Owen’s thoughts suddenly went to Cyril and Julie being spontaneous but he quickly cast the image aside. He could never believe his boss had a spontaneous bone in his body.
“She was like that king who lived forever, you know the one? And even though she was ill … creaking gate and all that.”
April wrote down the word Methuselah, the name Cyril had written alongside the word murderer on the Incident Room boards, and underlined it.
“I sometimes wondered if that’s why Ted could never have kids because his mother was always there in the next room.”
Owen and April continued the interview until they brought up the cottage and the van.
“Trevor had always been into hunting, the horses, dog racing and country sports both legal and illegal. Went around with Peterson when he came back and they, believe it or not, were more alike than he was to Ted his own brother. They were exciting people to be with, spontaneous like. I needed that spark, and to be honest, I needed the sex.”
April was growing a little frustrated by the prolonged justification for why she had strayed and wanted to know the details. “So, when did he return? Tell us about the cottage and the van.”
“When he came back, he stayed in the caravan in the derelict barn and it was then that we met by accident. I didn’t recognise him at first but then … well we sort of clicked. A friend had the cottage and I rented it with no questions asked as she didn’t want the tax man to know. The van I bought cheap. He was using Peterson’s car on occasion but once the tax ran out that stopped.”
April tapped Owen’s shoe under the table as if to signal honour amongst thieves. It was a wasted kick.
***
Ted Bostock seemed extremely crestfallen. He kept seeking reassurance that Belinda would not contemplate doing the things his brother had suggested and occasionally broke down.
“Things had been fine since my brother left. I’d heard whispers, of course, that he was back but I’d heard them before and he’d never shown up at the farm. Strangely, the rumours came when there was some trouble in the area. Like now with the rustling, I should have put two and two together. That’s him all over. Him and Peterson, poachers the pair of them.”
Cyril was the first to present information that Bostock would find difficulty in comprehending. “Are you aware that your brother has a cottage not four miles from your farm?”
Cyril watched the frown furrow his brow. There was a pause as if the information was slowly percolating through his consciousness. He shook his head.
“Is that a yes or a no, Mr Bostock?”
“No.”
“Therefore, you were unaware that he’d lived in that cottage rent free for just short of eight months?”
“No. What are you getting at exactly?”
“We know who paid the bills. In fact, as we speak, Mr Bostock, we will have police officers in that cottage taking a good look round.” Cyril paused.
“It has nothing to do with me. I didn’t even know he was there.”
“But your wife did. She’s been paying the bills. Correction. You’ve been paying the bills, unbeknown to you I grant you.”
A look of puzzlement flashed across Ted’s face and Cyril saw his lower jaw sag. He was genuinely surprised and Cyril made a mental note. They had hardly started when an officer popped his head around the door. “Sorry! Important, sir. Mr Black needs to see you.”
Cyril collected the papers from the desk and moved to the door. “I’ll be back shortly, Mr Bostock. My staff will make sure you’re comfortable.”
“I’ve a bloody farm to run. I can’t stay here all bloody day, man!” By the end of the sentence he was talking to the officer on the door. Cyril had disappeared.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cyril and April met outside the interview rooms before heading towards the car park. “I don’t think we’ve done much for strengthening that marriage,” Cyril said. “Are we sure our Mr Black is Leonard Ross?”
“The description is the same and the name and address found in the hat next to the body confirms that.”
“Lilith, the snake?”
“Not found as yet. The RSPCA called and their snake charmer will be in the area shortly.”
“Remind me to drop a few bob their way when this is over.”
Within fifteen minutes they parked just outside the park on Valley Drive. A gate set in the hedge and fencing allowed easy access. Already the area was busy and that entrance was closed. A PCSO stood blocking the way but quickly moved as Cyril showed his ID.
“To the left, sir.”
“Any snakes?” Cyril asked as he passed.
He watched the officer look around his feet and then back. “Not that I’m aware of. Should there be?”
