I had something to do before I tackled the mob of kids. Poking my head round the living room door, I caught Mazza’s eye. ‘A word?’ I mouthed.
It was clear from his face that he was expecting what I had to tell him as he joined me in the quiet of Theo’s study. ‘It’s Burble, ain’t it? Shit! Fucking shit!’ He hit the top of Theo’s desk again and again with his fists. ‘The bastards. I’ll kill the bastards …’
‘Better still,’ I said, grabbing his fists and turning them so I could hold them as hands, ‘we help the police bring the killers to justice. And I know that was what Burble would have wanted. Because he saved a vital piece of evidence. The camera’s memory card.’
‘What? Swallowed it? Bloody hell!’
In fact I’d gathered that that wasn’t the orifice he’d inserted it into, but there was no need to reveal that. ‘So you know this is being taken seriously at last, I can tell you I was bending the ear of a top cop when you called. An old mate of Dave’s. Things’ll happen now, Mazza. Now, are you up to joining your mates? What were you doing, anyway, all of you?’ I set us in motion, so Theo, who was wrestling with some sort of conversation with the other kids, would hear the explanation too.
You could almost hear how hard he had to swallow. ‘You know you got me to block up your letter box? And you said something about getting security cameras and stuff? Well, I reckoned you’d been let down – couldn’t see any cameras anywhere – so we thought we’d keep an eye on your house, like. And then that bastard with the snappy little ferret of a dog comes cruising past in his poncey car – and back again – and next thing the filth turn up and tell us to disperse.’ He looked for support to the others. He didn’t know that we’d be able to check it all on the recorder linked to the miniature CCTV cameras. ‘But they didn’t say it nicely, so we just sat. And then the rest of them turned up mob-handed and you arrived and that’s it.’
‘So you were protecting us?’ Theo asked quietly.
‘Best we could. No one’s going to try anything with a load of us there.’
‘I’m truly grateful,’ Theo said. ‘To all of you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me and Jodie. It’s been a bad day, what with one thing and another. Now, Jodie and I need to tell you something I guess Jodie’s already told Mazza. We’ve heard that the body that was found on the Downs is Burble’s. Jodie and I will always be here to talk to you, best of all to listen. I’m sure you and the rest of his mates will think of a fitting memorial to him.’
I wasn’t sure he’d got quite the right tone, but the lads nodded slowly. One put up a nicotine-stained finger, as if back in the classroom. ‘Burble didn’t go to church. Does that mean he’ll go to hell?’
‘If he was going he’ll have gone when he died; he won’t be hanging round for the post-mortem to decide who he is,’ retorted one of his mates.
There was a sharp intake of breath, then a barely suppressed titter. Perhaps the response helped Theo. I hoped so. I couldn’t have argued with the logic.
‘Burble had a tricky life, didn’t he?’ Theo asked gently. ‘I think he tried to do good when he could. God is loving and forgiving, you know.’
‘Like that magistrate who gave him community service and didn’t send him down,’ a third lad suggested.
That was meat and drink to Theo. ‘If an ordinary human being could be understanding and compassionate, don’t you think God could be too? I think God has taken him home at last. But I want to say a prayer. If you’d like to close your eyes and make it your prayer too, I’d like that, and I believe God would too …’
We got up early to check the CCTV. Everything appeared to have occurred just as Mazza said, except that several cars besides Ted Vesey’s had driven past: Mrs Mountford’s, Elaine’s, the silent Jackie Simmons’, for starters. Following the instructions, line by careful line, Theo saved the material, just in case. In case the security firm lost it? But I wouldn’t be sarcastic. Since Don Simpson wanted to see me, Theo offered to go and pick up Alison Cox and was just letting himself out of the back door to go to his car when someone battered the front door.
I opened it as far as the newly installed chain – another bit of Mazza’s handiwork – would allow. At first, all I could see was a totally ordinary Vauxhall at the end of the drive; then a man, who’d perhaps been inspecting our daffodil pots, stepped forwards.
