A feather and a tobacco tin. Standing in front of the imposing structure of the Hoffmann kiln, Samson wasn’t sure about the first, but he recognised the second.
‘That belongs to my godson, Nathan Metcalfe,’ he said, indicating the evidence bag in DS Benson’s left hand, the Yorkshire Regiment emblem an easy spot. ‘He lost it up here yesterday evening and came looking for it this morning. Found a bit more than he bargained for.’
‘The teenager who discovered the body? He’s your godson?’ Benson was frowning, no doubt marvelling at the network of connections that joined the people of Bruncliffe, tying them to each other through the past and into the future. Amused to be considered part of it for once, Samson nodded.
Benson looked at the tin then at Danny. ‘What time did the lad say he left here yesterday?’
‘Erm . . . about ten p.m.,’ said the constable, consulting his notebook. ‘He says he was here with a friend for a school history project. They watched the sunset and then the friend left and he stayed on. Until about ten.’
‘So he was here alone for a substantial time. Who was the friend?’
‘Nina Hussain. Another teenager. She lives in town.’
Samson took the information on board. Wondering whether ‘friend’ really conveyed what the relationship between the two teens was. Wondering too why Nina would have upped and left Nathan here all alone.
‘Interesting.’ Benson looked at Samson. ‘We found the tin under the body.’
‘So you can narrow down the timescale, then. Irwin was brought up here some time after Nathan left.’
‘Possibly.’ The word was left hanging, along with the doubt it contained.
‘You can save your time,’ said Samson, sensing that the detective was considering another scenario. One that involved Nathan in a role of more than just unsuspecting bystander. ‘The lad didn’t have anything to do with this.’
‘Sorry, O’Brien, but I’m keeping my options open. Particularly as Nathan is Will Metcalfe’s nephew, am I right?’ The detective was looking at Danny, who nodded uncomfortably.
‘What’s Will got to do with this?’ asked Samson, feeling like he was on the back foot all of a sudden.
‘The fight,’ muttered Gareth. ‘At the wedding yesterday. Will took exception to something Ross Irwin said. Went for him big style. They had to be pulled apart.’
‘Were you there?’ Benson asked. The gamekeeper nodded. ‘And what about you, O’Brien?’
Samson shook his head. Wishing he had been now, more than ever. Because it sounded like Elaine Bullock wasn’t going to be the only one answering awkward questions over the next few days. At least one of the Metcalfes would be, too.
‘What about this? Anyone recognise it?’
Benson was holding out the second evidence bag. The feather inside was the length of his hand, finely shaped with a delicate brown hue and shading like the back of a mackerel.
‘May I?’ Gareth Towler reached for the bag and peered at the contents. ‘Peregrine falcon feather,’ he said. His tone brooking no queries.
The detective raised an eyebrow and Gareth grinned.
‘I’m a gamekeeper,’ he explained. ‘Or I was until recently. And unlike some in my profession, I took an interest in protecting the wildlife on my patch, so I know my raptors. I can tell you now, that’s a peregrine falcon wing feather. Not something you’d find around Bruncliffe.’
‘So where would you find one?’
‘At Malham Cove, most likely, across the fells.’ Gareth gestured past the kiln to the land rising up in the east. ‘The peregrines don’t tend to stray over this side.’
Benson frowned, turning to the female detective next to him. ‘Best give a shout to the Wildlife Crime unit, just to be on the safe side. Don’t want to go trampling on their patch if this whole thing turns out to have a connection to those falcons. Maybe Irwin saw something he shouldn’t have or stumbled on some kind of raptor crime. We could probably do with their input anyway.’
‘Yes, Sarge.’ She hurried back across the fellside, mobile already at her ear.
‘Where did you find the feather?’ asked Samson.
‘In Irwin’s left hand,’ said Benson. ‘He must have been holding it when he was killed.’
‘Which means . . .’ Danny’s comment faded into silence.
‘Which means it’s seeming more likely that Irwin was killed over in Malham, probably while birdwatching as he had a pair of binoculars strung around his neck. And that fits in with what you’ve said, Constable Bradley, about where he was going the last time he was seen.’ Benson looked at Samson. ‘This Elaine Bullock has got a lot of questions to answer. Care to come along and sit in while I talk to her?’
