‘Mrs Maitland––’
‘Call me Liz.’
‘Liz, are you aware of any aircraft owned by your neighbours?’
‘No, but then we don’t really have much to do with them. We don’t socialise with them, and I’ve never been to their properties. I’ve got no reason to.’
‘Where were you in the days leading up to Mr Archer’s body being found? I see from your husband’s statement that my colleagues in uniform took that day that you weren’t around and had been away for five days.’
‘I was visiting a supplier,’ said Liz. ‘We’re about to start growing lavender for the oil, and I needed to make sure we were going to get the seeds in time. I’m importing them from Europe, and I’ve had all sorts of issues with the paperwork. The suppliers tend to put their long-term clients’ needs before ours as well.’
‘I told her she should’ve gone for one of the common varieties already grown around the county,’ said Dennis. ‘It would’ve been easier.’
‘I don’t want “common”.’ Liz pouted. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘When did you get back?’ said Kay.
‘Thursday morning. After Dennis phoned to tell me what happened, I was in two minds whether to drop everything and come back, but he persuaded me not to.’
‘She’d invested so much time into building up a relationship with the suppliers, I didn’t want her to ruin her chances of getting a good price,’ he said, reaching out and patting his wife’s knee.
Kay glanced at the stove as one of the logs crackled and popped before settling against the glass door with a shower of sparks, and then turned back to the farmer.
‘How long have you worn hearing aids for?’
‘I blame all these years operating loud machinery,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘I can’t hear a thing without these. Mind you, given the choice of what’s on the television, I don’t think it’s so bad. At least I can read my book in peace.’
‘Why on earth would you want to know that?’ said Liz.
Kay ignored her. ‘And do you remove them every night?’
‘Yes. We tend to go up at about nine-thirty and I’ll read for half an hour or so before we put the light out.’
‘Nothing wakes him,’ said Liz, ‘not even his own snoring. More often than not, he doesn’t hear the alarm go off unless he remembers to turn up the volume if I’m away.’
Kay sat back against the cushions, noting Carys’s look of wonder.
‘Then, Mr Maitland, could I put it to you that if a light aircraft went overheard at a low altitude at night that you wouldn’t hear it?’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kay sipped from a takeout coffee cup and peered through the windscreen at the entrance to the Ditchens’ fruit farm a few hundred metres down the road.
The fog had lifted from the countryside in the past half an hour, bright sunshine piercing through pockets of cloud casting shadows onto the lane. A damp chill clung to the inside of the pool car, and she wiggled her toes within her ankle boots to try to keep warm.
Beside her Carys spoke into a radio, coordinating with the Force Control Room as they waited for a patrol car to join them.
She flicked her wrist, her gaze catching the dials of her watch.
Eight o’clock.
‘How far away are they?’
‘Ten minutes.’ Carys put the radio in its cradle on the dashboard. ‘They’ve got Harriet’s team on standby as well.’
‘Okay. Where are Barnes and Piper?’
‘Parked about a mile from the Peverells’ rabbit farm, just the other side of this lane. There are two cars on the way to support them, but they won’t do anything until you give the word.’
Kay drained her coffee and put the empty cup between the front seats. ‘Have you told Gavin that you’re leaving?’
Her colleague sighed. ‘Not yet. I’m not sure how to.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long. You don’t want him finding out from someone else – you know what the station can be like once a rumour starts.’ A flash of white appeared in the door mirror, and she gestured to Carys to start the car before opening the radio channel. ‘Barnes? You’re good to go.’
Carys checked her mirrors, then pulled out in front of the liveried Kent Police patrol car and accelerated along the lane towards the Ditchens’ farm.
Kay gritted her teeth as Carys swung the vehicle into the driveway, her foot hardly touching the brake, and unclipped her seatbelt as the car stopped.
The patrol car braked beside them, the two occupants springing out before walking towards the farmhouse.
Carys tapped her on her elbow. ‘That’s the office over there.’
‘All right. Check it – make sure there’s no-one inside and then seal it until the search teams are ready to go through.’
As Carys walked away, the front door to the farmhouse opened and Kay saw a man in his fifties take a step back in surprise at the two uniformed officers standing on his doorstep.
She turned at the sound of another car engine.
Moments later, a second patrol car pulled up beside her, PS Harry Davis at the wheel, his face grim.
‘Morning, Harry. Didn’t know you were joining us.’ She nodded to PC Phillip Parker as he climbed from the passenger seat and closed the door.
‘Thought you could do with an extra pair of hands, guv.’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the farmhouse. ‘Have they served the warrant?’
‘Just now. Do you want to coordinate with them? I’ll have a quick word with Mr Ditchens before I take a look around.’
‘Sounds good, guv.’
Kay wandered across the muddy yard to the farmhouse, where Hugh Ditchens was standing on the threshold to his home, his eyes wide in shock.
‘Are you the detective in charge of all this?’ he said, his arms crossed over his chest. ‘What’s going on?’
She held up her warrant card. ‘Detective Inspector Kay Hunter, and yes – I’m in charge. My officers will search your property in relation to a murder we’re currently investigating.’
