The Chemistry of Death (16 page)

I thought about the swan wings that had been with Sally Palmer's body, and the mallard tied to the stone on the morning Lyn Metcalf had disappeared. 'You think the killer left it there?'

He shrugged. 'Could have been kids. Or it might have been some sort of marker or warning. Staking a claim, sort of thing. We already know he uses birds as a signature. There's nothing to say he might not use animals as well.'

'What about Lyn Metcalf? Did she find anything like that?'

'She mentioned to her husband about finding a dead hare in the woods the day before she disappeared. But it could just as easily have been killed by a dog or fox. There's no way of knowing now.'

He was right, but I still wondered. Coincidences happen, in murders as in every other facet of life. But given the way the killer had behaved so far, it didn't seem impossible that he was confident enough to have marked out his victims in advance.

'So you don't think there's anything to it?' I asked.

'That's not what I said,' he snapped. 'But at this stage there's not a lot we can do. We're already looking for anyone with a record of animal cruelty. A couple of people can remember a spate of cats being killed about ten, fifteen years ago, but no-one was ever caught, and -- What?'

I'd started shaking my head. 'You said yourself, this isn't like a town or city. Attitudes are different here. I'm not saying people are deliberately cruel, but you don't get much sentiment, either.'

'Meaning no-one would notice a few dead animals,' he said, flatly.

'If someone set fire to a dog on the village green there'd probably be a reaction. But this is the countryside. Animals are killed all the time.'

He reluctantly accepted what I'd said. 'Let me know what you find out from the dog,' he said, getting to his feet. 'Anything important you can get me on my mobile.'

'Before you go,' I said, 'there's something else you should know.'

I told him about the rumour circulating in the village that I'd been arrested. 'For God's sake,' he sighed, when I'd finished. 'Is it going to be a problem?'

'I don't know. I hope not. But people are getting twitchy. When they see you coming to the surgery they're liable to jump to conclusions. I don't want to have to keep explaining myself.'

'Point taken.'

He didn't seem too worried, though. Or surprised, come to that. After he'd gone it crossed my mind that he might have been expecting something like this to happen, that it might suit him if I became some sort of stalking horse. I told myself that was ridiculous. But the thought persisted as I went back to my examination of the dog's skeleton.

I worked automatically as I prepared and photographed the score mark where the knife had cut into a cervical vertebra. It was routine stuff, worthwhile only from a plodding, evidentiary point of view rather than any real prospect of finding something worthwhile. As I positioned the vertebra under a low-powered microscope to study it in more detail I already knew what to expect. I was still looking at it when Marina arrived with a cup of coffee.

'Anything interesting?' she asked.

I moved to one side. 'See for yourself.'

She bent over the microscope. After a moment she adjusted the focus. When she straightened she looked puzzled.

'I don't understand.'

'Why not?'

'The cut's rough, not smooth like the other one. The knife's left ridges in the bone. You said only a serrated blade made a pattern like that.'

'That's right.'

'But that doesn't make sense. The cut in the woman's vertebra was smooth. Why isn't this one the same?'

'It's pretty straightforward,' I said. 'It was made by a different knife.'

The meat was still pale. Beads of fat clung to it like sweat, dripping through the mesh to splash hissing on the hot coals below. Thin curls of smoke drifted lazily up from them, scenting the air with a pungent blue haze.

Tina frowned as she poked at one of the uncooked burgers lying on the barbecue. 'I told you, it's not hot enough.'

'Give it a bit longer,' Jenny said.

'If we give it much longer it'll have gone off. It needs to be hotter.'

'You're not putting any more fluid on.'

'Why? We'll be here all night at this rate.'

'I don't care. That stuff's lethal.'

'Come on, I'm ravenous!'

We were in the back garden of the tiny cottage the two of them shared. It was little more than a yard, really, an untidy scrap of lawn enclosed on two sides by a large paddock. But it was private, overlooked by only the bedroom windows of the house next door, and there was an uninterrupted view of the lake that lay a mere hundred yards away.

Tina gave the burgers one last prod and turned to me. 'What do you think? As a doctor, should we risk poisoning ourselves with barbecue fluid or starving to death?'

