13
Driving cautiously over the bumps and ruts, Billy drew up outside the farmhouse. He got out of the car, narrowly avoiding stepping into one of the copper-coloured puddles that had appeared in the dirt road following last night’s rain. He had hardly set foot on the path leading up to the house, however, when he was stopped in his tracks.
‘Don’t bring your muddy shoes into my kitchen, Sergeant Styles.’ May Burrows stood with folded arms in the doorway ahead of him.
‘Hullo, May.’ Grinning, Billy came to a halt.
‘You’ll see a pair of mats by the gate just behind you. Wipe your feet first, then you can come in.’
‘I’m looking for Mr Madden,’ he told her.
‘Thought you might be. He’s over in the stableyard with the others. They’re loading the hogs today.’ May’s sharp tone was belied by her smile. Once, many years before, Billy had had to take a statement from her. A callow detective constable then and unsure of his authority, he’d tried to bully her, and May had never let him forget it. ‘You’ll find Belle and Lucy there, too. You can tell them their tea’ll be ready in five minutes. Come in and have a cup yourself, if you like.’
‘Thanks, May. I will.’
Making a smart about-turn, Billy set off for the stableyard, skipping over the puddles as he went. Urban to the bone, on his rare visits to the countryside he had come to distrust simple-sounding rural terms, many of them, he believed, designed expressly to deceive ears such as his. But ‘loading the hogs’ sounded straightforward enough, and so it proved to be.
On reaching the arched entrance to the yard he found a scene of bustling activity within. Two farmhands armed with sticks were prodding a young porker across the cobbles towards an open lorry which stood in the centre of the space, already half-filled with squealing pigs. Fascinated, he watched as the men dropped their sticks, grabbed hold of an ear each, and then, with their other hands clasped beneath the beast’s belly, heaved it up and onto the back of the vehicle. Neither of the pair had noticed his arrival, and nor had George Burrows, who was standing by the gate to the sties, controlling the flow. Someone else had, however. A small figure in blue with mud-stained legs and hair that shone gold in the sunlight came flying across the cobbles towards him.
‘ Billy!’
The little girl flung herself without fear into his arms, trusting him to catch her. He whirled her around in the air before putting her firmly back down again.
‘Hullo, Lucy!’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Just visiting…
Their friendship had been sealed on one of Billy’s weekend visits to Highfield when Lucy Madden had discovered, in the course of a walk they had taken in the woods together, that not only was the sergeant unaware of the existence of chiffchaffs, he didn’t even know the difference between a shrike and a shrew. Never having encountered such ignorance in an adult before, she had taken instant pity on him and made him the object of her special attention ever since.
‘Come and see the hogs.’ She dragged him by the hand over to the lorry. ‘They’re going to slaughter,’ she informed him with relish.
‘Slaughter?’ Billy eyed her doubtfully.
‘Yes, there’ll be lots of blood.’
George Burrows, apple-cheeked and sturdy, waved a welcome. His dark-haired daughter Belle stuck shyly to his side.
‘Is Mr Madden about?’ Billy called out to him.
‘Yes, he is…’ Madden’s voice came from beyond the gate where George was standing. He emerged from the darkness within, brushing straw from his trousers and stamping mud from his boots. ‘Billy, how nice to see you. I heard you were in the neighbourhood. Helen and I were hoping you’d find time to look in.’
They shook hands – or tried to. Lucy was unwilling to relinquish possession of the one she was holding, so Billy was forced to offer his left to Madden’s grip.
‘Billy’s come to visit us.’
‘Don’t you mean Sergeant Styles?’ Her father looked at her askance.
‘No… Billy!’ She swung on his arm.
‘I’ve been stuck in Guildford, sir, catching up on all the details. But I managed to get over to Brookham this afternoon, so I thought I’d stop in on my way back. I’m hoping to see Will, too.’
Before glancing down at his daughter’s golden head, Madden caught the younger man’s eye.
‘Mrs Burrows said to say your tea’s ready in the kitchen, Lucy,’ Billy told her. ‘Yours and Belle’s.’
‘Aren’t you coming, too?’ She clung to his hand.
‘In a minute.’
‘Run along now, darling,’ Madden said. ‘Both of you. Go and fetch Belle.’
They waited until the two little girls had left the yard, hand in hand. Then Madden spoke again, ‘I understand you’ve got a lead at last. Mr Sinclair rang me earlier this week. He said they’ve been given a list of names in London they’re working through, and the killer’s may be among them. He also said it was a feather in your cap.’
Madden’s grin of congratulation made Billy flush with pleasure. ‘I had a piece of luck, sir. The chief inspector sent me down to Henley last week. Did you know a girl’s body had been taken from the river there?’
‘Mr Sinclair told me that some time ago. But I’d like to hear the whole story.’ Madden clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘It’ll have to wait till later, though. I’m just off to pick up Rob. He’s been spending the afternoon with a friend in Godalming. You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?’ Taking the sergeant’s pleased smile of acceptance for granted, he went on, ‘That’ll give us time to talk. But walk me to my car now. Tell me briefly how things stand.’
Only too happy to oblige, Billy embarked on a swift summary of his visit to Henley, relishing the grunt of approval he received when he explained how he’d come to hit on the idea of the killer making use of the car park at Waltham Manor. The esteem in which he held Madden had never lessened. Nor had he forgotten the debt he owed to his old mentor under whose once stern eye he had learned some of the most important lessons of his life. (And not all of them having to do with being a policeman, either!)
‘So he picked her up by chance. He couldn’t have known she’d be walking along that road. But he knew where to take her, all right.’ They had paused at the entrance to the yard. Madden’s scowl took Billy back a decade. ‘I can’t make up my mind about this man. At first I thought he must have seen the girl at Brookham and come back looking for her. But I doubt that now.’ With a sigh, Madden glanced at his watch. ‘Billy, I have to go. What was that you said about seeing Will Stackpole?’
‘I rang him earlier and told him I’d be looking in here. He said he’d try and come by.’
‘Good! Stay and have a cup of tea with May. You can talk to Will when he arrives. Then come over to the house.’ Madden walked briskly to where his car was parked. Smiling, he called back to Billy. ‘You could do me a favour and bring Lucy when you come. She’ll count it a treat to have a ride with you.’
‘You ought to hear Will on the subject of the search the Surrey police are making for that tramp, sir.’ Billy grinned. ‘He says they haven’t got the first notion how to go about it.’
Madden’s grunt was enigmatic. Crouched before the fire, he prodded the blaze with a poker. Lit by only a pair of lamps, the drawing room lay in shadow.
‘He says they don’t know the countryside, most of them, and don’t understand how these tramps can disappear if they’ve a mind to.’
Adding another log to the flames, Madden rose, brushing off his hands. He stood tall in the firelight, looking down at Billy, who was seated in an armchair. ‘It’s not like searching for a man in a town or city,’ he said. ‘There you go to his family and friends, or his accomplices, if he has any. You scour his neighbourhood. These tramps never stay long in one place, and once they decide to make themselves scarce, it’s hard to know where to begin looking for them.’