by David Beard
‘I hope not, you have more than you can handle, but before I try to make more assignments, I wanted your opinion and there is also something I would like you to do. A woman’s body has been found in an isolated car park on Dartmoor. It is just above Widecombe at a place known as Two Crosses.’
‘I know it!’
‘I thought you might. The area has been secured: it’s all guarded until we get our act together. Because the pathologist is tied up with you, and I don’t know for how long, I decided to send the police surgeon down to confirm the death. So, Doctor Holiday is there at the moment. He has told me that she is fully clothed and she has been shot. He hasn’t disturbed the body of course but he has checked her handbag which was lying close by and he has identified her. I wondered, as she lives close to where you are now, whether you could nip around to her house and see what you can find out? Her name is Heather Lynley, and she lives…,’ the superintendent trailed off as she was suddenly aware of silence at the other end. Smalacombe was busy collecting his thoughts. ‘Dexter? Are you still there? Dexter?’
‘Yes, I am. Look, I’m sorry, this is a dilemma…’ This Monday morning was turning into chaos.
‘Why? She lives close to where you are now? I’m trying to save us gadding about.’ His reply may have raised her tension but Smalacombe was amused, as it reduced his own. Milner guessed it was a usual Smalacombe wind up, as she waited for more.
Smalacombe took a deep breath, ‘There is an abandoned car here that we think may be connected to the body in the canal.’
‘All right, you have difficulties; of course you do, but…’
‘The owner of this car is a Mrs Heather Lynley.’
‘Oh my God!’ Shiela Milner rolled her eyes and looked around her office at nothing in particular. ‘Shit! Is nothing ever straightforward?’
‘I think it is straightforward and it’s pretty obvious who will have to do the investigation now, isn’t it?’
‘Dexter, there is so much else for you to do. I can’t spare you tied up for weeks on end.’ Milner was now agitated, and not because of her colleague’s attitude but the extra pressure this generated on her management team.
‘This can’t be split, Sheila: it’s clearly one case. What is our raisin d’être, filling out forms or solving a murder?’ Milner sighed; she had heard all of this many times before. ‘It is also important that we have the same SOCO, same pathologist and so on. Leave it with me and I will do the best I can. I will try to get all the resources to Two Crosses as soon as possible; within two or three hours, I would say. Firstly, I will have to see this bloke’s wife, if there is one. I’m sure you understand that. I may have to split the investigation team as there is still much to be done here.’
‘OK, but I’m not happy.’
‘Are you ever?’
She ignored his last remark but she realised his plan was the best under the circumstances, ‘Keep me in touch.’ She knew that was a wild hope as he never had done so in the past.
Smalacombe called over Marriot and Corndon and broke the news.
‘There’s still an awful lot to be done here,’ Corndon assessed.
Angela Marriot was also concerned. ‘Dexter, I have to get this body to the lab and organise the PM. It’s going to be difficult to get out there quickly.’
‘But it is not impossible, Angela. We have no option; we can’t just leave it rotting there can we? There must be a connection; we have to treat it as such. Suppose this lady has been killed by the same gun. This is why we need you on both.’
‘Shotguns don’t have that range do they?’ Emily could not resist this silly remark in order to lower the tension.
‘My goodness, Emily and you have only been working with this guy for a few hours.’ Angela decided to follow it up in the same vein. ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can.’
Smalacombe smiled broadly, ‘Two Crosses is very easy to find. I will give you a little map.’ He sketched a simple map of the last part of the journey, ripped the page from his note book and handed it to her.
‘Sir, I have a few snippets for you,’ Emily checked her notebook. ‘A lady dog walker found the body here.’
‘Has there ever been a body not found by a dog walker?’
‘I have her name and address. The PCSO ran along here late last night, just before…’
‘I know and it was dimpsy,’ Samalacombe interrupted, deciding to exercise some distraction of his own.
‘What is dimpsy?’
