So Vera had spent another night at Black Law. Another night working.
What drove her? Ambition again. A fear of failure. Or perhaps, like Rachael, she didn’t have much to go home to. A husband or lover had never been mentioned and it was hard to imagine the inspector in domestic comfort. An evening curled up on the sofa watching telly wouldn’t have fitted in with the image at all.
“We didn’t catch them,” Vera said. “I thought you’d want to know.”
She’d left the kitchen door open and the room was flooded with sunlight.
“Nice day,” Rachael said. “I should have got up early. I could have got my survey finished.”
“Plenty of time for that surely.”
“There’s still Grace’s stuff to check.”
“All the same. No rush.”
She doesn’t want us to leave, Rachael thought. She wants us here. The crows in the trap. She wants it even more than she did before. Last night the decoy worked. Besides, if we went, there’d be no excuse for her to stay. She’d have to go home too.
“I thought we might get them,” Vera went on. “There was an outside chance they’d still be in the area.” “Not they,” Rachael said. “There was only one person in the car.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, but I don’t know why. An assumption perhaps. No, when he drove off there was a shape in silhouette. Only the driver.”
“Man or woman?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Not by the size?”
“No. It was all too quick. A blurred shape. That was all.”
“There was a patrol car on the Al,” Vera said. “It searched the lanes around Langholme, but there was no one driving like a maniac. No one at all except a lad on a motorbike and a local woman on her way home after visiting her mother. Which means he didn’t panic. He had the sense to lie low somewhere until the morning.”
Rachael poured herself coffee from the Pyrex jug. It was still hot.
“Where’s Anne?”
“Upstairs getting ready to go out in the field.”
“I’d better be quick then.” “Like I said, there’s no rush, is there?”
“I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.” “No,” Vera said. “Last night would have put the wind up anyone.” It was said in a matter of fact way but it made Rachael defensive.
“Look, I’m really sorry I was such a fool last night.
If I’d left my car as soon as the other vehicle drove off you might have caught it at the other end of the track.”
“I doubt it. Not if it was driving as fast as you say.”
“I suppose not.”
“Have you remembered anything else overnight?”
“Nothing. It was a powerful saloon. That was all I could tell.”
“Colour?” “White. Pale anyway. Not metallic.” She paused and added bitterly, “Pathetic, isn’t it? That was probably the person who killed Grace. If I’d made more effort, got the registration number, you’d have been able to trace him.”
“Can’t be helped,” Vera said breezily. “We might be able to trace him anyway.”
“How?”
“I’m going to make some more toast. Fancy some?” She cut two thick slices of bread, put them under the grill and lit the gas. The matches were damp and it took some time to get a flame. Rachael, watching, thought it added to the performance. Vera wanted her audience on the edge of its seat.
“Go on,” she said, playing along.
“Well, it’s always been a mystery how our chap pie got onto the hill.
At first we thought he walked from Langholme, but that’s miles and we’ve talked to everyone who lives in the place. No one remembers a strange car parked that day. He couldn’t have driven all the way down the track because Mrs. Preece was here and she didn’t see anyone. But if he’d parked down that forest path no one would be able to see the car from here, from the farmhouse or even from the main track. As soon as he drove down that dip he’d be hidden by trees. It’s all conifers there and planted really close together.” Vera was getting more excited. “We had a team searching the hill of course but we didn’t deploy them that far into the forest. A mistake. My mistake. I’ve looked at the map again and the path goes on through the trees and comes out near the mine workings.” “Close to the crow trap,” Rachael said. “I know it.”
“I’ve had Joe Ashworth up there sniffing about.” The inspector bared sepia teeth in a malicious grin. “He’s not a happy bunny. I called him back here at first light.”
“That wasn’t very kind.”
“Don’t give me that. He had all evening on the nest. I could have called him in last night but I waited. Compassion itself, that’s me.
And I let him back to the farm for breakfast. He’s back in the forest now though, waiting for the forensic team.”
“Has he found anything?”
“Enough to put a spring into an old detective’s step. Last night certainly wasn’t the first time the car had been along there. The path’s sandy. There are some nice tyre tracks. And what looks like traces of paint where the car turned.”
“What colour’s the paint?”
“White. Why?”
“I went along there by mistake the night I found Bella’s body. I didn’t attempt to turn but I made a hash of reversing. Paint from my car could be all over the place. My car’s white.”
But Vera seemed determined to maintain her good humour. “We’ve had rain, snow and gales since then, haven’t we? I’d have thought any traces you’d left would have disappeared weeks ago. But we’ll have to do a test. That’s the brilliant thing about scientists. They’ve got tests for everything. Not so many answers but lots of tests.” She pulled a piece of bread from the grill and inspected it. It was the colour of weak milky tea. She turned it over and replaced it.
“You should get a toaster in here. I’ve got an old one knocking around the house somewhere. I’ll donate it. My contribution to Natural History.” She looked at Rachael as if she expected gratitude for the generous gesture. “We pulled out your car. It’s in the nick in Kimmerston. More tests. There might be paint on the back bumper if the burn hasn’t washed it off. Will you be able to manage until we get it back from the garage?”
“Edie’ll be back soon. We can share hers.”
“She’s arriving at about lunchtime. She phoned.”
“You didn’t tell her what happened?”
“Not in any detail. I’m too much of a coward. I thought I’d leave that to you. She’ll blame me of course.” No, Rachael thought. She’ll blame herself for once, which’ll be worse.
Vera Stanhope finished her toast and licked her fingers. “I hear you went chasing after Charlie Noble.”
“You know about that?” Rachael felt like a naughty school kid “Oh, you can’t keep much from your Auntie Vera.”
“We did ask Sergeant Ashworth if it was OK.”
“No problem. It’s a free country.”
“Do you know Mr. Noble?”
“I met him. He was living at home when the old man was killed. Why did you go to see him?” “We thought someone might have threatened Bella with exposure. We thought that would explain her suicide.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” Vera said bluntly. “At least if you had Charlie in mind as blackmailer. It wouldn’t have been him. It would be far too horrid. Charlie’s always avoided anything horrid. That’s why he ditched butchery.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Not since the investigation.”
“That was years ago. He was hardly more than a child. He could have changed.”
“You’ve met him. What do you think?” “No,” Rachael said. “I don’t think he’s changed much.”
“I remember him very well. Surprisingly well after all these years.
Perhaps because it was the first serious case I had any part in. I remember we talked to him in his bedroom. His hidey-hole. The old man used to bully him and that’s where he escaped. Everything was very tidy. He had peculiar tastes for an adolescent. He collected books, first editions, all about animals. All wrapped in plastic covers. He looked like a school prefect though he’d been working in the business for a while by then. He kept saying it all must have been a terrible mistake, though even he couldn’t pretend he was very sorry his father was dead. I got the impression that once the trial was over it wouldn’t take him long to pick himself up. He certainly knew what he wanted and he wouldn’t find it too hard to believe that nothing as nasty as murder had ever happened.” “He said he tried to visit Bella in the secure hospital. She refused to see him.”