Crisis in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  Thea thought at first she must have misheard, but decided it had to be real. ‘Oh – yes. That’s a blackbird. He’s usually stopped by now. Then he starts again in the late afternoon. They’re all over the place, and they answer each other across the woods and fields.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  Birdsong, it seemed, was getting to be something of a theme. There was the Spiller man and his deceased uncle, finding a body when he just wanted to hear the birds. Had Juliet been there for the same reason? The little patch of woods was home to collared doves, buzzards, and a whole range of tits and finches that chorused their daily greetings to the sun as it rose. Juliet had been a country girl, after all. And it was May – a time when people turned a little mad in their sudden awakening to the advent of summer and the existence of other species besides themselves.

  ‘Yes. So …?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t need to talk to your husband. I know he’ll do his best tomorrow. Whatever happens, he’ll make sure it’s properly dignified. The rest of it is my problem, not yours. I know that. But Lawrence doesn’t understand. How could he? He’s so – fragile. That wife of his is all wrong for him. Anybody can see that. She’ll make everything so much worse. She’s sure to try and turn him against me. It wouldn’t be the first time, either. Well – I’m sorry. I’ll go now. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Do you want to? Thea felt moved to ask, but kept her mouth closed. Had she somehow earned Linda Biddulph’s favour, after all? If so – how? She smiled and nodded and started to close the door. ‘I hope it goes well,’ she said vaguely, before leaving the woman to walk away.

  ‘Who was at the door?’ asked Drew, twenty minutes later, when he emerged from his office.

  ‘Linda Biddulph.’

  ‘What did she want? Why didn’t she come in?’ He looked alarmed and confused. ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘Nothing much. She did most of the talking. Lawrence had complained to her about me not letting him in yesterday, and she came to remonstrate. But her heart wasn’t in it, really. I think she’s just killing time until tomorrow. She’s going to tell him about his half-brothers on Wednesday. She must be terrified.’

  ‘All that on the doorstep?’

  ‘Well, yes. Where would I have taken her if she’d come in? Not the kitchen, surely. Or the sitting room. You were on the phone when I answered the door. And, actually, it was more me she wanted than you.’

  ‘Well – thanks for fending her off, then. I’m sure you had better things to do.’

  ‘Like waiting to see if Gladwin was going to call,’ she nodded. ‘And drinking too much coffee.’

  ‘She didn’t, I take it.’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Thea. ‘They’ve probably got the killer already and she’s forgotten to tell me. Why would she waste time doing that, anyway? I’m nothing to do with it, after all.’

  ‘Yes you are. And so am I. We’ve established that. She’d make sure you knew if the investigation was over.’

  ‘I suppose she would.’ Thea thought about Rosa and Adam Rogers and poor Anthony Spiller who found the body. ‘It’s all such a mess,’ she groaned. ‘And I wasn’t very nice to the Biddulph woman, because she was nothing to do with the main event. And that’s bad, because funerals are the main event. I know that. Our livelihood depends on them.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Drew mildly. ‘I find the Biddulphs pretty irritating myself, to be honest. I still can’t understand how they’ve managed to keep Lawrence in the dark for all these years, anyway. Nor why they even wanted to. I was going through it all again just now, and I can’t help thinking there’s more to it. Some other reason than protecting his fragile ego, or whatever it was she said.’

  ‘Well, maybe they thought he’d be crushed by low self-esteem if he met Clovis and had to match up to him. I mean – Clovis is everything Lawrence isn’t. Handsome, good-natured, intelligent.’

  Drew’s eyebrows rose. ‘Steady on! You sound as if you’re getting a thing for him. Besides – how would Linda know he was like that? Has she even met him?’

  ‘Good question.’ Thea felt herself flush, and hoped he wouldn’t notice. ‘We have no idea, really, who knows who. Didn’t somebody say that Clovis lives far enough away for them not to know each other at all?’

  ‘I don’t think we know where he lives,’ said Drew. ‘Linda has an idea it’s Oxford way, but she’s not sure.’

