by Joy Kluver
They nodded at each other.
‘Where’s Nick White?’ asked Bernie.
‘He’s gone for a break,’ said Phyl. ‘He’ll come back when I’m finished. It won’t be long before we move her.’
‘A break sounds good, ma’am.’
Bernie turned to Anderson. His olive skin had paled. Photos were one thing; actually seeing – and smelling – the body was another. ‘Shall we go and join the search then?’
Anderson gave a slight nod of the head. Bernie was relieved she had coped well. The last thing she wanted to show was weakness in front of him. Her immunity to horror was obviously improving.
Anderson stayed silent until they reached the inner cordon. Then he pulled down the hood of the white suit and breathed out noisily.
‘Oh God, that was horrible,’ he said.
‘I know. It’s the third time I’ve seen her. I suppose I’m getting more used to it.’
‘But we shouldn’t get more used to it. That’s the whole bloody point. If we lose our sense of shock at such a horrific crime, then we won’t feel the need to find the bastard who did it.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I know you didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just angry that someone has done this to her and left her to rot like rubbish.’
A train trundled past a few hundred metres away from them. Bernie caught glimpses of it through the trees and bushes.
‘So close to the line and no one saw her,’ said Anderson.
‘She was covered in leaves. And besides, most people these days are glued to their phones. Or maybe reading a paper or a book. And if this happened at night…’
‘Then no one would have seen,’ finished Anderson. ‘And if the Moffatts didn’t hear anything then it’s unlikely she came in this way. There has to be another path into this wood. Right, let’s go.’
‘Go where?’
‘To find the other side of the wood, of course.’
Bernie stared at him. The colour had returned to his face along with a look of determination.
‘You’re wasted in Family Liaison,’ she said.
Anderson shook his head. ‘Tell me something I don’t already bloody know.’
Their white suits were catching on brambles and their shoe covers were in danger of falling apart. After wading through the undergrowth for about ten minutes, they finally came into a clearing. There was a more discernible path now that would lead them through more trees.
‘You OK?’ asked Anderson.
‘Yes, although these booties have seen better days. Should have brought another pair with me.’
‘It looks as though there may be a bigger path at the end of this one. Are you happy to keep going?’
Bernie couldn’t quite believe what Anderson had just asked. She wasn’t going to let him out of her sight. He’d only go and solve the whole crime if she did.
‘Of course I bloody am. The sooner we find another way in, the better.’
They tramped on through with Anderson leading. He held back bushes that were straying onto the narrow track so they wouldn’t ping back at her.
The trees were closing in above her. Although some leaves had fallen, there were still enough to blot out the autumn sun. The temperature had dropped in the shade and Bernie found herself shivering. Keeping her jacket on had been the right decision after all. The air was rich with mulch which tickled her nose and she stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop a sneeze.
After a few more minutes, they came to a metal farm gate and, beyond it, a bigger path. Bernie and Anderson climbed over and looked left and right.
‘I’m guessing the right takes us along fields,’ said Anderson, ‘but the left should take us to the railway line. Is there an unsupervised crossing like the one near Otterfield?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Bernie. ‘Only one way to find out.’
They turned left and walked for a few more minutes to the end of the small wooded area.
‘Well, look at that,’ said Anderson.
There before them was a bridge over the railway and a narrow roadway on the other side.
‘I suppose you might get a car driving along on the road, maybe even a tractor,’ said Bernie. ‘But not once you cross the bridge. It becomes too narrow.’
‘For a car, yes,’ said Anderson, ‘but not a bicycle or motorbike.’
6
Bernie held her phone up in the air.
‘No, I’m still only getting one bar of reception,’ she said. ‘Oh wait, it’s gone up to two.’
‘I’ve got three,’ said Anderson.
Typical.
‘Here we go, I’ve got Maps up. Right, if I press this it should show where we are now… yes, and if I zoom down it’ll show us the view from the ground. Yep, that matches.’
