Текст книги "Fear of Drowning"

Автор книги: Peter Turnbull

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

‘Astounding.’

‘Elementary, actually,’ said Thorn. ‘But that explains how I heard as well as saw what happened on Thursday.’

‘Which was?’

‘Fellow called Richardson. Irish by his accent, despite his English name.’

‘Well, I’m English with an Irish name.’

‘Point taken…He had a length of scaffolding in his hand, waving it about his head, the Williamses were backed up against their door…he was threatening to brain them, they threatened him with the police. He said, “Go on, call them, you’re the criminals, not me.’”

‘He had a scaffolding pole in his hand?’

‘Not a twenty-one.’

‘A what?’

‘A twenty-one. Full-length scaffolding poles are known as “twenty-ones” in the building trade because they’re that long measured in feet. I had an extension built on my house a year or two ago and I was chatting to the builders and I picked up that piece of information. When a scaffolding pole is bent it can’t properly be straightened and so the straight bits are cut off and make handy short bits to put at the end of gangways and suchlike.’

‘And this fellow had one such short bit?’

‘Yes, about two feet long. He was a big man, hands like bears’ paws, well able to grip a scaffolding pole. Anyway, the thing didn’t escalate into violence and the angry Irishman drove away in a small lorry—I think they’re called pick-ups—which had “Richardson—Builders” painted on the side of the door. I am just assuming that the angry Irishman was Mr Richardson.’

‘Do you know what the row was about?’

‘Money. Richardson said that if he didn’t get his money then Williams’s blood would be spilled, and if she got in the way, she’d get it too. I assume “she” was a reference to Mrs Williams. Charming fellow.’

‘It’s a fair assumption, I’d say.’ Hennessey looked at the house which stood on the other side of the lane, on the wall of which voices had bounced between Thorn’s house and the Williamses’ house. ‘I wonder if the people who live in that house saw anything?’

‘Plenty, I expect. He’s a vet, recently retired and celebrating the fact by taking his wife on a world cruise with Cunard. Daresay they’ll be somewhere between Sydney and San Francisco right now.’

Hennessey chuckled.

‘Reinforcements?’ Thorn said, as a white van slowed to a stop outside the Williamses’ bungalow.

‘Scene of Crimes Officers.’

‘The Williamses’ bungalow is a scene of a crime, then?’

‘Yes. Now it is.’

‘And I came here for a quite retirement.’

‘That will be my findings, Sergeant Yellich.’ Louise D’Acre removed the gauze mask from her mouth and pondered the bodies, laying side by side on twin stainless-steel tables, the top of the skull of each having been removed, thus exposing the brain. ‘Both died of head injuries, but both died differently.’

‘What was that term you used…for him, Dr D’Acre?’

‘For him, he died of a subarachnoid haemorrhage. What happened to him is that he sustained multiple blows to the head but he has quite a thick skull. His skull didn’t fracture at all, but the blows caused subcranial lacerations and the blood collected in the subarachnoid space. What happened then is that the blood was prevented from coagulating because it mixed with the cerebrospinal fluid which dilutes it and it then slides down inside the skull to cover the brain and enter the basal skull fossae, and death follows.’ She peeled off her latex gloves from her hands. ‘The process is not fully understood, but when the brain stem comes into contact with blood, death occurs.’

The mortuary assistant covered the bodies with sheets.

‘Thank you, Mr Filey.’ D’Acre smiled at the small bespectacled man, who smiled his acknowledgement. The fact that he had been drinking, he has a high blood/alcohol level, the alcohol would have eased the bursting of aneurisms, the blood vessels.’

‘I see.’

‘So that is he. Now she, on the other hand, did suffer a fractured skull. A single blow cracked her skull open from front to back, sending brain splinters into the skull, killing her instantly. A blunt instrument was used in both cases.’

‘Time of death?’

‘Found this morning…I noted a slight discolouration of the abdominal skin, that is the usual sign for the onset of putrefaction, which normally takes place within two to three days after death. They probably were not killed last night, probably any time from Sunday to Monday evening…but they would have been deceased by yesterday morning. I think of interest to you is the hypostasis, that was the redness about the buttocks, the shoulders and the calves and ankles.’

