Slaughter in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  The bat was there again! The moment the light went on, flittering wingbeats stirred the air around her head. This time, she was angry. She shut Hepzie out, opened the window, and snatching up a towel, she flapped determinedly at it. It took five minutes to steer it outside, but it was accomplished eventually. Could bats cope with rain, she wondered briefly. Had she consigned it to a miserable death by drowning? Just at that moment, she didn’t care if she had. She only knew she never wanted to see it again.

  Hepzie scratched and whined at the door throughout the chase. Then, as Thea went to let her in, the whine turned to a yap, and the dogs outside started barking. Before Thea could go downstairs to investigate, there was a loud banging on the front door, which Thea had locked behind her sister.

  Emily was standing there, pale and large-eyed, her mouth oddly tight. She was wearing peculiar shapeless clothes, and her wet hair was straggling around her face instead of neatly tied back as usual. ‘Let me in,’ she said.

  ‘But – what?’ Words failed her, her mind still on the battle with the bat.

  ‘I’ve just witnessed a murder,’ Emily shouted. ‘I saw the whole thing. I’ve been at the police station. It was horrible. They took my clothes and my shoes. I can’t face driving home now. Let me in.’

  Thea had already let her in. Of course she had. But she found herself wishing that she didn’t have to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The story took a long time to tell, mainly because Emily repeated everything three or four times, with little logical sequence. It seemed that following the arrival of the police after she’d dialled 999, she had been subjected to extensive questioning. That was clearly the part she found the most traumatic. She went over it obsessively.

  Piecing the story together from the beginning, Thea understood that Emily had taken a wrong turning immediately after leaving Hawkhill and found herself in a maze of small roads beyond Upper Slaughter. Realising her mistake, she had tried to turn around in a gateway, managing to graze the rear bumper of the car in the process. ‘It was only a little way from a big hotel – not out in the wilds or anything. I could see it only a few yards away. But there was nobody about. I switched the engine off, and got my torch out, and had a look at the map. I was doing all the sensible things,’ she wailed, as if expecting blame for irresponsibility.

  ‘Why didn’t you use your Sat Nav thingy?’

  ‘What?’ Emily’s eyes turned even wilder, if that was possible.

  ‘You know – the thing that tells you where to go.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t think I’d need to. I didn’t think I was really lost.’ She smiled weakly. ‘But the truth is, I don’t like it. It spooks me, that voice telling me what to do. Sounds daft, doesn’t it.’

  ‘A bit. I thought this would be the obvious situation where it was useful.’ But this was Emily, she remembered. The big sister who could never abide to be told what to do.

  She still hadn’t got a coherent grasp of the story. ‘What happened after that?’

  ‘Then I got out to see what I’d done to the car, and how best to get back onto the road without any more damage. That’s when I heard the shouting. A man yelling his head off. He sounded crazy – off his head with rage.’

  ‘Scary,’ Thea agreed faintly.

  ‘So I crept along to see what was happening. They were in a layby. The shouting man was kicking and bashing at another man on the ground. I could hear the awful noise of his head cracking when the murderer stamped on it. He had a big stick or something. It was frenzied. So I yelled something, but he didn’t hear me. I ran towards him, and finally he saw me, and with a kind of crazy yelp he just dashed off. I hadn’t a hope of catching him.’

  ‘No,’ said Thea faintly.

  ‘So then I did 999 on the mobile, and had a look at the poor chap on the ground.’ At this point Emily choked and clutched her damp head in both hands, as if transforming herself into the injured man. ‘It was so horrible. I knelt down beside him. There was mud everywhere, and puddles, the rain just poured down. He was lying in water. I got filthy. They had to find me these clothes. Look at them!’ She swiped a disgusted hand down the baggy tracksuit. It was just about the last outfit Emily would ever have worn. Thea had to suppress a giggle at the incongruity of it.

  ‘Weren’t you scared the madman would come back?’