'Compromise,' I suggested. 'Take the burgers off while you put the fluid on. They won't pick up the taste that way.'

'God, I love a man who's practical,' Tina said, using a cloth to pick up the wire tray from the coals.

I took another drink from my beer bottle, more to give myself something to do than out of thirst. My offer of help had been turned down -- no bad thing, probably, given the level of my cooking skills. But that also left me with nothing to do, and with nothing to take my mind off my nervousness. Jenny seemed equally ill at ease, spending more time over arranging the bread and salads on the white plastic picnic table than was really necessary. She looked tanned and slim in a white vest and denim shorts. Apart from saying hello when I'd arrived, we'd barely spoken a word to each other. In fact, if not for Tina, I doubted there would have been anything said at all.

Luckily, Tina wasn't the sort to leave any uncomfortable gaps in conversation. She'd kept up an almost incessant buzz of talk, a cheerful monologue interspaced with instructions for me to make myself useful by making the salad dressing, fetching the kitchen roll that would double as napkins, and opening more beers for the three of us.

That there would just be the three of us was very obvious. I swung between relief that I wouldn't have to face anyone else, and regret that I couldn't take refuge in numbers.

Tina liberally squirted lighter fluid onto the barbecue. 'Shit!' she yelped, jumping back as the coals billowed into flame.

'I told you not to put any more on!' Jenny laughed.

'Don't blame me, it came out in a rush!'

The barbecue was wreathed in smoke. 'Well, it's hot enough now,' I commented, as the heat from it made us all move away.

Tina whacked me on the arm. 'For that you can get some more beers.'

'Don't you think we should move the food first?' I said.

The smoke had engulfed the plastic picnic table, where the salads were uncovered.

'Oh, bollocks!' Tina darted into the cloud to make a grab for the dishes.

'Be easier if we just moved the whole thing,' I said, starting to drag the table.

'Give him a hand, Jen, I've got my hands full,' Tina said, holding up a bowl of pasta.

Jenny gave her a wry look but said nothing as she took hold of the opposite side of the table. Together we half-dragged, half-carried it out of range of the smoke. As we stopped the table legs at her side gave way. The table lurched, sending dishes and glasses careering towards the edge.

'Watch it!' Tina yelled.

I lunged and managed to right it before anything fell off. My hand was against Jenny's as I took its weight.

'I've got it if you want to let go,' I said.

She started to lower her side, but quickly took hold of it again when it started to wobble.

'I thought you'd fixed this,' she said, as Tina hurried over.

'I did! I stuck some paper in where the legs were loose.'

'Paper? It needed screwing properly!'

'It's not the only thing around here.'

'Tina,'
Jenny said, blushing, but she was trying not to laugh.

'Watch it, watch the table!' Tina warned as it began to rock again.

'Don't just stand there, go and get a screwdriver or something!'

Tina hurried through the curtain of glass beads that hung across the kitchen doorway. Left holding the table, we smiled at each other, self-consciously. But the ice had been broken.

'Bet you're glad you came,' Jenny said.

'It's a first, anyway.'

'Yeah. Not everywhere's this sophisticated.'

'No, I can tell that.'

I saw her eyes flick downwards. 'Uh, I don't know how to tell you this. But you're getting wet.'

I looked down to see that a bottle had fallen over on the table, spilling beer that was now soaking into the crotch of my jeans. I tried to move out of its way, but all that accomplished was to let it drip down onto my legs instead.

'Oh, God, I don't believe this,' Jenny said, and then we were both laughing helplessly. We hadn't stopped when Tina came back" with a screwdriver.

'What's up with you two?' she asked, then saw the wet patch on my trousers. 'Should I come back later?'

Once the table had been repaired a pair of baggy shorts was produced for me. They'd belonged to an ex-boyfriend of Tina's, she said. 'But you can keep them. He won't be asking for them back,' she added, grimly.

Looking at the loud pattern on them, I wasn't surprised. But they were better than my beer-soaked jeans, so I changed into them. When I went back into the garden both Tina and Jenny started giggling.

'Nice legs,' Tina commented, setting them off again.

The burgers were sizzling over the hot coals now. We ate them with salad and bread and the bottle of wine I'd taken. When I went to top up Jenny's glass she hesitated.

