Revenge in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘So I understand. Not that any of them would say anything about that.’

  ‘Loyal,’ murmured Thea. ‘So what do you want from me?’

  He went back to his original point. ‘Just checking that you didn’t catch anything that might help from the girls you met on Saturday. We know you, Mrs Osborne, and your skills at getting people to chat. Did they talk about this bloke at all?’

  She cast her mind back. ‘They were discussing him when I first came across them, as it happens. How he was dragging his feet about fixing a wedding date. He and Nella got engaged recently, but that’s as far as he’d go, apparently. It didn’t sound especially unusual to me, but Nella was impatient to get planning the whole thing.’

  ‘That’s all?’

  ‘Something about badger setts in Itlay. He was meant to be checking them, or counting them.’ She paused to think. ‘Actually, they said he was camouflaging them somehow to stop the culling people from finding them.’

  ‘Not my problem,’ said Higgins. The trainee detective, sitting at a remove from them, made a little sound of disapproval, which he ignored. ‘That’s it, then, is it?’

  ‘More or less. Nella said she’d been taking the car for its MOT, and was supposed to meet Danny at the church in Bagendon. I guess he never showed up.’ She shuddered at the closeness of death, on an afternoon that had felt perfectly normal.

  ‘MOT? On a Saturday afternoon? Where?’

  ‘No idea. Doesn’t it show up on your searches?’ For some reason, Thea looked to the new detective for an answer. Perhaps she automatically assumed that it would be a junior like her who made that sort of computer check. DC Gordon was late twenties, dark-haired and solid. She did not smile and only fleetingly met Thea’s eye. She appeared anxious and tense.

  Her mentor rubbed his throat in the familiar way and sighed. ‘I’ll get somebody to have a look when I get back. Don’t suppose it matters.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve helped,’ Thea said. ‘The fiancée must be distraught, poor thing.’

  ‘Right. Angry as well, actually. Saying all kinds of things about locals – farmers, to be precise. Blames them for all the ills in the world, not to mention murdering her beloved.’

  ‘That Sophie is a ranter as well. There’s a lot of it about.’

  ‘Sophie Wells,’ he nodded. ‘She wasn’t much help, as far as I can see. It wasn’t me who interviewed her.’

  ‘Is Farmer Handy off the hook?’

  He gave her a warning look, and said nothing. Belatedly, Thea understood that the junior tagging along with him could possibly be seen as a spy, reporting any deviations from procedure that he might commit, wittingly or otherwise.

  ‘Well …’ She was at a loss. ‘Would you like some tea?’ she finished feebly, assuming they’d be much too busy to accept.

  ‘A quick one might be nice,’ he nodded. ‘You can tell us about the fire.’ He’d already spent half a minute staring at the blackened hall carpet and the smudges on the wall. ‘Must have been scary.’

  ‘I was shaking. The fireman made me drink sweet tea. It really does work.’

  ‘Never fails,’ he smiled. ‘There’s a team working on it, obviously. Funny you’ve got your name connected with two different investigations. Must be a record.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ she pleaded. ‘You don’t think they could be linked, then?’

  ‘Can’t imagine how. Even if both crimes are due to some kind of grudge – which they do seem to be – we can’t find a connection.’

  ‘Except me,’ groaned Thea. ‘Which is quite a nasty feeling.’

  ‘Don’t think of it like that. You’re not involved in the quarry thing. Not really.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so.’ They laughed gently together, excluding the solemn-faced Detective Constable. Higgins was a straightforward man, thorough, well intentioned. Sandy-haired and undeniably overweight, he would work methodically through a case, seldom losing his calm demeanour. Thea had not known him to show any great brilliance or insight, and he harboured much the same unthinking prejudices as most police officers, but she liked him. There was hardly anything not to like.

  They all drank the tea quickly, with DC Gordon making some careful notes on a reporter’s pad. Higgins rolled his eyes at Thea, but made encouraging remarks to the young woman. Then they were gone, and it was four o’clock and the day’s end almost within reach.

