Despite his dislike of the inconvenience snow brought in its wake he could not escape the inevitable sense of wonder at its transforming beauty. Beneath its mantle of pristine white, his familiar world preened itself in the first rosy light of a clear winter dawn. He peered at the roof of the garage, trying to gauge the depth of the fall: not more than a few inches, by the look of it. Good. It shouldn’t take too long to clear the drive, with Ben’s help. And the gritting lorries had been out last night, so the roads shouldn’t be too bad.
Three-quarters of an hour later, fortified by the porridge that Joan had insisted on making, he and Ben had almost reached the front gate. Up and down the road warmly-clad figures shovelled and swept drives and pavements. In the road cars seemed to be making slow but steady progress.
Joan appeared at the front door. ‘Luke? Telephone.’
‘Finish it off, will you, Ben?’
Ben, thirteen, gave a reluctant nod.
‘Sergeant Pater,’ said Joan, handing over the receiver.
The Station Officer. Something out of the ordinary, then, to necessitate an early morning call, in view of the fact that Thanet was due at headquarters in half an hour or so.
‘Thanet here.’
‘Morning, sir. Just had the report of a body in a ditch at the side of the road, out at Sutton-in-the-Weald. Found by a man walking his dog.’
As in his last case, Thanet thought. If you were a dog owner you certainly seemed to run a greater risk of stumbling over a corpse than most.
‘You’ve reported it to the Super?’
‘Yes, sir. He says he’s going out there himself.’ Pater’s tone was carefully non-committal.
‘Ah.’ Thanet’s heart sank. This was new. What was Draco up to now? He remembered wondering, when Draco first arrived, just how long the new Superintendent would be content to sit behind a desk. All that restless energy needed numerous outlets. Thanet hoped that active participation at ground level wasn’t going to be one of them. It would be impossibly inhibiting to have Draco breathing down his neck.
‘Apparently there’s been quite a bit of snow out there, fifteen inches or so, with some pretty deep drifts in places, so it’s going to make transport a bit tricky. The Super’s put through a request to the Council to clear the road as soon as possible and he’s asked for a couple of Land Rovers to be laid on for you. He wants you to meet him here and he’ll go out with you.’
‘I see. What time?’
‘Eight-thirty.’
‘Right, I’ll be there. Have you contacted Sergeant Lineham?’
‘I’ll do that next, sir. I’ll arrange for the SOCOs and the CCTV sergeant to come in the other Land Rover, and pick up Doc Mallard on the way. I thought I’d let you know first.’
So that Thanet wouldn’t be late for Draco, no doubt.
‘Thanks.’
Grateful that he had already had breakfast and that the driveway was clear, Thanet put on thick socks, wellington boots, sheepskin jacket, gloves and woolly hat in anticipation of hours of standing around in the snow. ‘I feel like the Abominable Snowman,’ he said as he kissed Joan goodbye.
She grinned. ‘You look like him. Here.’ She handed him a Thermos.
‘Thanks, love. Oh, hang on. Better take some shoes, in case. I can’t go tramping in and out of houses in these.’
‘Sure you wouldn’t like me to pack a suitcase for you?’
‘All very well for you, in your nice, centrally heated office.’
Joan worked as a Probation Officer in Sturrenden.
‘Courtroom actually.’
‘Courtroom, office, what’s the difference, it’ll be warm.’
‘Stop grumbling,’ she said, pushing him out of the front door. ‘Go on, you don’t want to keep Draco waiting, do you?’
Thanet rolled his eyes. ‘Heaven forbid.’
As he got into the car he realised that he had been so put out by the prospect of Draco’s presence that he had forgotten to ask whether the body was that of a man or a woman.
It was another couple of hours before he found out.
The journey out to Sutton-in-the-Weald had been irritatingly protracted. The first few miles hadn’t been too bad but then the snow had begun to deepen and a little further on they had caught up with the snow plough sent out at Draco’s request. After that they had resigned themselves to travelling behind it the rest of the way, at a snail’s pace. Fortunately a local farmer with a snow-clearing attachment on the front of his tractor had eventually turned up coming the other way and after a certain amount of manoeuvring they had been able to proceed more quickly.