'Just a little.'

Tina raised her eyebrows. 'You sure?'

Jenny nodded. 'I'm fine, really.' She saw my querying look and pulled a face. 'I'm diabetic, so I have to watch what I eat and drink.'

'Type one or two?' I asked.

'God, I keep forgetting you're a doctor. Type one.' I'd expected as much. That was the most common diabetes for anyone her age. 'But it's not bad. I'm only on a low insulin dose. I saw Dr Maitland about getting it on prescription when I first moved here,' she added, apologetically.

I guessed she was embarrassed at seeing the 'proper' doctor instead of me. She needn't have worried. I was used to it.

Tina gave an exaggerated shudder. 'I'd pass out if I had to inject myself every day like she does.'

'Oh, come on, it's not that bad,' Jenny protested. 'It's not even a proper needle, only one of those pen-things. And stop going on about it. You'll make David feel embarrassed to have more wine.'

'God forbid!' Tina declared. 'I need somebody round here to keep up with me!'

I didn't keep up with her, but at Jenny's insistence I let my glass be refilled more often than I'd planned. The next day was Saturday, and it had been a long week. Besides which, I was having a good time. I couldn't remember enjoying myself as much in...

In a long time.

The only dampening of the mood came after we'd eaten. Dusk had settled, and in the fading light Jenny sat staring across the garden towards the lake. I saw her face cloud, and guessed what she was going to say before she said it.

'I keep forgetting what's happened. Makes you feel... well, a bit guilty, doesn't it?'

Tina sighed. 'She wanted to cancel tonight. Thought we might upset people by having a barbecue.'

'I thought it seemed disrespectful,' Jenny said to me.

'Why?' Tina demanded. 'Are you telling me other people won't be watching TV or having a beer in the pub? It's very sad and scary and all that, but I don't see that we need to wear hair shirts to show sympathy.'

'You know what I mean.'

'Yes, but I know what people round here are like. If they decide to get the knives out for somebody they will, regardless of what they have or haven't done.' Tina paused. 'All right, that wasn't the best way of putting it, but it's true.' She looked pointedly at me. 'You've just found that out, haven't you?'

I realized then that they must have heard the rumours. 'Tina,' Jenny said, warningly.

'Well, it's no good pretending we haven't heard. I mean, of course the police are going to want to talk to the local doctor, but all it takes is one person to raise an eyebrow and suddenly everyone's got you convicted. It's just another example of how small-minded people are around here.'

'And big-mouthed,' Jenny flared. It was the first sign of temper I'd seen from her.

Tina shrugged it off. 'Better to get it out in the open. There's too much whispering goes on in this place as it is. I grew up here, you didn't.'

'Sounds like you don't like Manham very much,' I said, hoping to change the subject.

She gave a thin smile. 'Given the chance, I'd be out of here like a shot. I can't understand people like you two, who come here from choice.'

There was a sudden silence. Jenny stood up, white-faced. 'I'll make some coffee.' She went into the house, causing the bead curtain to swing crazily.

'Shit,' Tina said. She gave an apologetic smile. 'Big-mouthed, like she says. And a bit drunk,' she added, putting down her wine.

I'd thought at first that the awkwardness was on my behalf, but I saw now it wasn't. Whatever the reason for Jenny's reaction, it was nothing to do with me.

'Is she all right?'

'Just pissed off by her tactless housemate, I imagine.' She stared into the house as if considering going after her. 'Look, it isn't for me to say anything, but just so you know, she had a bad experience a year or so ago. That's why she came here, to sort of get away from it.'

'What sort of bad experience?'

Tina was already shaking her head. 'If she wants to tell you, she will. I probably shouldn't have said anything. I just... well, I thought you should know. Jenny likes you, so... Oh, God, I'm making a mess of this, aren't I? Can we forget I said anything? Let's talk about something else.'

'OK.' Still distracted by what she'd just told me, I said the first thing that came to mind. 'So what rumours did you hear about me?'

Tina pulled a face. 'I asked for that, didn't I? Nothing really, just gossip. That you'd been questioned by the police, and that... well, that you were a suspect.' She gave a grin that was meant to be cocky, but didn't quite make it. 'You're not, are you?'