  She phoned Drew at eight, and he was a long time answering. ‘Sorry,’ he panted. ‘Stephanie’s got a sore knee and she’s been milking it shamelessly ever since she got home. And now the evenings are lighter, she’s not so keen to go to bed at the usual time. Says all her friends stay up until nine. I always thought they should go at the same time as their age.’

  ‘Um …?’ Thea was slow to understand.

  ‘You know – seven o’clock for seven-year-olds and so on. Of course it soon stops working.’

  ‘She’s eight, isn’t she?’

  ‘And three quarters, nearly,’ he said glumly. ‘Practically grown up.’

  If only she was, thought Thea. Everything would be a lot simpler. ‘So what’s happened about that nursing home, if anything?’ she asked him.

  ‘Nothing yet. Give them a chance! It won’t be one single act of vengeance. It’ll just be a slow reduction in business, when the word gets round that it was me who blew the whistle. Every nursing home in Somerset is going to be wary of me and think I’ll report the slightest little thing.’

  ‘But the choice of undertaker isn’t always down to them, is it?’

  ‘It is, mostly, unless the deceased has already signed up with a particular one.’

  ‘Talking of vengeance, it looks as if my employers have upset somebody themselves.’ And she told him, lightly and quickly, about the fire.

  He was not deceived. ‘Lord, Thea. You might have died. Was it very smoky? Did you see a doctor?’

  ‘It was a very small patch of burning carpet. A very amateur arsonist must have done it. But it’s a rotten thing to do, even so. The police are trying to contact the Fosters, and I suppose they might come home early.’

  ‘What about the other house? In the other village?’

  ‘What about it?’ She hadn’t given it a single thought all day.

  ‘Well – if it belongs to the same family, might that not be vulnerable to something similar as well?’

  The suggestion made her feel weak and out of control. She couldn’t be in two places at once. ‘I would have heard if that had happened,’ she said optimistically.

  ‘Would you? How?’

  ‘Higgins would have said something.’

  ‘Okay.’ He sounded doubtful, and she was already well on the path of imagining a variety of ways that a house could be damaged, other than by pouring petrol through the letter box.

  ‘And listen – you were right about the plug in the washbasin. What a bonkers arrangement!’

  He laughed. ‘Glad I could be of some use. So what else did you do today?’

  She described the church and its Saxon carvings, and then ran out of things to say.

  ‘No progress on the murder enquiry, then?’

  ‘The chap must have been a very dedicated campaigner. They can’t seem to find out much about him.’

  ‘DNA? Teeth? Fingerprints?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’ She paused. ‘They wouldn’t bother with all that, surely? Not when his fiancée’s identified him. It’s only that they can’t get much background. Since it seems almost certain that somebody from around here killed him, it probably doesn’t matter very much, anyway. They’ve found his parents, apparently, even though they’re not bothered enough to drop everything and fly here from Dubai.’

  ‘I guess they think it’s a bit late. Not much they can do, apart from arranging the funeral.’

  ‘And Nella can do that, I imagine.’ Then she remembered to tell him about Jessica’s visit the following day. ‘We can go and investigate the local pub. Except it’s not very local, really. Must be a cou
ple of miles’ walk away.’

  Drew tutted. He did not regard walking for its own sake as a very appealing activity. ‘Take the car, then,’ he said. ‘You’re less likely to get into trouble that way.’

  ‘Not so,’ she reminded him. ‘Car trouble was fairly extreme in Stanton, if you remember.’

  ‘You won’t do that again. Anyway, it’ll be good to see Jess. Say hello from me.’

  ‘I will. She’s sure to ask after you. My family are beginning to realise there’s something going on between us. You’ll have to meet Jocelyn and Damien at some point.’

  ‘Even Emily, eventually,’ he said softly.

  Thea’s older sister was at a remove from the family circle, at least for a time. Her name was mentioned as seldom as possible. ‘Even Emily,’ Thea agreed.

