The Cadaver Game (18 page)

‘Let me know when Orford shows up again, won’t you. I’ll need to talk to him.’

‘What’s up?’ Gerry’s voice made him jump.

‘Neil’s found a skeleton in that trench he’s digging at Catton Hall. He’s sealed off the area so I’ll get a crime scene team
over and give Colin a call too.’

Gerry looked as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. ‘That’s all we need.’

As soon as they emerged from the car, they heard a volley of shots and loud whoops of triumph coming from the building.

‘That must be the paintballers. Rachel said there was a big area out at the back of the building where they did whatever it
is they do. Ever tried it, Wes?’

‘Not really my style.’

Gerry grinned. ‘Nor mine. I used to enjoy a good game of Cowboys and Indians when I was a nipper, but I grew out of all that
as soon as I discovered girls.’

Gerry began to make for the entrance and Wesley followed.

They found Carl Heckerty in his office, which came as a relief as neither man fancied an encounter with a couple of paintballing
teams high on adrenalin and testosterone.

Heckerty stood up as they entered, and from the worried look on his face, Wesley suspected that Richard Catton had already
been in touch to warn him of their visit. But Gerry usually liked to have his suspects in a state of dread. He reckoned it
helped loosen their tongues.

Heckerty’s manner was casual as he invited them to sit, but the clenched fists and darting eyes betrayed his nervousness.
‘Have you any news of Tessa?’

‘Only that she’s not the dead woman.’

Heckerty put his hand to his chest. ‘That’s a relief. Do you know who—?’

‘Not yet. We haven’t come about Ms Trencham. We’ve been speaking to Richard Catton. He tells us you’ve been organising hunts
of his land.’

‘Only instead of foxes you use kids,’ Gerry chipped in. ‘Naked apart from a pair of trainers and a leather collar.’

‘It’s not illegal and nobody comes to any harm. It’s just
something a bit different, that’s all. Since the ban some hunts have started using human quarry – hunting the clean boot,
it’s called – so I decided to add my own twist to make it a bit more exciting. I wanted something that would appeal to people
like my customers here who aren’t part of the hunting, shooting and fishing brigade. Something … in tune with nature.’

‘Like chasing naked kids to their death,’ Wesley said softly.

Heckerty stood up. His face had turned red. ‘If those kids met up with poachers and got themselves shot that’s hardly my fault
… or Rich’s. We didn’t know what had happened to them. We thought they’d just chickened out and gone home.’

‘Without their clothes?’

‘I don’t know anything about that. One lad stayed – he was caught by Bob, one of my regulars, and he picked up his pay and
went home, none the worse for the experience. If you think those dead kids had anything to do with me, you’re mistaken.’

‘Do you organise a similar game online?’

‘I might do.’

Gerry leaned forward. ‘Do you? Are you the Game Master?’

‘Yeah. So what.’

‘And you decided to branch out and do it for real?’

‘Rich gave me the idea. An ancestor of his was one of these so called “wicked squires” who seemed to be so popular in these
parts. He kept a jester who used to release a couple of naked men into the woods for the squire and his mates to hunt on horseback
with a pack of hounds. The jester’s diary’s up at the hall; that’s how Rich found out. His
dad’s writing a book about it. If the hares – that’s what he called them – survived, they got paid handsomely.’

‘If they survived? They were hunted to the death?’

‘You can’t risk that sort of thing nowadays with Health and Safety and all that. We look after our quarry. They have a cushy
time.’

‘How much do the hunters pay to take part?’

‘Five hundred quid a time. We keep it exclusive. We like to attract local businessmen and the like … The last thing we want
is a load of drunken louts.’

‘We’ll need the names and addresses of everyone who took part on Thursday night.’

Heckerty nodded meekly. ‘I’ll get them for you.’

‘How did you feel about Sophie taking part?’

‘She was up for it. And it gave my punters a bit of a kick, chasing a naked girl,’ he added, with a smile which verged on
a leer.

‘She died, Mr Heckerty.’

‘But it wasn’t the hunt that killed her, was it. It was poachers. Rich’s dad’s had problems on his land before.’