Ditchens’ mouth opened and closed before he found his voice again. ‘That’s preposterous. Is this about the chap who was found dead in Maitland’s field? What has Maitland been saying about me?’
‘What can you tell me about the track between your orchard and the Peverells’ rabbit farm?’
‘What?’ He blinked. ‘It’s an old drover’s track. We keep it as a fire break between the properties.’
‘Are fires a big problem here?’
‘Look, it’s a safety precaution – that’s all. The track helps to space apart the tree varieties to aid propagation as well. We grow specific varieties for London markets, local restaurants, that sort of thing so we can’t afford those to cross-pollinate.’
Kay narrowed her eyes at him. ‘All right, Mr Ditchens. If that’s how this is going to be. Make sure you stay here where one of my officers can see you, and please refrain from using your mobile phone.’
Turning away, she stomped across to where Carys waited beside the low outbuilding used as an office, the door closed and a criss-cross of blue and white police tape sealing the entry until the uniformed search team were ready to enter.
‘What did he say?’
‘A lot of hot air about the track being a fire break, or a way to stop cross-pollination of trees.’
‘Fancy a walk then, guv?’
Kay grinned. ‘I think we could do with some fresh air, so why not? Which way is the track from here?’
‘Behind that machinery shed with the tractor outside it.’
She set a fast pace, her shorter colleague a few steps behind as she made her way past the corrugated steel structure.
A wooden five-bar gate separated the yard from the first orchard, and as she opened it she lifted her gaze to the tops of the trees to see the first blush of pink cherry blossom.
On any other day, the walk between the fruit trees would have been idyllic, but her thoughts kept returni
ng to Ethan and Shelley and the conditions they must have endured.
She waited while Carys caught up.
‘There are no buildings here,’ she said, ‘so where were Ethan and Shelley kept?’
‘I can’t see any sign of anyone camping here, either,’ said Carys. She pointed ahead of their position. ‘There’s the start of the track – you can see where the trees begin to thin out.’
Kay set off once more.
Here and there, the longer grass between the trees had been trampled, and she gestured to Carys to move away. ‘This path through here has been used recently. Can you use that tape to form a barrier between these trees until we’ve got an idea of how the search at the farm is going?’
She took the end that Carys held out to her, tied a knot and waited while her colleague did the same, and then moved forward once more, skirting around the area they’d cordoned off.
She paused at the edge of the track, her heart lurching as her eyes swept the ground. ‘Phone Harriet – we’re going to need her here.’
‘What’ve you got, guv?’
‘Look.’
She waited until the detective constable was at her side, and then pointed to the deep parallel ruts a few metres from where she stood.
The two lines disappeared along the grass track, the markings becoming fainter as they passed underneath the chain that separated the two farms, and heading in a straight line towards the Peverells’ property.
‘Something heavy dropped here, then continued onwards along this track. I didn’t see any deep lines at the other end.’
‘An aircraft landing,’ said Carys. ‘Bloody hell, guv. You found it.’
Kay peered into the distance. ‘But we haven’t, have we? There was nothing at the rabbit farm. And I haven’t heard anything from our team here. They’d have come to find us if their search had turned up an aircraft.’
‘Well, it definitely landed here.’ Carys walked across to the trees that lined the left-hand boundary, then stopped. ‘Guv, the ends of this branch have been broken off. Clipped by a wing, perhaps?’
‘It’d take some balls to land here, wouldn’t it? I mean, it’s wide enough but you’d have to know what you were doing.’
‘Maybe that’s why the ruts are so deep here. We’ve always assumed that the plane was being flown at night, so that would make it more difficult, even for a pilot who was used to landing here.’ Carys moved back to where Kay stood and shielded her eyes from the low morning sun. ‘Is this track long enough to taxi and take off from?’
‘When Harriet arrives, ask her to get one of her team to measure the length, and then check that with one of your contacts from the airfields you spoke to.’
‘Will do. Do we arrest Ditchens?’
Kay peered through the orchard towards the house. ‘Take him in for questioning. I’ll head over to the Peverells’ rabbit farm to see how Barnes and Piper are getting on.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
‘I’m never eating rabbit again.’
Barnes tore the protective gloves from his hands and dropped them into the biohazard waste bucket one of the uniformed officers held out to him, and scowled at the cages he could see through the open door to the outbuilding.
‘These aren’t for human consumption. They’re for dog and cat food. The proper rabbit farms around here that supply restaurants are much more humane,’ said Gavin. ‘This place is a disgrace.’
‘Did you get in touch with DEFRA?’
‘Yes, and the council.’ His colleague scowled. ‘They said they were understaffed and struggling to deal with the complaints they already had in the system about various places in the county but that they’d send someone out at some point.’
‘Unbelievable.’ Barnes shook his head and pulled out his mobile phone as it emitted a beep. ‘The guv is on her way.’
‘God, I hope we find something. She won’t thank us if this is a waste of time again.’
