Misery Shallows (DI Elizabeth Jewell Book 4)

by Carole Pitt

  Elizabeth cast her mind back to the pre DNA days. She hoped all of the original evidence was still intact along with any other forensics, such as fingerprints and soil samples. From what she'd read so far, the investigation had been thorough and extensive. She sat up and turned away from the screen. What year had Daly moved to Gloucestershire? As far as she could remember, it was the late eighties. Prior to that, he had worked in Yate, for Avon and Somerset Constabulary. She remembered him telling her how he'd had to commute every day. Even before joining Park Road, he was bound to know some of the officers who'd worked there and maybe to this day still had the odd contact who might know more about the case. The story had certainly made the papers, nationally as well as locally.

  A year after the Walker family disappeared, the BBC made a documentary about them and included an appeal to the public for information. Another year later, and with no further clues, the police prepared to archive the investigation. The local press had kept the story alive for months and had offered a ten thousand pound reward for information about the family's whereabouts. Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, puzzled. Surely, if Daly had known details about the case, and he must have, why didn't he mention it when they were at the crime scene? From their vantage point, Roxbury Farm was plain to see, yet he'd showed no sign of recognition. She checked the time and decided to read the last page before leaving.

  For the duration of the investigation, the original lead detective had remained convinced someone had killed the family and hidden their bodies. Then suddenly, he changed his mind and decided they must have given up the hippie life, moved a long way north and turned respectable. His colleagues, although shocked by his new theory, were still relieved when the investigation eventually wound down.

  Elizabeth heard Patterson come in. She glanced up and saw he'd brought coffee and sandwiches. 'How's it going?' he asked.

  She stood up and stretched. 'It's incredibly interesting. I've gone back to the Walker family, who bought Roxbury Farm and encouraged their traveller friends to start a commune.’

  Patterson asked. 'Were the Walkers ever found?'

  'No, but the cops seriously considered the family were killed and buried there. I'd heard of the case, but forgotten about it.'

  'You're thinking one of the current travellers might be responsible for the woman in the culvert.'

  'That's why we're going there Tony, to find out. Eldridge wanted to come, I told him no. I've sent the two newbies over there instead.'

  'I'm okay with Eldridge in small doses. I wouldn't be surprised if he jacks the job in. His mate Darren said he's developing a new game and spends most of his free time working, never goes out much anymore now that he's determined to be a millionaire. Poor misguided sod, I feel sorry for him.'

  'I thought you hated him.'

  Patterson shook his head. 'Nah, He's not worth the effort.'

  'I'm glad to hear that,' Elizabeth said and had a sudden blinding realisation. Patterson must have found another girl. 'How's the mud situation over at the farm?'

  'I rang Mrs Fowler, she says it's improving.'

  'We better take boots. Listen, I need to make a couple of calls before we go,’ she handed him her keys. 'You can drive.'

  After she finished on the phone she changed into a pair of old rubber riding boots and went to meet Patterson in the car park.

  He took the motorway only to find a couple of miles into their journey a traffic jam held them up. They crept along slowly and Elizabeth was glad to have time to mull over a few ideas until Patterson interrupted her thoughts. 'Tell me more about this Walker case.'

  'There's not much more to tell unless I can access the rest of the investigation files.’

  She felt shivery as she spoke the words and once again wondered if she was coming down with flu. Her wrist was still painful and weak but swallowing painkillers in front of Patterson would only lead to questions she didn't want to answer. She'd hang on until they arrived at the house, and then ask the owner if she could use the loo.

  'I wonder if Daly knew about the case,' Patterson said, as the traffic started moving normally.

  'That's what I've been thinking. He must have, he was a cop and lived in Cheltenham.'

  Patterson overtook a lorry and eased back into the inside lane. 'Hang on though. Wasn't he working for Avon and Somerset back then?'

  'He was. I can remember him moaning about having to drive there and back every day.'

  'Strange, he never said anything.'

