The Drowners (7 page)

There was an appreciative ripple of laughter, hastily quelled as the Inspector looked around the door and frowned.

‘That’s enough of that now,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing funny about all this. Briefing in the main room – five minutes, all of you.’

There was a general move towards the door as the evening shift followed him in to the large central office, several of them ruing their choice of assignment. Normally the night shift was quiet apart from closing time at weekends and Carnival. The younger lads went out on the beat whilst the old guard looked after the cells, handled queries about
missing
cats and caught up with the paperwork. It was
undemanding
, safe and generally warm in the station and the perfect place to see out the last few years before retirement.
Suddenly, however, there was an outbreak of violence and this time it was happening at night. They shuffled around the room looking for seats away from the eye of the Inspector. The lucky few would get to man the police station. Anyone unfortunate enough to catch his eye was likely to find himself freezing out on the Levels for the next eight hours – not the first choice for anyone in the room. The room fell silent as the Inspector positioned himself in front of a large map, pointer in hand.

‘Right, we’ve got another body,’ he said, pointing to the area around Shapwick Rhyne.

There was a soft groan from the assembled company. Shapwick was an area of exceptional natural beauty with stretches of ancient marshland, scrub and habitat for a host of endangered and rare species of birds and animals. Sadly for the searchers that meant it was boggy, wet and cold out on that exposed part of the Levels. The winter rains had already set in and parts of the marsh were flooded, and to complete their joy there was no road nearby. They would be walking to the site in the dark.

Ignoring his team’s reaction the Inspector continued, ‘It’s a strange one, this. You will all remember the body of Michael Franks was found out near Cossington last month.’ There was a nodding of heads around the room. ‘Well, there are similarities between the two scenes, quite apart from their relative geographical proximity.’

PC Dave Brown felt a nudge from a colleague sitting next to him and tilted his head a little towards him.

‘What the hell does all that mean?’

Dave grinned and whispered, ‘They were found close to each other.’ The policeman grunted. ‘Can see that from just looking at the map,’ he muttered, earning himself a glare from the sergeant sitting at the end of the row of chairs. The Inspector carried on, oblivious to the shuffling and anxious glances around him.

‘First we need to secure the area and this means a large team of officers. Some interesting finds were made a
significant
distance from the actual body last time and so we are looking at the preservation of a radius up to a quarter of a mile. The search of this area will go ahead tomorrow, in daylight, but the pathologist and related specialists will need to begin work on the site at once, especially in light of the somewhat inclement conditions. I don’t need to remind you to watch where you are putting your feet and to make sure you don’t contaminate the scene. I want all the officers who have completed the new training days in preserving a crime scene to raise their hands.’ Half a dozen men, including PC Brown complied. ‘Right, you are with me. The rest of you will be with Sergeant Billings, further out on the perimeter.’

As the men got to their feet and moved to join their respective groups, PC Brown’s companion said, ‘Don’t need all that translated though. We is heading for a long night in a muddy field – and it’s raining.’

Dave shook his head at him. ‘Told you to go on the training,’ he said. ‘Sometimes you get stuck with extra duties but on a night like tonight I’ve got a better chance of at least being in a tent!’

His companion pulled a face. ‘What do I want to be doing, mucking around with a load of dead bodies this late on. Besides, you is always going to be called out for this now.’

He was interrupted by the Inspector, who called out, ‘Oh, yes I need several volunteers to remain behind, to man the station.’ There was a surge from the perimeter group and the Inspector stepped back, startled by the response. Pointing at three men he said, ‘Right, get back to the desk then. Tell the duty sergeant I sent you.’

Dave’s reluctant friend picked up his jacket and grinned. ‘Well, seems as how I’ll get to spend the night next to a nice hot cup of tea. Worth playing the odds sometimes eh, college boy?’

There were moments when Dave’s calm, affable exterior came close to cracking and this was one of those times. He felt a surge of fury course through him and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle the man with his own tie.
Biting down on his anger, literally as he clenched his teeth, he nodded and turned away so he wouldn’t have to look at that smug face any longer.