  The conversation rambled on for another half hour, with repetitions and jokes and a few endearments. We’re like a pair of teenagers, thought Thea, when they’d finished. It was talking for the sake of talking, maintaining the contact, strengthening the bond. It made her feel warm and secure and excited and optimistic. Only when it came to a solitary bedtime, with the problems and worries that beset them once again looming large, did she find herself facing a reality that gave scant grounds for optimism.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessica had to drive from Manchester, which would take her into late morning. The day was dry but cloudy, perfectly suited to a brisk March walk. Thea formed a plan, whereby they left a car at North Cerney, for the return trip after a lunch at the pub. She was so full of it that she gave the girl little time for preliminaries before spelling out the logistics of what she proposed. They hadn’t even made it into the house.

  ‘Hey, Mum, slow down!’ Jessica protested. ‘I’ve hardly said hello yet. Let me look at you, at least.’

  It was the sort of thing a mother generally said. Thea laughed and stood still for the inspection. At the same time, she gave her daughter a similar long look. Jessica was definitely grown up now. Taller than her mother, fairer and less obviously attractive, she had a confidence that was new. Her choice of a profession with the police had come as a surprise, with both parents quietly unnerved by it at first. There had been rocky times, which included an unfortunate choice of boyfriend, but on the whole the profession seemed to suit her quite well. The uniform gave her a presence she had not possessed before, and the authority that any police officer finds herself invested with sat comfortably on her. Jessica had always been a well-balanced person, not inclined to extremes. She liked people, but as an only child, could get along without them when necessary. Thea gave her a little pat of approval. ‘You’ll do,’ she said.

  ‘You look okay, a bit tired,’ Jessica judged. ‘How’s it going with Drew?’

  ‘Same as ever. Jogging along. I’m not really tired – not in general, I mean. I didn’t sleep very well last night, that’s all.’

  The girl became alert. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Come and see.’ She led the way indoors and pointed at the singed carpet. ‘A sort of petrol bomb, apparently. It didn’t work very well.’

  ‘Well enough.’ Jessica had gone pale.

  ‘I didn’t want you to know about it, really. Maybe I should have found a rug to throw over the place. You’d never have noticed.’

  More details were demanded and provided, with Jessica visibly biting back a lot of concern. ‘What about the people? Aren’t they coming back?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I don’t think they should. It’s happened now. What good can they do?’

  ‘They can give names of people with a grudge against them, for a start.’

  ‘They can do that by phone, can’t they?’

  ‘Maybe. Okay, then. Who’s this poor old doggie?’ The corgi was at her feet, trying to catch her attention. Jessica bent to stroke her. ‘Nice coat,’ she said.

  ‘She’s called Gwennie, and she’s a sweet old thing. No trouble. She sleeps most of the time.’

  ‘Old dogs break your heart, don’t they? When you think back to them as puppies, with all that energy and trust, to see them deaf and blind and witless is so awful.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Thea recalled a witless dog she’d minded in Hampnett, and the sadness that he carried with him, and sniffed.

  ‘Sorry. Hepzie’s got ages before she reaches that stage.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about her, actually.’ She gave herself a shake. ‘There’s a tortoise as well, out in the garage. If the weather’s nice, it’s liable to wake up from its hibernation.’

  ‘I’ll have a look at it after lunch. Now come on, then. I’ll be hungry soon. Are we really walking two miles?’

  ‘We really are. First we have to drive both cars to the pub. Then we come back here in one of them, and do the walk. We should get there by one, if we bustle. We’ll take Hepzie with us. I think the pub allows dogs, but she can stay in the car if not.’

  It was duly accomplished, but it was half past one before they got their lunch. Thea walked her daughter past the quarry, which still had lingering signs of a police operation in the form of a notice on the small road to the north of it, asking for any witnesses to an incident the previous Saturday. ‘What’s this?’ Jessica asked. Then she remembered. ‘Oh – you said something on the phone. A man fell in, is that right?’

