Scaring Crows (26 page)

She had the awful feeling he might be right. ‘Where exactly?'

‘I don't know. I just hope we're not cutting anybody out who might have ...'

‘Mike,' she exploded. ‘For what motive? Why would anybody else have shot those two farmers? Nothing was taken and I think we're both agreed that homicidal maniacs live more in the pages of novels than in newspapers. And if we aren't too fond of coincidence do you think it probable that a homicidal maniac blasted two rural farmers barely a month after they'd bricked up the only female member of the family? The murders
have
to be connected with Ruthie's death. Therefore surely the obvious prime suspect has to be Ruthie's lover. I admit it is possible she was raped but I don't think so. And the killer is someone from their immediate circle. He
knew
that gun was there. And he
knew
it was loaded because he'd put the shotgun pellets in sometime before he stopped Aaron from fetching the cows in for milking and shot him before turning the barrel on Jack. Someone did that. Someone with more than just hatred in their heart. They must have had a reason. This was not opportunistic killing but planned murder.'

‘But the evidence of the Wellington? One on, one off.'

‘The
evidence
of Lewis Stone. He
heard
Aaron or someone whistling for the cows and it must have been that that made them force the gate open. Dead men don't whistle, Mike. And who would want to fetch the cows in but the farmer?'

‘You're relying too much on Stone's statement.'

‘Because there would be no point in his lying.'

‘If he's to be trusted.'

‘Who is,' she said, despairing. ‘Who is?'

Mike clapped his hand on her shoulder. ‘Nobody except me,' he said, half jovially. ‘And at least I'm here all the time.' She smiled. But behind his words there was more than a grain of truth. Matthew was occupied with Eloise and this was a case requiring plenty of work. She needed someone.

‘Look, Mike,' she said finally. ‘If you're so suspicious of Stone let's start by going to talk to him.'

11.45 a.m.

But luck was not with her. As she stepped outside the Incident caravan Colclough's car pulled up, raising a cloud of pale dust.

She spent almost half an hour trying to explain how they had overlooked Ruthie Summers' body for almost a week and secondly why there was not even the
likelihood
of an early arrest. There was no one even in the frame.

His bulldog face looked fierce. ‘Surely you must have some idea, Piercy,' he said tetchily.

‘No, sir.' It was always best to come clean when Colclough was asking his awkward questions.

His eyebrows met in the middle when he was very angry – or worried. And yet she knew he had deemed it an insignificant case. So why the change of heart? In a flash she knew what had made the difference. In headlines, in capital letters.

MISSING GIRL FOUND WALLED UP IN MURDER FARMHOUSE

And she felt enormous sympathy for Colclough trying vainly to protect the reputation of the Staffordshire Police. On the other hand there was no point deluding her boss only to be forced to come clean in a day or two when the Interview Rooms and the cells were still vacant. She offered him a small sop. ‘We need to do some more investigations, sir.'

‘What's your reasoning so far?'

Swiftly she outlined the theory of the earlier briefing. ‘Ruthie was pregnant. Someone, probably the boyfriend, had been wondering what had happened to her.' She put in the theory that Aaron and Jack couldn't have known that Ruthie had died from natural causes and this must have been why they had concealed her body. ‘I think this lover must have challenged Aaron and Jack. Maybe they told him she
was
dead. Maybe not. Whatever they did say it didn't impress the father of Ruthie's child. He came back to let fly with a couple of shotgun pellets.'

Colclough leant forward heavily, on his elbows, his eyes dark and questioning. ‘Let me get this straight,' he said. ‘Did you say Doctor Levin took a sample from this...'

She knew exactly what he meant. ‘Foetus, sir. Ruthie's unborn baby.'

‘And that DNA profiling could give us the name of the father?'

‘If we collect blood samples from the suspects and provided he is one of them.' She was almost tempted to smile. Surely their list had encompassed all Ruthie's potential lovers. Surely?

‘Right.' Colclough was smiling. Fist slammed palm. ‘We've got him then.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Colclough had small, intelligent eyes. Sometimes blue, sometimes grey. Sometimes dark, sometimes pale. Now they were lightening. ‘So it's in the bag then, Piercy?' He paused. ‘Why aren't you jumping up and down?'

