‘If it was cleared, you could probably see it from the upstairs of the Hop Pocket,’ said Libby, ‘But there hasn’t been anyone there for years according to John.’
Ben got to his feet and pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘DS Trent?’ he asked Libby.
‘DI Maiden, I would think,’ she said. ‘Hold on – I’ve got the number.’
When Ben got through, he was in fact put through to Rachel Trent.
‘She says not to touch anything, and please wait here. I did say what happened if it rained again and all she said was “we’ll be as quick as we can”.’
‘I suppose we could carry on clearing the ground,’ said Colin. ‘That would only help them, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t much feel like it now,’ said Libby. ‘Can we go under the...’ she gestured towards the collapsing shelter.
‘I don’t think it’s very safe,’ said Ben. ‘Shall we go into the Hop?’
‘The Hop?’ Colin looked puzzled.
‘You know – the Hop.’ Ben waved a hand back towards Cuckoo Lane.
‘Oh – yes.’ Colin picked up his discarded slasher. ‘Good idea.’
Ben led the way carefully back the way they had come, but had barely got out of the gate when they heard a car stop in the lane. A moment later a uniformed officer wearing a high-vis jacket appeared, picking his way through the overgrown path.
‘Mr Wilde?’ he asked.
Ben admitted he was.
‘DS Trent put out a call. She’ll be along as soon as she can. Can you show me what you’ve found?’
‘Can we go, then?’ asked Libby, already knowing what the answer would be.
‘If you’d just wait for DS Trent, ma’am.’ He gave her a charmless smile, and with a sigh, she turned round to follow him and Ben.
Back on the pitch, standing amid the piles of cut back vegetation, they watched as, directed by Ben, the officer got down on his front and leant over the gaping cellar door.
‘You the owner, sir?’ The officer looked over his shoulder at Ben.
‘No, I am,’ said Colin. The officer looked confused, opened his mouth and closed it again, deciding instead to clamber to his feet. He then moved away from them, taking out what Libby assumed was either a radio or a phone. ‘Do they have radios anymore?’ she whispered to Fran.
‘I think so,’ said Fran. ‘So they can talk to everyone at once – something like that. Taxi firms have them, too.’
‘Oh.’ Libby stared thoughtfully at the officer. ‘Who’s he calling, then? Rachel Trent, or head office?’
‘I don’t know!’ said Fran, sounding irritated.
‘All right, all right!’ Libby looked surprised.
‘Sorry.’ Fran hunched her shoulders. ‘I’ve got rain dripping down the back of my neck, my feet are wet, and I’ve been stung.’
‘A bee? In this weather?’
‘No – nettles!’
The officer was coming back to them.
‘DS Trent will be here in a moment,’ he said. ‘And more officers.’ He looked round the pitch. ‘I’m sorry to keep you standing here in the rain. What were you doing out here, anyway?’
‘ Clearing the bat and trap pitch,’ said Colin.
They all waited for a reaction. And got none.
‘Ah,’ said the officer and nodded.
They heard another car. Within seconds, Rachel Trent was ploughing through the weeds, followed by PC Robinson.
‘Ow!’ she said.
‘Nettles?’ asked Fran sympathetically. Rachel sucked at her wrist and grinned. ‘Feels like it!’ She looked round at the dripping group. ‘So what’s going on?’
Libby started to tell her, but was silenced by a glare from their equally wet officer, who reported in suitably official language.
‘Right,’ said Rachel. ‘We’ll have to seal off the entrance, as it’s part of our original crime scene, and get SOCOS down again.’ She sighed. ‘And when the other officers get here we’ll take a look ourselves.’ She turned to Colin. ‘When did you last use this door, sir?’
‘Me?’ Colin looked startled. ‘I didn’t even know it was here!’
Rachel frowned. ‘But I thought you lived here as a boy?’
‘I did, but I never even saw this door. And I’m pretty sure my parents never used it.’
‘It looks like a cellar drop,’ said Ben.
‘A what?’
‘Cellar drop. You know, where beer barrels are delivered to pub cellars. Usually double doors set into the ground outside a pub.’