Bernie leaned across to look at the picture of the small railway bridge on the phone depicting what she could see in front of her.
‘So, where does this road go then?’ she asked.
‘Well, if we zoom back out… it’s quite long and it goes up to this main road here. Didn’t we drive this way? There was a farm on the left and this track was on the right. It must be used by the farmer to get to his land. Do you know who it belongs to? Didn’t you say that Ron Willis’s land is north of the railway line?’
‘Whoa, slow down. We don’t know for sure she was brought in this way.’
‘Let’s check it out then.’ Anderson started to walk away.
Bernie reached out and grabbed his arm. Even through the forensic suit and his clothes she could feel his muscles. She had a sudden recollection of his arms around her, pulling her in to him.
He snapped his head back towards her and glanced down at her hand. She let go.
‘There are protocols to follow, DS Anderson, and DCI Worth will have your hide if we don’t follow them. We need to seal off the road properly and search it. And yes, the land on the other side is Greenacres, Ron Willis’s farm.’
‘So what are we waiting for? We need to go and talk to him and his family.’
‘Dressed in our best forensic suits?’ Bernie raised her eyebrows. ‘Besides, it’ll be best if you leave the questions to me. I know Ron a little bit.’
‘Then surely that’s a conflict of interest.’
‘It’s a rural community. You can’t help but know people. Besides, I only know him to say hi at the pub.’
‘The pub in Marchant you sometimes go to for Sunday lunch?’
How’s he remembered that?
‘Although I guess you go there more regularly now you live in your little cottage in Marchant with your new boyfriend,’ said Anderson.
Bernie felt clammy in the forensic suit. ‘How do you know that? Who told you?’ She might not have had much contact with Anderson for the last few months but clearly someone had been talking about her behind her back.
‘Matty boy, of course. You may have stopped talking to me but he hasn’t. We’ve caught up quite a few times. I know better than to ask Kerry. That one permanently has your back. Anyway, shall we go? And maybe I should ask those questions, don’t you think?’
Bernie stripped off the forensic suit and stuffed it into a refuse bag. Anderson had already gone back to the car to make arrangements for having the track sealed off and searched. Bernie needed to hear a friendly voice before she could face him again. She pulled out her phone – the reception had improved.
‘MCIT, DS Allen speaking.’
‘Kerry.’
‘Bernie. How’s it going?’
‘Bloody awful. Anderson is trying to take over again and he knows what I’ve been up to these last few months. He even knows about Alex. He says Matt told him.’
‘Oh. He might have done. He did say he’d seen Anderson a few times for a drink or a curry. Don’t be cross with him. He wouldn’t have known not to say anything.’
Bernie kicked at a leaf and sighed. ‘I know it’s not Matt’s fault. Anderson’s just being bloody antagonistic about it.’
‘And let on I know he’s a manipulative, controlling bastard who gave his wife hell? I don’t think so.’ Bernie put her hand to her head. It was starting to throb. She needed to eat something. ‘Have you got anywhere?’
‘I’ve got it down to three possible women now but I need the photos of the jewellery. But as DCI Worth said earlier, maybe she hasn’t been reported as missing yet.’
‘True. Sorry for ranting. I feel a bit better now.’
‘No problem. Get something to eat and you’ll feel even better. I’ll see you later.’
‘How do you know I need to eat?’
‘Because you’re always ratty when you’re hungry.’
Bernie laughed. ‘Bye, Kerry.’
Bernie headed back to her car, trying to work out the nearest place to get some food. Was there a garage nearby she could grab a sandwich and some chocolate? She guessed Anderson would need something as well.
‘Bernie.’
She turned to see Phyl Bridger a few paces behind her, carrying a case.
‘Hi, Phyl. Have you finished?’
‘With the scene, yes. I’ve got enough samples. I can tell you a bit more over the next few days. They’re about to move her to the morgue. They’ve got everything ready.’ Phyl Bridger shook her head. ‘Such a grim business.’
