Juliet had listened dutifully to Tim’s briefing about the vehicle thefts, taking notes in her usual meticulous way. So far, she hadn’t been much involved in this investigation, although she’d attended a few of the other briefings during the course of the several months in which it had been running. Ricky MacFadyen was Tim’s chosen second-in-command for it, and Andy Carstairs had put in a considerable amount of time, too. Juliet had been happy to let them get on with it: it wasn’t the sort of case that really interested her. Tramping across muddy fields and interviewing boorish farmers enraged by the theft of their vehicles definitely wasn’t her thing.
She’d hoped that DI Robinson’s request for both herself and Tim to be seconded to the murder enquiry would be granted, while quite aware that Superintendent Thornton couldn’t be expected to spare two of his most senior members of staff when he had a major investigation of his own to deal with – especially now that the beady eye of the Chief Constable was firmly fixed on the latter. When Thornton had called her to his office that morning it had been to ask her to help draft a diplomatic reply to the Chief Constable and Lord Lieutenant; and her unceremonious dismissal had been because he’d thought it was the Chief Constable calling him again. Instead, the call had been from DI Robinson, to inform him of the discovery of the other two bodies.
After Tim’s briefing, she’d stayed behind to ask the Superintendent if he still wanted her to help draft the letter. ‘All in good time, Armstrong,’ he’d said, smoothly. ‘I’m not sure we’ll need to bother with that letter now. I’m about to phone the Chief Constable again, to let him know that Lincoln has asked if Yates can help with the murder enquiry, and of course I’ve agreed.’
He was about to bustle away when he paused and added:
‘No doubt I’ll have to reassure him that we can cope with two major cases at once. That’s where you come in, Armstrong. I want you to spend most of your time on the farm vehicles thefts, make sure that MacFadyen’s bang on the money, leaving no stone unturned, etcetera. I particularly want you to make sure that he deploys the uniforms effectively: I don’t think he’s too hot on that. Obviously I can’t afford to let Michael have both you and Yates in Lincoln, but I give you permission to spend any spare time you may have to support him with desk work. Those photographs he sent over, for example. You’re welcome to study them, pick up any details of interest and report back to him: you’re good at that sort of thing. There’ll be other photographs coming later.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’
Juliet was seeing red as the Superintendent hurried away. Unlike Tim, she wasn’t usually irked by Thornton’s politicising and his constant manoeuvrings to impress those in high places. His ploys were so transparent, at least to his subordinates, that she tended to regard them with amusement. On this occasion, however, the Superintendent’s words had infuriated her. Fine for him to boast of his support for two major investigations at the same time while she undertook the drudgery of what amounted to two full-time jobs.
She remained alone in the briefing room for a few minutes until she felt calmer. When she emerged, she was surprised to find Patti Gardner waiting for her outside. She’d been so absorbed in her thoughts she hadn’t seen Patti through the glass set in the door.
‘Hello,’ Patti said. ‘Have you got a minute? I didn’t like to disturb you while you were in there. You looked so serious.’
Although she admired Patti for her professionalism, Juliet wasn’t a big fan of her personally. She told herself she couldn’t really put her finger on why that was, but knew she was being disingenuous: the truth was she could see that Patti made Tim feel uncomfortable whenever they were in the same room together and suspected that the SOCO leader had in the past tried to entangle him unsuccessfully in an affair. This was, in fact, quite a long way from the truth, although Juliet was correct in her surmise that Tim had never been unfaithful to Katrin. It was unlike her to take Tim’s part against someone else without knowing the details, but she found Patti’s habitual severity, combined with the nobly injured look she often assumed in Tim’s presence, singularly unattractive.
She gave Patti an appraising look, noticing she was even gaunter than last time they’d met, her hair yet more brutally cropped. Patti could only be a few years older than herself, but she seemed to be heading rapidly towards an ascetic and embittered middle age. Perhaps there was a lesson to be learnt there.
‘Patti! It’s nice to see you. I can’t remember when we last met. I’m afraid you’ve missed Tim. He’s on his way to Lincoln, to help with DI Robinson’s murder case. I thought you’d been seconded to it, too?’
Did she imagine that a shadow crossed Patti’s face when she mentioned Tim’s name? If so, it was only very fleeting. Patti gave her a warm smile, which softened her features, providing a pale glimpse of the beautiful young woman she’d once been.
‘I have. That’s why I’m here – there are a few loose ends I need to tie up before I go back to Lincoln. I just wanted to know if you’d made anything of the photos DI Robinson sent earlier.’
‘In what sense?’
‘I wondered if you’d ever seen anything like it before.’
‘I’ve seen plenty of dead girls and young women – though I’m sure not as many as you have – and even more photos of them. Should I have picked up something different about these?’
‘Just asking: I don’t really know what I’m expecting you to say, when it comes down to it. I’ve got a hunch there’s something strange about the crime, that’s all. I wondered if the photos had triggered a similar reaction in you.’
‘You think she was murdered, then? Not a suicide?’
