Jenna felt a strange panic rising in her chest. 'I won't be going to bed early, not after this.'
Susan looked out towards the old house and shivered. 'I agree, just call, it doesn't matter about the time.'
'OK, I'll see you all later,' he turned and headed towards Hopkins.
'How come they want to talk to him?' Ronnie whispered.
'Because they're idiots, Grandad,' she sighed in frustration. 'Apparently, they want to know what he was doing up here yesterday.'
'But I was with him, he weren't on his own.'
'He was when he went into the house.'
'So he was,' Ronnie sounded surprised as if he had just bore witness to some miraculous insight.
'Oh, for God's sake, don't you start as well!' For some unfathomable reason she felt close to tears.
Susan squeezed her shoulder. 'Come on, sweetheart, let's get you home.'
Jenna sat on the cramped back seat of the van surrounded by spilled shopping; as they drove away, she could see Patrick, his figure distorted through a shimmering mass of unshed tears.
'So, you're telling me you were up here alone with a seventeen-year-old girl researching for some 'book' you're writing?' Hopkins's voice was laden with innuendo.
'That's correct.'
'Nice work if you can get it, Mr Fossey.'
He didn't bother with a reply; he didn't see the point.
'And PC Harper informs me that you were also up here yesterday.'
'Yes.'
Hopkins scowled and then tried to smile, though it was obvious he had the kind of face that found smiling difficult. 'You're a writer?'
'Amongst other things,' he replied.
'I take it it's not a full-time occupation?'
Fossey shrugged. 'It's getting to be that way.'
'So, what is it you do exactly, Mr Fossey?'
'I'm a Criminal Psychologist.'
For a fraction of a second, Hopkins eyes widened in surprise. 'I see, so this research you're doing is of an academic nature.'
'Of a fashion.'
Hopkins looked flustered, a look of confusion flashed across his face. As a representative of the law he was duty bound to be in charge, he asked the questions, he applied the pressure. However, Fossey could see the other facet of the man's character, the one that said here is a fellow professional, a 'Criminal Psychologist' no less, and all of a sudden, the man was out of his comfort zone.
Hopkins cleared his throat. 'Right then, Mr Fossey, I don't think we need keep you any longer.'
'If you don't mind I'd like to hang on for a while.'
Hopkins gave a curt nod. 'Of course, though I must ask you to keep clear of the crime scene.'
A car horn bleated in the distance and Hopkins turned as a dark-blue Audi bounced its way along the rutted path, dust flying in its wake.
Hopkins grunted, a sound thick with derision.
Fossey wandered over to the Range Rover to check on the dog, as expected T was curled up on the front seat, dead to the world.
When he looked back, Hopkins was having a heated conversation with the new arrival, both men stabbing fingers at one another. The newcomer laughed with more than a hint of sarcasm and then headed over towards Fossey, shaking his head as he approached.
'Patrick Fossey, well I never,' he smiled and thrust out a hand. 'You don't know me, but I attended one of your seminars last year.'
'Oh right.'
'So, what's gone on here then?' he hooked a thumb over his shoulder.
'I take it Detective Hopkins hasn't briefed you?' Fossey asked.
Lasser grinned. 'Not as such.'
Hopkins went stomping past, his face flushed with anger. 'Harper, with me now!' he bellowed.
PC Harper leapt from her car and hurried past.
'Take no notice, Cathy, he's hormonal.' Lasser said with a smile.
She grinned nervously as she jogged towards the house.
Lasser looked around and drew in a deep breath as if enjoying the country air. 'So, you found some blood-stained clothing?'
'I think so.'
'You mean you're not sure?'
Fossey shrugged. 'Ninety percent sure but then again I could be wrong.'
'Oh, I doubt that. I wouldn't imagine you're the kind of bloke who'd drag us out if you weren't certain of your facts,' he fiddled with the cigarettes in his pocket. 'I saw a few of our boys around the back of the house, you have any idea what they are looking for?'