  ‘What? Oh, a bit, I suppose. He ran away – why would he come back?’

  It seemed the story had dried up for the moment. Emily sat on the sofa, hands clutched together, eyes on a far corner of the room. Her head tilted sideways, her ear almost touching her left shoulder. It was a strange childlike stance, oddly pitiful. Thea felt her own heart pounding at the ghastly story, the impossible thing her sister – already in an emotional state – had been witness to. ‘You poor thing,’ she said, reaching out to press Emily’s arm.

  ‘I should have stayed here,’ her sister moaned. ‘Why didn’t I stay here?’

  ‘You were scared of the bat,’ said Thea. ‘With good reason. It was back again just now.’

  Emily’s eyes lost all focus. ‘It’s all the fault of that bat, then. Isn’t that ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, the man would still be dead,’ Thea pointed out.

  Emily stared at her for a moment, and then seemed to sag. ‘Yes. But I wouldn’t have been involved, would I?’

  It was typical, of course. So typical that Thea barely noticed the way her sister always put herself at the centre of every story. Now, she could hardly fail to see it. A man had been murdered, while Emily looked on. Which person warranted centre stage in that scenario? But she made no remark. What would be the use?

  ‘The police were very kind,’ Emily said, as if holding onto the single piece of light in a black story.

  ‘That’s good. They’ll need you, of course, as the only witness. They’ll want to look after you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Emily sighed.

  Thea felt the unstable bog of despair under her feet. Why on earth did Emily have to get herself lost so stupidly? Why did it have to be raining so hard? Why could life never be easy and calm and boring for once? And why did she already have a dawning apprehension that she herself was going to attract some limelight over the coming days, because of her sister, and her relationship with DS Hollis?

  A stillness came over them both, as the shock worked its way through their systems. Finally, Thea did her best to summarise, forcing herself to sound calm and businesslike. ‘Well, as murders go, this doesn’t sound a very difficult one to solve. It’s obvious they knew each other, if the killer was so enraged. There must have been an argument or fight to get him into such a state.’

  ‘Or it could have been somebody with mental problems, not taking his medication,’ said Emily, valiantly adopting the same tone. ‘He did seem completely mad.’ She was shaking gently, her teeth chattering, despite the mug of sweet tea that Thea had made her.

  ‘So – what did the police say would happen next? Where did you tell them you’d be?’

  ‘Home. I gave them my address, obviously. I couldn’t remember what this place was called, anyway.’

  ‘Did you say anything about me?’ Thea’s relationship with the Detective Superintendent had raised her profile with the Gloucestershire police. And not only because of Phil: she had been involved in a number of murder investigations over the past year or so. The ramifications of this had escaped Emily, however. She stared at her sister in bewilderment.

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘Because of Phil.’

  ‘I thought he was still off work with his back.’

  ‘It isn’t as simple as that. For one thing, he is working as much as he can – desk stuff. The back’s getting better.’

  Emily wasn’t interested in Thea’s boyfriend. She had only met Hollis once, and they had not found much common ground. Phil’s damaged back reminded the whole family of Rosie, wife of Uncle James, another Detective Superintendent. Over the years Rosie’s invalid status had become a permanent part of the picture, somethi
ng to be factored into every gathering or outing. Always the centre of attention, her pain a kind of force field impossible to ignore, she was nonetheless a lovely person, sweet and stoical. When Phil Hollis joined the same club there had been jokes and groans and advice to Thea to drop him immediately. Instead she had spent a fortnight in his Cirencester flat, nursing him through the most immobile stage of the injury.

  ‘If you gave my name, there’s a chance he’ll pick up on it tomorrow. He knows I’m in Lower Slaughter – that alone is going to ring a bell with him.’

  ‘I don’t care. I just wish I’d never come here. This is the last thing I need. It feels as if there’s no escape from death and dying.’ This was more like the old Emily – cross at being thrown off course, resentful at the way the world could trip you up, however careful you were.