‘It’s never a waste of time, Piper, you know that. Now, do you want to show me that slaughterhouse? Might as well take a look while we’re here. Where are the owners, anyway?’
Gavin gestured towards the house off to the far side of the outbuildings. ‘Uniform have Helen Peverell inside. Her husband isn’t here – she says he should be back in a couple of hours.’
‘Where is he?’
‘The post office in Tonbridge, apparently.’ Gavin pulled open the door to the slaughterhouse. ‘They’ve sent someone over there to find him.’
Barnes reached for his handkerchief and covered his nose. ‘Christ, it stinks in here.’
‘I suppose if they’re selling the meat for pet food, they don’t have to worry so much about hygiene.’
‘I’ll bet the council will say otherwise. This place is huge, isn’t it? I mean, they’re only using a third of the space in here.’ He pointed at the solid doors at the end of the building. ‘Are those the freezers?’
‘Yes. They kill the rabbits over in that corner, butcher the meat at those galvanised tables at the back there, and then the meat is stored in the freezers until it’s collected for distribution to the pet food suppliers. It’s like a production line, isn’t it?’
Barnes grimaced at the description, but could see why his colleague described it in such a way. He turned at movement next to the door and a uniformed constable peered in.
‘All right if we start the search in here, Sarge?’ she said.
‘Be our guest. We’ll get out of your way in a minute.’
‘Thanks, Sarge.’
He pushed his handkerchief back in his pocket and squared his shoulders. ‘All right, I’m going to have a quick look around, and then we’ll head outside to wait for the boss.’
‘Okay.’ Gavin wandered away, his shoes echoing off the concrete floor as he crossed to the far side of the open space, his head bowed as he read through updates from other members of the investigation team on his mobile phone.
Barnes shoved his hands in his coat pockets and began to work his way along the wall, his gaze taking in the sharp knives and cleavers lined up beside the workstations and the chopping boards propped up in a galvanised sink.
Flies buzzed around a large covered bin directly behind the workstations, and he lifted the lid off one, instantly recoiling.
Scores of rabbit skins filled the steel container, the matted fur bloodied and stained with urine.
He dropped the lid back into place, a shiver crossing his shoulders as he progressed towards the freezers, and then wrapped his handkerchief around the steel handle set into one of the doors and peered inside.
A cloud of icy air escaped, chilling his face and sending the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
The stench lessened in here, although the sight of all the small frozen pink bodies lined up in neat rows turned his stomach.
There were so many of them.
‘Ian – get over here!’
Gavin’s shout echoed across the slaughterhouse.
Barnes slammed shut the freezer door and hurried past the search team who paused in their work, an expectant look in their eyes.
He found the detective constable crouching beside the front of the building in the far corner, his excitement palpable.
A row of sacks containing hay and food pellets for the rabbits had been propped against a row of empty shelves, and Gavin was staring at the wall.
‘What’ve you got?’
‘These shelves were full when we were searching the place on Tuesday – sacks like those on the floor there were stacked along them. The team looked between the sacks as part of their search, but they didn’t see this.’
Barnes tweaked his suit trousers and crouched beside his colleague, pulling his reading glasses out of his pocket before peering at the timbers between the shelves.
A faint set of scratch marks had been cut into the wooden surface with a sharp blade depicting a rough approximation of a parachute between open wings that had been carved with an unsteady hand.
&nbs
p; He held his breath as he read the words inscribed underneath.
Help me.
‘Bloody hell. That’s Ethan’s tattoo, isn’t it?’
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Ready?’
Gavin tapped the edge of the manila folder against his thigh, his jaw set as he eyed the door to interview room two, then exhaled. ‘I think so. Thanks, guv.’
Kay smiled. ‘No problem. I’m going to be relying on you even more in future, you realise that, don’t you?’
‘I know.’
‘When did Carys tell you?’
‘Just after you both turned up at the Peverells’ place. I can’t believe she’s leaving us so soon.’
‘They’re keen for her to start as soon as possible. I’m sure she’s just as keen to get on with it.’
He frowned. ‘I wish she was staying here. Are there no DS roles available in Kent, guv?’
‘Believe me, I checked. So did Sharp. There’s no budget for promotions at the moment in the area – all the funding has been allocated to train new police constables as soon as possible to meet the targets set by the government. Hope you weren’t expecting a pay rise this year, either.’
She winked, then pushed open the door and crossed to the table and four chairs set against the far wall.
Helen Peverell sat with her hands in her lap, her head bowed. A thick strand of hair hung over her face, and she’d been crying. Mouth downturned, she lifted her eyes to the two detectives as they sat opposite, and wiped a streak of watery mascara from her cheek.
Her solicitor, a skinny man in his late fifties with close-cropped hair and a pinched expression, glared at the detectives as he passed across his business card.
‘Thank you, Mr Brackenridge,’ said Kay, and then waited while Gavin pressed the record button on the machine beside his elbow and read out the formal caution.
That done, he opened the manila folder and extracted three photographs of Ethan Archer, placing them on the table in front of Helen. ‘Do you know this man?’
The woman bit her lip, then shook her head.
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