Fossey explained about walking around the house with PC Harper, and finding the septic tank, the surface covered with green algae apart from a small circle where black water shone through like dark beer.
'So, you think something's been dumped in the tank?'
'I never said that.'
'Then why mention it?'
Fossey didn't reply.
Lasser grinned. 'Right, well I'm going to take a look around, you care to join me?'
'I've already been warned about keeping clear of the house.'
'Hopkins can hardly refuse the help of a fellow officer and an eminent shrink, now can he?'
They made their way to the house, as they crossed the threshold Lasser waved a hand under his nose. 'I'm not too keen on the air freshener,' he mumbled.
The kitchen was a hive of activity, the boards had been removed from the window, an electric cable threaded its way over the windowsill, a moment later they heard the rumble of a small generator, and the gloomy space was suddenly flooded with stark, white light.
One of the paper-suited forensic team headed towards them carrying a large, plastic evidence bag.
'Hello, Carl mate, what have you got there?'
Carl stopped and opened the bag. Lasser peered inside.
'T-shirt, jeans and a pair of trainers' Carl said.
'What size?' Fossey asked.
The man looked at him quizzically over the top of his paper mask.
Lasser nodded. 'It's all right, Carl, he's almost one of us.'
'Well, according to the label in the shirt it's a size ten and the jeans are a twenty-eight-inch waist.'
'Male or female.' Lasser asked.
'Hard to tell, I mean, you know what kids are like today, half the time you don't know who's who.'
Lasser nodded in understanding. 'Where's Hopkins?'
'He's outside, checking out the septic tank.'
'I can't think of anyone more suited for the job.'
Above the mask, Carl's eyes crinkled in amusement. Lasser crossed the room, swerving to avoid the huge table, when he saw the stain on the floor he stopped.
'That is a lot of blood.'
'Now you see why I made the call.'
'I certainly do,' he looked around the room. 'It doesn't look like anyone's been using this place to squat.'
'Not unless they're a very tidy individual.' Fossey replied.
Lasser grunted in response. 'Right, let's go and see how my esteemed colleague's shaping up.'
Outside, the heat of the day was slowly leaking away, the sun wavered low in the sky, bathing the surrounding fields in peach-infused light.
Hopkins had managed to remain downwind of the stink. Harper was leaning over the wall attempting to dredge the tank with a long length of rope that presumably had some form of hook attached to the end.
Lasser sighed. 'They should have a vacuum pump up here. I mean, this is like something out of the bloody dark ages,' he turned to look at Fossey. 'Do you think there's anything in there?'
'You mean a body?'
'Yeah.'
Fossey thought for a moment. 'It just seems strange.'
'What does?'
'Well, if someone has been killed up here, then why leave the clothes behind. I mean, there's no evidence of a body, so we have to presume it's been removed somewhere…'
'The tank?'
'Possibly, but why leave the clothes behind in the first place. I mean, if you're going to commit a murder then you dump the clothes with the body or simply leave the body in the house'
'That makes sense.'
'I think I have something, sir!' Harper was pulling hard on the rope, leaning back slightly to take the strain.
'Spenner, don't just stand there, give her a lift.' Hopkins bellowed.
PC Spenner looked appalled at the prospect. 'But I've no gloves, sir.'
Lasser headed back into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of the plastic sacks from the floor, and strode down the path folding the sacks as he went.
Hopkins scowled as Lasser grabbed the rope and started to pull. Gradually the cable began to appear over the wall, long strands of thick green slime, dragged up by the nylon cord, plopped onto the grass.
After a few seconds the bag appeared, it teetered on the top of the wall then slid onto the floor spilling the contents onto the grass.
'Fuck me.' Lasser hissed, stepping back quickly as the blue-grey mass slithered free of the sack. Harper began to retch, letting go of the rope she lifted a hand to cover her mouth, when she realised she was still wearing the glove she heaved even more.
'Not on the bloody crime scene!' Hopkins screamed.