‘I remember.’

‘That fully established itself in six to twelve hours after death and is basically a settling of blood in the body due to gravity, especially where the body has been exposed to a cold surface. When they had died, they were both laid on the ground face up and remained there for about twenty four hours, during which rigor mortis set in. Then they were moved, the rigor was broken, and they were then taken to the shallow grave and placed on their sides. If they had been buried soon after death in the manner in which they were found, then rigor would be present and the hypostasis would be present down one or the other side, not on the posterior aspect of their bodies.’

‘Moved after death,’ Yellich said. ‘Alive on Sunday, deceased by Tuesday, moved after death.’

‘They were probably buried on the Tuesday evening, that is yesterday and today’s hours of darkness. Found this on her clothes.’ D’Acre held a small glass test tube and handed it to Yellich.

‘A butterfly?’

‘A moth.’ D’Acre looked at the test tube. ‘What great monument of purpose you were destined for and never knew it, eh, little one? You see, Sergeant, it’s my guess that in the burial of the two bodies in a shallow grave, there would be a lot of movement, bodies being carried and dumped, soil being heaved…would there not?’

‘Yes, I would imagine so.’

‘It’s my further guess that this wee beastie—it’s a common moth, nothing out of the ordinary about it—came fluttering along, possibly attracted by a light from a lantern or car headlights, and by some means got caught up in the movements, had a spadeful of soil chucked over him. Got in the way of a spadeful of soil, was brought down as he fluttered by, didn’t recover before the next spadeful of soil landed on him and his goose was cooked. But his presence meant that he was in the vicinity at the time of the burial, that means it was a night burial. Allowing for time for rigor to establish itself, because it was broken, then they could not have been buried Monday night/Tuesday morning, they had to have been buried last night. And murdered at least twelve hours before that.’

‘So…they were seen alive on Sunday in the afternoon. . ‘

‘Any time from then until yesterday morning was the time of their death, if you’re certain they were alive on Sunday afternoon.’

‘Their children saw and spoke with them.’

‘Good enough, I suppose, but clinically speaking, I’d be prepared to push the time envelope back twenty-four hours, but that’s at the extreme. If you think that the witnesses to their being alive on Sunday are reliable, then that would meet with my clinical findings that death was likely to have occurred between’—she glanced at the clock on the wall ‘between about twenty-four and fifty-two hours ago.’

‘Between Sunday night and Tuesday morning?’

‘If you like, but I can narrow it down further.’

‘You can?’

‘Stomach contents reveal a partially digested heavy meal.’

‘They were known to have been at a restaurant on Saturday evening, returning home about midnight.’

‘Well, it takes about twenty-four hours for a meal to be digested and the waste vacated per rectum and heavy, fatty meals remain longer than light meals, as you’d expect, and digestion does continue after death. But the presence of the Saturday-evening meal in their system points to death nearer to the fifty hours end of the time window.’

‘Closer to the Sunday?’

‘Yes. Much closer to the Sunday.’

‘She didn’t say what sort of weapon was used, boss,’ Yellich said in Hennessey’s office. ‘Apart from a blunt instrument.’

‘Plenty of those. Do you think it could be a scaffolding pole, that it to say a short length of same?’

‘Have to ask her that, boss.’

‘I will.’ Then, by means of explanation Hennessey told Yellich about Richardson, his visit to the Williamses’, his threat and the two-foot-long length of scaffolding pole. ‘What did Williams say about anybody wanting to murder his parents?’

‘Not a lot. He’s a queer fish, boss, no mistake. You’d think he’d be upset about going to identify his parents, but on the journey he was obsessed by that sailor.’

‘What sailor?’

‘The lad on the platform outside the provost marshal’s office.’

‘Oh yes,’ Hennessey spoke softly. ‘I did wonder what his story was.’

Yellich told him.

‘Seemed to take it personally, then?’

‘Seemed so.’

‘What about his reaction when he saw his parents’ bodies?’

‘That was more natural. A bit restrained, but sorrowful, subdued. Daresay he is a human being after all.’

