Part 10 (1/2)

'When for?' Heffernan chipped in. 'You haven't told us how long he's been there yet.'

'I might know more when I've done a full examination, Gerry, but I can't promise anything.' He looked round at the line of uniformed police officers who were combing the ground in the hope of finding something anything that might provide them with some clue. Until they had something they were working blind. The bones could have been there for fifty years or five.

Gerry Heffernan looked at his watch. 'Not much more we can do here, is there, Colin?'

'Got plans for tonight, Gerry?' Colin asked casually.

Wesley saw his boss's face redden. 'Oh ... er, just going out for something to eat ... er ...'

Colin gave Wesley a wink. He'd heard all about the DCI's lady friend, Joyce, who worked in the register office in Morbay. If Heffernan thought he could keep his private life secret in Tradmouth nick, he was sadly mistaken.

'I think Gerry's right,' Wesley said. 'We'll get the area sealed off and we can start a fingertip search first thing in the morning.' He looked down at the sad pile of bones. 'If he's been there for a while, a few more hours won't make much difference.'

'So what happened? Why aren't you at the hotel?' Heffernan whispered as they made their way back to the cars.

'Della happened. She promised to babysit stay the night but she had a better offer.'

The DCI shook his head. 'Oh Wes, Pam must be gutted.'

'I'm not too pleased about it myself.'

'I don't know what to say.'

Wesley gave his boss a sad smile. 'We'll just have to have a quiet night in with the proverbial takeaway. There are worse ways of spending your wedding anniversary, I suppose.'

He drove home, thinking of the unknown man who had lain alone amongst the trees for years. He was somebody's son or father or brother. Somebody must be missing him. Unless he was a loner a tramp who just lay down one day and died. Some things were too sad to contemplate.

Steve Carstairs had hoped he was on a promise when he'd turned up to meet Joanne Beeston at the Flying Pig one of Morbay's flas.h.i.+er bars. His father had told him that Joanne seemed keen, whispering the words with a nudge and a wink. She'd mentioned him that very afternoon at work and said she was going home to the small flat she was renting near Bloxham harbour to have a shower and get changed. It sounded good. Attractive girl. Unattached detective albeit one who was temporarily suspended from duty. Steve's instincts told him he couldn't go wrong.

When Joanne was half an hour late he began to wonder if his confidence was misplaced as he sat in the soft black leather sofa in the corner of the bar, tapping his feet to the beat of the music and taking occasional swigs from his bottle of lager. But eventually she arrived, breathless and apologetic, fresh from the shower and looking beautiful. Steve got her a drink and she sank into the sofa beside him with a coy smile.

'Sorry I'm late,' she said, touching his arm lightly. 'I had things to do and I lost track of the time.'

There was an awkward silence while they studiously consumed their drinks, searching for something to say.

It was Steve who spoke first. 'Did my dad say anything ... after I'd been in today?'

Joanne smiled. 'Robbie says a lot of things. He's got the gift of the gab, your dad. Talk the knickers off a nun, he could.'

'About me? Did he say anything about me?'

She hesitated. 'He told me you'd been accused of beating up a suspect. Is that true?'

Steve nodded, annoyed with his father for betraying his confidence but then Robbie had betrayed him before so it was nothing new. 'I don't always do things by the book but I never touched the little toe-rag. Not that he didn't deserve a good beating. He murdered that bloke, you know. The one in Rhode ... the wine merchant.'

Joanne's eyes widened in surprise. 'Really? I didn't think they'd got anyone for that yet. It's not been on the news.'

'I met someone I work with.' He shuffled his feet. 'An ex-girlfriend actually,' he added almost proudly. 'She said the knife he tried to use on me was the one that killed that Charles Marrick.'

Joanne gave a theatrical shudder. 'You had a narrow escape then.'

Steve sat back and considered what she'd said. 'Yeah,' he said after a while. 'I suppose I did.' He grinned at her. 'Anyway, we've got him.'

He saw the look of relief on her face and wondered whether he'd said the right thing. A killer at large would have given him the chance to play Sir Galahad, to see her home, to check her flat, to insinuate himself into her life under the guise of protecting her. He felt suddenly annoyed with himself for missing this opportunity. Next time he'd think before opening his mouth.

'So it was really you that caught him?' She sounded impressed. Perhaps things weren't so bad after all. She was starting to think of him as some sort of hero and that suited him fine.

'Yeah. I suppose it was not that I got much thanks for it.' He thought it wise to change the subject before he started to rant against what he saw as his unjust treatment. The last thing he wanted to do was to bore her ... and he felt the injustice so strongly that he didn't think he could help himself. 'How long have you been down here in glorious Devon then?' He edged closer to her, his arm draped round the back of her seat.

'It'll be almost three weeks now.'

'Do you like it down here?'

'Bit quiet after Bristol.'

'So what brought you here?'

She shrugged. 'Fancied a change, didn't I? And I knew it from when I was a kid.'

'You came here on holiday?'

'Mmm. What about you? Lived here all your life, have you?'

Steve detected a note of mockery in her question. Mummy's boy. Never been away from home. 'I'm thinking of going to London ... joining the Met. I fancy a change ... just like you.' He smirked. 'How do you like working at Burton's b.u.t.ties?'

'It's okay.'

'And that's the summit of your ambition, is it ... a sandwich shop?' He immediately regretted his sarcastic tone. 'Not that there's anything wrong with ...'

'It's all I could get at short notice. It's a job. I did a computer course in Bristol so maybe I'll be able to move on soon. And I've done a bit of interviewing work ... that was really interesting.' She took a sip of Bacardi Breezer. 'I'm keeping my options open.' She paused. 'I like your dad. He's good fun.'

There was a long pause before Steve replied. 'He walked out on me and my mum,' he said simply. 'But like you said, he's good fun. What about your family? What does your dad do?'

She gave a dismissive grunt. 'Did. He's retired.'

'What did he do before he retired?' Steve suddenly became aware that he was interrogating the woman. But he was curious. He wanted to know all about her.

'Nothing glamorous. He was a caretaker. Want another drink?'

Steve liked a woman who stood her round. But when he gave her a lift back to Bloxham, she didn't invite him in.

Some things needed time.

When Emma Tench returned from her s.h.i.+ft at the hospital at seven forty-five on Sunday morning she sensed something was wrong. Simon's Land Rover was parked outside, just as it should be. And the curtains were still drawn across he was never an early riser on a Sunday. But everything seemed too still the birds too quiet in the fields around the cottage as if the world was holding its breath.

The door swung open and she stepped inside. As the curtains were still drawn the room was fairly dark, but she could see the glossy estate agents' brochures strewn on the coffee table in an untidy heap. She walked in, intending to straighten them. But as she put her hand out to touch the brochures, she saw him out of the corner of her eye, slumped in his usual armchair. For a split second she thought he was asleep and opened her mouth to speak, to scold him for having too much whisky and pa.s.sing out before he could get upstairs.

But when she saw the blood she stood for a few seconds paralysed before saying his name, tentatively at first. Then with the heartrending despair of a mother seeking a missing child.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she saw the drying blood splashed on the walls and floor and spread out around Simon's body like a rusty aura.