Cyril smiled, walked past the model boating pond and ducked under the police tape. A blue and white pop-up tent had been erected over the body and almost into the narrow Japanese pond. The same CSI he had met at the shop was busy. Two vehicles had entered the park and were positioned on the grass to the right. The Crime Scene Manager came from the tent, waved a gloved hand and crossed the ornamental bridge.
“Morning, Cyril. From all accounts he’s not been dead long, an hour at most. No rigor mortis present. Body’s barely cold. The weather helped maintain that, as you know.” He did not state the obvious to Cyril and went to the facts. “Dr Pritchett’s with him.”
Cyril looked confused. Julie should only start back the following day. “Julie Pritchett?” he asked, knowing full well there was only one doctor and pathologist with that name in the north east. The officer smiled. “Right. The two runners who found him are in that car. They’re giving statements and then they will be released. Not a pleasant start to the day for anyone. The young lady is particularly upset. The paramedic who was the first responder has checked them both but she might need some professional support otherwise she’ll not be running in the early mornings again, he feels.”
“Any sign of the snake? I assume you were briefed regarding the possibility.”
“Nothing as yet and from the expert, that’s the lady who owned the shop, they are active in the day and can move a good distance when the need arises but the likelihood is it will be looking for a warm place, possibly dark and warm. She also said that they are beautifully camouflaged too.”
Cyril scanned the park, all seventeen acres of it. He knew the extent of the general layout and the pine wood in the upper area. However, there were gardens that backed onto the park too, adding to the search boundary.
“Do they bite?”
“They will do but they’re not venomous. The experts suggest we notify owners of small dogs and cats and parents of young children to be extra vigilant, unless you feel we should temporarily close the park.”
“Keep it open for now but ensure warnings are posted. The more people we have in here the greater the chance of finding the damn thing.” Cyril noticed Julie exit the tent with Hannah.
He found it strange looking at the woman emerging from inspecting a corpse dressed in protective clothing, and knowing she was the same woman who had snuggled warmly against him less than four hours ago. For their professional integrity, he would have to separate the two. He felt a glow of pride. She saw him and raised a hand and then five fingers as she spoke with the CSM. She crossed the bridge, dropped her mask and raised her safety glasses so they were positioned on the hood of her suit.
“We’ll have to stop meeting like this Bennett or people will begin to suspect.” A broad grin forced laughter lines around her eyes. “And before you say anything, they were short staffed and my husband had left very early for work. Missed it like you, I guess.” She stripped off her gloves and thrust them into a yellow biohazard bag.
“Well, Doctor Pritchett, what do we have?”
“Male, mid-to-late thirties. I found spot hematoma to the right eye but no bruising to the neck. Initial findings suggest asphyxia and maybe a loss of blood flow to the brain but there is no evidence of hand strangulation or tha
t of a rope or scarf. If this were the result of the constrictor, I believe they apply the pressure gradually, so when the prey breathes out they increase constriction as they move most of their bulk to the neck area. The victim finds it more difficult to inhale. It does what its name suggests – it constricts the blood vessels and the trachea until you pass out and in turn, die. It’s their natural hunting instinct. People often underestimate the strength of these creatures, even one measuring a couple of metres. If a person were inexperienced it would soon overpower them. As it’s a warm morning it might not have wrapped to gain warmth, but rather because of anxiety and poor handling.”
Cyril listened as Julie removed more of her protective clothing.
“I’ll know more later today. If he’s taken the snake it looks like a case of misadventure to me. I’ll check the lungs and have a definite for you. Coming yourself or sending Owen?”
“I think there’s something on TV I have to watch.” He winked. “See you tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The taxi dropped Karl on Cold Bath Road and within minutes he was at the shop. The tape had been removed and the Closed until Further Notice sign was clearly displayed. It saved him a job. He was exhausted. The initial anxiety had drained him and he returned to his apartment. He needed tea and breakfast before calling in to see Penny. His only hope was that Leonard had been found. He felt more like a social worker than a retiree. However, things could be worse.