‘Terrific, I’ve found something you don’t know. Twilight!’ Corndon smiled and shook her head, ‘Is there a Mrs. Crossworth?’ Smalacombe questioned.
‘Yes, and I have the address; it is Rosten House, just down the road from here.’
‘Top priority, and then we will move on. Sort out the team; we will need some to remain here to tie things up and,’ he turned to Marriot. ‘Angela, how much more is there for you to do here?’
‘I’m just worried about moving the body. I will be able to move on fairly quickly then.’
Smalacombe and Corndon left the scene and paused on the bridge before going back to the car. They looked along the canal. A family of swans was sailing towards them in rigid formation. Mother was in the lead, the five cygnets followed in a straight line and father had taken up the rear.
‘Even on a day like today, Emily, there is always something good to see,’ Smalacombe said.
Emily checked that no one was close to them, ‘Absolutely, Dexter,’ she began, returning to the more familiar address, ‘I’ve watched these since they first appeared in May.’ She pointed to the cob. ‘He’s a nasty piece of work. I saw him tip a young girl out of her canoe last month. She got too close and he didn’t like it.’
‘He’s not our culprit?’
‘Oh give over. He hasn’t got a gun licence has he?’
‘Good point. I doubt the real culprit has either. Life is never that easy.’
‘I agree! Do you know that by the end of the year all the youngsters will have been shooed off? The two adults won’t share their domain with any of them.’
‘Where do they go?’
‘Who knows? There will be hell to pay in December when they decide they have looked after them long enough.’
‘Not a good Christmas for them, then.’
‘It saves them buying presents!’
‘True. Well, let’s attend to things. We seem to be suffering from an awful lot of distraction this morning.’ Smalacombe decided to move on.
‘We would be numb heads if we didn’t see the wonders around us. We have to continue, even if the victim’s lives have come to an abrupt end. Frankly, Dexter, and I need your experienced view of this, dare I say attitude, because I feel we must remain dispassionate about these things.’
‘I am sorry about the kingfisher thing earlier but it was essential to me. This is my first acquaintance with a murdered body. I was feeling really uptight: I just needed some distraction at that moment to relieve the pressure. I was worried I couldn’t cope. I hope you understand.’
‘I do and it’s how I survive as well,’ Smalacombe confirmed, ‘and I usually say something stupid. Angela has just confirmed that. You’re learning fast. You and I are going to do well, Emily. We are of one mind on that.’ They moved on.
As they walked to the car, Emily referred to other aspects of the case she had discovered. ‘Oh, there is something else of great import. I checked with the station to find if they had any contact with Crossworth recently and they have. This is very weird, but he had his car keys stolen on Friday lunch time.’
‘I’m impressed, Emily, well done. Just the car keys?’
‘Yes, that’s why it’s weird. He was having lunch at the Dog and Bone, up the road from here, with someone. You will remember it rained heavily. He hung his rain coat by the door, which apparently was not an unusual thing to do, but when he went to leave, the keys had gone from his pocket. Apparently he was angry with himself for leaving them in his coat.’
‘I b
et he bloody was. And they didn’t take the car?’
‘No, just the keys. The car is still at the pub.’
‘What have we got here? He loses his keys and then turns up dead three days later with a murdered woman’s car?’
‘Surely, he would have a spare set, but clearly he didn’t get around to that.’ She thought for a moment, ‘The PCSO tells me that this man is…, was, incredibly wealthy. No doubt he has more than one car anyway.’
‘Perhaps he was using the murdered lady’s car?’
CHAPTER 2
Rosten House, the Crossworth’s home, was an imposing residence, not quite something of interest to the National Trust, but a very impressive pile. It was surrounded by vast pristine lawns with a smattering of huge trees dotted around the vista, many of exotic origin. Sculptures of figures and some of the Barbara Hepworth School completed the scene. Smalacombe rang the bell and dogs barked.