‘Oh.’ Rachel still looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t your parents use it?’ she asked Colin.
‘We had one at the front. Wouldn’t have been much use round the back here,’ said Colin. ‘The delivery lorry couldn’t have got here.’
‘Right.’ Rachel turned and looked at the uninviting hole in the ground without much enthusiasm. ‘I suppose I’d better go in.’
‘I’ll go down first, Sarge,’ said Robinson, almost visibly throwing his chest out.
Rachel nodded, and allowed him to go past her.
‘Steps aren’t too clever,’ he said, half in and half out of the hole.
They all drew a little nearer.
‘OK, Sarge.’ His muffled voice echoed up to them. Rachel took a deep breath and turned to go down the steps backwards. Colin and Ben both stepped forward to give her a hand down.
For a while there was silence from the hole. Then:
‘ Shit!’ bellowed PC Robinson.
Rachel’s head appeared out of the hole, her face white.
‘Another body,’ she said.
Chapter Nineteen
The group watching her were struck dumb, including the officer now on guard by the entrance to the pitch.
‘Call it in,’ she said now, holding out hands to Colin and Ben to be hauled out of the hole. PC Robinson followed, looking even paler than the sergeant.
‘Who -?’ said Libby.
Rachel shook her head. ‘Skeletal remains.’
‘Not recent, then,’ murmured Fran. Rachel shook her head and took the radio held out to her by the officer.
‘Could we go into my pub?’ Ben asked PC Robinson. ‘It’s that building there. Just to get out of the rain.’
‘I’ll have to ask the sarge,’ said Robinson in a shaky voice.
‘Go with them, Robinson.’ Rachel had obviously heard the request.
They all followed Ben onto the footpath and out into the lane, where he unlocked the side door of the Hop Pocket and let them all in. PC Robinson looked round dubiously.
‘Sit down, Colin,’ said Libby. ‘You look as though you might fall down.’
She pulled up a chair and gave it a wipe with her wet sleeve.
Colin, looking positively green, collapsed onto it. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s just...’
‘I know. A bit much, isn’t it?’ Libby patted his shoulder. ‘And just as you were coming round to Steeple Martin, too.’
Fran had rubbed a clear patch in one of the windows. ‘Reinforcements have arrived,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Oh, Lord.’
‘What?’ said Ben and Libby together.
Fran shot a look at PC Robinson, who was endeavouring to watch them all closely at the same time. ‘Ian,’ she said. PC Robinson looked puzzled, and Colin, relieved.
‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘He’ll accuse us of meddling,’ said Libby.
‘But we weren’t!’
‘ We know we weren’t, but to Ian it will just look as if we were poking our noses in,’ said Ben.
Colin looked faintly aggrieved. ‘It is my property.’
‘That,’ said Ben wryly, ‘is the problem.’
‘Eh?’ Colin looked at them all in turn. ‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’ said Libby.
‘But I haven’t been anywhere near the place for years! And I can prove it. My passport will prove it.’
‘Watch out!’ muttered Fran, and moved away from the window.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Ian. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
Libby glared at him, Ben rolled his eyes, and Fran looked resigned.
‘Sir?’ said Robinson.
‘It’s all right, Constable,’ said Ian. ‘I know these people. You needn’t wait.’
PC Robinson hesitated. ‘Erm,’ he said. ‘Sarge...’
‘DS Trent is fine.’ Ian smiled at the confused constable. ‘Off you go. Right.’ He turned to the other four. ‘What exactly were you doing, and what happened?’
They all began to speak at once, then stopped.
‘Fran,’ said Ian. ‘You tell me.’
‘Well,’ she began, ‘you know Ben wants to start up the bat and trap team again?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Colin’s going to let him use the pitch behind the Garden Hotel?’
‘Yes.’
‘If ever we get out of this mess, I’m going to sell it back to him,’ said Colin.
‘Back to him?’
‘It was part of the Manor Estate at one time,’ said Ben.