‘Obviously I’m not a pathologist. We need a proper path report: Professor Salkeld’s on his way to Lincoln now. Hopefully he’ll be able to tell us the cause of death. But yes, I’m quite certain she was murdered. Stabbed, to be precise. The body has multiple stab wounds. But her clothes are intact. That’s one of the things I find strange.’
‘I couldn’t have known that, given that the wounds are concealed by her clothes, but I had noticed her clothes weren’t damaged – you took some excellent close-up photos – which is why I was trying to keep an open mind about whether she’d been murdered.’
‘The killer must have removed her clothes to stab her and then replaced them afterwards. What could have been the reason behind that?’
‘The obvious answer is that he’d made her take off her clothes before he raped her. Then he killed her and dressed the body again before he dumped it.’
‘I’d thought of that. Obviously, Professor Salkeld will examine her for signs of penetration. I think it’s likely that he’ll conclude she wasn’t raped, though.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I haven’t touched her clothing more than I can help, because I don’t want to destroy any evidence. But she’s still wearing her underwear and it doesn’t look as if it’s been tampered with. That’s rarely the case with rape, if the victim’s murdered afterwards – usually the underwear has been damaged; more often than not, it’s missing or found lying discarded somewhere nearby.’
‘I admit that would be more typical. But all that suggests to me is the killer’s better than most at covering his tracks.’
‘If that’s what he was trying to do, why dump her there at all? Unless he’s totally cut off from the outside world, he will have known that that stretch of the canal would be crawling with police today. If he wanted to avoid detection, that’s the last place you’d expect him to choose.’
‘You’re right; that same thought had crossed my mind. I don’t know the answer, though. I’m sorry that I can’t be any more help now, but I’ll keep on thinking about it. As you say, Professor Salkeld’s report may give us more to go on. What about the other two bodies?’
‘The Lincoln SOCO team photographed them in situ – well, almost in situ, only a short time in each case after they’d been pulled out of the canal. They’ve been taken to the morgue now. I’m going there myself, to take more photographs as Professor Salkeld carries out the autopsy. We’ll have to work on them quickly – I don’t know how fast they’ll deteriorate, even under refrigeration. It depends on how long they’ve been in the water.’
‘Take some close-ups of their necks, will you? If we could establish what was used to hack off the heads it might give us a lead.’
‘Sure, I’d do that anyway, as a matter of routine. Don’t expect miracles, though, and be cautious about interpreting the evidence. Decaying flesh can be misleading.’
‘I take it both heads are still missing?’
‘They were when I checked an hour or so ago. The team working at the scene haven’t found anything else since the second body was dredged up – neither the heads nor any effects that might have belonged to the victims. If we can’t identify the two women from their DNA, I’m not sure what sort of progress can be made with finding out who they are.’
‘I think what’s most likely to happen next is that the girl’s parents will report her missing. Then we’ll find out who she is.’
‘I agree, but that won’t necessarily help with the other two. I’m far from convinced that her death is linked to theirs.’
Juliet had half-expected Tim to call her once his first briefing with DI Robinson had taken place. She decided she would wait at her desk until six-thirty, making best use of the time by going over the vehicle thefts dossier in more detail. Ricky had compiled a separate folder of ‘at risk’ properties that the police had visited as part of their enquiries. It mostly contained short accounts listing the vehicles maintained at individual farms and smallholdings and the advice offered to their owners on how to protect them from theft. Working through this as well, she quickly recognised its true purpose: it was designed to act as an insurance policy for the police, enabling them to show the Chief Constable, or anyone else who might ask, that every possible precaution had been taken to prevent more thefts.
Most of these reports were barely a page in length and boringly repetitive. However, her attention was grabbed by the latest of them, Ricky’s account of his and Tim’s visit to Silverdale Farm, which Ricky had filed only that afternoon. It was several pages long and went into some detail about the nature of Fovargue’s businesses and the many vehicles associated with them. Ricky had noted in the margin that the vehicle inventory was incomplete: he’d not had the opportunity to list all the vintage vehicles. Even without them, Fovargue’s vehicle holdings were impressive: Ricky had recorded that two Land Rovers, three tanker wagons, two tractors, a quad, a motorbike and a traction engine were all kept in working order on the site, to be used by Fovargue and his employees in the running of his four businesses. Additional to these were the dozen or so uncatalogued vehicles, most of which Ricky thought were functional, although mostly not DVLA-registered, and the numerous farm implements for sale, some of which were motorised. He’d also noted that the stringency of security measures at the farm varied considerably: the house and larger buildings were fitted with sophisticated locking systems and alarms, but several valuable vehicles and many agricultural tools were left standing outside at all times. There were no perimeter fences except those that acted as boundaries to the fields that lay far beyond. The farm and its various yards and outbuildings could easily be accessed from the road. No advice had yet been offered on improving the security arrangements, as Jack Fovargue had not been present during the inspection (Ricky had not added that DI Yates had had to leave the farm in a hurry).