When Yellich had gone, Hennessey suddenly remembered another name: Bestwood. Bestwood, that’s another name for the list, one perfunctory, lacklustre, flat-personality lump of a lad, he, little wonder he hadn’t been one of the first to spring to mind. But that’s another name for the list, but he was betting there. He was confident that soon he’d have all thirty-two names. He couldn’t remember Bestwood’s Christian name though. He thought it was probably Michael, but only probably.

Wednesday afternoon and evening

…in which Chief Inspector Hennessey meets a ruined man, is annoyed and impressed by a scientist, and both he and Sergeant Yellich each make their favourite journey: home.

Rufus Williams sat impassively in the interview room.

Hennessey was puzzled by his calmness, but then, he thought, this was probably his way of reacting to misfortune, a state of denial, he believed it to be called—‘It’s not really happening, it isn’t really, it’ll sort itself out, he’s not really dead, it just looks that way.’

‘Would you like us to contact the Metropolitan Police to ask them to break the news to your sister?’

‘No. I’ll do that. Thanks, anyway.’

‘As you wish. We only have to inform one next of kin. The rest is up to the family.’

‘I am aware of that.’

‘Difficult as it must be for you, sir,’ Hennessey pressed forward. ‘I’m afraid we have to ask you some questions.’

‘Of course.’

‘This has now officially become a murder enquiry, a double murder enquiry, and so we must ask you not to go near your parents’ bungalow. It’s become a crime scene.’

‘So they were murdered at home?’

‘We don’t know that. It’s been ransacked and for that reason alone we have declared it a crime scene. We’ve still to establish the location of the murders. For all we know there might be two different locations.’

‘How did they die?’

‘Beaten about the head with a blunt instrument.’

Williams shook his head slowly. ‘There’s something unreal about this.’ Hennessey nodded. This, he thought, was more like a normal reaction, more natural, more appropriate than the reaction that Yellich had reported: the obsession with the young able seaman, that was a clear denial reaction.

‘One thing we are certain of is that your parents were not robbed. Money was not the motive.’

‘I could have told you that. They have no money. None at all.’ Williams looked Hennessey square in the eye. ‘No money at all.’

‘So it’s fair to say that no one would benefit from their death, financially speaking?’

‘That’s fair.’

‘Not even you and your sister…I mean the bungalow, any insurance policies…’

‘If anything, it will be scraps. I don’t know the extent of his bank accounts or building society accounts, if any, nor of his insurance policies. If any. The death certificate will only have been issued today. I’ve got to start wrapping up his estate…I just don’t have the information you want but I suspect that if he left anything, it will be only enough to pay for his funeral.’

‘What about the bungalow?’

‘What about it?’

‘It must be worth something?’

‘It is, but not to us. So I believe, anyway. I don’t know the extent of it but I suspect that Father had borrowed money from the bank, using the bungalow as collateral. He had been unable to repay the loan. So I believe, anyway.’

‘All right. So neither your sister nor you would benefit from the death of your parents?’

‘No.’

‘Mr…’

‘Lieutenant.’

‘Lieutenant Williams, your parents were beaten about the head, that’s passion. They were buried in a shallow grave, that’s absence of premeditation. Who do you know, would have such feelings for your parents that they would want to kill them in such a violent way? Their murder was one of suddenly unleashed rage.’

‘You’ve asked me this before and I still can’t bring anyone to mind who would want to do that.’ Williams shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. But then again, he was a businessman…’

‘And businessmen make enemies. I know.’

‘Mother did once tell of a spat with a fellow called Richardson.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Irishman, has a temper. So she said.’

‘Tell me about him.’

‘Don’t know about him, but apparently Father had let him down in some way. I don’t know the details, but Richardson felt he’d been let down by Father and was in a bad financial way because of it. You’ll have to ask Richardson.’

‘We will. He’s a builder, isn’t he?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Your father…you said he helped you financially?’

Williams scowled. Then he said ‘Well, yes.’

‘To a great extent?’

‘That’s relative. He helped me keep away from poverty. I could enjoy the social life of a naval officer without worrying too much.’