Penny had been calm until the officer came to bring her the news about Leonard. She had become distraught and for a time inconsolable. All she could do was stare at the illuminated fish tank and whisper his name as if in some vain hope he might suddenly return. The experienced police liaison officer managed to bring some sense and calm to the situation. Karl had volunteered to go and identify the body. It seemed logical as Karl had looked into Penny’s eyes and been greeted by an emptiness, a void of uncertainty. It frightened him. What would she do? Say? He moved and squeezed her shoulder. She turned to face him directly and the sign of a slight smile broke across her lips, albeit momentarily but it was there – she was not totally broken.
***
It was lunchtime before Cyril and Owen stared at the Bostocks across the tables in the Interview Rooms again. Cyril wanted very much to release Ted. His story and his responses told him that he was a man with problems but he was neither a killer nor an accomplice to murder, whereas his wife seemed to retain more information than she had disclosed to date. He had suggested to Owen that all the evidence needed to be wheedled as subtly and as soon as possible but considering Owen’s facial expression he knew he had chosen the wrong term.
“We need answers, Owen, bloody honest ones.”
Owen fully comprehended his boss’s wishes and smiled knowing that a reluctant interviewee was doubly time-consuming and frustrating and they needed answers, honest answers. They had swapped briefly, Owen to interview Ted and Cyril, Belinda. Owen even had doubts as to whether he should trust her judgement about the mystery male whom she had identified from the images of hunt saboteurs. By four pm they were both driven back to the farm. There was nothing concrete, all was circumstantial at best. All he hoped for now was that Ted would not show his true colours and beat his wife senseless for her infidelities. It was a risk he had to take.
It was just as Cyril was packing to leave that the call came in. The snake had been found. It had taken refuge beside the metal railings, enjoying the sun’s warmth, two hundred metres from where Leonard was found. It was now in the safe keeping of the RSPCA.
***
Owen looked down onto the table, a view he was now familiar with and one that brought neither fear nor nausea. Julie was again dressed for the part and her professionalism shone through. There was little time for chit-chat as she removed the lungs and weighed them.
“As I thought, they weigh twice what they should. Our man here was asphyxiated. Time of death was about six this morning. No physical damage to the neck or throat. It was the boa constrictor. I’ve read through all the files on similar deaths and strangely, Owen, they are not too common and many have the same identifiers. It’s up to the Coroner but I’d say misadventure verdict. It shouldn’t be long before we can release this poor chap. I’ll be through here in thirty minutes. Are you going straight home or back to the station?”
“What time did Hannah finish?”
“An hour ago.”
Owen raised his eyebrows as if to say I wish, whilst glancing at the clock set behind the glass screen. He calculated he had been at work for eleven hours already. “I should go back but I’m not. I’m done. It’ll be early in tomorrow no doubt. I’ll call Cyril and see what he’s planning. Thanks a lot.” He lifted his hand.
Cyril was just crossing The Stray when his phone rang. The sun was still relatively high and the shadows short. The fresh air had brought a spring back to his step. “Bennett,” he answered, always abrupt and to the point.
“Just left the autopsy, sir. It’s as originally suggested. No signs of foul play. Asphyxiation. What time do you want me in the morning?”
“Seven thirty, my office first, Owen. Briefing at eight. Have a good evening. And Owen.”
“Sir.”
“Thanks for your hard work today. Still nothing on Trevor Bostock; he’s a will-o’-the-wisp it seems. I have a watch on the cottage for when, and indeed if, he should return. I’ve applied for a search warrant and that’ll be through tomorrow. I’m in no rush. Rather find him in, so to speak, rather than out. See you tomorrow. I have a Black Sheep to rustle.”