  ‘It’s not very nice for me, either,’ muttered Thea. ‘If you hadn’t got involved, I could have gone through my stay here in blissful ignorance.’

  ‘So why don’t you? Stay out of it. I’ll go home first thing in the morning, and you can feed your ferrets in peace.’ Emily squared her shoulders as if some fresh decision had fortified her.

  ‘Because it’s not in my nature. Like it or not, I’ve quite a bit of experience of this sort of thing. Now there’s Jessica as well – she’s going to want to hear all about it. The best hope is that some blood-stained character will get himself caught before another day goes by. If he’s a nutcase like you say, he’s probably boasting about it to his mother as we speak.’

  ‘And she might hose him down and burn his clothes and never say a word about it.’ The brave words sat oddly on the white face and bloodless lips.

  ‘That’s true.’ Thea forced a smile. In spite of herself, she was glad to have another person in the house, and Emily was certainly in no state to go driving off across Middle England at midnight. ‘Have you phoned Bruce?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, ages ago. I played it down a bit, of course. Only told him the bare bones. He won’t need to hear the worst of it.’

  ‘Protecting him, as usual,’ Thea commented.

  ‘Don’t start that.’ The warning came as a low snarl that Thea found genuinely alarming.

  ‘Sorry – but it’s true, all the same.’

  ‘So what if it is? You think I ought to describe a shattered head, with the brains and blood all seeping out into a muddy puddle to him and the boys, do you? I should tell the whole family and all my friends that I got covered in filthy slime and bits of bone when all I wanted was to get the car started and drive home? What bloody good would that do?’

  Thea shook her head. All she could think was that if it had happened to her, she would have wanted everybody to know about it. But she was not Emily. She could even see some nobility in her sister’s effort to keep it to herself. ‘At least I agree with you about the boys,’ she offered. ‘It isn’t something you’d want them imagining.’

  Except, as far as she understood it, adolescent boys already spent most of their time fantasising about smashing skulls and disembowelling nameless enemies, and making cyber-vehicles crash endlessly into each other.

  As for Bruce, he was what he was, and Emily seemed happy with him, which left little more to be said. When she had first elected to marry him, both her sisters had made cautious attempts to point out his limitations. Not, as their father had, to cast aspersions on his profession, but to query his ability to manifest an acceptable range of emotions. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Emily had insisted. ‘He’s funny and competent and highly intelligent. He’ll be reliable and there won’t ever be any rows. Don’t worry, girls – he’s going to be fine.’ It had been a sign of her confidence that she hadn’t been the least bit angry with them for their impudent suggestions.

  It seemed she had been right. The marriage was entering its twentieth year with little or no sign of strain. The three children, after an unpleasant miscarriage in the first year, had been reared methodically, with old-fashioned discipline. Sent to a fee-paying school, they seemed to be finding life rather more agreeable than did many of their peers. If Thea could somehow never quite find the right things to say to them, then perhaps that was her failure and not theirs. And although she preferred the noisy chaos of Jocelyn’s big family, she tried to keep quiet about it.

  * * *

  They went to bed suddenly, well after midnight. Or rather, Thea did, and Emily snuggled down on the accommodating sofa, with a pillow and a blanket from the airing cupboard. ‘I still don’t like this house,’ she said, eyeing a dusty cobweb directly over her head. ‘I just know there’ll be mice and spiders running over me as soon as I go to sleep.’

  ‘Of course there won’t,’ said Thea. ‘But if you insist, I could change places with you. Then you’ve only got a bat to worry about.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. There’ll be even more mice and spiders upstairs. There always are. Especially in the spare room – you’re invading their territory.’

  There was no sign of any return of the bat, much to Thea’s relief. She and Hepzie quickly settled down and fell asleep for a pleasantly uninterrupted night.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The mobile, which was dutifully attached to its charger on the bedside table, went off at seven fifteen. Blearily, Thea reached for it, only opening her eyes as an afterthought, to find sunlight streaming through the window.