‘There’s no record of any complaints.’

‘He’s never bothered reporting it. He didn’t think anything like this was going to happen, did he?’

‘We need to locate those collars the victims were wearing. Have we your permission to search these premises?’

‘We can get a warrant if you refuse,’ Gerry added, a threat in his voice.

Heckerty’s bravado suddenly vanished and he looked frightened.

‘Is there something you want to tell us, Mr Heckerty?’

‘Look, we had nothing to do with their deaths. But one of the dogs found them in the woods and the bloke panicked.’

‘Which bloke? We need a name.’

‘I only knew him as Fred. He’s a mate of one of my regular punters here. He was in a right state when he found them. Lying
together like the babes in the wood, he said they were. He rang me on his mobile and me and Rich went straight over there
on quad bikes.’

‘What time was this?’

‘Late. Most people had gone by then, including the other lad – Dun, I think his name is – so he knew nothing about it. I wondered
why the other kids hadn’t been caught.’

‘What happened after you found them?’ Wesley asked quietly. Heckerty was in confessional mode and he didn’t want to break
the spell.

‘We tried to revive them, but it was obvious they were dead.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Fred said we should call an ambulance but
I knew from the look of them that it was too late. Then Fred got really scared. He’s a solicitor with a reputation to keep
up and he didn’t want to get involved, so I told him to go home and forget about it. I said we’d deal with everything; our
punters expect us to be in control and we need to keep them happy. When he’d gone I took the collars off – it didn’t seem
right to …’

‘Did you find any shotgun cartridges at the scene?’

‘No. Nothing like that.’

‘Where are the collars now?’

He nodded in the direction of a large cupboard by the window. ‘In there.’

‘Were they wearing trainers?’

‘Yeah. We threw them into the sea.’

‘How did the bodies end up at the foot of the cliff?’

‘Rich said we needed to put them somewhere where they couldn’t be linked to us. What happened had nothing to do
with the hunt. Nobody had firearms and it wasn’t our fault if the kids ran into poachers. We panicked, that’s all. Rich said
if we pushed the bodies off the cliff the sea would take them away and they’d be found miles away. But there’s a little beach
under there where the tide doesn’t reach so …’

Gerry stood up. ‘We need you to come down to the station and make a statement. And if I were you, I’d get your solicitor down
there too.’

Carl Heckerty went with them, as meek as any lamb.

Exhaustion had crept up on Anne Marsh and, in spite of the loud bleeps from the various machines that were keeping her husband
in the land of the living, she had fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed in the Intensive Care Unit of Morbay Hospital.

As she slept, she dreamed. She was in an undulating field, the sort she’d seen in the nearby countryside and she could see
her husband, Keith, in the distance. She was trying to get to him, but he was surrounded by a pack of dogs with women’s faces,
barking and snarling as she approached with leaden feet.

Then something jolted her awake and she opened her eyes, blinking in the brightness of the overhead lights. Her husband was
lying supine on the bed, tied down with tubes and wires like a balding, middle-aged Gulliver, and she stared at him for a
few seconds in disbelief.

Keith Marsh’s eyes were open and he was mouthing something that she couldn’t make out. He was back. And now the questions
would begin.

The Jester’s Journal

22 June 1815

Napoleon Bonaparte is defeated at a place called Waterloo and, after this great victory, word has it that he has been taken
prisoner once more. Now Boney would have made an excellent hare, for he has proved a slippery rogue, escaping as he did from
Elba and setting himself up as Emperor again in Paris.

Our hunt is arranged for tomorrow and my hares are ready. The gardener, however, has spoken to them of the matter and now
they are afraid that he will judge them ill. I told them to pay the interfering man no heed, for it is the Squire who rules
here, not some pious fool who digs the soil. They are to come to the stables at ten o’clock and then I will instruct them
how to proceed.

Henry boasts how he has taken Mistress Howe, the
Squire’s housekeeper, to his bed. He has persuaded her with honeyed words to work upon the Lady Pegassa so that she may be
recruited into our games.

24 June 1815

Last night three of Henry’s gaming friends took part in the evening’s entertainment and they wagered much upon who would be
the first to capture a hare and lead it back to the house, bound by the neck behind his steed.

