jack turned and nodded to her, she began to feel a different kind of thrill.

  The thrill she only felt when she and Jack reached the end of a case and were about to come face to face with a killer …

  And bring them to justice.

  ***

  As they got closer to the great lawn that ran from the Tyler’s estate down to the river, Sarah saw the grass dotted with teenagers in iridescent vests, directing each car into a curved row, and a space to take in the movie.

  All the cars faced a large white wall — the movie screen for the evening.

  She turned to Jack.

  “This bring back memories?”

  But she noted that his eyes, his face, looked concerned.

  “Maybe. Um … they’re packing the cars in a bit tight.”

  He slowed as they drew level with a teenage boy — torch in one hand, not yet on.

  The boy leaned down to Jack. “Cool car.”

  Jack nodded. The boy handed Jack a piece of paper.

  “Tells you there how to tune the radio. So you can hear the movie. Now, down this row please. Should be a good spot, bang in the centre.”

  Jack nodded. “You know, you got the cars a little tight in here. Even for my small Sprite.”

  The kid looked confused.

  “Um, we were told to expect a lot of people. They reckon it might be the biggest last-night event for any Cherringham Carnival, ever!”

  Jack looked at Sarah.

  She thought: he’s not pleased.

  But then Jack smiled and followed the car in front of him, rolling slowly over the cut grass before curving into a slot facing the big screen.

  Then he killed the engine.

  Everyone here — probably excited at the novelty. A drive-in movie in the Cotswolds!

  But Sarah knew that — for the two of them — the movie was anything but the main attraction.

  ***

  And now they waited while their lane filled.

  To the left, Sarah saw the VIP tent, designed for special guests, local officials, the committee itself.

  “We going to go over there?” she said. “I mean, you are eligible …”

  Jack shook his head.

  “No. Think we keep a low profile. Least until all the players are in motion.” He turned to her. “And Larwood makes his big appearance.”

  “You’re sure he’s not going to back out?”

  She knew they had a lot hanging on Larwood doing his best to scare Harry, Amanda and Karin; and, with Lionel’s help, maybe get them to say enough to reveal who was the murderer.

  So, while they waited …

  “This the way it was? Back home? The drive-ins?”

  The top down, she saw Jack look around. The sky had darkened even more, those early clouds now rolling in.

  That top might not be down for long.

  He turned to her. “Well, to be honest, Brooklyn didn’t have many drive-ins. By the time I was a teenager, they had nearly all closed.”

  He grinned.

  “And for a teenager with a car, that was unfortunate. Drive-ins — on a date — could be useful.”

  “I bet.”

  “But the drive-ins did hang on out on the island for a while.”

  “The island?”

  “Oh — Long Island. More open country. People who had modest summer houses. My uncle had a place, right on a canal that led to Great South Bay, then out to the Atlantic itself. Small fishing boat. And just down the road, the Sunset Drive-in.”

  She could see — in that moment — that Jack had drifted back.

  It was at times like this that she remembered that he came from such a different world. Recently she had begun to see Jack, well, just as one of the villagers, despite being so clearly a New Yorker. Occasionally she was reminded that he really was an outsider here.

  He turned to her again.

  “Then — dunno — TV, colour TV, ACs everywhere … guess it led to the drive-ins disappearing.”

  “And they’re all gone now?”

  “No. They still can be found. Rare though.”

  Then Sarah saw something, over by the tent.

  “Jack. Loo
k.”

  ***

  The sun was setting, but still a diffuse light filled the sky.

  She pointed to the tent with bright white lights hanging from its four corners, those lights growing brighter as the skies darkened.

  Three figures stood in the tent.

  “The Tylers,” he said, “and Karin. Guess she got the news that Bruno’s going to make it.”

  “Or maybe the Tylers wanted her here. No sign of Brian Larwood, though.”

  Jack shook his head.

  “No. Told him to wait till about five minutes after the movie starts.”

  She saw Harry nodding to the other VIPs in the tent, a champagne flute in his hand.