“Cheers. Might just find one myself.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Karl was up particularly early. He had one task to do after feeding and boxing the pets ready for transportation. He finished his coffee before collecting the three travel boxes and started taping them together, leaving the carrying handle to the top. Quickly he checked the ventilation holes were clear on all three. He removed an item from the small wardrobe safe and checked it. Everything was in place. He removed his jacket from the peg in the hall. The envelope addressed to Jo was on the small hall table and he slipped that into his inside pocket.
Cold Bath Road was quiet but he expected nothing less at this time of the day. It would take five minutes to get to the shop. On turning onto Cold Bath Place, he was pleased to see the van outside and a light illuminating the back of the shop. The sign hanging behind the glass on the door still announced that the shop was closed until further notice. Putting down the boxes he put his hand to the glass and brought his face closer. Knowing this was the time the majority of the animals would be checked, fed and watered, he was not surprised to see the person in the back. His timing was perfect.
The tapping on the door startled Tony Turnbull, the RSPCA officer who had been tasked with the job. The shock nearly made him drop the water bowls he was carrying. On looking over his shoulder, seeing the face at the window of the door did not help. Putting down the items he entered the shop. “It’s shut!” he shouted whilst pointing to the sign.
Karl lifted the three travel boxes and pointed to them. “They’re booked in today. Arranged it with Jo weeks ago.” He exaggerated his words so the person might read his lips.
Tony frowned and scratched his head. His instruction was to check and feed the pets within the shop, not run it. He turned the key and opened the door.
“I’m sorry but the shop is closed until tomorrow. I can’t help you, sorry.”
Karl smiled and then changed his expression to one of sadness. “Goodness. I’m leaving the country for a couple of weeks and I’d booked these three in with Jo. She boards them for me when I’m away. It’s in the diary if you’d care to check.”
Tony could clearly see the customer’s predicament and Karl read his expression well. “If you can’t take them my wife and I will have to cancel the trip. I’ve no one else to leave them with and I’ll not leave them alone, they would die … please?”
He saw Tony look at the three b
oxes and then back and he took the opportunity to add more gravity to his expression. “Bring them in.”
“Jo’s looked after them before and as I say they’re expected. They don’t need anything today, I’ve already taken care of them.” He placed them on the counter. “The diary is usually below …” he lied, moving around the back of the counter and bobbing down to look at the shelf. There in front of him was the photograph. Picking it up he quickly slipped it into his pocket. “No, it’s not there. If there’s been a problem then maybe Jo’s taken it. Can I leave you this?” He handed the envelope to Bill. “It’s for Jo. Maybe you can pop it onto the table in her flat.”
Within five minutes he had left the shop. Tony scratched his head and looked at the envelope, the name Jo written in bold black ink. Karl tapped the breast pocket of his jacket and smiled. He had only one more errand to complete.
***
Owen’s phone bounced along his bedside table before it dropped onto the floor. The sound of its alarm and a droning, dull vibration eventually penetrated his waking consciousness. His hand instinctively hovered as if sweeping the table’s surface but without success. “Hell’s bloody bells!” he cried from beneath the duvet. Within a minute he had found the offending article. He quickly squinted at the screen. It was Cyril. Putting the phone to his ear he grunted, “Morning … I think.”
“Sorry, Owen. It’s been light for hours. Thought you’d be wide awake and eating your breakfast.” He received a long growl that could have been interpreted as a grunt.
“Seriously, it’s important. DNA results have been sent through to us more quickly than we could’ve hoped. We have two common samples found throughout this case, matching within each of the homes of those murdered and also at the shop where Lilith was taken. One we know to be that of Trevor Bostock but the other is a bit of a mystery. It’s not showing on the National Database. What’s interesting is that samples found at the shop were found not just downstairs but upstairs too. Shall we say samples of a more personal nature. DNA is a bit like looking at stained glass windows, Owen. Pass a church in the daytime and from the outside looking in you often see nothing. Pass at night when the church is lit and everything becomes beautifully clear.” Cyril heard another groan.
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