Harper scuttled away to a patch of nettles and brought up the spaghetti bolognaise she'd had the night before.
Dropping the rope, Lasser moved forward, it was eerie, but the mass looked like a living thing, as if they'd dredged up some alien creature from the bottom of some primordial swamp. He knew it was an optical illusion but to Lasser it appeared to pulse and squirm in the late afternoon sun.
'Well, Charlie, I don't know about you, but it'll be a while before I order the seafood platter again.'
Hopkins glared at his colleague.
Fossey crouched and studied the grotesque mess. The intestines coiled together as if still encased in the abdominal cavity, the greyish colour mottled by the filthy water that had seeped into the sack. Fossey frowned as he peered closer, a small circular disk glinted up at him, and he reached out a hand.
'Here, what do you think you're doing?'
Ignoring Hopkins, he gingerly plucked it free.
'What've you got?' Lasser asked.
Fossey held it out, the disk lying flat in the palm of his hand.
'Looks like a button to me.' Fossey replied.
Lasser grinned and pulled a small evidence bag from his pocket, he held it out and Fossey dropped it into the plastic sleeve.
Lasser stood up and gave it a shake. 'Look, Charlie, do you think it could be a clue?'
14
By the time Fossey pulled up in front of the farmhouse, it was almost dark.
He'd left the crime scene just as reinforcements had begun to arrive. The small generator working overtime as a dozen halogen lights were rigged up.
Hopkins had been busy marshalling the troops, whilst Lasser took a back seat, standing with Fossey by the side of the Range Rover smoking a cigarette.
'He's a marvel to behold, isn't he?' he said with a smirk, watching as Hopkins bollocked Paul Currie, the dog handler, because the animal had decided to take a dump right under his nose. It was almost as if the dog was passing judgment on the proceedings.
'Are you sticking around?' Fossey asked.
'By rights I should have been home,' he checked his watch, 'two hours ago. Though it's not often we get something as exciting as this turning up. Besides, I might get a few brownie points for acting 'above and beyond'.'
'You mean you're waiting to see if Hopkins implodes?'
'That obvious is it?'
'Only to the trained eye.'
Lasser laughed aloud. 'Anyway, it's been nice meeting you, Patrick.'
'Likewise,' Fossey had started the engine and then handed a card to Lasser. 'Just in case you need me for anything.'
'I might take you up on that.'
The sun was wobbling to earth as Fossey parked by the side of the tractor, its dull bulk casting a long shadow.
For a moment, he stood there enjoying the silence, and the smell of cut grass and lavender on the warm evening air.
As soon as the front door opened, a security light blinked into life. Jenna headed towards him in a way that was not quite running but was too hurried to be called a brisk walk. Susan appeared in the doorway and stood watching them both.
'What's happened, have they found anything?' Jenna asked, her face etched with concern.
'Come inside, the kettle's just boiled.'
Jenna spun around in annoyance, but her mum had vanished back inside.
'Come on, it's better if I let you all know what's happened.'
'Oh yeah, of course.'
Ronnie was sitting at the large kitchen table, drumming his gnarled fingers on its surface; the flat cap perched on the top of his head. He still wore his old suit jacket, as if he had just come in or was in the process of going out somewhere.
Jenna's father stood at the sink washing his hands.
'So, lad, what's happened?' Ronnie asked.
Jenna chewed a fingernail, looking anxiously at Fossey.
'The police are still there.'
David turned from the sink, drying his hands on a tea towel. 'But have they actually found anything?'
Fossey paused for a moment. 'Well…
'They have; they've found a body. I just knew it!' Jenna covered her mouth with a shaking hand.
'Be quiet, Jenna, let the man finish,' David snapped.
She glared across the room at her father and then resumed chewing her nails into extinction.
'Well, no, they haven't actually found a body.'
'So, why are they still up there?' Ronnie asked with a frown.