Looking up Silverdale Farm on Google Maps, Juliet could see how remote it was. There were no other dwellings within about a five-mile radius, and it was almost eight miles to the nearest village. It would be a perfect sitting duck for thieves intent on stealing vehicles: she was surprised that apparently no attempts had yet been made to purloin some of its assets. She would tell Ricky to keep it under surveillance for a while. She scribbled a few notes to remind herself, closed the folder and looked at her watch: it was six-thirty-five. If Tim wanted to speak to her, he’d have to wait until tomorrow now, or call her mobile. She shut down her computer, put a few things into her handbag and prepared to leave for the day.
She’d barely closed the outside door behind her when someone touched her elbow. Turning sharply, she was surprised to find Jake Fidler standing there.
‘Jake! You almost made me jump out of my skin. I thought we’d agreed not to meet until the weekend.’
‘I wanted to see you before then.’
He searched her face. She saw that his own was pinched with cold, his expression apprehensive.
‘How long have you been standing there?’
‘Only since six. I thought that was when you said you’d be leaving today.’
‘It was, but I had to wait... for a call. A call that never came, actually.’ She let out a forced little laugh.
‘Come for a coffee?’
‘I... oh, all right.’ She knew she sounded ungracious, as if she’d agreed because she could think of no suitable excuse. It would be more accurate to say that Jake’s unexpected ambush had panicked her. ‘The café over the road?’
He nodded; together they crossed the road in silence. ‘There’s a seat in the window,’ he said. ‘You take it and I’ll fetch the drinks. What would you like?’
‘A cup of tea would be great,’ she replied, trying to sound brighter.
Only a few people were sitting in the café, individuals all sitting at separate tables. The lone waitress was pointedly spraying the unoccupied ones with a detergent gun and polishing them vigorously. Seeing Jake standing at the counter, she took her time in moving across to him.
‘They close at seven,’ he said to Juliet, when he returned with a tray set with two battered metal individual teapots and two thick white pottery cups. ‘Time enough to have a chat.’
‘How did you manage to get away from work? You said you were on duty this evening.’
‘I am, but I’ve got someone to cover me for an hour. More like two hours, now,’ he added. ‘It’s okay – they’re reliable. The favour I owe them just got bigger, that’s all.’
‘You could have waited to see me. I didn’t realise I had such pulling power!’ Juliet tried to joke. His earnestness was making her uncomfortable. Her hand was resting on the table and he placed his own over it. Gently she drew it back to her lap, putting her other hand on top of it.
‘What’s the matter, Juliet?’ His voice was bleak. She forced herself to meet his eyes and could read the anguish there. ‘We had such a good time last night – at least I did, and I thought you did, too. What’s changed? Why are you giving me the brush-off today? Have I done something to offend you?’
To her horror, Juliet found herself choking back tears. She looked down at her hands.
‘It’s nothing to do with you!’ she said, taking a sip of her tea. ‘It’s entirely my own fault.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I should have told you this before. I’m gay.’
He remained both silent and motionless until, eventually, she felt compelled to look up again. His eyes were full of compassion.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘if you say you’re gay, I’m not going to contradict you. I’ll respect you just as much if it’s true. But you’ll have to forgive me for saying that I find it very difficult to believe.’
Juliet bristled immediately. She already felt humiliated and, despite his reassuring words, thought she’d probably just diminished herself in his eyes.
‘Are you saying I don’t know my own mind?’
‘I’m saying that sexuality can be a strange thing. It’s sometimes difficult to interpret. Many straight men are attracted to other men to some extent, without it making them gay. I’m guessing the same goes for women, too. It’s a hypothetical attraction: it’s like many people of both sexes ‘fancying’ other people’s partners without actually wanting to commit adultery.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’
‘I’m probably not making much sense, even to myself. What I’m trying to say is that last night wasn’t fake. I know you felt like that, too.’
Juliet nodded miserably.
‘Yes, but I don’t understand it. It’s more than four years since I had a boyfriend, and all my relationships with men have been awkward.’
‘But you’ve had girlfriends since?’
‘Yes, several, but none of those relationships has worked out, either.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘Oh, for various reasons – different ones in each case. Some of them have hardly got off the ground. If they’ve had anything in common, it’s that all have been… lacking in something, somehow.’
‘I’ll try not to be too pleased about that. I’m not going to pretend that I’m the answer to a maiden’s prayers.’ He put on a falsetto voice for the last sentence. Juliet found herself smiling briefly before she became grave again.
‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘What if you are part of the answer, and someone else is the rest of it?’
‘You’re afraid that you might be bi?’
‘Yes. It would be my worst nightmare – it’s against everything I stand for.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I believe in fidelity. I’ve always known that if I found the right person to love, I’d want to commit to them entirely. That doesn’t square with loving two people, does it?’ Her hand flew up to her face, as if shielding her from the anguish. Jake seized it and held it tight in his.
‘Juliet,’ he said. ‘If that’s all that’s worrying you, I’m happy to take a chance on it. And, just to make it clear, the chance I’d be taking would be on us, not you and someone else. I reckon I’d be pretty tolerant about it if you needed someone else as well. I’m only asking you to give us a go, that’s all: get to know each other better. We can cross any other bridges if we come to them.’