  'That's what I thought, but we all know what he's like. He obviously has a bloody good reason for not telling us about it. Which means, Sergeant, we have to figure out exactly what that reason is.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  They left the Saab on the narrow road rather than try driving it up the track leading to Roxbury Farm. As they trudged along, she was glad that they had, the car would never have made it. The mud was almost a foot deep in places and the water, deeper still.

  Elizabeth was surprised to see a young female uniformed officer standing by a police Landrover. She explained she was filling in for one of the Detective Constables who was busy elsewhere. The other DC appeared from behind one of the many outbuildings.

  The young woman was attractive and Elizabeth noticed Patterson had visibly cheered up. Their body language confirmed it wasn't a first meeting.

  She hadn't yet met everyone assigned to her team. Many of them had relocated after their station had closed and finding time to get to know them wasn’t easy. 'I need to apologise,' she said. 'I don't know your names.'

  'Lauren Collins,' the young woman replied. 'This is Pete Newcombe, our successful tennis player. We have a good team, but Pete's the best.'

  DC Newcombe explained. 'I won the Gloucestershire police singles last summer. No great claim to fame.'

  'We're always recruiting,' Collins said, keeping her eyes firmly on Patterson.

  'Where were you before?' Elizabeth asked.

  'Pete and I came over from Abbeydale.'

  Patterson moved closer to Collins. 'How do you feel about the new place?'

  'So far I like it,' she answered.

  Patterson's attentiveness towards the young constable confirmed Elizabeth's suspicions and rather than mention it, she pointed in the direction of the paddock where the traveller's site was clearly visible. 'Where is everybody?'

  ‘We’re not sure,’ Collins said.

  'We should have come here immediately after the body was discovered instead of waiting.’ Elizabeth said and turned to Patterson. 'Don't the idiots realise doing a runner only makes them more suspicious?'

  Patterson offered his opinion. 'Daly said it was unlikely any of them is responsible. Too close a community, too many people would have known.'

  Elizabeth walked ahead and began inching her way down the slope. 'Christ, sometimes I wonder where that man's brain is. Where did he get that stupid idea? No the wonder I can't get to grips with him at times. One minute he's the old familiar Daly and the next minute it's like he's from another planet.'

  Newcombe opened a five bar gate. 'Travellers do vary. I met loads when I lived in Wales. They're all different. Yes, some of them are definitely the stereotypical unwashed, unemployed druggies who cause trouble, but there are others who remind me of my parents when they take off with their caravan. Think of all those retired couples who invest in a motor home and set off for Europe with state of the art equipment.'

  Elizabeth remembered how Mrs Daly's ambition to go travelling ended up scuppered because her husband refused to retire, even after he'd promised her he would. She'd spent her savings on a Winnebago hoping to persuade him. The Daly's and others like them could hardly be compared to the people illegally camped at Roxbury Farm. She turned round too quickly and almost lost her balance. 'I'll suspend my judgement on that idea,' she said, 'but thanks for the input.'

  She scrutinised the terrain hoping Patterson was right about the water level dropping. All she could see was a sea of brown sludge and her first thought was of
quicksand. Did several feet of soft mud act in a similar way? Was she about to sink up to her knees?

  Patterson must have read her mind. He handed her a long sturdy branch. 'Use this to suss out the difference in the water depth. It will vary in places and that will help you balance. Just be careful where you step.'

  All of a sudden, something caught her eye and she stopped dead. 'I need binoculars,' she said.

  Newcombe produced a small case from his waterproof jacket and handed it to her.

  Adjusting the magnification Elizabeth saw the semblance of a pathway from the culvert to the traveller's site avoiding the deepest floodwater. She pointed. 'Do you see that zigzag route? To me it indicates people have been cutting across to here, and not just one person.'

  She handed the binoculars to Patterson. 'Why didn't we spot this from the other side?'

  'Probably the angle of the sun, shadows and stuff,' he replied. 'It must be a short cut. Carstairs mentioned a pub half a mile up the road from his cottage. Anyone from the site fancying a pint would have three times the walk going the long way round.'

