Twenty

Two days later, Tim was standing by the window of his office looking gloomily out on to the Sheep Market when his telephone rang.

“Hello, Tim, it’s Patti Gardner here.” He noted that the formality had returned to her voice. “I wanted to let you know that we were right about the skeletons. Carbon 14 dating suggests that the three women died around 1890, plus or minus ten years.” Modest as ever, she had said ‘we’, not ‘I’. Tim was grateful. He guessed that the reason for Patti’s measured tones was in part because of the conversation they’d had about proceeding with the case. She knew that Tim would now have to request permission from Superintendent Thornton to proceed. How Thornton would react was anybody’s guess. Of one thing Tim was certain: he’d want the business of the faked passports cleared up in double-quick time now, so that Kevan de Vries, if he appeared to be innocent, could be released as quickly as possible to rejoin his wife in Saint Lucia.

“Are you still there?” said Patti.

“Hmn? Yes, sorry,” said Tim. “I was just trying to think this through.”

“Do you want me to write a report that you can show Superintendent Thornton?”

“Yes – thanks – that would be great. And Patti?”

“Yes?”

“You know what you were saying about where they came from? Did you carry out those tests, as well?”

“I’ve taken some samples. I’ve had to send them to a lab in London: it’s too sophisticated a technique for the equipment we have here.”

“OK, thank you.”

“Do you want me to wait until I’ve got those results as well before I send the report?”

“How long will it take?”

“Four or five days, probably.”

“In that case, no. I can’t stall Thornton for that long. But let me know as soon as the results come through.”

“Of course. And I’ll have the report with you later today. I’ll email it, so keep on looking out for it.”

“Will do.”

Tim replaced the phone in its cradle. Not for the first time, he reflected fleetingly on his good fortune in being surrounded by so many efficient and industrious women. That in turn made him think of Juliet. Her neighbour had called the police station just before midday to say that he’d found her collapsed on the floor of her flat. She’d been rushed to the Pilgrim Hospital and had been there for almost forty-eight hours now. Although her condition was stable, they were no further forward in establishing what was wrong with her. He was about to pick up the phone to enquire again when it started to ring.

“DI Yates, is that you?” He recognised Ricky MacFadyen’s voice immediately.

“Hello, Ricky. I’m glad that you’ve called, because I have some news. As Patti Gardner thought, the skeletons found at the de Vries house aren’t modern. I’ve just been speaking to Patti, and she says that . . .”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir.” Ricky sounded agitated. “This is urgent.”

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I’m still at Laurieston. I’ve stayed here, as you instructed, sir. But I’ve just taken a call from one of the officers from Boston who came here when the house was broken into, who’d been contacted by the police in King’s Lynn . . .”

“Regular little jungle telegraph, isn’t it?” observed Tim sardonically.

“Yes, sir,” said Ricky, with impatient politeness. “Anyway, the message was that they’ve found the body of a young woman, half-buried in the woods at Sandringham.”

Tim was all attention now.

“Thanks for letting me know. Of course you’re right to tell me about it. But surely it’s a case for the Norfolk Constabulary to pick up on? Why did they want to inform you – or us?”

“The girl was found naked. But there was a bundle of clothing on the ground beside her. It included overalls and overshoes marked with the de Vries logo.”

“I see.” Tim was still thinking about the implications of this when Ricky started speaking again.

“Laundry marks on the clothes suggest that she was employed in the de Vries canning factory at Sutton Bridge. But she’s been dead for a while and none of the workers from there has been reported missing.”

“I agree that that’s odd and, as you know, I tend to mistrust coincidences. The de Vries name turning up again is certainly a coincidence, but not much of a one, given that my understanding is that the de Vries empire employs several thousand people. And, at a pinch, we could claim that Sutton Bridge is on our patch, although as you know we don’t often penetrate that far. But aside from the fact that we’re working with Mr de Vries on these other matters, I fail to see why Norfolk needed to tell you so urgently about the dead girl. What are their thoughts? Illegal immigrants, or home-grown slave labour?”

“They say they’ve got an open mind about it. Could be either of those, I suppose; though I’d put my money on illegal immigrants. They’re keener on getting on than people who’ve already fallen through the cracks in our society. Smarter, therefore, and more industrious.”

Tim nodded assent, realising as he did so that the gesture was invisible to Ricky.

“But I still don’t see what the panic’s about, given that we’re holding Kevan de Vries ourselves. If he’s involved in this new case – which he very well may not be – he’s already here for questioning. I’m assuming that he can’t hear you, by the way?”

“No, sir, I’m making this call from my car.”

“Thank God for that,” said Tim. “Well? What’s spooking them? Am I right in thinking that it does have something to do with him?”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Yes. Well, when I told PC Bedford at Norfolk that we were now only holding de Vries on the passports charge, and that Superintendent Thornton was keen to allow him to get back to his wife . . .”

“So you told him that the skeletons were probably too old to have been put there by anyone still living?”

“Yes. I . . .”

Tim sighed exaggeratedly.

“Really, Ricky, I would have expected more discretion from you. You realise that I haven’t told Thornton himself that yet? I’d better do it now, and at the double, too. I’d intended to wait until Patti’s report came through, but, as you say, the matter is now urgent. I take it, by the way, that Norfolk want to make sure that de Vries is detained until they can get to him for questioning?”“Yes.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, should it, as you’re on the spot? They ought to know that they’ll have to run the gauntlet of his solicitor, though. They’d better not put a foot wrong, or Ms Rook will crack down on them with all the civil liberties charges in the book. No doubt you’ll be able to manage to convey that piece of information satisfactorily, given your obvious communications skills.”