The Hanging Wood (7 page)

‘I reckon,’ he said, and strode out through the door.

‘How did Philip Hinds earn a crust, ma’am?’ Greg asked.

‘Odd jobs around the caravan park, a bit of joinery here,
mending a fuse there. Bryan Madsen had little time for him, so he reported to Gareth, who by reputation is more easy-going. In the middle of the wood was a tumbledown cottage. It was built a hundred years ago and occupied by a succession of gamekeepers who worked for the Hopes family until the cash ran out and the wood was sold, along with the land for the caravan park. Philip lived there for a peppercorn rent. The deal suited both sides, though Philip’s handyman skills don’t seem to have extended to upgrading the cottage. It was in a shocking state of repair at the time of his death.’

‘Who reported Callum missing?’ Linz asked.

‘Niamh Payne. It was the start of the summer holidays. Callum had finished at school and she’d gone shopping in Keswick. Orla went with her, but Callum refused to tag along. He was fourteen, and she took the view that it was fine to leave him alone in the house.’

‘Caravan,’ Greg said.

‘Log hut, whatever. It wasn’t unusual for her to leave the boy to his own devices. Her ex-husband moaned about it, but nobody suggested there was serious neglect on Niamh’s part. She and Orla were back by half three. Callum wasn’t around. He’d muttered about calling on his uncle, and when he was still nowhere to be found at six, she went to the cottage in the wood. Take a look at the map and you’ll see the lie of the land twenty years ago.’

All eyes turned to a sketch map on the whiteboard. The Hanging Wood was in the centre, crossed by two diagonal footpaths, with a cottage close to the point where the two paths intersected. To the east lay the caravan park, occupying the greater part of the area shown, its borders
shared at different points by Lane End Farm, the wood, the Mockbeggar Estate, and St Herbert’s Residential Library. A stream ran along the boundary, with the estate and St Herbert’s on the west side, and Madsen’s on the east, before veering off just before the Hanging Wood and threading its way through the caravan park towards the River Derwent.

Greg Wharf grunted. ‘Typical Lakes, eh? Orla Payne grew up at the farm, moved to the caravan site, worked at the library, and then went back to the farm to die. And you can fit them all in a small-scale map. Claustrophobic, or what?’

Hannah reached into her case, and unfolded another sketch map which she pinned on the board. ‘Compare past and present – spot the difference?’

‘The Mockbeggar Estate has been swallowed up by the caravan park!’ Linz was never afraid to state the obvious. ‘How come?’

‘Mockbeggar Hall was owned by the Hopes family. The last of the line, Fleur, married Joseph Madsen’s elder son. At the start of the nineteenth century, the Hopes owned this whole area on the map. In the late Victorian era, Sir Milo Hopes gave away a chunk of it for this private library to be built, where Orla Payne worked. Come the twentieth century, and the family fortunes plummeted. Death duties, bad investments, spending too much for the sake of appearances. The farm was sold to Mike Hinds’ grandfather. The land to the east became a caravan park, the Hanging Wood was flogged off for good measure. Fleur Hopes’ grandfather and father were useless with money, and so was her older brother Jolyon. She was last of the
line, and when Jolyon died, there was nobody left to live in the Hall.’

‘Fleur, Jolyon?’ Linz frowned. ‘The names ring a bell.’

‘You’re thinking of
The Forsyte Saga.
Their mother was called Irene, maybe she was a Galsworthy fan. Though the father’s name was Alfred, not Soames. Fleur’s solution was to marry into the Madsens, and her husband Bryan has run the business ever since his father suffered a stroke. Jolyon Hopes was a bachelor who broke his neck fox-hunting twenty-one years ago.’

‘Serves him right,’ Linz said. ‘A sick way to pass the time, killing animals for pleasure.’

Maggie gave her a dirty look. The two of them often argued about country sports. Hannah’s worst nightmare was that one day, budget cuts would cause the ACC to insist that the Cold Case Review Team be roped into policing hunts.

‘Fleur inherited the Hall and estate, but also the Hopes debts. Jolyon lived for a decade after his accident, but his nursing fees cost a fortune. Once everything was paid off, the Madsens set about transforming the old Hall into a new centrepiece for their park. They built a new bridge over the stream to link the Hall with the business headquarters. No expense spared. The official opening is due soon, and most of Cumbria’s VIPs will be there.’

‘Funny, that,’ Les Bryant mused. ‘My invitation must have got lost in the post.’

‘In all their publicity, the Madsens emphasise that the park is carefully managed and secure. They have never allowed their caravanners access to the Hanging Wood. Philip spent most of his time in the wood alone, apart from
when Niamh’s children visited. It wasn’t frequented by locals, and even poachers gave it a wide berth.’

