by Chris Dolley
“None of us saw anything, chief inspector,” said the Brigadess. “If we had we’d have come forward.”
Shand could barely get the words out. He was stunned. All that time he’d been searching for witnesses, and here were a dozen riding up and down the chalk track at the time of the murder! None of whom could be bothered to come forward!
“Why?” he asked. “Why on earth couldn’t anyone come forward?”
“To keep the hunt secret,” said Sandy. “If the press got wind of us hunting at night, the sabs would have been alerted.”
“Not to mention the tabloids. There were enough rumours about Satanists and cults without dragging the hunt into it. We’d have been branded as witches.”
Shand didn’t doubt it. But this was a murder enquiry for Christ’s sake!
“What time did you start out?” he asked.
“Five past twelve,” said Sandy.
“That’s very precise.”
“We had to give the runners a twenty minute start. They left at eleven forty-five.”
“Lee and Marius,” said Shand, more to himself than a question. He was already constructing the time line – Lee and Marius would have reached the woods about eleven fifty. One takes the drag and runs off, the other…
The other is alone to do whatever he wants.
“Did you ride past the stone circle?”
“No, we turned off as soon as we entered the woods,” said the Brigadess. “We didn’t go within a mile of the circle all night. Otherwise we’d have come forward.”
Shand let it pass – with difficulty – a part of him wanted to arrest the entire hunt for obstructing a murder investigation.
“Who set the course?” he asked. “Lee?”
“Yes.”
Perfect. He plans the murder, arranges an alibi, and plots the course to keep the witnesses out of the way.
“Did you see Lee at all during the hunt?”
“Not until we caught him. Which would have been about two thirty.”
“And then what happened?”
“We turned around and came home.”
“And Lee?”
“He fetched the other boy, and came back too.”
“We lay on an early breakfast for everyone,” said Sandy. “And have a collection for the runners.”
Shand glanced up towards the chalk track. The curving line caught the moonlight as it swung up the valley towards the trees on the crest of the hill. No sign of Lee or Marius yet. But it shouldn’t be long. Not with food and cash waiting to be handed out.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
The Brigadess looked at her husband and then at Shand. “You might want to have a word with Lisa,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”
~
They found Lisa coming out of the tack room.
“Shall I start breakfast…”
Her words froze on her lips the moment she recognised Shand.
“It’s all right, Lisa,” said the Brigadess. “He knows. You can tell him when you really found the body.”
Shand listened as yet another brick in his understanding of the case was pulled out, dusted off, and placed somewhere else. Lisa hadn’t been walking her dog at seven. She’d been walking home from the drag hunt at six, noticed the glint of Annabel’s coat and walked over to investigate.
“Then I panicked,” she said. “I thought the killer might still be about, so I run home. Then I started thinking about calling the police, but I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble – you know, with the hunt and that – so I thought I’d take the dog out, and see if she were still there.”
Shand took it philosophically. It might have taken people five days to come forward, but at least they were tying off their own loose ends. He’d sensed a nervousness in both the Brigadess and Lisa’s original accounts of what had happened Friday night. Now he could account for it. Lisa had gone home at seven – as they’d both said. But she’d returned at ten to help with the hunt.
“What time did you pass the stone circle on the way over?” he asked.
“About nine thirty.”
“Did you see any cars parked nearby?”
“No.”
“Anyone parked outside the Benson house?”
“No one at all. The road was clear.”
~
He stayed with the Brigadess after Lisa had left. “You realise I’m going to have to interview everyone who rode on Friday’s hunt?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll provide a list.”
He took another glance around the yard. The horses and dogs had been stowed away, the ramps pulled up and secured. People were drifting towards the house in their twos and threes – a few looked over their shoulders towards Shand, most ignored him. Most probably played golf with the Chief Constable.
He turned back to the Brigadess. It was a long shot, but so many other loose ends had been tied that evening.
“Was George involved with the hunt?” he asked.
“George? No, George didn’t ride. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“It’s just that … I’ve been trying to find an explanation for George’s behaviour all week. And I can’t.”
“Really, chief inspector, the man had his wife abducted and buried alive. How would you feel?”
Relieved I knew where she was. The thought came out of nowhere – nowhere he wanted to admit to. He immediately hated himself for it. How could he wish that on anyone? Was he that insecure?
He changed the subject.
“Helena commented on it herself,” he said. “She was worried about him too.”
The Brigadess sighed and looked hard at Shand who braced himself for another admonition.
But what she had to say was far worse.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“This absolutely must not go any further,” she said, taking him aside. “Do I have your word?”
“Of course.”
The Brigadess took a deep breath. “Helena had some bad news two months ago. She has a brain tumour. Inoperable … and terminal.”
Shand could barely take the news. He felt connected to Helena – responsible even – ever since her hand had shot out of the ground and grabbed his ankle. How much more did the poor woman have to suffer?
He clenched his fists. If Lee Molland entered the yard in the next five minutes, he’d kill him.