‘I see,’ Hennessey said. ‘What will you do now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, from what you’ve told me, you’re now dependent upon your salary and that can’t be much.’

‘Confess I haven’t thought too much about it. I’ve a little in the bank. That’s a useful cushion, but it won’t last forever. Looks like civvy street for me, as I’ve said before. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, I’m not going anywhere in the navy.’

‘Confess, I thought you were a bit old for your rank.’

Williams’s eyes narrowed.

‘Always been in the navy?’

‘Since I was seventeen.’

‘Sea service?

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘But you don’t wear spectacles?’

‘Meaning?’

‘Well, meaning that I did my National Service in the Andrew.’

‘And?’

‘Well, I did my tour, I saw the world as far as Portsmouth, but I came away with the impression that shore-based personnel are seen as second-raters by the sea service personnel.’

‘That attitude exists.’

‘It is also my experience that shore-based personnel had some medical problem that prevented them serving at sea, most wore spectacles, for example.’

‘I fail to see your point.’

‘Frankly, I don’t know what the point is myself…but something doesn’t add up.’

‘Will that be all, Chief Inspector? I’ve got responsibilities to attend to, both family and professional.’

‘Yes…’ Hennessey stood. ‘Sorry to have detained you.’

‘Neither breakfast nor lunch.’ Hennessey swallowed the coffee in his mug.

‘Sorry, sir?’ Yellich sat opposite him. ‘The Williamses didn’t have anything to eat after their meal at the Mill. That was their last meal in life.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Yet they were seen on the Sunday afternoon, so they forewent breakfast and lunch.’

‘Not difficult to see why, boss. I mean, if they had pushed the boat out as much as the restaurateur said they had then they’d probably want nothing all day Sunday except coffee, endless mugs of same. Then maybe a cheese sandwich in the evening.’

‘Fair point, so we don’t go down that alley. The bug that Dr D’Acre found on Mrs Williams’s clothing, in amongst the soil, was it?’

‘Yes, sir, she said it could have been caught in a shovelful of flying soil as it fluttered by.’

‘It was a moth. So it means they were buried at night.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Specifically last night.’

‘Right. So we have the time window that Dr D’Acre proposes. From Sunday morning to this morning, specifically the hours of darkness of last night which is when she believes the Williamses were buried?’

‘Yes, boss.’

Hennessey paused. ‘Fifty-four cubic feet.’

‘Boss?’

‘A grave six feet long and three feet wide and three feet deep is fifty-four cubic feet. And that’s fifty-four cubic feet of clay. This is the Vale of York, remember. Even in my prime I couldn’t dig that sort of hole in six hours, which is the amount of darkness there was last night. So who’s on the scene with a physique that could enable him to shift fifty-four cubic feet of clay in six hours? Clay that’s been baked hard, to boot?’

‘Tim Sheringham, for one.’

‘And maybe Richardson, who Williams mentioned. Builders are not usually small guys. I think I’d like to meet Richardson. Particularly since Mr Thorn, the neighbour, also mentions him.’

‘There’s another reason you’ll want to meet Richardson, boss.’

‘There is?’ Hennessey’s eyes widened.

‘The name rang bells with me, did a little digging.’

‘Digging,’ Hennessey echoed. ‘Apt in this case.’

Yellich smiled. ‘Isn’t it? But two years ago, a man in a field, left with his brains sticking out as though his head had been fed into a meat grinder. Solemn business.’

‘Yes…now that you mention it. Fellow by the name of Kerr.’

‘That’s it, boss, Thomas “Toddy” Kerr, a large man, hence the nickname. A bit like calling a Great Dane “Tiny”. I have the file here.’ Yellich patted a file.

‘Just remind me.’

‘Well, it’s one of the great unsolved in the Famous and Faire. Toddy Kerr owed a lot of money to a lot of folk and we believed that one of them collected in kind rather than in cash, one of the debtors was ‘Michael Richardson.’ Hennessey beamed at Yellich. ‘And, if I recall, he was the only one who didn’t offer an alibi, left the burden of proof with us. A bit similar, don’t you think?’