‘Mrs Welsh? DC Pool. Superintendent Simpson’s compliments, and would you care to join him at HQ instead?’
‘Of course, I’ll just get my bag. You’ll excuse me if I just close the door? I can’t release the chain unless I do.’
Or not. Grabbing the bag, I seized Theo’s hand and dragged him out of the back door. ‘Get in the car as usual,’ I said, throwing myself in the rear foot well. ‘Just drive in your dog-collar way. Wave to the guy at the front door as if offering him a blessing. And once you’re out of his range, floor the accelerator. Just do it, Theo!’
He did. On my stomach, I dialled 999. It was hard to be clear and coherent, but I managed to convince the calm and efficient woman I was put through to that I was escaping an abduction attempt and needed to see Superintendent Simpson.
‘Just tell me what on earth you think you’re doing,’ Theo snapped the moment the call was over. ‘I mean, last night was bad enough, but this is plain crazy.’
‘Someone comes to your door claiming to be a police officer and he doesn’t show any ID: would you believe him?’
‘I wouldn’t scarper like a kid in the playground.’
‘If he claimed to be a policeman and you recognized him from Ravi the security guy’s photos as a so-called workman trying to get unauthorized entry into your apartment?’
‘You didn’t tell me—’
‘Didn’t want to worry you. Thought it was just a coincidence. Is he tailing us? Silver Vauxhall?’
‘Could be.’
‘Where are we?’
‘Just joining the motorway.’
‘Outgun him, then. At least he’s not ransacking the house. I hope I shut the back door.’
Theo gave a bark of laughter. ‘That’s what my mother always used to say. Though not always in circumstances quite like these. He’s getting closer, by the way. No, he’s dropping way back. Letting a police car overtake.’
‘I’m glad there’s one part of him that’s law-abiding.’
TWENTY-ONE
‘What I can never understand,’ Don Simpson said, with a heavy approximation of a laugh, ‘is how you ladies always manage to grab your bags, which then turn out to have everything except the kitchen sink in them. Sorry. Not supposed to call you a lady, am I? My old boss would have fried my liver for that.’
Theo, more used to social inanities than I, or at least more tolerant of them, smiled politely, and complimented Don on his coffee, which came from a machine second cousin to ours lurking on a bookshelf behind his desk. He added as he finished it, ‘Jodie, Don, will you excuse me? My churchwarden’s ill in hospital. I really ought to find out how he is – there’s a chance I might be needed.’ He patted his pocket. No phone.
‘That’s why we ladies have bags welded to us,’ I said drily, passing him mine.
Extracting information from the hospital seemed marginally less difficult than extracting wisdom teeth. While he cajoled and waited, I filled in Don, who looked even more serious and checked his computer. But at last Theo got some sort of answer. Why hadn’t the dear man put the call on conference? He must have known I was desperate to hear.
At last he ended the call. ‘George is no better. I’d best shoot over – I can pray with Alison even if they won’t let me see George.’
I knew he didn’t really enjoy public displays of emotion, but I reached for him and held him as long as I dared; to my relief, he hugged me back.
‘We’ll get you over there and we’ll do the honours when you want to come back. Meanwhile, I’ll check Dave’s theory that you’ve got a tracking device on your car. Both cars.’ Don put his head round his office door and y
elled for someone to organize a lift for Theo. ‘He’s a victim of violence, after all,’ he added as he turned back towards us. ‘You know what, I’ll see if the budget will run to having a police guard put on him, just in case.’ The men shook hands, Don clapping Theo’s upper arm in a man-to-man gesture that surprised me.
The tone changed the moment Theo left the room.
‘So, Jodie, is something from your past life catching up with you?’ Don demanded, leaning back in his chair as if he was the sheriff in an old black and white movie. He didn’t quite put his feet on his desk and puff cigar smoke in my face, but there was a distinct sense that he could have done, if provoked.