‘Niamh didn’t find Callum in the cottage?’ Linz asked.

‘No, Philip said he’d dropped in during the morning. He spent half an hour climbing trees around the cottage, a schoolboy letting off steam, if his uncle was to be believed. Philip was supposed to mend a fence on the site that afternoon, and Callum didn’t stop for lunch, though they often shared a bit of bread and cheese. According to Philip, the boy didn’t say where he was going afterwards, just said he had stuff to do. Philip helped Niamh search the wood, but there was no sign of Callum, so she ran back and phoned Mike Hinds. When he said he hadn’t seen his son, she rang the police. Within half an hour, the search spread further afield. First to the caravan site, then the farm.’

‘What about the grounds of Mockbeggar Hall?’ Maggie asked.

‘Eventually – much to the disgust of Alfred Hopes, who thought an Englishman’s hall was his castle. He sounds like a cantankerous old bugger.’

‘Could Callum have hidden in the cottage?’

‘It wasn’t until twenty-four hours had passed, with no trace of Callum, that Mike Hinds suggested to the police that his brother might be responsible for the boy’s disappearance. There was a tiny cellar under the cottage, and he said Philip might have put Callum there. Dead or drugged. Philip flew into panic mode when he got wind that he was a suspect. Said he’d rather die than harm a hair on the lad’s head, but barricaded the door and refused to let the police inside. In the end, they obtained a search warrant and forced their way in, but all they found in the
cellar was a pile of wood chippings and a few ancient porn magazines.’

‘Heterosexual porn?’ Inevitably, it was Greg who wanted to know.

‘Old naturist magazines called
Health and Efficiency
, with black-and-white pictures of people playing volleyball and wearing only a smile, that sort of stuff. There was no evidence Philip had ever had any kind of sexual relationship, whether with man, woman or a child.’

‘Christ.’ Greg’s mind boggled at the very idea of lifelong celibacy.

‘Poor sod,’ Donna said.

‘The enquiry team was becoming desperate. They put Philip under a lot of pressure. It wouldn’t happen today.’

‘You don’t think so?’ Greg muttered.

Maggie asked, ‘Had Callum run away from home in the past?’

‘Niamh said not. She admitted that Kit had been cross with him, but that wasn’t unusual, and insisted his disappearance came out of the blue.’

‘Girlfriend?’ Les Bryant’s tone suggesting that he blamed most extraordinary male behaviour on trouble with the opposite sex.

‘Not as far as anyone knew.’

‘He could have kept her existence secret. A lot of kids do.’

‘One possibility was that he’d become involved with a girl on holiday with her family in one of the caravans. The Madsens had a rule that staff weren’t allowed to fraternise with holiday visitors, and Kit Payne insisted his stepchildren didn’t mix with them, even though they all lived cheek by
jowl on the site. Callum was supposed to have been shy of girls.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said. ‘Mums often think that about their lads. Mine did, that’s for sure. Little did she know.’

‘The team didn’t take Niamh’s word for it. Everyone on the site was questioned. The only clue was in a statement from a girl of sixteen, who said that she’d spotted Callum watching her as she stripped down to her bikini.’

‘What happened?’ Les asked.

‘She shouted at him to fuck off or she’d fetch her dad, and he ran for his life – if she was to be believed. The officer who took her statement reckoned she was looking for her fifteen minutes of fame. But that didn’t mean she was lying.’

‘Was this on the day he disappeared?’

‘No, a couple of days earlier, so it wasn’t thought to be of major significance.’

‘Unless he went back for another peep, and the girl’s dad caught him.’

‘The father was a police officer.’

Greg said, ‘Not all of us are lily-white.’

‘As a matter of fact, he was a DCI.’

His teeth flashed. ‘They can be the worst of the lot.’

‘Don’t push it. Everyone was quizzed, including the girl’s family. There was no proof that Callum ever went near their caravan again. He wasn’t the bravest soul, it seemed. Not your typical devil-may-care teenage lad. If the girl screamed abuse at him, he was probably scared stiff, as well as humiliated.’

‘Did anyone see him after he supposedly left his uncle’s cottage?’ Maggie asked.

‘No, and that turned out to be a huge problem for Philip. There was no trace of Callum’s movements after he visited the cottage. Of course, we had the usual crop of false sightings, everywhere from St Bees to Robin Hood’s Bay. All faithfully investigated, all dead ends. He’d vanished without trace. The press got excited, and the gossipmongers went into overdrive. Philip kept a pig, and that disappeared as well. All grist to the rumour mill. Soon, the received wisdom was that Philip had sexually assaulted his nephew, then killed him to keep him quiet. How to dispose of the remains? Simple – a snack for Porky.’