“I only found out last night,” said the Brigadess. “She and George had been arguing about chemotherapy. He wanted her to try it. She wanted to die with dignity. They’d been arguing about it the night he’d left for Sherminster. He blamed himself for not being at home.”
Shand felt numb. All those times he’d pushed George, asking him what was wrong, pressuring him to speak. If only he’d known, if only George had said something!
He had to leave, walk away. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry,” and then he was pushing past the Brigadess into the moonlit yard. How had he got things so wrong?
~
When Marcus found him he was still in a daze, re-evaluating everything he’d done, everything he’d said. Had he misread other witnesses? Should he apologise to Gabriel Marchant and Gabe Marsh?
Doubt. It found nourishment in the dark and the lateness of the hour. He hadn’t slept well all week and…
“It’s him, sir,” said Marcus. “Marius. He’s coming down the chalk track.”
It was like throwing a bucket of water over a drunk. All Shand’s negative introspection fell away. If he could get Marius to talk, he’d get Lee Molland.
They hurried back into position, using the shadows and the sides of the stables as cover. And waited. Marius took his time, walking slowly down the gently shelving track. As soon as he entered the yard, Shand stepped into his path.
“Hello,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand. “Marius, isn’t it?”
Marius looked surprised, and slightly nervous. “Yes,” he said, wiping his right hand down his trousers.
They shook hands, Sh
and keeping a firm hold while Marcus circled behind the asylum seeker.
“Police,” said Shand, maintaining his grip. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Marius tried to pull away, but was enveloped by Marcus. There was the barest of struggles before the asylum seeker gave up, his hand going limp in Shand’s grasp.
They took him into an empty stall, and switched on the light. Three straw bales were pushed up against the rear wall, the rest of the box was bare – grey concrete floor, wooden partition walls and an underlying smell of ammonia.
Marcus stood by the door while Shand questioned the asylum seeker.
“Where’s Lee?” he demanded.
Marius cowered, backing against the partition wall and flinching as though expecting to be hit. Shand backed off, and softened his voice.
“We’re police officers, Marius. We’re not going to hurt you. All we need to know is where Lee is. We need to find him.”
Marius shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his feet.
“Is he meeting you here?”
“Maybe.”
“Look at me, Marius,” said Shand, bending his knees and trying to establish eye contact. “Do you need an interpreter?”
Marius continued to speak into his chest. “No. I speak English very good.”
“Okay, Marius,” said Shand, enunciating slowly. “I’m going to ask you questions about Friday night’s hunt. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Who ran the first leg? You or Lee?”
He hesitated before answering. “I … I run first. Lee, he meet me second checkpoint.”
“Checkpoint?”
Marius pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and slowly unfolded it.
“Map,” he said, handing the paper to Shand. “Checkpoint red.”
Shand took the map. It was a black and white photocopy of an Ordnance Survey map. One on each side. One with Wednesday scribbled at the top, the other Friday. Both had coloured lines tracing the route of that night’s drag hunt. Red crosses marked the places where the two men were scheduled to meet and two lines ran between each cross – a long blue line that, according to Marius, marked the circuitous route of the drag run and a short dotted line the other had to walk.
Shand studied the map. Friday’s drag run left the chalk track as soon as it entered the wood from Sixpenny Barton and then snaked northwards. The first checkpoint was north-east of the start – maybe a five or ten minute walk. He made the calculations. They left Sixpenny Barton at eleven forty-five. They would have reached the wood at eleven fifty. Lee would then be on his own. How long did he have before he met Marius at the first checkpoint?
He asked.
Marius shrugged. “Thirty minutes? Lee, he say we run thirty minutes, rest twenty, walk ten. But many times it feel longer.”
Could Lee get to the Green and back in thirty minutes, phone Annabel and kill her?
He stared at the map. It would be one hell of a run. He’d be out of breath by the time he reached the phone box and then he’d have to run another half-hour leg after he ran back up the hill.
It was impossible.
Unless he had a car. Parked on the chalk track waiting. Driven there by the two men who’d abducted Helena.
“Did you hear a car?” he asked.
Marius’s demeanour changed instantly. Up came his head. “No,” he said, shaking it violently. “I see no car. I see nothing!”
Shand saw the fear, the pleading in the man’s eyes. He reached out and placed both hands gently on Marius’s shoulders. Marius flinched, and Shand pulled back. He’d meant it as a supportive gesture.
He tried another approach. “Look at me, Marius. Please. We are not going to hurt you. Do you understand? You are not a suspect. You tell the truth and you go free. You have nothing to fear.”
“I see nothing,” he said quietly, his eyes looking everywhere but at Shand. “No want trouble.”
“What did you see?” Shand continued. “Tell me. I can protect you. You don’t have to worry.”
Marius looked up. “You no deport me?”
“Of course not. We’re not Immigration. We only want to know what you saw. That’s all.”
Marius’s head moved from side to side as if assessing the pros and cons. Then he spoke, the words exhaled like a sigh. “I see car.”