There was a voice from behind him. ‘Everything okay Constable?’ He turned back and saw the Inspector watching him, head slightly on one side. He took a deep breath, ‘Yes Sir, fine thank you’.

The Inspector looked at him for a second and then nodded, ‘Good, good. Well, you’re with me for this one.’

PC Brown grabbed his waterproof jacket and headed for the door wondering what the night had in store for him.

Tom Monarch shifted slightly in his seat but was careful to keep his face calm and attentive as the man opposite gazed out of the window, pulling one ear-lobe as he considered Tom’s proposition. Both men had a glass of tea in front of them, strong, bitter tea, that had been served hot but was now stone cold. It was hot in the crowded space and Tom felt a bead of sweat begin to trickle down the side of his face. He blinked one eye, resisting the temptation to wipe it away. Finally the owner of the caravan turned back to face him, addressing him by his Roma name.

‘Tell me, Tamas,’ he said, ‘why should we do this?’

Tom had thought long and hard about this meeting, from the moment he had made his promise to Max Long and his cronies. He knew he only had one chance to persuade the Gypsy Chief and when he replied he spoke carefully and slowly, to emphasis the importance of the matter.

‘There’s a power gap out on the Levels now,’ he said. ‘Since Derek Johns is gone and his lads is not around seems there’s a good opportunity to step in and set up some stuff we’ve all been wanting. But ’tis tempting to those outside see – I reckon we should move now and make sure of our place afore the rest of the Johns gang gets their heads together.’

‘You say “we”, Tamas, but you are not one of us. You’re a
gadjo
now. You chose that and you knew what it meant. Why
should I listen to you after you walked away and broke your mother’s heart?’

Tom blinked and felt a lump rise to his throat at the mention of his mother. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, leaving to be with his sweetheart. Bella was part gypsy – what some of the Roma called a ‘
didicoy
’ – and in a lot of families that wouldn’t have been insurmountable, but not in his. They kept to the old ways, with the lineage passing through the mother’s line. Tom’s children would have been didicoys too and that was not acceptable. Not in the family of the Chief anyway.

Struggling to keep his voice steady Tom said, ‘You are right but I’m not banished. I left but I keep my family in my heart. I only want to prevent trouble for us all, my people and the
kumpania
. If we work together you can keep your routes open and secure and I will make sure my people stay away from your areas. Together we will keep out the outsiders and make the Levels safe once more.’

‘You may term yourself “Monarch”, Tamas but I am Chief here. Do not forget that! There were many who wanted to name you
marime
and in reality you are as good as banished. You have no say in this and no status in the
kumpania
. Now, you come to me with nothing but veiled threats. Do you have anything to offer in exchange for my consideration?’

Tom bowed his head slightly. ‘Forgive me Milosh. I intend no insult to you or the
kumpania
. I was thinking of the seasons, the way every year spring comes after the cold of winter and the rivers and streams flow with life. Rich pickings that rightly belong to the Roma. The loss of Pitivo must have caused his mother much grief but it is time for another harvest and another man to take control of the elver fishing.’

There was a long, long pause as Milosh stared at him and Tom held his gaze, determined not to back down. Suddenly Milosh laughed and reached over the table to slap him on the shoulder.

‘Well, little brother, you were always rash but no-one ever doubted your courage. Here, this is too cold to drink now.’
He gestured towards the tea glasses. ‘Let us have something a bit more warming to seal our agreement.’ He stood and called to the back of the caravan. ‘Dika! Bring out fresh glasses and a proper drink. It is thirsty work, this bargaining,’ he added as he sat back in his chair.

His wife appeared at the door suspiciously fast and she nodded at Tom as she set the clean glasses and a bottle on the table, taking the cold, scummy tea with her as she turned back to the other room. The brothers raised their glasses in a toast and drank together for the first time in many years.

‘Now Tamas,’ said Milosh, reaching over to pour them both another tot. ‘Tell me how you can guarantee us the elvers. I hear there are new people on the Levels. Strangers from the towns and outsiders thinking to move in. Would you know anything about that then?’