‘Definitely.’ Bernie’s stomach rumbled.
Phyl laughed. ‘I take it you’re hungry? I’ve some snacks in the car if you’d like some.’
‘Oh yes, please.’
Phyl’s car was close to Bernie’s. Anderson was sitting in the passenger seat, talking on his phone.
‘Would DS Anderson like something too?’
Bernie looked across at him. She was tempted to say no. ‘I’m sure he would. Mealtimes tend to go out of the window on cases like these.’
Phyl opened her boot and pulled out a plastic bag. ‘Not the healthiest options, I’m afraid, but it’s important to have some emergency supplies. You should probably have a bag in your car.’
Bernie smiled. ‘But that would mean going food shopping.’
‘Don’t you eat?’
Bernie laughed. ‘Of course I do. But I have a man who sorts that all out for me. Cooks too.’ She pictured all the washing up he’d left for her the previous night. She wasn’t sure how Alex had managed to use so many pans.
‘Oh, how lovely. Fortunately I have rooms at uni so I have lots of people cooking for me. Although one individual man would be quite nice.’
‘You don’t have your own place then?’
‘No, being a residential tutor gives me somewhere to live and then I can spend my money on exotic trips looking at exotic insects.’
Bernie wanted to ask her more but just then Anderson hooted the car horn.
‘Well, someone’s definitely tetchy. You better choose quickly,’ said Phyl.
Bernie grabbed a couple of packets of crisps and some cereal bars.
‘Take the water bottles as well.’
Bernie looked up. ‘Are you sure? They’re your last two.’
‘I’ve got one in the front. Go on, take them. You can make it up to me one day. Maybe your man can cook us all a meal. Or we can finally meet in a pub.’
Bernie picked up the two bottles. ‘Thanks, you’re a star, Phyl.’
‘No problem. It’s important you keep your strength up. How else are you going to cope with the “manipulating, controlling bastard”?’ said Phyl, with a wink.
7
Bernie parked her car as close to the farmhouse as possible. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of manure. But it was preferable to the smell of the crime scene they’d just left.
‘So what do I need to know about this family?’ asked Anderson.
Bernie sighed. ‘Ron is married to Janet. They have three grown-up sons. The farm has been in his family for ages. His father, Stan, is still alive and lives with them. Ron has expanded Greenacres by buying more fields from neighbouring farms.’
‘Do you think he wants the Moffatts’ land as well?’
‘Not that I’ve heard. And even if he did, I don’t think he’d go to such lengths as killing a woman and dumping her on their land.’
‘I don’t know, stranger things have happened.’
Bernie noticed a curtain twitch downstairs. ‘We’ve been spotted. We’d better go and knock on the door.’
After locking the car, Bernie headed towards the house but she noticed Anderson wasn’t following.
‘DS Anderson?’
She saw him walking away from the house towards an open barn. We’re here to ask questions, not do a search, you bloody stupid man.
‘Anderson.’
She saw him raise his index finger – one minute, he was telling her. She heard the front door open behind her.
‘Bernie?’ said a woman’s voice.
She turned to see Janet Willis looking confused.
‘What’s he up to? Is this a social call?’ Janet asked, pushing her grey hair away from her face.
Bernie glanced again at Anderson.
‘No, not exactly.’ Bernie avoided answering the first question.
Janet put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh. Is it Ron or one of the boys? Has something happened?’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with them. There’s been an incident, though, and we just need to speak to some local people in case anyone saw or heard anything. Can we come in?’
Bernie saw Janet’s eyes drift to Anderson, who appeared to be examining something.
‘I’ll just get him.’ She walked nearer towards him. ‘Detective Sergeant Anderson, the family are free to see us now.’
Anderson dropped the tarpaulin he’d lifted up. He muttered ‘motorbike’ as he walked past her. She saw him put out his hand for Janet and she knew he would be giving her his winning smile.