  ‘They think he was murdered, actually.’ Thea had been very ambivalent about letting Jessica know the details of the latest drama. ‘I haven’t been especially involved in it. It was a young man called Danny, and it happened on Saturday afternoon. He was in a protest group, campaigning against new houses and all sorts of other things. I met some of his friends when I first got here. It’s my old friend Higgins in charge. I’m not involved at all,’ she insisted.

  ‘Really? That doesn’t sound like you.’

  ‘They’re thinking it might have been a local farmer that did it. He’s been targeted by the protesters. I honestly don’t know much of the detail.’

  Jessica was trying to get a look down into the quarry through the bare trees. ‘Looks like quite a drop. He went in from here somewhere, did he?’

  ‘Further on, as far as I know. Now come on. We have to climb over a wall and cross a field next.’

  ‘This is a very small road. What if a big lorry came past and hit him, knocking him over the fence and into the quarry? That would look like murder, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Jess, for heaven’s sake, leave it. It’s all in capable hands. They’ll know by now exactly how he died. The post-mortem must have been yesterday.’

  ‘Neat way to do it, though,’ Jessica persisted. ‘Maybe the farmer sent him over, with a Land Rover or tractor or something.’

  ‘Look – we have to get over this wall and through those woods. We’re not even halfway yet. I ought to have a quick look at the other house, while I’m here. Ten minutes max, okay?’

  ‘Other house?’

  ‘Didn’t I say? Mrs Foster’s sister has gone away as well. She’s got a very smart place just down there. You can hold the dog while I water the plants again.’ She didn’t say anything about the nagging worry she’d fought against in the night, that the Bagendon house might have been attacked in some way by the same arsonist who’d been at large the previous day.

  ‘I hope they’re paying you double, then.’

  Thea laughed ruefully. ‘Not quite,’ she said.

  The house appeared undamaged at first glance. Apprehensively, Thea unlocked the front door and deactivated the alarm. She sniffed and detected no signs of smoke. A rapid circuit of the ground floor showed all windows intact and nothing in the least disturbed. Breathing more freely, she reproached herself – and Drew – for ever thinking there was the slightest reason for concern. Whatever the reason for the fire, it made little sense to think a second house might fall victim to the same thing, even if owned by a relative. Where would that end, taken to its logical conclusion? The plants were still in damp soil, but she dampened them again, thinking they would last until Friday quite easily. A
fter that, the owners would be back, and she could forget the place completely.

  ‘Looks all right,’ she reported to Jessica. ‘Thank goodness.’

  ‘What’s a house like this worth?’ the girl wondered aloud. ‘Must be half an acre of garden. And look at that view.’ She pointed to the gently sloping fields behind the house, with trees along the upper ridge. Everything was still and timeless. The first greening of spring was visible in patches, and a flock of sheep dotted one field with picturesque patterning.

  ‘Easily half a million,’ said Thea, with only a slight twinge of resentment.

  ‘Crazy.’

  ‘Makes them all paranoid about anything that might come along to lower the value. That’s basically what the protesting is about, I assume. Although …’ she frowned. ‘It’s all back to front, isn’t it? The activists or whatever they are should be on the side of the common people, not the local plutocrats – and that’s who they’re representing, when it comes down to it, opposing new houses.’

  ‘Yes, but they’re opposing it because it’ll be big and expensive, and no use at all in relieving the housing shortage,’ Jessica explained. ‘Surely that’s obvious?’

  ‘You’re right. Except that a whole other lot of locals would go berserk if a new estate of cheap houses was proposed instead.’

  ‘You’re sure it is housing that they’re campaigning about, then?’

  ‘Not really. It’s badgers as well. And fracking. And wind farms. And quite a few other things. A girl called Sophie gave me a list. It’s just that Jack Handy’s sold some land for a big new house around here somewhere, and the police think that’s the most likely reason for this chap being killed. As far as I can tell,’ she finished with some uncertainty.

  ‘Not much danger of wind farms in the Cotswolds,’ said Jessica. ‘Aren’t they moving them offshore now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just keep thinking of what your father would say about them, now we know the damage they do to birds. He’d have been horribly torn about it.’