‘Very similar, I’d say, boss. Solemnly so, in fact. And you say Mr Thorn mentions him?’

Hennessey told him of Thorn’s information. Then he said, ‘Do you know why builders call scaffolding poles “twenty ones”?’ Yellich confessed he didn’t, so Hennessey told him that as well.

A lizard.

It was the only word that came to Hennessey as he sat opposite Michael ‘Galway Mick’ Richardson and pondered the over-wide mouth and bulging eyes and leathery skin, sitting with knees together beneath a huge frame and broad head and shoulders, so that his legs resembled a tail. It was not dissimilar to looking at children’s books in which animals inhabited human surroundings. Here a lizard sat in a swivel chair in a cramped office. Richardson’s tumbling, black curly hair and confident I-like-myself attitude also told Hennessey that here was a man who most probably enjoyed success with women.

‘Yes. I knew Williams. I don’t deny it. Why should I deny it? And now he’s deceased.’

‘You know that?’

‘Lunchtime news.’ Richardson nodded to the small radio on his desk.

Hennessey read the room. It was Richardson’s office in his house on the edge of Overton. Very strong, very substantial, very ordered. A portable TV on a shelf at eye level if sitting at the desk. A builder’s house.

‘What exactly was your relationship with Mr Williams?’

‘Didn’t have one. Not at the end.’

‘The reason I ask is that we have a very reliable witness who tells us that you threatened to kill him.’

‘So?’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes, I did.’

Hennessey paused. ‘You killed him?’

‘No. I threatened to.’ He had a soft-spoken manner.

‘Oh.’

‘Disappoint you?’ Richardson smiled.

‘No…no, I’ve been a policeman long enough to know that nothing is that easy.’ Hennessey relaxed in the easy chair at the side of Richardson’s desk. Tell me about the argument you had with him at his front door, last week, I believe.’

‘He owes me money. He owes me a lot of money. An awful lot of money, so he does now. I’ve had to pay labourers, I’ve had to pay my skilled men. I need the money owed to me. It’s called cash flow.’

‘How much money are we talking about?’

‘Enough.’

‘How much is enough?’

‘Enough to finish me. Six figures. That’s enough. See, if I build a brick rabbit hutch and the fella doesn’t pay I can survive, if I build a garage and the fella doesn’t pay I may be able to survive. But if I build a house and the fella doesn’t pay then I have a problem. And I don’t just mean any house, I mean a four-bedroom detached house, bay windows, Jacuzzi, double garage, fancy fittings in the bathroom…primed, papered, ready to move in. Even gave him the keys so he could start measuring up for carpets. He put the carpets in, paid for that. They’ve been living there to guard the place, there’s a double mattress in the upstairs room, a duvet, some food in a small fridge, a few plates, electric kettle…she mainly, the clothes in the bin liner are all female…so I build the house to the plans he has had drawn up and then I say…OK, now pay me. So he says, “When I’ve sold it I will.”’

‘Oh.’

‘I thought all along that it was for him to move into…he’s known in the Vale…he’s a man with money…a venture capitalist and he likes throwing it around. So I thought I was safe. Any other guy I’d want money upfront, or lodged with a solicitor to be retained on satisfactory completion…my error…he paid twenty thousand upfront, but that still leaves me with a shortfall of six figures.’ Richardson’s voice hardened. ‘So, it’s a breach of contract or something. It’s unlawful.’

‘It’s not criminal,’ Hennessey replied softly.

‘There’s two things I can do. I can pursue him through the civil courts, but that won’t get me anywhere but a hefty legal bill because I built it on an assumption. So you built it on an assumption, so you’re wrong, it’s possibly not breach of contract. The other thing I can do is what I’m going to do, which is sell it. Technically speaking, it’s my house, so I can sell it. But the house market is depressed, nothing is moving. It’ll be at least eighteen months before anybody shows an interest. If I sell it quickly it’ll be only because I’ve reduced the price so much that I’ll be selling at a loss. He betrayed me. He was clearly hoping to sell it, pay me off and pocket the balance. But all along he let me believe he was going to move his family in.’