  Amanda — some yards away — was smiling and chatting to people.

  Probably graciously accepting compliments for such a successful carnival, despite the accident with Bruno.

  How terribly unfortunate!

  In minutes, as hosts, they would go to a microphone positioned down on a small wooden platform in front of the screen and announce the winners of this year’s assorted competitions.

  Including the regatta!

  Sarah just hoped that Jack was right about Larwood.

  Without him, even with Lionel’s blurted story, what did they have?

  A messy affair that people just wanted to forget.

  Jack tapped her arm.

  “Okay. We have a new arrival.”

  She turned to face the same direction as Jack.

  Someone in a crisp suit was walking down from the back rows of the cars.

  “Lionel,” she said.

  And even at this distance, his stumbling gait on the sloping grassy hill spoke of someone clearly very agitated.

  “Looks like your little chat in the hotel has him a tad upset.”

  And they watched as the financier — and sometime lover of Amanda — converged on the tent.

  Probably about to erase the smiles from Harry and Amanda’s faces.

  48. The Trouble with Harry

  Sarah wished she had brought her binoculars.

  Would have been great to see the close-up interaction of Harry, Lionel, Karin and Amanda. She could see Amanda casually drifting away from the group — Karin at her elbow — and then the four of them moving away.

  Even without binoculars, Sarah could see their body language spoke volumes. Lionel was gesturing, then even pointing a finger right at Harry.

  And Harry — turning away as if he couldn’t stand whatever Lionel was saying.

  She watched Amanda firmly grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him back to the discussion.

  A look around. Nobody wanting a scene.

  “Looks like they are none too happy with whatever Lionel is telling them,” Jack said.

  “Based on my little chat with Lionel, I suspect he is in full panic mode.”

  Jack laughed. “You did good work, Edwards. I’m guessing right about now he’s sounding like one of Tim’s squealing guinea pigs.”

  But then he saw Pete Bull approach the group and tap Harry on the shoulder.

  Jack looked up at the sky.

  “Dark soon. Movie about to begin.”

  “Yup. They’ll do the awards first. The cricket, the regatta, best carnival costume, all that, then … American Graffiti. I’ve been looking forward to that.”

  Then Jack laughed.

  “Oh. Um, I’m afraid you’re about to be disappointed then.”

  She turned to him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Little surprise I planned. For them,” he gestured to the VIP tents, “and for you too. I mean, surprises are fun, aren’t they?”

  And she couldn’t imagine what Jack had done.

  “Guess it’s pointless asking exactly what you have set up?”

  “Oh, just wait. All shall be revealed,” he said.

  Sarah turned back towards the tent and saw Harry — followed by Amanda and the other committee members — walking to the microphone.

  She hoped that Jack was right.

  ***

  Jack saw Sarah look down at the sheet of paper.

  “Okay, it says tune to station 89.1 for the audio,” she said, “for whatever movie you have planned.”

  Jack smiled at that.

  And though he was trying his best to project a sense of being “okay” with this, he still wondered.

  Had Larwood been convinced — intimidated — enough to show up?

  A lot was riding on that.

  He turned the radio on. Dialled to 89.1

  Jack looked around.

  Shadows deepening as Harry talked, words coming through the radio, announcing the winners of the assorted competitions, seemingly disconnected from the small illuminated man down by the makeshift “big screen”.

  And — Jack thought — he’s hurrying.

  They had set up a single spotlight that lit Harry up, and projected his shadow onto the white wall.

  Amanda stood by his side. The sheets of paper in his hands shook. He seemed unusually distracted.

  Going to get worse, Jack thought. Just wait, Harry.

  He cleared his throat. “And finally for the Annual Cherringham Carnival Regatta, we have some of the winning teams here tonight, starting with the children’s race—”

  He looked down, fumbling with his sheets of paper.

  “Wonder, what the prize is for winning,” Jack said to Sarah. “I never asked! Bunch of coconuts?”

  That made Sarah laugh.

  “It should be. And a bunch to you as the designer of the mayhem.”