‘Mrs Crossworth?’ She nodded and looked at the two officers suspiciously. ‘I am Chief Inspector Smalacombe and this is Detective Sergeant Corndon. May we come in?’
The hostess still did not answer and silently led them to her front room. She was smartly dressed in a no-nonsense pale blue trouser suit and a plain white blouse. Emily studied these details keenly and noticed there was very little jewellery apart from a wedding ring and two stud earrings. She was tall and elegant, very slim and, Emily considered, she looked fit. She looked old enough to sport grey hair but there was no sign of any in her short dark coiffure. All in all Emily assessed that she was an attractive lady but not given to fussiness with her appearance. Two golden retrievers were close at hand, protecting their mistress as they joined the retinue.
As Smalacombe looked around the room he reflected that its floor space alone was probably more than his entire ground floor. There were what he considered to be expensive paintings adorning the walls. An oak table stood by the bay window, which looked out upon a colourful perennial flower garden, which was shaded by a eucalyptus tree. Dahlias were in bud and waiting to burst, heralding late summer and the onset of autumn.
She indicated that they could sit at the table. Smalacombe shook his head preferring to stand on the carpet as plush as a croquet lawn. He had difficult things to do and standing helped him to maintain formality, the only way he could deliver his dreadful news.
‘Mrs Crossworth, I’m afraid I have some seriously bad news for you.’
For the first time she showed emotion and her lower lip trembled. She still didn’t speak but looked intently at the chief inspector and waited patiently for him to continue.
‘This is very difficult, madam but I cannot soften the blow, I’m afraid…’ He paused in the hope that the seriousness of his visit had registered and it would give the lady time to adjust.
Mrs Crossworth moved slowly to the table, the dogs followed. She turned and faced the officers and looked composed, ready to take the news.
Smalacombe decided it was time to broach the subject. ‘We have found a body in the canal.’
Mrs Crossworth sat down on a chair by the table. ‘What has that to do with me?’ she asked, talking for the first time and revealing a clipped southern English accent.
‘Well,’ he took a deep breath and hesitated again, ‘we are fairly certain that it is your husband.’ At this point she lost control and very noisily burst into floods of tears. Smalacombe waited, but she continued. It soon became clear she was not going to be in any position to answer questions but he didn’t feel he could leave her as she was. ‘I am truly sorry to bring such news, Mrs Crossworth. We can’t confirm this of course until the body has been identified and it is something we will have to ask you to do.’
At the moment he uttered the word “body”, her sobs became louder. Her hands were gripping her thighs; tears and mucous dropped onto her trousers leaving dark blotches.
‘We won’t leave you. We can make sure there is someone with you until you feel better.’
Mrs Crossworth composed herself and straightened up, ‘That won’t be necessary.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I’ll manage.’
The next few minutes were painful for all concerned. The two police officers stood awkwardly in silence whilst the lady returned to great distress. Corndon decided she could use the time to better effect. She understood that, once again, her inexperience had left her confused. She went outside to use her phone and make another series of calls. This made Smalacombe’s position even more difficult and it angered him. He used the time to try to piece together the information they had so far gathered. The dogs were upset by their guardian’s distress and eyed Smalacombe suspiciously, which added to the tension.
Finally, the sobbing ceased; Mrs Crossworth looked up and shook her head. ‘Thank you for informing me and I understand it is such a difficult thing for you to do. I am sorry but I have had premonitions.’
‘I understand,’ but clearly he didn’t. ‘I will have to return when you are better and have a chat.’ She nodded. ‘We need to begin our investigations as soon as we can. Perhaps you could give us access to your husband’s computer and recent correspondence; his office perhaps?’
‘Would it make any difference if I said no?’
‘It would delay things a bit, I think.’
‘Well, delay it is then.’ She answered defiantly much to Smalacombe’s surprise.