  ‘Okay, but it’s an unusual surname. There must have been a risk that Lawrence would find out the truth just by meeting somebody who knew them both and commented on the name.’

  ‘I still don’t get why it would matter?’ said Drew again. ‘Nobody can give a convincing explanation for it.’

  ‘Money?’ Thea suggested. ‘Does Lawrence stand to inherit everything from his father, unless Clovis and the other one make a claim? Or could it be the other way around? Linda’s more scared of them finding out that Lawrence exists?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, no. That can’t be it. They’ve always known Stephen married again and had another son. The secret only works one way.’

  ‘Of course it does. That was a daft idea. Well, it’s not long now until it’s all settled. Linda’s scared about telling Lawrence, but it seems to me he’s more than half-guessed it anyway. When he came yesterday, it felt as if he wanted me to confirm something he’d heard. It was really difficult to refuse to help him.’ She pouted. ‘If he wasn’t such a whingeing idiot, I probably would have told him. But he’s so childish and pathetic, I just lost patience with him.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was all Drew said.

  ‘Oh, and I saw Mr Shipley just now, as well. He was going off somewhere. I assumed he was coming here to see you, but he wasn’t.’

  ‘It’s not him making the arrangements, anyway. The sister’s husband just phoned. He’s coming on Wednesday. Funeral on Friday.’

  ‘Cutting it fine,’ Thea remarked.

  ‘Not really. Andrew can dig the grave on Thursday, and I can get the coffin put together then as well.’ He’d talked her through the routine many times before, explaining that none of it took very long. The coffins mostly arrived as flat-packs, to be assembled like a very simple Ikea product. Only the more ornate or unusual ones were already put together before delivery. Drew had dropped just such a one on Hepzibah’s leg, the previous Christmas, when unloading it from his van.

  ‘Are you nervous about it?’ she asked him. ‘Seeing as how it’s our neighbour’s sister.’

  ‘A bit. I certainly don’t want to mess it up.’

  Friday still seemed a long way off. Between now and then there was the hurdle of the Biddulph funeral, standing like a thorny hedge right in their faces. Nothing had really been resolved where that was concerned. Clovis could still cause trouble, and the discovery of a likely clash between Mrs Lawrence and her mother-in-law only heightened the tension.

  ‘Well that won’t happen,’ she said with complete confidence.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was just past eleven when Detective Superintendent Gladwin herself came to the door. Thea ran to greet her like a child. ‘Hey!’ she beamed. ‘I didn’t think I’d be seeing you. Come in. What’s been happening? How’s poor Rosa? Have you arrested anybody?’

  Gladwin followed her into the kitchen, saying nothing. Thea produced coffee and waited.

  ‘I can only stay a minute. It’s not going well, I don’t mind telling you. Juliet was known to just about everybody. She visited about fifty people between here and Stanton, via Snowshill and I don’t-know-where. They all liked her and watched out for her, and let her play with their pets. She thought nothing of walking five miles along the paths, and back again, if she fancied visiting somebody. They’re all desperately outraged by what’s happened, and they all want to help.’

  ‘So I’m just one in a long list, then.’

  ‘Not exactly. Your husband was very possibly the last person to see her alive, not counting her killer. We still have no idea what she was doing fo
r three days.’

  ‘Her mother thinks it might have something to do with the badger culling. But I’ve never seen that going on near here.’

  Gladwin shook her head. ‘No – they haven’t been round this way for months now.’

  ‘What about Adam Rogers – the one who says he was her boyfriend? I saw him yesterday.’

  Gladwin’s expression changed to a wary interest. ‘Did you? How come?’

  ‘He was in our field. Apparently, he wanted to see where she died. He’s got some sort of tracking device, so he can go where he likes and his people can always find him.’ Again she shuddered at this sinister method of supervision. ‘I think that’s awful, but he doesn’t seem to mind.’

  ‘He walked there, did he? From Blockley?’

  ‘Apparently. I don’t imagine he drives, does he?’