Fossey sighed, wondering how best to break the news. Jenna was a smart girl, but she was still only seventeen.
'It's all right, Patrick, we'd like to know.' Susan moved to Jenna's side, her hands clasped together.
'They've found some remains…'
Jenna thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans. 'Oh God!'
'Forensics have removed them for analysis.'
'But they might not be human remains?' David asked hopefully.
'It's a possibility.'
'But you think they are?' Susan asked.
'In all honesty, yes,' he didn't see the point in keeping the details to himself. It had happened on their land and in his opinion that gave them the right to know as much as possible.
Ronnie lit a smoke, this time a full one that he pulled from a battered-looking cigarette tin. 'I knew we should have flattened that place, didn't I keep saying it, David?'
David glared at his father-in-law. 'All right, Ronnie, don't start going on about it now.'
'But I kept saying some bugger would end up having an accident. I mean, all it needs is some yobbo to break a leg in there and they could sue the bloody arse off us.'
Jenna couldn't believe what she was hearing. 'For God's sake, Grandad, listen to you, this isn't someone having an accident. It's not some little kid messing about and getting hurt. Someone's been murdered and all you can talk about is how much it could cost us!'
Ronnie looked flustered. 'I didn't mean it like that, love. But let's face it, if we had knocked the owd place down then summat like this wouldn't have happened.'
Susan waved a dismissive hand. 'Let's not get into all that. Now would you like tea or coffee, Patrick?'
'Well, if you don't mind I'll be going. I just called round to let you know the situation,' he paused. 'Besides, it's been a long day.'
'Of course, and thanks for calling.'
'No problem,' he turned to Jenna. 'I'll take a look at the research and ring you in a couple of days, if that's OK?'
Despite the events of the last few hours, Jenna found herself smiling. 'That would be good.'
'Do me a favour, Jenna, and empty the dryer will you, your dad's overalls should be dry by now.'
She looked at her mother as if she had just asked her to clean out the chicken shed. 'Me!'
Susan raised an eyebrow. 'Honestly, Patrick, anyone would think she was a stroppy teenager.'
Jenna glared and marked it down as
another insult she would have to bring to her parents' attention.
Fossey smiled. 'Right, I'll see you all soon.'
He headed to the door with Susan close on his heels.
Outside, the scent of heather was stronger than ever, Fossey saw the fleeting form of a bat zip through the security light.
When they reached the car, he turned. 'Look, Susan, sometime over the next couple of days I would imagine the police will be paying you a visit.'
'I don't doubt it.'
'If it's someone called Hopkins then keep your answers brief.'
She frowned. 'We've nothing to hide.'
'I realise that, it's just that he'll start with the premise that you do.'
'I see.'
He climbed into the car and she held the door open, resting her hand on handle. 'When you said they found remains – what exactly did you mean?'
'Well, I didn't like to go into too much detail, not with Jenna there.'
'I thought as much.'
'They found body parts in an old grain sack.'
This time she emulated her daughter by placing a hand over her mouth. 'My God and they actually found these things in the house?'
'No,' he paused, 'they were in the septic tank.'
Susan felt the colour drain from her face; her legs suddenly seemed fragile as if incapable of supporting her weight. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest.
'And the blood stain you found looked fresh?'
'I'm afraid so. Look you go on in; I'll watch you from here.'
She looked out into the dark; beyond the cone of the security light everything appeared indistinct, shadows layered upon shadows. Within the space of a couple of hours everything that was familiar to her had been fundamentally altered, and she didn't like it one bit.
'OK, and thanks again for calling.'
'Not a problem, and if I find out anything more then I'll let you know straight away.'
She nodded before turning and retracing her steps to the front door, a journey she'd made a thousand times, day and night. The dark had never bothered her before, yet now she felt an unfamiliar sense of apprehension slide into place. A feeling that made its home in her mind like a wanderer returning home after a long exile, kicking off his walking boots and settling down into the comfortable armchair. Home at last.
The Needle House Page 6