There then followed a long wait for the second Land Rover bringing Doc Mallard and the Scenes-of-Crime officers. Meanwhile, there had been little to do. The body lay in a roadside ditch backed by a high stone wall, only a few yards from the lion-topped pillars at the entrance of the driveway to Longford Hall Country House Hotel. From the road nothing could be seen but the upper surface of a sleeve in distinctively bold black-and-white checked tweed, lying along the edge of the ditch as it had been uncovered by the dog. Although the arm was patently stiff with rigor mortis, PC Yeoman, the local policeman who had been first on the scene, had understandably cleared the snow from the man’s face, to make quite sure that he was dead. The rigid features, pallor of the skin and open, staring eyes had told their own tale and thereafter he had left well alone, winning Thanet’s approval by erecting a temporary barrier of sticks stuck into the snow and linked by string.
Despite his years in the force Thanet had rarely been able to overcome a dread of his first sight of a corpse, but today, uncomfortably preoccupied by Draco’s presence, he had approached the body with no more than a twinge of trepidation and, gazing down at the dead face set deep in its ruff of snow, he felt no more than his usual pang of sorrow at a life cut short. Blurred as the man’s features were by snow, it was difficult to estimate his age with any accuracy, but Thanet guessed that he had been somewhere between forty and sixty. Time, no doubt, would tell.
No further attempt had yet been made to clear the snow from the rest of the body. Thanet wanted photographs taken first. Not that he thought this very important. Covered with snow as it was, the body had obviously been placed or had fallen into the ditch before or around the time the snow started. Still, one never knew. It paid to be scrupulously careful and, with Draco taking in every move, Thanet had every intention of playing it by the book.
In any case, the marks in the snow told their own story: a scuffled, disturbed area betrayed the dog’s excited investigation of this interesting and unusual find and there were two sets of approaching and departing footprints, belonging to Mr Clayton, the dog’s owner, and PC Yeoman. Thanet, Draco and Lineham had been careful to enquire which were Yeoman’s tracks, and to step into his footmarks when they approached for their brief inspection of the body.
As yet the snow had kept most people indoors and there had been little traffic up and down the road. Half an hour ago a tractor had begun clearing the hotel drive and any minute now Thanet expected someone to arrive and demand an explanation of the activity just outside the gates.
‘Where the devil are they?’
Draco, who along with Lineham and Thanet had been stamping up and down the road in an attempt to keep warm, was finding it difficult to contain his impatience. ‘They should have been here half an hour ago.’
‘Perhaps Doc Mallard was out on a call.’
Draco snorted, two dragon-like puffs of condensation emerging from his nostrils. Short, square and dark and sporting an astrakhan hat and a heavy, fur-lined overcoat, he looked like a Russian statesman awaiting the arrival of foreign dignitaries. The backdrop of snow served to heighten the illusion.
‘Like some coffee, sir? I’ve got some in the Land Rover.’
‘Thank you. Excellent idea. Should have thought of it myself.’
‘My wife’s, actually.’
Thanet fetched his Thermos from the Land Rover and he, Draco and Lineham took it in t
urns to sip the steaming liquid. Lineham had been very quiet so far, subdued no doubt by Draco’s presence. Thanet had to suppress a grin at the memory of Lineham’s face when he had seen Draco climb into the Land Rover. The sergeant evidently hadn’t been warned.
A vehicle could be heard coming down the hotel drive and a moment later a Range Rover pulled up between the stone pillars. A man and a woman jumped out.
‘What’s going on here?’
It was, unmistakably, the voice of authority, cultured and self-assured. Its owner, clad in country uniform of cords, thick sweater, Barbour and green wellies, was in his late forties, tall and well built with slightly receding dark hair and slate-grey eyes which quickly summed up the situation and unerringly selected Draco as the person to approach. ‘What’s happened?’