‘Mrs Willis? I’m Detective Sergeant Anderson. Sorry to intrude but we’re hoping either you or someone else in your family might be able to help us with our enquiries.’
The smile had obviously worked as Janet Willis took Anderson’s hand and visibly relaxed. Damn his charm.
Janet led them into a small front room stuffed with two large sofas and an armchair by an unlit fireplace. The sofas looked new but the armchair was old and shabby and some stuffing was coming out of a split in one of the arms. In the chair sat an old man, his hair a wispy white. His head rested against the back of the chair. One eye was completely clouded over and the other seemed to be following suit. A border collie was sleeping by his feet.
‘Bernie.’ His voice was raspy and he held out a hand in her vague direction.
She grasped it with both of hers. ‘Stan. It’s lovely to see you.’
‘Wish I could say the same. They’ve put the cataract op off again.’
‘Oh, how annoying.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Yes, but what can you do? Just as well I’ve still got my hearing. Who’s the Scottish bloke you’ve brought with you then?’
Bernie let go of Stan’s hand. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Anderson.’
Anderson stepped forward to shake Stan’s hand in turn. ‘Pleasure to meet you, sir.’
Stan laughed. ‘Sir, indeed. Take a seat. Janet, get some tea in, love.’
Janet rolled her eyes. It was clear, even into his late eighties, that Stan was still in charge.
‘Janet, you don’t have to on our account,’ said Bernie.
‘Actually, ma’am, I wouldn’t mind a cuppa,’ said Anderson. ‘I’ve not had one all day.’
‘And some biscuits too,’ said Stan, ‘or cake, if there’s any left.’
Bernie mouthed ‘sorry’ to Janet.
Anderson started to talk to Stan about the farm and Bernie looked round at the photos on the walls. There were pictures everywhere of the family – Ron and Janet’s wedding and some with the boys when they were younger. In pride of place over the mantelpiece was a large ph
oto of the whole family – the two older sons, Gareth and Will, were married with children. Ryan was the youngest son at nineteen. Bernie thought of her own little family – just her mother and grandmother now. Although Granny was as distant as ever – emotionally as well as physically. Her grandfather, Pops, had died earlier in the year and Bernie still missed him. Finding her real father had helped to alleviate the pain a little and they were beginning to build a relationship, with Gary helping to paint her cottage. Her mother, Denise, had helped too with the decoration and Bernie sensed a burgeoning relationship between her parents. But Pops had raised her. She understood how much affection the Willis family had for Stan.
Janet came in carrying a tray, laden down with teapot, mugs, plates and a large cake tin. The dog stirred and lifted its nose.
‘Oh aye, someone can smell cake,’ Janet said. ‘Hope you like coffee and walnut. It was made yesterday and there’s actually some left for a change. But don’t give any to Hollie, no matter how much she begs. It’s not good for her.’
As Janet poured the tea, Anderson glanced at Bernie. She gave him a nod.
‘Thank you so much for this, Mrs Willis. We’ve had a very busy day so far,’ said Anderson. ‘I’m afraid we can’t tell you much but there’s been an incident which I guess will be on the news later. We’ve noticed there’s a small road opposite the farm here. Does anyone else use that road, apart from yourselves?’
Stan noisily slurped his tea. ‘Sorry, teeth are a bit loose.’
Bernie averted her eyes as he pushed his dentures back up.
‘So, I’m guessing someone has been up to mischief in the woods,’ said Stan. ‘I’m not surprised. People have been getting up to all sorts in there for decades, including me.’
Janet shook her head at Stan.
‘Dad, I think it may be a bit more serious than people having… hanky-panky in the woods.’
Stan roared with laughter. ‘And they say old people are prudes. Well of course, there are drugs too. I once caught Ron, high as a kite, down there. Mind you, that was a long time ago.’
‘So,’ said Anderson, ‘does that mean others do use the road?’