He could not reason why she suddenly abandoned her distress and answered so forcibly. He was desperate to get on with things; her stance annoyed him. ‘Do you know where your husband’s car is?’
‘How would I know that? If he is out, he will have his car; Bristol, Bristol Airport? I don’t know.’
It was clear that the interview could go no further and he left, picking up Emily by the door where she was in conversation on her mobile. She finished it, looked to Smalacombe and pursed her lips.
‘I buggered that up, Emily. We’ve got to move on, so make sure we get a search warrant for the computer and stuff p d q. And, you bloody left me,’ Smalacombe moaned.
‘I have made a few phone calls.’
‘I had to pacify a troubled widow. It is something women can do better than blokes like me. Goodness, I needed you in there.’
‘I apologise! I didn’t realise, but I can see, you are right. I am not finding this easy, Dexter. I just wanted to use the time to find things out. It seems Crossworth was an all around good egg.’
‘No! Somebody thought he was addled.’
‘I’ll rephrase that…in most people’s book. He is chair of the parish council, he’s a school governor at the local primary school, and he’s a member of the PCC.’
‘PCC?’ Smalacombe interrupted.
‘Parochial Church Council! He attends all local charity bashes whenever he can and he has donated freely to them. Fact is, Dexter, you can’t do all of these things without falling out with someone. Oh, and he is wealthy. Local gossip says very wealthy, but no one is sure where the money is coming from.’
‘Lots of ises, should be wases. Not short of a bob or two was he? What did you make of the paintings?’ He decided to test her knowledge once more.
‘The one in the corner to the right of the window was beautiful. It was a Stanhope Forbes.’ Smalacombe noted there was no “I think” attached to the comment and here was yet another avenue of interest upon which she was well informed.
‘Worth a bit?’
‘I would think so; there were others from the Newlyn School as well.’
‘Newlyn School? Surely, that’s a collective noun for pilchards?’ Smalacombe sat in the car thinking and Corndon waited for him to get started as they both knew of the urgency in getting to Dartmoor.
‘What now?’
‘I’m thinking.’
‘If you were a woman, you could multitask; drive and think at the same time.’ She decided to test his humility.
‘I’m in danger here of saying something extremely sexist.’
‘Well, I’ve already done that!’
‘Ah yes, but that�
�s permissible,’ he quipped. Emily puffed her cheeks and exhaled noisily.
Although Smalacombe’s ripostes came as a surprise and he had reprimanded her, Emily Corndon was beginning to feel very relaxed in the company of her new boss. The interludes, between the crisis moments of the job, removed the stress and were needed. She sensed that Smalacombe understood that only too well and it was a deliberate ploy to help him keep his own sanity. She concluded that her first impressions were right and city life was alien to him; he was a country boy at heart and it was far too late for him ever to change. He certainly lacked the sophistication of her metropolitan friends.
She liked his feeling for the natural world around them: something close to her own interests, which took her out of her daily grind. He lived in another world from her and she was excited to be a part of it. She had always had a lively sense of humour and often blue, which sometimes got her into trouble and she understood that Smalacombe suffered the same problem. Clearly, she would have to endure some crass comments, like piddling on her bike but, as Shiela Milner had warned her, that’s just Smalacombe. She was greatly relieved that he preferred the informal address in private and realised that it must be strictly observed. It enabled her to be much more relaxed with him and it helped the idle chit chat to flow. Her recent mistake at the canal side annoyed her.
She mulled over her first sight of Crossworth’s mutilated body and wondered how long it would be before she could stomach such scenes. It was much harder than she had expected and she was relieved that she avoided vomiting.
The drive to Dartmoor was largely conducted in silence. Smalacombe was trying to piece together what he had seen and to assess the anomaly of Mrs. Crossworth’s change of attitude. Emily remained overwhelmed and the vision of Crossworth’s body kept returning. She was not in the mood for idle chat and bored with watching the traffic but she understood that her boss was quiet as he had much on his mind.