At midnight we set out and all was well. However, I fear that later on matters became somewhat out of my control for Henry
Catton had taken too much drink and whipped the hounds into a frenzy. The Squire had words with him about riding his horse
too hard, but to no avail. He would hunt and he would have blood.

I had sent the hares off into the woods with words of encouragement, and promises that they should reap a great reward when
the night was done and they ran off, vulnerable in their nakedness. For in dark garments they would have melted into the night
like wild beasts.

As the riders departed I looked back at the house and saw a pale face hovering at the window like a phantom from an old tale.
I recognised the Lady Pegassa by the strange headdress she habitually wears and I was glad she was taking an interest in our
entertainment, for her curiosity might, in the future, entice her to join us. And yet if she learned of last night’s events,
I fear she would most likely flee the house.

I did not discover the lad, Robert, until this morning when I walked out to find him, as he had not come forward after the
hunt to claim his money. His companion had reported to me that they had become separated and he had
assumed that Robert had found his way home and would claim his reward in the morning, although his clothes still lay in the
stables where the boys had changed.

I found Robert’s body amongst the trees, his face a mass of congealed blood, crawling with buzzing flies. His naked body bore
the marks of the whip and he had been slashed with a blade so that, in places, the white of his bones showed through the dead
flesh. This had been done by no earthly hound. It looked as though Satan himself had used the lad’s body for his violent pleasure.
I brought him back to the stables to await the Squire’s instructions, and when Henry found me his eyes shone as he gazed upon
the corpse. I knew that soon more blood will be shed. And how I long to be part of the game.

Gerry put his phone down and looked up at Wesley. ‘Keith Marsh has regained consciousness but the quacks say it’ll be a while
before he’s capable of answering questions. They’re going to let us know as soon as he’s up to it.’

Wesley suddenly felt impatient. ‘Let’s hope it’s soon. We need to find out what he’s got to say for himself.’

Gerry’s phone rang again and after a brief conversation he ended the call.

‘Trish has spoken to this bloke Fred and he confirms Heckerty’s story.’ Gerry sat back, and his executive leather chair sighed
under his weight. ‘It turns out Fred’s a solicitor in Exeter. Specialises in criminal law. Wonder how he’ll enjoy being on
the receiving end. His version of the story is that he was there when the kids were found but he thought they were still alive,
so he went home and left the others to deal with it. He says he thought Heckerty had called an ambulance and he swears he
had nothing to do with
disposing of the bodies. He said he asked Heckerty to let him know how the kids were but he never called him.’

‘So he claims his hands are clean?’

‘He’ll know how to twist a story to make him look like a knight in shining armour rather than a toe-rag who gets his kicks
out of hunting naked kids.’

‘Have all the others on the list been contacted?’

‘Yes, but they’re all telling the same story. Nobody saw or heard anything suspicious apart from a few shots, which they put
down to the usual poachers or farmers.’

‘Have those collars been sent off to the lab?’

‘Yes. I suppose it’s too much to hope the killer’s prints will be on them.’

‘Far too much, Wes. Whoever did this will have shot the kids and run – not forgetting to pick up the cartridges as they went.’

Wesley began to sift through the file he’d brought into the office to show the boss. ‘Trish took a statement from Dunstan
Price – he’s the boy who was with Barney and Sophie on the night they died. I’d like to speak to the lad myself, clarify a
few things. Fancy coming?’

Gerry began to lever himself out of his seat. ‘Sure. Any news on that skeleton at Neil’s dig?’

‘Colin’s gone to have a look so we’ll know more soon. I called Neil a few minutes ago and Orford’s still not come back.’

‘It’s hard to believe he doesn’t know how a body came to be lying on top of his precious picnic,’ said Gerry. ‘Let’s go and
have a word with Dunstan Price, eh.’

As they drove out to Dunstan’s place, Wesley noticed that the DCI seemed to be in a remarkably good mood, considering their
workload. But the lack of progress on both their
cases was beginning to frustrate Wesley. And as for Neil’s skeleton, that was something he could really do without.