  ‘No. But he’s got a bike.’ She hesitated. ‘We interviewed him on Saturday afternoon. He wasn’t really her boyfriend in the usual sense. They’ve got him on medication that keeps him damped down sexually.’

  Thea reacted with even greater horror. ‘No! Chemical castration, you mean? I thought they abandoned that in the 1950s. How can that be right?’

  Gladwin made calming motions with her hands. ‘It’s really not so bad. He understands what it is, and seems happy enough to take it. It makes life easier all round. He is awfully big, you know. He could get into all kinds of trouble without these interventions.’

  ‘Huh,’ said Thea.

  ‘It’s the real world, whether you like it or not. Nothing’s ever going to be perfect, is it? The man’s as well integrated and contented as anyone could wish for. Well – he was, until this happened. Now he thinks everyone’s suspecting him of being the killer. He’s read the stories, the same as the rest of us. And it’s not the first time. When he was sixteen, a girl was attacked, and he was in the frame for it. It was years before he got over it.’

  ‘He didn’t do it, obviously.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. But that doesn’t prove anything now – one way or the other.’

  ‘So tell me – please tell me, exactly how Juliet was killed.’

  ‘We’re still not a hundred per cent sure, but the way it looks is that she was hit on the side of the head, while standing close to a tree. That knocked her into the trunk, so that the other side of her head collided with it. And there’s a place on her shoulder as well.’

  ‘A place?’

  ‘Where she’d been struck. But the head injuries caused her death.’

  ‘Both of them?’

  ‘Seemingly so. Neither one was enough on its own, but the double knock did awful things to her brain, and it swelled up inside the skull – fatally.’

  Thea gave this explanation some thought. ‘Does that make it murder or manslaughter, then? The knock against the tree was a sort of accident, wasn’t it? So the actual blow was not bad enough to kill her?’

  Gladwin gave a rueful smile. ‘Wiser heads than mine will have to sort that one out. If it was down to me, I’d go for unpremeditated murder. But we just collect the evidence and present the case to the CPS. So far, the exact charge is academic. We’ve got to find the perpetrator first.’

  ‘Could a woman have done it?’

  ‘Just about. But she’d have to be tall, or have used a long implement, with a fair amount of strength behind it.’

  ‘Can’t think of anyone,’ said Thea. The only tall people she’d met lately were the two Biddulph half-brothers, Clovis and Lawrence, and Adam Rogers. ‘As tall as Juliet, you mean?’

  ‘Within a few inches, yes. But that’s probably a red herring. It entirely depends on the weapon. A wooden bat of some sort seems most likely, but it could have been a walking stick or even a random branch lying on the ground.’

  ‘I thought forensics could work all that out these days.’

  ‘They could if they had the resources. There were fragments of wood in both sides of her head – two different sorts. One was bark from a tree beside where she was found. The other was something else. Not likely to be a handy fallen branch, because that would be dead wood, and dead wood left outside goes soft and crumbly after a while. Not much use for hitting people with.’

  ‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ said Thea.

  ‘I’m not supposed to, but it’s not such a secret now as it was on Saturday. Too many people know the story, and some of my chaps are incapable of keeping quiet. They let things out when they’re questioning someone, without realising they’re doing it.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Thea, thinking it was surely not so difficult to train them not to be so careless. But a clever interviewee would probably quickly work it out, however delicately the questions were worded.

  ‘There’s a big query over one of her housemates,’ Gladwin disclosed. ‘A woman called Tammy, who’s on the autistic spectrum, but is very competent in a lot of ways. She’s a bit older than the others, and has a job like Juliet had. But she’s got a blind spot where other people’s feelings are concerned, and manages to be extremely annoying much of the time. You don’t know her, I suppose?’

  ‘Sorry. Never heard of her. She sounds like a lot of people to me. How come she’s living with Juliet and Adam?’

  ‘Adam doesn’t live there. He’s in another supervised living place. Although she has a job, Tammy can’t cope on her own, for various reasons. It’s all very sensitive, as you can imagine. Social workers and so forth at every turn – and the jargon would send you mad all on its own. They can never call a spade a spade. In fact, I doubt if I’m even allowed to say the word “spade”.’