Draco handed the Thermos cup to Thanet and, drawing himself up to his full height, announced, ‘Superintendent Draco, from divisional police headquarters at Sturrenden …’
But the man wasn’t listening. He had caught sight of the arm in its boldly checked sleeve and his expression changed. ‘My God, that’s …’
He spun around, putting out his hand to prevent the woman behind him from coming any closer.
‘What is it, Giles? What’s the matter?’
Clear, ringing tones, another Barbour and more green wellies. A beautiful woman, this, a little younger than her husband, in her early forties, Thanet guessed. She, too, was dark, her long hair swept back into a thick French plait, accentuating the classic bone structure of her face. She would look much the same, he thought, twenty years from now.
‘I think you ought to get back into the car, darling,’ said her husband.
She shook off his restraining arm impatiently. ‘What do you mean, what are you talking about?’
The movement gave her a clear view of the arm for the first time and she gasped. ‘My God, that’s Leo’s coat.’
Draco stepped forward. ‘Leo?’
‘My brother.’ Her gaze was riveted to the arm, her eyes appalled. She clutched at her husband, who put an arm around her. ‘Is he …?’
‘Dead?’ said Draco. ‘I’m afraid so. If it is your brother, I’m sorry that you had to learn of it like this.’
‘But why are you just standing around drinking coffee, for God’s sake! Why aren’t you trying to get him out? You can’t just leave him there!’ She grabbed the stick marker nearest to her, tugged it out of the snow and, tossing it impatiently aside, started towards the ditch.
The three policemen darted forward to stop her, but it was her husband who grabbed at her coat and tugged her back. ‘No, Delia. Can’t you see? If it is Leo, there’s nothing anybody can do now.’
‘But it’s awful! It’s … inhuman, just leaving him buried in the snow like that!’ She turned on Draco, her eyes blazing. ‘How dare you!’ Her contemptuous gaze swept around the little group of policemen and returned to Draco. ‘The Chief Constable is a personal friend of ours. I shall report you to him. Immediately!’
Thanet studiously refrained from looking at Lineham.
She turned to her husband. ‘Come on, Giles. We’ll go back to the house and get something done about this absurd situation.’
And with another furious glance at Draco she swung herself up into the car and sat gazing stonily through the windscreen as her husband manoeuvred the Range Rover around and drove off.
‘A lady who’s used to getting her own way, I presume,’ said Draco, apparently unruffled. ‘You’re going to have your hands full with her, Thanet.’
Just what Thanet had been thinking. Though the prospect intrigued rather than dismayed him. He raised an eyebrow at PC Yeoman. ‘Who are they?’
‘Mr and Mrs Hamilton, sir. Owners of Longford Hall. She runs the hotel, he runs the estate.’
‘There are the others now, sir,’ said Lineham.
‘About time, too,’ growled Draco.
Doc Mallard’s half-moon spectacles glinted through the windscreen as the Land Rover drew up.
‘Where the devil have you been?’ snapped Draco as Trace, the SOCO sergeant, got out, followed by his team.
Mallard accepted Thanet’s steadying hand. ‘My fault, I’m afraid, Superintendent. Blame it on a doctor’s irregular lifestyle. I was out at a confinement. Woman was on her way to hospital, but the ambulance got stuck in the snow. Luckily I just got there in time.’ He beamed. ‘Bouncing baby boy, mother and child both right as rain, I’m glad to say. Nothing like bringing life into the world to cheer you up, you know.’
‘I’m sure.’ Draco turned to Trace. ‘Well, let’s get on with it now you are here. If we have to stand around out here much longer we’ll all turn into blocks of ice.’
TWO
By the end of another hour Thanet felt as though Draco’s prophecy were coming true; his feet were numb, he felt chilled to the bone and he had long since regretted using up his precious flask of coffee so early. Perhaps, soon, they would be able to go up to the hotel and have a hot drink.