‘In what capacity? Fellow detective or friend of the suspect?’ Samson asked wryly.
Benson shrugged. ‘Whichever one helps us get to the bottom of this.’
Curiosity getting the better of him, Samson nodded.
‘Great. And when we’ve questioned Elaine we can find Will Metcalfe and get his side of the story.’
Samson suppressed a groan while Danny and Gareth shot him sympathetic glances. Having only just managed to establish a relationship with the oldest of the Metcalfe siblings, it looked like circumstances were about to ruin it all over again. Because whatever steps had been made to mend fences, being part of an investigation into murder which had Will as its focus was bound to put Samson back to square one.
The downstairs office of the Dales Detective Agency was getting crowded. And Sergeant Clayton’s informal questioning of Elaine seemed to have taken on a more official tone.
As Ida and Delilah brought down a couple of the kitchen chairs to accommodate the extra bodies, Ida was muttering about it.
‘Wasting good investigating time, they are,’ she grumbled. ‘That lass couldn’t kill a fly, let alone a man the size of Irwin. They’ve got it all wrong.’
Delilah’s instinct was to agree, but as she entered the office and saw Samson’s face, cold fingers of fear clutched her chest. Standing over by the window, he was watching Elaine with an expression of intense worry.
‘More chairs,’ Delilah announced, trying to lighten the mood.
The tall detective thanked her, taking the chairs and placing them beside the desk, where Elaine and Sergeant Clayton were still sitting. Delilah had recognised him the moment he’d appeared in the office doorway. One of the two coppers who’d dragged Samson away in such spectacularly embarrassing fashion, handcuffing him in front of his father, humiliating him in front of his community. While Samson seemed to have forgiven the man, Delilah was made from different stock. It would take some doing for DS Benson to get back in her good books.
‘Tea?’ Ida offered, to nods all round.
‘Not too strong for me, please,’ added Benson, with a warm smile.
Ida shot Delilah a look, and Delilah knew she wasn’t the only one holding a grudge. Whatever the next hour held, the highlight was going to be watching the detective drinking his brew.
‘So,’ began Benson, ‘Elaine, there have been a few developments—’
‘Do I need a lawyer?’ Elaine tossed her plaits over her shoulder, looking defiant. But Delilah recognised the small tic in her right cheek and the fingers knotted around each other in her lap. She was nervous.
Sergeant Clayton shook his head. ‘No need for that, lass. Just tell us exactly what happened yesterday and we can all get on and find the real killer.’
Elaine looked around the room, Samson still standing by the window, Benson and the sergeant opposite her, Delilah by her side. She glanced at her hands, bit her lip and then stared at Benson. ‘You’re wasting your time. Nothing untoward happened. Irwin was alive when I last saw him.’
‘So you’re sticking with what you told the sergeant? That you visited Malham Cove with Irwin, saw a falcon and then he drove you home about nine?’
She nodded. Hesitant. Sensing the trap that was coming.
‘In that case, I’ve just a couple of things to run past you. Firstly, this.’ Benson placed a plastic bag on the desk, a flash of light reflecting off the silver hoop inside. Delilah recognised it immediately. One of the earrings Elaine had been wearing at the wedding the day before.
‘Is this yours?’ the detective asked, manner still gentle.
Elaine’s left hand lifted to her ear, as though of its own accord. ‘Erm . . . yes, I think so. I lost it yesterday.’
‘Can you tell me how you lost it? Because there’s blood on the stem and I can’t help noticing that your ear has been bleeding.’
There was a silence, Elaine swallowing, her already pale face turning ashen. ‘I . . . erm . . . I snagged my hand in it when I was brushing my hair out of my eyes. Up at the Cove.’
Benson nodded. As though she’d answered well. But then he frowned. ‘Thing is, Elaine, we didn’t find it up at the Cove. We found it in Ross Irwin’s car. In the footwell on the driver’s side. And the other interesting thing is that whoever drove that car last, it wasn’t Irwin. The seat was left too far forward for a man of his size. In fact, I’d go so far as to suggest it was driven by someone about your height.’
‘Maybe he moved the seat,’ said Elaine, her voice shaking.