‘Anyway,’ continued Fran, ‘while Colin’s still over here, they decided to start clearing the pitch and Libby and I came along to help. We didn’t think it was part of the original crime scene.’
‘I’m afraid it is now – it’s a crime scene all of its own,’ said Ian. ‘It didn’t occur to you to ask if it would be all right?’
‘It’s my land, and nowhere near where the body was found,’ said Colin, sounding surprised. ‘The first body, that is.’
‘And without us, you wouldn’t know about the second body, would you?’ said Libby, feeling that this was unanswerable.
Ian inclined his head. ‘Tell me how you discovered the cellar.’
Ben described how he had spotted the subsidence and what had happened next.
‘It was a bit like a sinkhole,’ he said. ‘With all this rain we’ve been having, I’m not surprised.’
‘And you had no idea it was there, Mr Hardcastle?’
‘None.’ Colin shook his head. ‘I’ll ask Mrs Mardle. She might remember.’
‘Mrs Mardle?’
‘I told you. Our next door neighbour who gave us Colin’s Spanish address,’ said Libby.
‘Did you ever come here to the bat and trap pitch?’
‘Yes,’ said Colin and Ben together.
‘I used to come and watch,’ said Colin. ‘I was too young to play.’
‘I used to play before I left the village to go to college,’ said Ben.
‘And neither of you remember the cellar door?’
Ben and Colin looked at each other and shook their heads.
‘But bat and trap had stopped by the time I left the village,’ said Colin. ‘I wouldn’t have come out the back at all after that.’
‘John Newman might remember,’ said Ben.
‘He wouldn’t have any reason to come here, either,’ sais Colin. ‘And he left for good not long after I did.’
‘But he lived here,’ said Ben, patting the scarred bar counter. ‘It overlooks the footpath and it would have been clear in those days.’
‘What can you see from upstairs?’ asked Ian.
‘Let’s go up and see,’ said Ben, opening a door beside the bar and disclosing an enclosed staircase.
‘Are we going up?’ asked Libby, as she and Fran watched the men disappear.
‘I’d like to see what’s up there,’ said Fran.
‘Come on, then,’ said Libby with a sigh.
There were four rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, all in need of renovation, but commanding a good view over Cuckoo Lane, right down to Dan and Moira Henderson’s house, and the other way over the footpath and down to the back of the Garden Hotel, and even to the back of the chapel next door. They could also see where Cuckoo Lane joined the high street.
‘You can’t actually see the pitch from here, though,’ said Ben, peering through the window over the side door.
‘Hmm,’ said Ian. ‘Not much help, then.’
They all trooped back downstairs.
‘And you’re going to do this place up?’ said Ian.
‘Yes,’ said Ben. ‘When all the relevant permissions come through.’
‘Can we go now?’ asked Colin. ‘You don’t need to ask us anything else, do you?’
Ian regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Not at the moment. But you will all have to make formal statements. I think you might have to come into the station.’
There was a collective groan.
‘This is where an incident room would come in handy,’ said Libby.
Ian smiled. ‘Well, you never know. Now we’ve got two bodies...’
‘But they aren’t recent,’ said Fran.
‘Nevertheless, it’s now a double crime scene, whether or not the two are connected. We’ll have to see. Resources are stretched, so...’ He ushered them back out to Cuckoo Lane and Ben locked up.
‘Will you be able to tell us about the new body?’ asked Libby.
‘Maybe. We’ll have to see,’ said Ian again. ‘Go on, get off home. I know where to find you.’
In silence the walked back to the high street.
‘I could do with a drink,’ said Colin. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Not for me,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve got to drive home.’
‘Come and have a coffee or something,’ said Libby. ‘We all need something.’
‘All right,’ said Fran, ‘but I mustn’t be long.’
They crossed the road, and as they did so, Harry appeared outside the Pink Geranium.
‘What’s happened now?’ he asked, waving towards the police cars now parked outside the Garden Hotel.
‘Another body - a skeleton,’ said Ben. ‘We’re just going to have a drink.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Harry. ‘More private in here.’
