by Mike Crowson
Chapter 3: Monday 13th August (evening)
The moors might have been woodland far back in the stone age, but there are not many trees there now. Still, there are a few places, in hollows around reservoirs and the like, where there are clumps of trees, and there are plenty side roads which meander into areas where a family picnic could be held in pleasant surroundings or a lovers' tryst completed in comparative secrecy.
Shirley Hunter guided them without much hesitation along the road from Bingley over the top to Menston, but when Lucy turned off onto a side road towards East Morton she began to hesitate.
"I'm fairly sure this is the right road," she said, "but slow down because I've got to look for the track up onto the moors. It isn't this tarn here because there aren't any trees around and the picnic tables were under some trees."
Lucy slowed the police car down to just over 30 and Mrs. Hunter watched.
"There's loose gravel for about 20 or 30 metres," she said. "There, I think that's it!" She pointed excitedly to a gravel track leading into the woods just ahead.
"Take it easy, Lucy," Millicent said, thinking that this sounded like remembering rather acting, but reserving judgment. "We don't want to wipe out any tracks that might be left."
"The gravel runs out after a bit," Shirley Hunter said.
"P'raps we'd better stop on the gravel and walk the rest of the way, if it isn't far," Lucy suggested, turning the car onto the gravel track. "How far is it?"
"I'm not sure, but not far from the end of the gravel."
"I never asked, but what sort of a car were you in?" Millicent asked.
"Simon's Porsche," Mrs. Hunter replied.
"Here’s the end of the gravel," Lucy announced, pulling to side of the track, though it was unlikely that there would be another vehicle.
The three of them walked on the grass at the side of the dirt road, gradually dwindling to no more than a wide path. There hadn't been rain for a few days, but the ground had been soft on Saturday from rain a couple of days before. Up ahead Millicent could see three wooden picnic tables under the trees. They were of the type frequently found in country parks, rectangular with bench seats and built all in one piece, so nobody could move or walk off with a bench.
"Where were you parked?" Millicent asked.
"Over here, on the right, just at the edge of the clearing. We used that nearest table."
Millicent looked at the ground and could make out some car tracks, but not clearly. She thought the scene of crime team might make something more of them, and avoided walking over them.
"What did you do first?" the detective asked.
"I put a cloth on the table and Simon brought a basket of things from the luggage thingy in the front of the car."
Millicent remembered that a Porsche has an engine at the rear. "A proper picnic basket?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And then?"
"I'm not certain the order things happened in," said Shirley Hunter. "I know I started to unpack some of the items. Then Simon got cross because a mosquito bit him and he started criticising things I was doing. I answered him back, which was asking for trouble really and he threw something at me. A jar of jam or something."
"Did it hit you?
Nearly," Shirley said. "It sort of brushed through my hair."
"Has he hit you before?" Lucy asked.
'Yes," Shirley said.
"Give us an example,". Lucy persisted.
Millicent did not really think it was an appropriate moment to bring this up, or a suitable place either, and determined to have a word with Lucy later. However, her Sergeant had started now and Millicent listened with some interest, wondering whether the man's behaviour amounted to provocation for murder.
"I told you," Shirley said, visibly distressed, "He could be violent". She paused, and then said in an embarrassed rush, "A couple of weeks ago he was in such a rage about something quite trivial that he took a stick and held me down while he pulled my knickers down and caned my bottom."
Lucy looked angry and was about to say something more when Millicent stepped in.
"Okay," she said, "I think we get the picture. He started throwing things at you?" It was a statement but there was a questioning tone.
"I told you, I jumped in the Porsche and locked the door. Simon went to pick up a heavy post to break in. I've seen him angry before, but this was a much worse rage than usual, so I just started the engine and drove the car at him. I wasn't thinking about anything but his violent temper. I was afraid he was going to go too far this time."
"The keys were in the ignition?" Millicent asked.
"Yes."
"And you knocked him over?"
"Yes, but I wasn't going very fast. He went down and I thought I'd injured him seriously, so I got out of the car. I should have guessed he was all right. Anyway, he got up madder than ever, so I ran off. I must have hurt his leg because he soon gave up the chase."
Shirley Hunter was getting close to hysteria.
"Lucy, take Mrs. Hunter back to the car and call up the scene of crime team. Then try and calm Mrs. Hunter down a bit," Millicent said.
After Lucy and the Hunter woman had gone, Millicent continued her look around. She thought that most of the story was plausible enough and that Simon Hunter sounded an obnoxious and violent tempered man, but she tried to suspend judgment until she had some evidence. The story didn't feel entirely true and at this point there was only Shirley Hunter's version of events. While the overall picture could be more or less as she told it, Millicent needed evidence before assuming the woman had not put her own gloss on events.
As she looked around the site, something glittered in the bushes. Whatever it was turned out to be rather hard to reach, but closer inspection showed it to be a full jar of jam. She didn't touch it, leaving it to the scene of crime officers, but it did possibly support the story. A brief search of the same sort of area turned up two unopened tubs of yogurt. These too she left for a properly equipped team. Although she tried to be open, Millicent couldn't escape an inner certainty that the story, if not completely untrue was, at least, incomplete. Admittedly Shirley Hunter could have invented a better story if she was fabricating the whole thing, but it bothered her psychic side all the same.
Millicent wandered over to the hardened dirt track. The ground had been softer Saturday, a couple of days after a significant rain. The detective examined the ground: it may have been softer on Saturday, but it was rock hard now. There were several car tyre tracks. Judging by the way in which different treads appeared over the top of others, it was possible to make out a sequence of events. First a bicycle had come through. Then had come something with very wide tyres, probably a sports car and possibly the Porsche. After that had come two vehicles which had stopped on the track itself. One was another widish tyred vehicle and the other had a narrower tread. The second vehicle had turned round at that point but the third appeared to have reversed out. Then came the that which might have been the Porsche and finally the bicycle again.
The bicycle tyre prints looked identical in both cases, but there was no guarantee they had anything to do with the events of Saturday, or even that both sets of prints were from the same bike. In fact, it was very far from certain that any of the treads were related. However, if the wide tyres really were the Porsche, it had left after the other two vehicles, which might be significant. It was clearly urgent to trace Hunter's car and she made a mental note to get the details from Mrs. Hunter and put out an interest report straight away.
Millicent concluded there was little more to be learnt from just looking and decided they would leave as soon as the scene of crime staff arrived. If they could find the car it might be possible to pick out the Porsche tread marks.
She took another look at the tread marks as she left. If they could be certain the wide tyres belonged to Simon's car there was a puzzling sequence of coming and going. What were the other two vehicles and what were the drivers doing? Had Simon Hunter been al
ive to drive his own car away? Was the bike in any way connected? Shirley hadn't said where Ellen Barnes had picked her up, so that question needed an immediate answer.
Lucy was sitting in the rear of the car with Mrs. Hunter when Millicent returned. She got into the driving seat, but before they set off back she asked, "Where did Ellen Barnes pick you up?"
"I walked out to the main road, you know, the one from Bingley to Menston," Shirley said. "Ellen picked me up at the corner of the two roads. She backed into the side road to turn round."
In that case, Millicent thought, none of the treads would be from Ellen's car, since she hadn't been within half a mile of the picnic site.
"Did you call SOCO team?" she asked Lucy.
"They're on their way," she said, "but I don't know whether they'll find us that easily.
"I'll drive down to the start of the track, so they'll have less chance of missing the turning," Millicent said, and started the car.
It was more a seven point turn than a three point turn and Hampshire was regretting not just reversing out before - car unscathed but driver shredded - they eased out onto the road. Millicent parked the car, switched off the engine and waited.