‘Was the pig found?’

‘No, what happened to it, nobody ever knew. Almost certainly, it made its way out into the countryside and tumbled down some gully or ravine. Unfortunately for Philip, there was nobody else in the frame as regards Callum’s disappearance. He was hauled in for questioning, and didn’t do himself any favours by buttoning his lip and refusing to cooperate. He became upset and confused and his brief made ominous noises about police brutality. Laughable, considering that the senior officer was Will Durston, whose reputation was more tabby cat than Torquemada.’

‘Was Philip represented by a duty solicitor?’

‘No, a sharp-suited lawyer from the biggest criminal practice in Leeds. Joseph Madsen footed the bill.’

‘Didn’t he want the truth to come out?’

‘Joseph’s story was that he felt obliged to see that Philip was properly defended. Bryan Madsen was furious, he wanted them to distance themselves from the man. But there was no proof Philip had harmed Callum, and the solicitor’s presence ensured there was no confession, so he
was released. By that time, his cottage had been daubed with red paint. Obscene graffiti saying he was a child killer and a paedophile. Some people thought Mike Hinds was responsible, but of course he denied it.’

‘Wasn’t the place put under guard?’ Linz asked.

‘The Madsens were afraid that Callum’s disappearance would damage their business. Parents wouldn’t take their kids to a caravan site where a boy was missing, presumed abducted. So they persuaded Durston and his superiors to keep the police presence low-key.’

‘Typical,’ Linz grunted.

‘The Madsens carried a huge amount of clout in the district. Important employers, with plenty of friends in high places – you can’t ride roughshod over them. Philip insisted on going back to the Hanging Wood, and nobody could talk him out of it. An Englishman’s home is his castle and all that. Even if it is a semi-derelict ruin.’

Maggie wrinkled her nose. ‘And that’s where he committed suicide?’

‘Yes, Kit Payne found him dangling from a rope he’d tied to an oak branch at the back of the cottage.’

‘So it really did become the Hanging Wood,’ Linz said. ‘Why did Payne go to the cottage?’

‘Joseph Madsen had asked him to keep an eye on Philip. Neither Kit nor Niamh were baying for the man’s blood. They didn’t want to contemplate the possibility that Callum was dead. They preferred to think he’d run off through some misguided spirit of adventure. Out of character as it seemed.’

‘Did Philip’s death change their minds?’

‘Everyone took it as an admission of guilt. It suited the
Madsens to draw a line under the case fast, and Kit Payne was pragmatic. If people stopped visiting the caravan park, he would be out of a job. For Niamh, it was different. She couldn’t face losing her son. Or the suggestion that she was partly to blame, through allowing her children to visit their uncle without a chaperone.’

‘You can understand it,’ Maggie said.

‘She made a scene when the investigation was wound down. The press loved it, but once new stories cropped up, the journalists lost interest and there wasn’t much else she could do. Her husband tried to calm her down, but it took gin to do the trick. Although she was a grieving mother, the more she hit the bottle, the less credibility she had when she insisted Callum was still alive and the search for him shouldn’t be called off.’

‘When did she die?’

‘Ten years ago. She’d been ill for a long time before that, but Kit Payne did his best to look after her as well as his stepdaughter.’

‘Quite a paragon,’ Greg said with a grimace. ‘Did he have an alibi for Callum’s disappearance?’

‘Not entirely. He spent much of the day in question looking round the caravan park, supposedly checking work done by a firm of maintenance contractors whose bill was in dispute.’

‘So he could have slipped into the Hanging Wood and done something nasty to his stepson?’

‘Correct. You can see from the map, the cottage is within walking distance of the Madsens’ offices.’

‘Were the Madsens around that day?’

‘They gave statements, but they were never suspects.
Will Durston was careful to keep on their right side. I never knew Will, and he died not long after he retired from the force, but I’m told he didn’t like to make waves. Joseph was away from Keswick. He was a cricket fan and spent the day watching a Test match at Headingley. Bryan had been injured a fortnight earlier, when his car came off the road at a bend on Castlerigg Hill. He broke his leg badly, and was lucky not to be killed. He’d just started going back into the office on crutches for half an hour a day, the rest of the time he was recuperating at home. His wife was out at a fashion show with brother Gareth’s wife, so there wasn’t any corroboration, but nobody could see him as a
one-legged
murderer. Gareth was at the caravan park, keeping an eye on things in Bryan’s absence. No solid alibis, then, but Durston was satisfied they wouldn’t have dreamt of harming the boy.’