“Where did you see the car, Marius? Show me on the map.”
Shand held out the map of Friday’s hunt and pointed to the chalk track where it ran through the woods. “Was it here?”
Marius looked at the map, taking his time. Then pointed to the other end of the track, by the stone circle. “There,” he said.
Shand stared at the map. Friday’s course didn’t go anywhere near the stone circle. How could he have seen anything that far away?
“When was this? What time did you see the car?”
“After I leave farm. Four a.m.”
“You saw a car by the stone circle at 4:00 a.m.?”
Marius nodded gravely, then added. “I see them carry body from car.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
It took several seconds for Marius’s statement to sink in.
“You saw someone carry a body from a car?”
“Yes.”
Shand still couldn’t believe it. “You’re sure it was a body?”
“In my country I see many bodies. I know dead body when I see one.”
“Did you see who was carrying it?”
“I no stay look. I see car. I see body. I turn fast.”
“What did they look like? Were they tall, short?”
Marius shrugged. “They were people. Light not so good then. More clouds, not so many moons.”
“What about the car? Was it large, small?”
He shrugged again. “It was car.”
Shand paused. Was Marius telling the truth? All his instincts said he was. The body language, the way he spoke. Which meant that Annabel had been killed elsewhere. The pathologist had speculated as much – the cleanliness of her fingernails and clothes. This was the proof. There was another crime scene to be found – the place where Annabel had been killed, and her body stored between midnight and four.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone what you’d seen?” Shand asked.
“If I speak, people say I kill woman. Send Marius home.”
“But you came back tonight to go hunting?”
“I need money. Where else I go?”
Shand let Marcus conclude the questioning. Where Marius had been staying since Friday, his contacts with Lee, Lee’s friends, whether any were from London. Shand sat on a straw bale at the back of the stall, sampling the answers, drifting in and out between the interview and a running analysis he’d constructed in his head.
Annabel had been killed elsewhere and moved later. Why? Because the killer – who until proven otherwise he’d call Lee – was pressed for time? It made sense. Up to a point. Up to the point he introduced the two Londoners and their car. Why hadn’t they moved the body? They abducted Helena at 10:30, buried her between eleven and eleven thirty, drove down the chalk track to wait for Lee at eleven fifty, drove him to the phone box for midnight. Then what? Lee killed Annabel and they drove him back to the chalk track? So why didn’t they dump the body at the same time? They had to drive past the circle.
Or did Lee insist on arranging the body himself? Which he couldn’t do earlier because he was rushing to meet Marius at the next rendezvous?
Shand liked that. And Lee would want to take his time. It was his trademark. Attention to detail. He didn’t vandalise gardens, he rearranged them. He’d wait until he’d finished with the drag hunt then meet up with the others and take Annabel’s body to the circle. Then he’d choreograph the scene, taking his time, imagining the reaction he’d induce, the publicity, the cameras.
Just like George’s murder – another tableau constructed post mortem, Lee returning to the scene to make sure George and the chicken were found together.
<
br /> But if so…
Where was Lee during Helena’s abduction and burial? He had nowhere else to be. He wasn’t expected at the hunt until later. Wouldn’t he want to be there? Wouldn’t he need to be there – to watch, to oversee, to get whatever sick kick he got out of that sort of thing?
Or had Lee been one of the two men?
‘Yes!’ thought Shand, suddenly noticing the quizzical glances from both Marius and Marcus. And the fact that his right foot was tapping wildly on the concrete floor.
“Sorry,” he said, shifting his weight to press down and contain the errant foot. Then he was away again. Lee as one of Helena’s abductors. Lee putting on a London accent. All he needed was a driver. Someone to taxi him back and forth and help carry the bodies. Which was why Annabel had to be taken to the stone circle later. Two people were needed to carry the body, and Lee didn’t have time at midnight. But he did at four. After he’d finished with the hunt.
Everything fitted. The motive, the MO, the timing.
All he lacked was a single shred of evidence.
~
Shand’s mobile rang.
“Remember me?” said an annoyed Saffron. “The girl you’re always running away from, promising to call.”
He’d forgotten all about her.
“Sorry,” he said, a lie forming and rising unbidden from his throat. “I would have rung, but you know how Satan reacts to phone calls.”
Silence. Perhaps Shand had tried it on once too often?
“I have half a mind not to give you this message,” she said.
“What message?”
“The one that starts – remember that boy you were following…”
“You’ve found him?”
“I’m looking at him disappearing through his front door as I speak.”
“He’s returned home?”
“That’s what I just said. Shandy, are you paying attention? I thought my scrying powers had deserted me when I couldn’t get the pendulum to move. But now it’s obvious. I was in the right place all the time. Isn’t that…”
Shand stopped listening.
“We’ve got to go,” he told Marcus. “Lee’s back home.” He turned to Marius. “Go and get your money and something to eat. We’ll send a car to pick you up later. We’ll need you to sign a statement, then you can go.”