  “Least no one drowned!”

  Jack had sensed Sarah growing more and more tense tonight — understandable given what they were to do.

  So good to hear her laugh.

  He watched as, one by one, the regatta teams took to the stage to collect their awards. All the while, Harry looking more uncomfortable in the spotlight.

  Harry continued. “And last but not least, for the men’s fours, it’s the team of … Willy Penfold, Tom Shandy, Mike Foy, and Barry Simms! Um, well done to all the crews, who made for such an entertaining day on the river.”

  A bunch of cars, led by the line of vintage cars parked in front, flashed their lights.

  Applauding, Jack guessed.

  “You know — that’s what we used to do when the drive-in movie didn’t start fast enough.”

  Then Harry’s last words.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, tonight’s main attraction! Enjoy the film …”

  He started to walk away, Amanda beside him.

  When Tony suddenly leapt to the platform.

  He had an announcement.

  “Okay. Here we go,” Jack said.

  Despite everything — this was indeed fun.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have had a teeny problem with our film tonight. A technical problem of some sort. But fear not! We do have an amazing substitute.”

  Jack felt Sarah look at him.

  Surprising his partner like this was always such fun!

  “Another American film, actually from the era of drive-ins, but directed, yes, by one of our very own, the great master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock. It’s a bit of a rarity, you know. For years, a devil of a job to get hold of a copy. But we’ve managed it! And you’re going to see it tonight! I won’t keep you guessing any longer. So, without further ado, I’m sure you will all enjoy, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry!”

  Tony leapt off the platform.

  A lot of people were probably disappointed.

  In the states they’d be honking their horns in protest!

  Harry — hearing the change of movie — had stopped cold.

  He turned around, staring back towards the screen.

  But Jack was also aware of Sarah turning too, eyes wide.

  “What? You have got to be kidding me. The Trouble with Harry?”

  “Nice, hmm? All about a murdered corpse that shows up on a hillside! Figured every
bit of pressure can’t hurt. Now …”

  Jack looked at his watch.

  “Let’s see — with all buttons pushed, and all clues uncovered — if we can in fact solve this case … tonight.”

  ***

  Sarah looked at the impromptu screen on the great lawn, the rows of cars splayed out in front of it.

  The gathering clouds would soon get lost in the darkness.

  She turned to Jack — “This is amazing. Like we’ve all been transported to 1950s America.”

  He laughed, “One big difference? Drive-ins have hot dogs, buttered popcorn, coke, cold beer … but no Champagne.”

  “Well, we do have to keep something British, yes?”

  “Yup. And, um, what could be more British than Champagne?”

  Sarah laughed. Then followed Jack’s gaze over to the tent. She sensed he was getting worried. Had he pressed Larwood too hard? Would their ace-in-the-hole not materialise?

  And where would that leave them?

  She turned her attention back to the screen.

  After the old-fashioned credits with a jaunty soundtrack ended, the screen filled with a church steeple, and trees exploding in autumnal colours.

  She wondered why Jack had picked this film: Was it just for its title? But then she saw a young boy — a small figure making his way through the colourful woods …

  That first moment of tension.

  Classic Hitchcock.

  “Where the hell is Larwood?” Jack said. He turned to Sarah. “Is Lionel Townes going to have to be our plan B?”

  She bit her lower lip. “Hmm. He was scared — but enough to reveal who the murderer was? I don’t think so.”

  She turned back to the screen. The shot now tight on the small boy, who was holding some kind of toy ray gun.

  Then — a gunshot!

  Coming through the car speaker.

  The suddenness of it made Sarah jump in her seat. She turned back to Jack but he was still looking in the direction of the tent.

  “Wait a second,” he said. “Take a look.”

  Amongst the backlit figures in the tent she could make out the shapes of Amanda and Harry.

  And someone else.

  Walking over to them.

  “Is that—?”

  “Larwood?” Jack said. “Not sure. Looks like it is. Big guy. Whoa — he’s waving at someone else.”

  “That’s Lionel. He’s getting him over as well.”