‘I was always at the geeky end of business,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen colleagues in HR sack a thousand people without turning a hair or having any notion of the concomitant suffering. Youngsters with a career to build; people your age with a wealth of experience …’ I drew my hand across my throat. ‘I’ve never done that. I’ve never outsourced to India or wherever so jobs have stayed here in the UK. I’ve taken big bucks, Don, embarrassingly big bucks, but I’ve never flaunted the money. Even Theo – apart from the sums involved – can’t find anything with which to trouble his conscience.’ I tapped my phone. ‘I’m sending you my CV. You’ll find a list of all my charitable interests in there.’ Another tap. ‘These are all my investments. Everything. In confidence, of course. But you’ll see why I don’t flash my cash in the village: I think I’d get more enemies than friends.’
‘Like when you had that chopper fly into the village?’ he observed ironically.
‘That was for a purpose: to get photos of the development.’
He gave a dry laugh. ‘I suppose it’s saved us the expense. I take it your helicopter friend could afford it?’
‘He could afford to pay for the professional photographer too. But I’m paying for the forensic work.’
‘And you’re not going to say who this mysterious friend is? OK. Is this splashing your dosh around because you’ve got so much you don’t know what to do with it or because you’re dead nosy?’
My smile was cool. ‘Does it have to be one or the other? I think young Burble was killed because he’d taken photos someone didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t hide that memory card for fun, did he? Have your techie people managed to get the photos off it yet?’
‘They’re working on it. Was it you who alerted Burble to the building work? Are you plugging away at this just because you feel guilty he died?’
‘On the contrary, I was plugging away before Burble even got wind of anything. Apart from in a chopper, you can only see the building work from the top of the ridge where I regularly run. I saw them cut down trees – a lot of old ones. Then diggers and earth-movers appeared. What worried me – and don’t we worry illogically? – was that the workers weren’t wearing hard hats and that the deep excavations might be damaging archaeological remains. I used to work on skyscrapers in the City and watch them boring deep, deep down for foundations for bigger, better skyscrapers. Or not.’
He nodded. ‘Carry on.’
‘Then as Dave’s probably told you, Mazza – Malcolm Burns – one of the lads from the village started running with me.’
He nodded with what seemed to be amused approval. ‘I know about Mazza, and about his house-guarding tricks. The officers involved weren’t best pleased, Jodie.’
‘I don’t see why not: I saved them a lot of paperwork.’
‘And this Mazza knew Burble. And introduced you?’
‘It was the other way round. Burble was hanging round one day when I was dragging the green bin out to the front. He offered to help. Him a pierced and tattooed yob! We started to talk. It seemed he needed some quick cash. I challenged him to earn it. He helped in the garden. I’d like to say he did it regularly, but to be honest it was only when he needed money.’
‘Why did he need money?’
My eyes widened of their own accord: why did anyone need money? But I’d try to respond seriously. ‘You know about his mother, Sharon Hammond? A druggy? She died of an overdose after he’d disappeared.’ It was rather too clear that he didn’t, but he made a note. ‘Well, I should imagine, with hindsight, that he needed to eat. He did have a tenuous family connection with Violet, who runs the village shop. She’s not a fan of him or his family, especially his dad. I asked Violet if she knew anything about him, but she said she didn’t.’
‘But she may know other family members who do.’ He jotted again. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t already been badgering her to give you the information.’
‘Funnily enough …’ I gave a rueful laugh. ‘She told me that to the best of her knowledge no one in the village would have given him the time of day. Si Hammond, I think he is. So I got one or two of my drink and drug counselling mates on to it. They work right at the bottom of the poor lost heap, so there was just a chance … I’ve had no word back, so I assume a nil return.’
‘Happens like that sometimes, as I’m sure you know. So the only way you know this Burble is through his gardening.’
‘Dave’ll tell you that that’s rather a posh word for what he did – when he wasn’t foraging for wild food, mushrooms and samphire and such. I’m sure his mates are busy telling your colleagues all about that. Or does the sight of a police officer turn them into Trappist monks?’
‘Monks with attitude!’ He looked at his watch. ‘In any case, it’s still a bit early in the day to talk to kids that age. And, as my grandfather used to say, half the lies they tell aren’t the truth.’