There had been much to do. Screens had been erected, photographs of the relatively untouched area of snow had been taken, Doc Mallard had officially pronounced the man dead and then there had been a long wait while the Scenes-of-Crime officers had patiently scooped the snow away from the body, pausing to take samples or more photographs when necessary. Eventually the corpse was completely exposed, proving to be that of a man of around fifty with thinning brown curly hair, dressed in well-cut cavalry twill trousers, Aquascutum sports jacket and the black-and-white checked tweed overcoat. A wallet in his breast pocket contained twenty pounds in notes, various receipts and other scraps of paper and, more importantly, a driving licence and several credit cards in the name of Leo Martindale. It was always a help to establish identification at the outset of a case.
There were no visible marks on the body until it was lifted carefully out of its snowy grave for transfer to the waiting ambulance. Then Doc Mallard had spotted an area of matted blood on the back, left-hand side of the scalp, and there had been some excitement when the SOCOs had found some flakes of rusted paint-coated metal, two caught up in a tear in the back of the overcoat and another on the ground beneath.
‘Presumably snagged in the cloth on impact,’ said Draco as they gathered around to peer at the samples in their plastic envelope. ‘If so, forensic will find out. Hit and run?’
‘Looks like it. Though if so …’ Thanet was thoughtful.
‘What?’
‘I was only thinking …’
Draco shifted impatiently. ‘Come on, man, spit it out.’
‘Well, the injury is to the back of the head, and the tear is on the back of the overcoat …’
‘So?’
‘The implication is that he was struck from behind. I’m just trying to visualise what happened. If he was knocked into the ditch by the impact, you’d expect him to be on his face or his side, or crumpled into a heap, not neatly laid out on his back.’
‘What are you suggesting? That whoever knocked him down then stopped his car, got out and dragged the body into the ditch?’
Thanet shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility, isn’t it, sir?’
‘One among many, I suppose. But it is surely equally possible that he could have been thrown into that position by the collision?’
Thanet disagreed. But it would not have been politic to say so. Draco did not appreciate opposition. ‘I expect we could do some experiments, sir.’
‘Quite. And then, it’s also possible that he wasn’t killed outright by the impact. He could have remained conscious – or regained consciousness – and crawled or staggered to the ditch in order to get off the road, and lain down in it in the most comfortable position, which just happened to be on his back.’
This was much more likely. ‘True.’
‘Or,’ said Lineham, contributing to the discussion for the first time, ‘he could have been deliberately run down.’
This earned him a scowl from Draco. Murder investigations were both time-consumi
ng and expensive. ‘Anyway, if these metal flakes are from a car we shouldn’t have any problems in tracing it.’
Thanet nodded. They all knew that it was a relatively straightforward matter these days to trace a vehicle from paint samples. Forensic science has reduced it to a fine art.
They all peered again at the largest sample. ‘Looks like a mid-grey. And definitely going rusty,’ said Lineham.
‘I’ll get forensic to hurry it up,’ said Draco.
‘Thank you, sir.’ There were, apparently, advantages in having the boss along.
‘You’d better do a house-to-house, get the men to check all local vehicles. Radio in for reinforcements. I’m going back to headquarters now.’
Another bonus. Thanet suddenly felt a lot more cheerful. Even his toes didn’t seem quite so cold.
One of the ambulancemen approached. ‘We’re ready to leave now, sir.’
Draco glanced at Thanet. ‘Might save time if you got Hamilton down from the hotel first, see if he can make a formal identification.’
Thanet had every intention of doing so. ‘Right, sir.’ And to the ambulanceman, ‘If you could just wait a little longer …’
‘Good. Good.’ Draco gave a little bounce on the balls of his feet, preparatory to departure. The thought of his snug office must be enticing. ‘I’ll take one of the Land Rovers and get it sent back, in case you need it to get off the beaten track. Can I gave you a lift, Mallard?’
Suspicious Death Page 27