  Elizabeth remembered watching Carstairs disappear on that road. That must have been where he was going. 'After we're finished here we'll call by this pub.'

  'If you're hoping to see good footwear marks don't get your hopes up. This ground is way too soft to retain them.'

  'Tony, marks are found at about forty percent of crime scenes which is why the National Footwear Intelligence Database was established. Whoever killed our victim walked around at some point, unless he could hover above ground and I've not heard it's possible to do that yet. Sorry, there was that spoof about a flying skateboard someone invented. Maybe he had one of those.'

  They moved along slowly, Elizabeth watching the ground hoping to spot something. Her sense of foreboding had thankfully subsided but Patterson was right to point out her preponderance on such feelings and the dangers of self-fulfilling prophecies. She took a few deep breaths to ward off any further apprehension. A spinney of large Beech and Elm trees partially camouflaged the farmhouse. The site appeared deserted, yet she could have sworn she heard someone talking. She lowered the binoculars expecting to see who might be responsible and when she couldn't, realised she must be hearing things. For a brief moment, Elizabeth felt a stab of fear. Her body felt achy with flu like symptoms. Her common sense told her not to obsess about her recent aches and pains. It was probably tiredness, both mental and physical causing the problem, but as she stepped to her right she felt the discomfort in her left knee, the same sharp intense pain followed by a fierce heat. Exactly like the sensation in her wrist. She took another faltering step and willed the pain away. It usually only lasted a few minutes before it subsided. If it didn't improve by next week, she would go to the doctor. She hated going, didn't trust them most of the time. After weeks in Frenchay hospital, recuperating from a serious injury, she had never wanted to see another doctor or hospital again. Now she might have to.

  She stood still, closed her eyes, and didn't see the large creature hurtling towards her until it was almost on top of her. Elizabeth desperately tried to hold her balance as the dog pushed her backwards and fell to the ground. She sat up and felt her head. 'I'll be okay, just give me a hand up.' Elizabeth said.

  Collins had ran to the farmhouse and hammered on the door. A woman in her sixties opened it and appeared annoyed. 'I expected a visit from you lot before now. Surely a murder close to my property warrants some urgency.'

  'Our senior officer has just been knocked over by a German Shepherd. Does the animal belong to you?' Collins asked.

  'Of course it belongs to me. Have you no idea what it's like to have trespasser's living on your land? On top of that I've had years of legal wrangling to have them evicted. I'm here on my own a lot, my husband regularly goes away on business. I'm sure you'd have a dog if you were in my shoes. As you’re here, you'd better come in and bring your boss with you. I imagine she could do with a cup of tea after her brush with Samson. He's knocked me over a few times, accidently of course. He's a big softie and wouldn't hurt a fly.'

  'He's been trained to attack and from what I witnessed he certainly looked as if he was primed to attack DI Jewell. My boss is a woman, by the way.'

  'Tell her to either come in, or go away. As for you, don't stand there and argue with me. Make your mind up.'

  'DI Jewell needs to speak to you.'

  'I've already been quizzed. A red haired detective came over after the lock keeper found the body. I'd keep an eye on that Carstairs character if I were you. He's definitely a weird one.’

  Elizabeth was surprised she hadn't suffered more damage from the dogs over enthusiastic welcome. Patterson had tied him up and he was looking at her as if to say sorry. She went over to him and patted his large head. 'You need to go to training classes.'

  Collins went back to Elizabeth who had propped herself against a tree. 'Mrs Fowler insists you go in now. She's offered to make you a drink.'

  'On this occasion I'm not turning her down. While I talk to her, I want you three to search the site.'

  She watched them climb over another gate and disappear amongst the caravans. Contrary to the rumours there didn't seem to be any of the suspected sanitary problems. No piles of rotting foodstuffs or human waste smells and considering the conditions she was surprised.

  She checked the owner's name, Lillian Fowler, aged sixty-eight, married, no children. The front door was slightly open but Elizabeth knocked anyway.