With typical Colclough perception he had put his finger right on it. ‘Because,' she said, ‘it all seems a little too obvious.'

Colclough regarded her for a few moments before speaking again. ‘Never reject the obvious,' he barked. ‘This isn't ruddy fiction.' Then he leant far back in
her
chair. ‘I hear your place is coming on the market.'

She nodded.

His eyes were cool grey now. ‘Be careful, Piercy,' he warned. ‘Keep your personal life clean.' His next question was a bolt from the blue. ‘Planning on getting married, are you?'

She shook her head. ‘No, sir.'

He stood up then, a well-known sign for dismissal. ‘
Your
future, Piercy,' he said. ‘
Your
future.'

Mike's eyes were on her as she walked back outside into the blazing sunshine. He waited until they were out of Colclough's earshot before speaking. ‘I can't stand a long face.'

She climbed into the car, slammed the door and waited for him to skirt round the other side.

‘I'm coming to the conclusion,' she said sulkily, ‘that the police force is prudish, old-fashioned and anachronistic.'

‘Hmm.'

‘And thank you for your support, Korpanski.'

He was mystified. ‘Support for what?'

‘Nothing.'

She was silent for a moment. The car was stifling, even with the windows open. She closed her eyes and forced herself to ignore the heat.

‘What do you most want to know about the case, Mike?'

‘Who pulled the bloody trigger, of course.'

Her eyes were still closed. ‘For my money,' she said dreamily, ‘I would prefer to know who was the father of Ruthie's baby.' Even without opening her eyes she knew Mike was wondering whether the heat had touched her brain.

She smiled.

1.30 p.m.

Lewis Stone looked surprised to see them a second time.

‘I didn't think you'd be back.' His hand tightened on the Alsatian's choke chain. ‘I've told you everything I know. I can't help you. Sorry.'

‘Can we go over your story again?' Joanna asked pleasantly.

‘What?' Stone was wary.

‘The events of Tuesday morning. Please.'

He was even more on his guard, his head nervously bouncing from Joanna to Korpanski – and back to Joanna again. ‘Hoping I'll
slip up,
are you?'

‘One or two facts just don't add up.' Joanna's foot was on the bottom step.

Immediately Stone knew what the problem was. ‘I wasn't wearing a watch,' he said. ‘I can't be exact on times.'

‘No but you must have a vague idea. I mean – even someone not wearing a watch would know the difference between say seven o'clock in the morning and ten o'clock.'

Stone stared at her. ‘You what?'

‘You said you were at Hardacre at around seven a.m.,' Joanna said.

‘Yeah. That's right.' Stone glanced nervously along the alleyway. ‘You might as well come up.'

Joanna waited until they were all settled in Stone's clean little flat before continuing with the questions. ‘You
said
you heard the farmer whistle the cows in.'

Stone nodded, his face visibly nervous now. He licked his lips. ‘That's right.'

‘The pathologist says Aaron and Jack were already dead by then.'

‘He must be wrong. He
has
to be. I
heard
him. It's an unmistakable whistle. The cows knew it too. They were restless. He can't have been dead.'

‘He was.' Mike dropped the words into the room like a couple of bricks.

Stone swivelled his head around to stare at him. ‘Then who the hell was it whistling that morning?'

The three of them stared at one another. None of them could answer the question.

‘There's another problem,' Joanna continued. ‘Dave Shackleton saw your dog at ten o'clock, outside Hardacre.'

Stone's head jerked back to her. Immediately Stone relaxed. ‘I was with him,' he said. ‘We were just coming back from our walk.'

‘A three hour walk?' Mike asked incredulously.

Stone grinned, shrugged and nodded.

‘Nathan's a big, energetic animal,' he said. ‘Causes trouble if he doesn't get plenty of energy walked off.'

As though in answer they heard a deep growl at the foot of the steps.

‘OK,' Joanna said. ‘So what else did you see?'