‘So you went round to his house and threatened to kill him and his wife with a scaffolding pole.’

‘Yes, I did. Wouldn’t you?’

‘No, I wouldn’t. That length of scaffolding, where is it?’

‘God knows.’

‘I’m sure He does, but do you?’

‘No. Maybe in the back of the truck.’

‘I’d like to take it with me.’

‘Help yourself, there’s about half a dozen bits of scaffolding. I don’t know which one I picked up.’

‘Handy length, though, about two feet.’

‘Handy?’

‘To batter someone’s head in.’

‘Suppose it is. I’ve never done it.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘This will finish you, you believe?’

‘It will. I’ve built the business up from scratch. I’ve got a couple of small jobs on the go, but the brickies will need paying…I’ve got no cash to pay them, the bank won’t advance me any…do you know what brickies do if they don’t get paid?’

‘Wreck the site?’

‘They don’t need to do that, they just take a sledgehammer and knock the bricks out of line six inches above the ground. makes the whole structure invalid, won’t pass Building Control Inspection. Can’t sell it, have to demolish it. That’s worse because you have to pay for the demolition. You know, if they wrecked the site they’d actually be doing me a favour.’

‘Save the demolition cost?’

‘Yes. It’s the sort of thing that’d drive a saint mad, so it would.’

‘It’s the sort of thing that would make you want to kill someone.’

‘It is that.’

‘So did you?’

‘What?’

‘Kill them.’

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It isn’t. It isn’t funny at all. Where were you last Sunday?’

‘I don’t know. Here. All day. At home. I have Sunday at home.’

‘Anybody vouch for that?’

‘No.’

‘Live alone?’

‘The and my wife. Our children are up and away.’

‘Your wife wasn’t here on Sunday?’

‘She was in Ireland. She came back this morning.’

‘So you were in all Sunday?’

‘I went to Mass at ten o’clock. I was in all Sunday after that.’

‘What about Monday night?’

‘What about it?’

‘Where were you?’

‘Here.’

‘All night?’

‘All night.’

‘And Tuesday, last night?’

‘Same. Stayed in alone, watching the TV so I did.’

‘I see.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing. How long have you been in the building trade?’

‘I’m forty-nine. I dug my first hole when I was fourteen. You work it out, I was never any good with numbers.’

‘A long time.’

‘Long enough. Never done anything else.’

‘Ever been in trouble with the police?’

‘Few times. I came over here as a labourer. When a bunch of labourers have had enough stout…you must have seen the results…being a copper, like.’

‘Convictions for violence, then.’

‘Yes. When I was a youngster. I calmed down once I got married. Calmed down more once I started out on my own.’

‘So we’ll have a record of you?’

‘Nothing you can use in court. They’re all spent now, my convictions, they’re all spent.’

‘But your fingerprints will be on file.’

‘Reckon they will.’

‘Tell me about Mr Kerr. Thomas “Toddy” Kerr.’

‘What about him?’

‘Did you kill him too?’

‘I didn’t kill anybody.’ Said with controlled temper.

‘Look at it from our point of view, “Toddy” Kerr owed you money.’

‘He owed a lot of people, and he didn’t owe me anything like what Williams owed me.’

‘But he owed you, and his brains got beaten out of his skull with an instrument that would not be dissimilar to a short length of scaffolding.’ Hennessey paused, but Richardson didn’t react. ‘And you couldn’t offer an alibi.’

‘So?’

‘Well, Williams owed you money, you were seen and heard to threaten him with a short length of scaffolding and shortly afterwards his brains were beaten out of his head, and you have no alibi for the time the murder is believed to have taken place.’

‘That’s because I don’t need one, for either murder.’

‘Can’t ignore the coincidence, though.’

‘Can’t convict on coincidence, though.’

‘And you know that. Puts you in the frame, puts you well in the frame. You’re always around when people get their brains removed forcibly from the inside of their head.’

‘Where else would you remove them from?’

‘Point to you.’ Hennessey inclined his head, but Richardson was talking, and in situations like this Hennessey had often found that people trip themselves up. ‘But you see our point?’