  ‘Hello?’ she croaked. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Thea? Are you awake?’ It was her mother.

  ‘No, of course not. What do you want?’

  ‘I tried to phone Emily just now, and Bruce says she’s with you.’

  ‘You tried to phone her at seven in the morning? What on earth for?’

  A whine entered the maternal voice. ‘She said it would be all right to phone any time. I’m not managing this very well, Thea. One of you should be here with me. I’ve got four children, and they’re all too busy to spare a few days for me. Daddy and I were married for forty-nine years. You can’t imagine what it’s like not having him here any more.’

  I can, Mum, Thea wanted to shout.

  ‘Emily says you told her you didn’t want anybody staying with you.’

  ‘Well, of course, I could see you all had better things to do. I didn’t want to impose.’

  ‘Right.’ It seemed to Thea that her mother, having read or seen on TV scenes where the new widow berated her selfish children, was now adopting the role for herself, in preference to taking on the task of discovering what she really felt and wanted.

  ‘So, why is she there?’

  ‘She came over yesterday, to talk about Daddy. And something happened last night, so she decided to stay.’

  ‘Something happened? What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing to worry about. She’s perfectly all right.’

  ‘Did you get drunk?’ The tone was accusing, with the merest hint of envy.

  ‘No, not at all. Listen, Mum, it’s awfully early. You must have woken Bruce as well as me. Why don’t you go back to bed with a mug of tea, and spoil yourself? Think about what you really want us to do. But it isn’t fair to say you’d rather be on your own and then complain when we take you seriously. You don’t want to turn into that sort of silly old nuisance, do you?’ The phrase was a special one within the Johnstone family, with its roots in the generation before Thea’s mother. It was used as a gentle joke, albeit with a warning note.

  But Mrs Johnstone was in no state to take it as it was meant. She gave a protesting yelp. ‘You know what I mean,’ Thea went on quickly. ‘Remember your Auntie Pamela.’

  Auntie Pamela had been the original silly old nuisance, self-pitying and impossible. A figure of legend, she had lived to ninety-six. Thea remembered her mainly as an object of terror, although the appeal of hearing first hand memories from the 1890s had done much to overcome her reluctance to visit.

  ‘Don’t be so unkind,’ her mother sniffed. ‘It isn’t like you.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to be,’ Thea apologised. Where was her father when she need
ed him? He would have laid down his newspaper and come quietly into the room to say exactly the right thing. ‘But you really can’t expect us all to know what to do if you contradict yourself so much.’

  There was a brief silence. ‘You’re right,’ came a small voice, finally. ‘Thank you, Thea. I can always rely on you to cut through the crap.’

  This time Thea yelped. ‘Mum! You don’t have to go that far.’

  Laughter converged on the airways, relief verging on hysteria, and Thea congratulated herself on averting a decade or two of self-pity and manipulation.

  ‘So why is Emily really there?’ came a suddenly acute question. ‘Why didn’t she go home again last night? Precisely what happened?’

  ‘Well—’ Thea heaved a sigh. After the bracingly honest way she’d just confronted her mother, she could hardly start telling lies now. ‘She saw something horrible, on her way home, and came back here because she was upset.’

  ‘What – like a dog being run over? Horrible like that?’

  ‘A bit like that. She saw a man beating up another one, and he died. She was a witness to one man killing another man. She had to give a statement to the police.’

  ‘You are in the Cotswolds, aren’t you? Did I get it wrong? Are you house-sitting in the middle of Birmingham?’

  ‘No, Lower Slaughter,’ said Thea miserably.

  ‘That’s what I thought. I suppose your policeman will be called in to sort it all out.’

  ‘I doubt it. He’s only doing desk work at the moment, and from what Emily said, it won’t be very difficult to catch the killer. It wasn’t a very subtle attack.’

  ‘Poor Em. She won’t have liked that, will she?’

  The phonecall tailed off, and Thea went down to see if her sister was awake.