‘Maybe.’ Benson’s tone seemed to get even more considerate. ‘Problem is, we found this in Irwin’s hand up at the kiln.’ He put another plastic bag on the desk, this one containing a brown feather. ‘It’s from a peregrine falcon, but then you probably know that. In fact, I think you saw Ross Irwin pick this up when you were at Malham Cove. Now, the reason this is interesting is that the pathologist reckons Irwin was clutching it when he was killed, which suggests to me that he was killed over in Malham. So you can see why we’re having difficulty with accepting your version of events. Because if Irwin was already dead, who drove you home?’
Elaine seemed to shrink in the chair. A low moan of pain coming from her. Delilah put a hand on her arm, the skin cold to the touch.
‘Whatever happened, Elaine,’ she murmured, ‘it’s best to tell them now.’
Best to tell them, because even through the fug of her abating hangover Delilah could see the skill with which Benson was wielding his evidence, luring Elaine in by making the main focus of his questions her journey home rather than the murder of Irwin. The man was a first-rate detective and would unearth the truth in the end.
‘I . . . I didn’t kill him,’ whispered Elaine, the defiance gone now, replaced with fear. ‘He was alive when I left him.’
‘You left him at Malham Cove?’ asked Sergeant Clayton.
‘Up above it,’ she clarified in a quiet voice. ‘He parked just below the tarn, intending for us to walk down on the Pennine Way. When I suggested it was a bit of a trek and we’d be best driving down to the village and walking up the road, especially as he didn’t have the most suitable of shoes on, he just laughed. Said he’d be fine and that he’d rather a bit of discomfort than have to fight the hordes of day-trippers down in the dale. That it would be more peaceful this way.’
The sergeant nodded, knowing, as did every local in the room, that Malham during tourist season could be a bottleneck of traffic and pedestrians. ‘So is that what you did?’
‘Yes. We reached the tops above the cove and he took photos. And then we saw the falcon.’ She gave a small smile. ‘It was magnificent. And Irwin was right, we had it all to ourselves, no one else up there with us.’
‘So what happened next? Did you have an argument?’
The question brought a flush of colour back to her cheeks, a spark of temper making her snort. ‘That’s not what I’d call it. He assaulted me.’ She grimaced. ‘Or tried to.’
She gestured at the feather, revulsion on her face.
‘He found that on the grass and got all excited about it. Then, under the pretence of showing it to me, he made a grab to kiss me. When I protested and tried to push him away, he got rough. His hand was around the back of my neck, pulling me towards him. That’s when my earring must have come loose.’
‘So what did you do?’ asked Benson.
‘I kneed him where it hurts,’ Elaine snapped. ‘Then I shoved him away from me. He lost his footing in his stupid brogues and fell to the ground, hitting his head on a rock. I saw his car keys fall out of his pocket so I snatched them up and ran.’
‘What time was this?’
‘About ten past eight.’ She gave the detective a sardonic look. ‘Sorry I can’t be more exact but I was running too fast to check.’
‘And you drove back in his Toyota, leaving him up there?’
‘Yes.’ Elaine had her head up now, chin tipped defiantly. ‘I left his car on High Street and walked home.’
‘Did you leave the keys in the ignition deliberately?’
She nodded. ‘I was hoping it might teach him a lesson. Seems like someone else taught him an even harder one.’
Her words fell into a tense silence, finally broken by a long sigh from Sergeant Clayton. He ran a hand over his face.
‘Christ, lass, why didn’t you come straight to the station and report it?’
‘I was angry. At Irwin for behaving in that way. But at myself too, for misjudging him. That’s why he’d wanted to stay above the Cove, so he could get me alone. He wasn’t interested in my take on the geology of the area.’ She shook her head. ‘I guess I didn’t want everyone knowing I’d been taken for a fool. So I thought taking his car would be punishment enough. Then when I heard the news that he was . . . that someone had . . .’ She gulped. ‘I didn’t think the truth would help my case. After all, I’ve just given myself a motive, haven’t I?’
‘That all depends,’ said Benson. ‘When you ran off, what state was Irwin in?’
Elaine let out a mirthless laugh. ‘He’d cut his head but he was very much alive because he was shouting obscenities after me. But I suppose that’s just my word against that of a dead man.’