Tom sipped appreciatively and set his glass on the table before answering.

‘Don’t worry about them incomers,’ he said. ‘They’ll be staying around Avalon, keeping to the marsh roads and they’s just passing through, most of them. They’ll not be going near the river and I’m hoping there’ll not be that many venturing out on to the Levels for a while neither.’

Milosh nodded thoughtfully. ‘So maybe you know
something
about this music too?’ He glanced at Tom’s startled face. ‘Or maybe not. Strange sounds being heard, out at night. Like pipes playing or a flute maybe so folks say. Almost a tune but somehow never seems right and if you try to find who it is playing it goes quiet again.’

Tom shook his head. ‘Don’t know nothing about that,’ he said. ‘You sure it was not just the drink playing?’ He raised his glass again and smiled. Milosh watched his face for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Well, there’s more things can harm than a bit of music and probably is nothing more than that.’

They raised their glasses again, both smiling but both secretly determined to find the source of the ghostly sounds.
Outside the rain was falling steadily, drumming on the roof and windows as the wind gusted across the Levels.

PC Brown hunched his shoulders and turned up his collar only to turn it down again as the rain funnelled down his neck and trickled on to his back.

‘Hold that torch still can’t you?’ snapped the sergeant as he wrestled with a tent pole. ‘Little help over here!’ he yelled, and several miserable-looking policemen sloshed their way across the stretch of marshy ground and grabbed hold of the canvas flapping in the wind.

Dave glanced over at the lucky few left in the warmth of vans and had a quick grin as they were hustled out to secure the perimeter.

‘Constable – if you can’t do a simple thing like keep the light steady you can go and help mark out the boundary!’ snapped the sergeant, and Dave turned his attention back to the task in hand.

‘Sorry, Sir,’ he said as he focussed the light on the tent, which was finally taking shape over the sodden heap lying on the ground.

The tent seemed very flimsy, swaying in the wind and already sagging from the weight of the water collecting on the top. The policemen struggled to set the poles in the ground, hampered by the slick mud that sent them slithering whenever they tried to force the pegs into the marsh.

PC Brown watched for a few minutes before finally stepping forward and saying, ‘Get some flat bits of wood – bark even – and if we stand the poles on them it’ll stay steady while we get the pegs in, Sir.’

The sergeant looked at him for a moment, then back at the mess the group were making of the job.

‘Go on, then – you try it. Here.’ He grabbed the nearest man and pushed another torch into his hands. ‘Stand there and give us some light will you?’

Dave slid and sloshed his way across to the nearby stand of willows and hacked off a few thick strips from the trunk
using his pocket knife. With the somewhat reluctant help of another Constable he lodged the tent poles on these, adjusting the tension on the ropes as each settled, partly floating on the mud. Just in time, the tent settled over the body and the soaked policemen huddled around its meagre shelter as the doctor’s car pulled up. It didn’t take him long to pronounce the death and in a few minutes he was off down the muddy track again, the envious eyes of the assembled police force following him as he headed for his warm, dry home.

No sooner had he left than the Inspector’s car drew up and stopped with its engine idling on the far side of the area. There was a crackling of radios as he attempted to
communicate
with the sergeant, but the weather was against them and finally the Inspector wound the window down and beckoned him over. There was a brief conference, the sergeant leaning close to the car window whilst the Inspector sat inside issuing instructions and trying to avoid the rain running off the man’s hat. Dave watched as the sergeant made his way back across the sodden ground and the car reversed away towards the track that passed for a road this far from civilization.

‘Right, there’s not much we can do in these conditions without risking more contamination of the site,’ said the sergeant. ‘I need a couple of men watching the perimeter – make that four, one for each corner. And I need a volunteer to stay here with the body to make sure there’s no mistakes.’

He looked straight at Dave as he said this and not for the first time Dave wondered why he had not chosen banking or politics or even teaching when he left university. Somehow the whole team was looking at him even though no-one had turned their head in his direction. He raised his hand wearily. ‘I will if you like.’