‘I see no point at all, Chief Inspector. Especially since you’re forgetting one thing. You’re forgetting that if you kill someone you’ll definitely not get your money back.’

‘Perhaps you didn’t consider that when your temper was well up.’

‘I didn’t consider it because I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill Williams and his wife and I didn’t kill Kerr. Felt like it, but that’s not a crime. Besides which, Kerr wasn’t buried, he was left out in the open, the Williamses were buried.’

‘A minor difference. The main point is that you have the motivation in both cases, you have the passion that was required in both cases, and you have the physical strength to carry out both murders, and you have the strength to dig the shallow grave.’

‘I didn’t kill them, or Kerr.’

‘Let me pick your brains.’

‘I didn’t know Englishmen believed the Irish had brains.’

‘People like Joyce and Yeats and one or two others I could name, you mean? A hole?’

‘They come in all shapes and sizes.’

‘In the ground.’

‘Where else?’

‘This time of year, local soil, six feet long, three feet wide, three feet deep.’

‘Yes…I can see that.’

‘How long would it take to dig?’

‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘On the person, or persons, on the equipment…a weak person with a trowel would take a week, a man with a mechanical digger would take ten minutes.’

‘Could it be dug in the hours of darkness at this time of year? Say six hours?’

‘Possibly. A grave digger takes a full day to dig one grave.’

‘Could you do it? The hole I described, I mean?’

‘Possibly. But I didn’t.’

‘No?’

‘No. Will that be all? I’ve got a business that’s nose-diving.’

‘Yes. For now.’ Hennessey stood. ‘I’d like to take a length of scaffolding from the rear of your vehicle.’

‘So long as you bring it back.’

Hennessey drove to the Williamses’ bungalow. He saw Yellich’s fawn-coloured Escort, the other vehicles he didn’t recognize.

He saw the media being kept at bay by a blue and white police tape, all anxious to get footage and photographs and to see the Williamses’ bungalow which was not unlike many thousands of similar bungalows in the United Kingdom. It was the interior of the building that mattered, yet here, for no reason that Hennessey could understand, was the media, anxious to see and to photograph a roof and a line of brickwork. He parked his car, pushed through the scrum of press and entered the house. Yellich stood in the hallway looking pleased with himself.

‘Anything, Yellich?’

‘Yes, boss. Something of great importance, something very solemn.’

‘Oh?’

‘It’s a murder scene.’ Toby Partridge peered at Hennessey from around a corner. At first a small, bespectacled head, as if disembodied from the rest of him, said, ‘It’s a murder scene,’ and then he stepped round the corner from the bedroom into the hall and when, as if head and body were joined, he said, ‘Oh yes, most definitely, it’s a lovely, lovely murder scene.’

‘Mr Partridge.’ Hennessey raised his eyebrows at the short, slight figure of the man who he thought about twenty-four or -five.

‘Doctor.’ Partridge smiled. ‘I’ve been doctored, oh yes. And this is as fine a murder scene as ever you’ll find. Oh, yes.’

‘You see what first put me onto it was the smell of bleach, even now you can discern it, but a few days ago it must have been overpowering.’

‘It was,’ Hennessey said. ‘I thought it was a clean household.’

‘Oh, it’s more than that, oh yes.’ Partridge danced about excitedly. ‘I mean, what householders use bleach in this quantity? Few, I’ll be bound. The point is that here something has been cleaned up. This house is a sanitized crime scene, oh yes, very much so. Then it was ransacked, but before it was ransacked it was the scene of a dreadful crime. So we ask ourselves, what has been tidied up?’

‘A murder. Don’t tell me.’

‘Oh, I should think so. More than one, really. Can’t fully sanitize a crime scene, very difficult, oh yes, oh my, yes, very difficult.’ Partridge twitched nervously, rodent-like.

‘You’ve made your point.’ Hennessey found Partridge’s nervous, excitable eccentricity difficult to take. That he was due to retire in a few years’ time and would thus avoid Partridge when he, Partridge, would be in his thirties and forties and presumably even more unbearable than he is found to be at present, was a thought which was a source of some great comfort to Hennessey.