  ‘All part of the job,’ said Thea absently. It had occurred to her that if she followed through with her idea of working officially with the police, the jargon might quickly send her mad, too.

  ‘Right. What are you thinking?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. You must be tempted to see one of these – what can I say? Challenged? – people as the most likely to have attacked Juliet. If only because anyone else would be disarmed by her vulnerability. She was so sweet. So innocent and trusting …’ Her voice faded away and Gladwin met her eye.

  ‘Exactly. There are people out there who find sweet innocence irresistible. It brings out the worst in them. And the fact is that the vast majority of people with learning difficulties are actually very non-violent. Either because they’re on medication, or are scared of the world, or simply gentle by nature. The stereotypes are seriously wrong in that respect.’

  ‘Is that true? So we’re looking for somebody of full competence, then? But she wasn’t raped or anything, was she?’

  ‘Not a finger laid on her, that we can find. Nothing but two bangs on the head and a bruise on her shoulder.’

  ‘Only two of which were inflicted deliberately.’ It felt as if they were about to go around the same facts again, so Thea drained her coffee and then stood up. ‘I mustn’t keep you,’ she said.

  ‘No, you mustn’t. I just wanted to check with you that there weren’t some connections we were missing. I can’t help feeling that Juliet knew one of your families – that she was close to your field for a reason. The birdsong man’s the most likely, given the timing. That would throw suspicion on Mr Spiller who found her.’

  ‘Oh dear. He seems so nice,’ Thea protested. ‘And very upset. Drew likes him, as well. He’d have to be a good actor.’ She laughed at herself. ‘And yes, I know the world is full of excellent actors. Even so …’

  ‘I agree. It feels like too big a stretch. But so does everybody else. None of it feels right. And that makes me think we’re missing a big part of the picture.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Thea. ‘Well, I’ll call you if I think of anything.’

  She started towards the hallway, but Gladwin stayed in place. ‘Don’t forget what I said about Mr Spiller,’ she said. ‘If you get the chance, have a little talk with him – see what you think.’

  ‘I must admit his name does keep coming to mind. He phoned Drew on Saturday morning, apologising for being in the field. He
seemed to think he might be getting us into some sort of trouble. Drew felt quite sorry for him.’

  ‘He is quite sweet,’ Gladwin nodded. ‘Though I say so as shouldn’t.’ Her Geordie accent thickened. ‘Everyone’s like that in this one, though.’

  Thea smiled. ‘As you say – there must be a piece missing somewhere. Some absolute swine is out there, and we have no idea who it is.’

  ‘Okay.’ Gladwin smacked both palms down on the table. ‘I can’t stay another minute, much as I’d like to. Call me later on, if you like, and we’ll bring it right up to date. There’s more reports due in today, from the pathology people and forensics. It’s still only forty-eight hours since we found her.’

  Thea detected a hint of bravado. The apparent lack of any compelling line of enquiry must be bad news for the senior investigating officer. A high-profile murder, arousing vociferous outrage even in a half-deserted Cotswold village, needed to be solved. People would be imagining all kinds of monstrous threats behind their well-tamed hedgerows, bordering their renowned public footpaths. The murderer must be caught – that was axiomatic. And if Thea Slocombe could help with that, Gladwin for one was going to be more than happy to use her.

  This busy Monday was proving to be quite a lot more stimulating than the weekend had been. Drew was in and out, making phone calls, taking Andrew down to the field to mark out the week’s graves. At one point, he extracted a duster from the cupboard under the sink intending to spend five minutes running it over the shelves and woodwork in his office. ‘Better clean the window later on, as well,’ he muttered. ‘Mike did a good job outside, but it’s not so good inside.’

  ‘I’ll do it this evening,’ Thea promised, far from certain that she would remember to fulfil the commitment. ‘Maybe I should do all of them, and the mirrors.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Drew neutrally.

  ‘Gladwin thinks it might be helpful if I had a little talk with Anthony Spiller,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you got his address?’