  Mrs Fowler appeared and immediately apologised. 'Sorry about Samson, but no one told me the police were coming.'

  Elizabeth followed her into an enormous, expensively fitted kitchen. Huge patio doors opened out onto an equally enormous garden complete with a small kidney shaped swimming pool.

  'Is Samson your dog? He jumped up with such force he knocked me to the ground. Maybe you should keep him tied or in an enclosure. If it had been a child, you might be facing a charge.'

  'My husband is regularly away on business. This is an isolated spot and Samson is not just good company. He knows who the enemies are, otherwise he'd have pinned you down.'

  'Was your husband away when Mr Carstairs discovered the body?'

  Lillian Fowler passed her a mug of tea. 'Yes he was. He had a meeting in London, and before you ask, I was here with only Samson for company.'

  'Dogs can't talk Mrs Fowler. He can't be your alibi, unless someone else can confirm you stayed in all night.'

  'I'm too old for a lover, so no, there was nobody else here.'

  Elizabeth drank the tea and decided that as soon as she got back into Cheltenham she'd go to casualty and ask for a check up. The dog knocking her to the ground had exacerbated her pains and she still felt shaky.

  'Where are all your unwelcome guests?' Elizabeth asked.

  'I don't know and I don't care. Some of them moved down to Tewksbury after their vans flooded. A few who have kids are taking refuge in the village hall.'

  'Can you tell me more about the background to the legal battle to evict these people?'

  'We moved here six years ago and inherited the problem. This place has had three owners since the Walkers vanished and all of them have faced this bloody travellers problem. That's what forced them all to sell up, the red tape and human rights shit. These people know their rights, what about my rights? You're a cop but I bet your hands are tied as well.'

  'Then why did you buy the property? You must have known what to expect.'

  'My husband's a lawyer, a very good criminal lawyer. We wanted to move out of London to somewhere more peaceful, but near enough so he could easily commute.'

  'Surely there were plenty of other better propositions. I assume money wasn't a problem.'

  Lillian Fowler stared into space and didn't answer. Elizabeth sensed she'd touched a nerve, perhaps an issue the woman wasn't prepared to discuss.

  She continued. 'I think it's important you tell me. As I see it, your husband's profession wouldn't necessarily guarantee
you could solve the traveller problem. These legal wrangles can take years; the recent Essex battle is a very good example. It also ended with the travellers buying the land. Is that what worries you? As historical squatters you'll be forced to sell it to them?'

  Lillian Fowler spat the words. 'They'd have to kill me before that ever happened, and Calvin.’

  'A woman has been found dead less than a mile from here. Add to that a bitter feud seems to be going on, it’s not surprising tempers get out of hand and people get hurt. If we find out this woman is from the site you and your husband will have a lot more questions to answer.'

  'Why would this murdered person be from here? I dislike the travellers and keep my distance, but if one of them killed somebody, believe me, I would know about it.'

  Lillian Fowler showed no signs of fear or anxiety. She seemed very sure of herself. Elizabeth answered carefully. 'Roxbury Farm has a long history of disputes and it's close to the crime scene, we have to start here. How many people live in your paddock?'

  ‘It varies all the time and keeping tabs on the numbers is impossible. They come and go as they like, so you lot will have to figure that out. My husband and me had nothing to do with this crime and the point is, Inspector, we are about to finally win our case. The Council are then duty bound to remove the caravans. That's the law, that's an eviction. So why would we ruin years of fighting for justice by killing someone?'

  Elizabeth knew she had hit a brick wall. It was obvious the woman was not going to answer any more probing questions. They didn't have a search warrant and were unlikely to get one unless they could link the travellers or the Fowlers to the murder. She checked the time and decided to leave it there. The static caravan and mobile home site might yield more information. She wondered whether Lillian Fowler objected to that site too. 'How do you get on with the people on the permanent site?'

  Elizabeth sensed something she'd said to Lillian Fowler had caused a change of attitude.