‘They were telling the truth about their activities last night. Our security cameras filmed them, of course, and a few cars passing by. Here are the details of the security firm – Dave put us on to them. Shall I call them for you? I may need your email address.’ I reached for my mobile again. ‘Excellent. The footage is automatically saved anyway, but they’re copying it to you now.’
Don’s nod was ambiguous. I don’t think he’d changed his mind about bossy women but they certainly saved him and his colleagues legwork. ‘OK. Back to you again, Jodie. Who in the village have you annoyed? Those enemies I spoke about last night.’ He checked his notes. ‘Vesey and Grant.’
‘Who aren’t really enemies, I’m sure.’ He pulled a face. ‘Actually, there is one person some way from the village whom I may have annoyed. I decided to go and have a look at the building site from a different angle. Don’t look like that! I just drove up to the front gates, as anyone misled by their satnav might do. It was very clear indeed that Double Gate Enterprises and Elysian Fields didn’t want chance callers. More CCTV than you could shake a stick at – I’m used to it in London, but out here?’
‘You stuck to public roads?’
‘You bet I did.’
‘Did anyone know you’d had a look?’
‘Apart from whoever looked at what their cameras were showing? Only Dave. I dare say my running, particularly with Mazza, drew their attention too.’
‘These not-enemies, Jodie. Tell me about them. Come on. I can always ask Dave, remember.’
‘OK. Ted Vesey. I’d never met him before I came to the village.’ I gave him a sketchy biography, all the more vague because, of course, that was the image Ted favoured. ‘Certainly on one occasion he deliberately tripped me up. Mazza got a photo of the incident; we showed it to one of your colleagues yesterday, when George Cox was assaulted in the church. Vesey may be the one who summoned your colleagues last night, incidentally.’
His frown deepened. But he spoke mildly enough: ‘There’s a hell of a lot going on in one small place, isn’t there? Now, how does this Vesey get on with this George Cox character?’
‘Fellow churchwardens,’ I said. On the other hand, what about the whole truth? ‘But I don’t think they sang from the same hymn sheet – oh, shit!’ I covered my face.
Don, on the other hand, roared with laughter. But he quickly became serious again. ‘Did they dislike each other? I see they did. You may be a good businesswoman, Jodi
e, but you’re not much of an actress. You might as well tell me – if you don’t, someone else in the village will.’
‘True. They may have to. I really know nothing about them or their history. Ted is suave and sophisticated.’
‘And it’s clear you don’t like him.’
‘Would you if he tripped you up like that? I’d done nothing, I promise you, knowingly to annoy him. He was simply hostile from the start. I’m an incomer, Don, and that pretty much sums it up.’
He nodded with what looked like genuine sympathy. ‘My wife is too. We’ve lived in the same village for nigh on twenty years. She has a go at everything: PTA, neighbourhood watch, parish council, parish mag. And someone only the other day said to her, “In a few years you’ll almost be one of us.” It was the “almost” that floored her.’
‘I can imagine. Funnily I sense that Ted’s an incomer too. But he does a very good job of obfuscating his past. George Cox, on the other hand, may appear your quintessential countryman but in fact is a former head teacher. He’s a lovely man. I like his wife very much too. She once ran a prison.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Did she now?’ He jotted vigorously. He was about to ask me something else when his desk phone rang. He raised an apologetic hand. ‘Yes, sir. I’m actually with a witness – very well, sir.’ He turned to me. ‘I’m sorry. I should delegate. Just be here to deal with policy and budget. A facilitator. I spend half my life in bonkers policy meetings fighting the next budget cut. The only way I can stay sane is to do a bit of decent, honest work from time to time. But now I’m already late for a meeting. Do you want to continue this later or shall I get one of my colleagues to take over?’
‘How long’s later?’
‘Long enough for you to have a coffee and check your emails. OK? I’ll get someone to take you along to a waiting room. It might be a bit of an eye-opener. Actually, if you could make a few notes about the other issues I should know about it’d speed things up, wouldn’t it? Here, use this iPad, no one else ever does.’
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