‘Just the usual. Pinkers bringing the cows in.'

‘At what time?'

‘As I passed. Seven-ish.'

Joanna gave Mike a swift glance. ‘You're sure about that?'

Stone nodded, surprised. ‘I saw him quite clearly, as I came across the field. It takes a good five or ten minutes even walking fast. I got to the stile by Hardacre and heard old Summers whistling to the cows.'

Mike interrupted. ‘Did you
see
either Aaron or Jack?'

Stone thought for a moment before shaking his head. ‘No,' he said firmly. ‘I didn't.' He grinned. ‘But then Nathan was barking fit to wake the dead.'

Joanna stiffened.
Fit to wake the dead? But Aaron had not been dead. He had been alive and whistling. He must have been, whatever Matthew said.
But in her heart she acknowledged the truth. Science was precise. And Matthew was not wrong.

Stone had not noticed the lapse of concentration but continued. ‘The cows were rattling against the gate. Then I thought I heard them come out. So I hurried on. See Nathan and cows don't mix. He chases them.' He paused for a brief moment before adding, ‘It's led to problems with one or two of the local farmers.'

‘The Summers?'

‘Them and others.'

Joanna was frankly puzzled. Stone
seemed
honest. And there seemed no point in his version of events unless they were the truth. There was no reason for him to alter his story and yet it didn't hang together. But the truth remained. The cows had
not been
let out. They had pushed against the gate until the hasp had broken.

‘And are you sure you didn't hear a shot?'

‘No.' Stone shook his head, his bright eyes looking fearlessly into hers. ‘1 didn't hear any shooting. Nothing.'

And Joanna believed him.

But a shot is a noisy thing, reverberating through the countryside. Even if Stone had walked a further mile he would
still
have heard the shot. So Stone's story
couldn't
possibly be the truth or both Aaron and Jack must still have been alive at eight o'clock. Possibly even eight thirty. And Matthew had stated categorically that both had been dead at around six a.m.

So Stone must be lying.

She barely managed to keep the suspicion out of her voice as she asked her next question.

‘Then what?'

‘I carried on up the lane.'

‘Towards the wood?'

‘No,' he said. ‘Past the end, towards the cottage. I don't walk through the wood. I never do. Too spooky by half. Especially when it's getting dark. Those statues, creepy. If you ask me the man's touched. And that great big thing in the middle. Shouldn't be allowed. I don't blame Jack Summers for putting a match to it.'

‘You knew about that?'

‘It was me shouted the alarm,' Stone said. ‘Luckily I saw the light from the lane. Bloody Jack. Standing there with such a blank look on that great big, stupid face of his.' His face changed and it was at that precise moment that Joanna realized Lewis Stone had disliked Jack Summers. No, she thought hastily. Not disliked. So what was the word?

Despised?

Why? Because he was brain damaged?

Stone must have sensed her curiosity because he gave Joanna a shrewd glance of appraisal.

‘I don't suppose you ever knew Jack alive, did you?'

She shook her head.

‘Stupid he was,' Stone said. ‘Not a glimmer of sense. As stupid as an ox.' There was a note of irritation in his voice. He gave a short exclamation. ‘Half the time I'd wonder if the cows had more intelligence than he did. Anyway – we digress.' He spluttered a swift giggle. ‘As the actress said to the bishop.'

‘I hadn't realized you knew the family so intimately, Mr Stone.'

Immediately Stone looked wary. ‘Now look here, Inspector.'

‘So how well
did
you know the family?'

‘I only knew Jack. He was fond of dogs. Especially Alsatians. Sometimes he'd tag along on my walk. Just for companionship, you understand.' Stone's face looked older, bleaker. ‘I'll miss the stupid old blighter,' he said, ‘for all he was thick.'

Some vague shadow flashed across his face and Joanna was forced to change her mind. She had been wrong about the relationship between Stone and Jack Summers. Stone had held some affection for the boy. So perhaps it had been the rest of the family he had had no time for.

Yet it had been Jack as well as Aaron who had been murdered.

She tucked the conundrum away for a later time. There would be an answer. She was sure.