They followed him into the restaurant and sat down in the left hand window.
‘Wine? Beer? Coffee?’ asked Harry. ‘Colin, you look as though you could do with a brandy.’
‘Oh, I could!’ said Colin gratefully, and pulled out his wallet.
‘On the house,’ said Harry. ‘What about the rest of you?’
Ben and Libby opted for whisky and Fran for coffee. Harry disappeared towards the bar area.
‘What do we think then?’ asked Libby.
‘What about?’ asked Ben.
‘This other body.’
‘It has to have something to do with the first one,’ said Fran.
‘But why were they in different places?’ said Colin.
‘Do you think the two areas of the cellar link up?’ said Ben. ‘They must do, surely?’
‘But the first body wasn’t actually in a cellar, was it?’ said Libby.
‘I thought you were told Fiona fell through a cellar door,’ said Ben.
‘So,’ said Harry, returning with the drinks. ‘Did you actually find this one?’
Between them, they explained.
‘Got to be linked, surely?’ said Harry.
‘It’s a bit odd if they aren’t,’ said Ben.
‘Ian said he might be able to tell us,’ said Libby.
‘What’s he doing there? I thought he was supposed to be directing operations from afar?’
‘He is, but we all knew he wouldn’t,’ said Fran. ‘I bet he’s resisting further promotion right now. I don’t think he wanted the last one.’
‘Why not?’ Colin was frowning.
‘The further up the ladder they go, the less front-line policing they do,’ explained Ben. ‘I didn’t realise it, but most investigations are led by detective sergeants. Rachel’s doing most of the leading on this one.’
‘That’s the girl we just met?’ asked Colin.
‘That’s her,’ said Libby. ‘And Inspector Maiden’s deputy SIO.’
Colin shook his head. ‘I can’t make sense of it all. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t come back after all.’
> There was a chorus of protest, and he smiled. ‘Well, if we get through this, we’ll see.’
‘You sound like Ian,’ said Libby morosely.
‘So what are you going to do now?’ asked Harry.
‘Us? Nothing,’ said Ben. ‘We can’t clear the pitch now.’
‘I meant about the case,’ said Harry, looking pointedly at Libby.
‘Nothing,’ she said, flushing. ‘There’s nothing we can do. We don’t know anything about the background and we don’t have any connections to the case.’
‘Except me,’ said Colin.
‘Yes, but you’re merely the absentee owner of the property,’ said Fran. ‘Nothing to do with you.’
‘You’ll have to take up something else, then,’ said Harry. ‘How about tatting?’
Libby slapped his arm.
‘She’s already got paintings to do,’ said Fran.
‘I did say I’d quite like to get into archaeology,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps get involved with a local dig. You know, be a scrubber or something.’
This provoked an explosion of laughter, into which a puzzled looking Ian walked.
‘Will someone tell me?’ he asked, as they all struggled to control themselves.
‘I think it’s aftermath of shock,’ said Fran, wiping her eyes.
‘Well, now you’re going to get another one,’ said Ian. ‘Your skeleton was much older than the first body.’
‘There you are, Libby,’ said Harry. ‘An archaeological find!’
‘Not quite,’ said Ian. ‘But certainly more than ten years.’
‘Ten years!’ said Colin. ‘But I don’t understand. The place was already empty by then.’
‘If someone could get in six months ago, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t have been able to ten years ago,’ said Ian. ‘But it isn’t a definite date, just a first impression. They’ll know better after they do some tests.’
‘Radio carbon dating,’ said Libby knowledgeably.
‘I don’t think it’ll go that far,’ said Ian, ‘but insect activity and fibres that have been found. That sort of thing. But you’ve already answered what I came to ask you, Mr Hardcastle. The hotel was empty ten years ago?’
‘Yes. My mother closed it after my father died, and that was nearly twenty years ago. It’s been empty since she died, in fact, before she died. She went to live with her sister.’
‘And that was?’
Colin frowned. ‘Fifteen years ago? They came to stay with me in London for a holiday about then, but Mum wasn’t well.’
Murder Repeated Page 13
