The afternoon crawled by. Nathan and Nina lasted another hour sifting through video footage before Delilah shooed them out to go and have a prolonged break, Nathan having to be forcibly led from the room by Nina, such was his concern for his uncle. Meanwhile, Samson had been trying to help Delilah go through the data they’d copied from Ross Irwin’s laptop, but that help turned out to be more of a hindrance, given her partner’s basic computer literacy. Not to mention he was unusually subdued, which she put down to the fact that their morning had resulted in a dead end for the investigation. So with the rain having finally stopped, Delilah had shooed Samson out too, tasking him with taking Tolpuddle for a long run on the fells.
Which left just two people in the office building; Delilah on the first floor pulling apart Irwin’s files and Ida on the ground floor working on the ownership of Fellside Court. From the gruff answer Delilah received when she’d enquired how things were going on that front, it seemed like none of the Dales Detective team were having a particularly brilliant day.
Stretching away from the screen she’d been hunched over, Delilah rubbed her back and looked at her watch. Three o’clock already! While she felt the hours were passing slowly, her lack of progress making things drag, in fact they were speeding by. Especially for Will, the time he had left before becoming a man formally accused of murder being frittered away by an investigation which seemed to be going nowhere.
Unfortunately, her search through the contents of Irwin’s computer was proving no more productive than any of their other avenues of enquiry. So far she’d unearthed several files of work-related reports dating back five years, all seemingly above board; a folder of personal photographs, which she’d skipped through, learning nothing other than the fact that Irwin had a penchant for taking selfies; and several drafts of academic papers, the contents of which she couldn’t begin to claim to understand.
Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing which screamed of motive for someone seeking to murder the ecologist. Unless they had a problem with his narcissistic tendencies?
Delilah browsed through some of the photos again, many showing a much younger Irwin, often with his arm draped around an even more youthful woman. Judging by the fact a couple of the women were wearing hoodies branded with the university logo, they were from his days as a lecturer. In one, he was standing with a large group of people, all students by the looks of it, binoculars around the necks of many. Some kind of group outing. A birdwatching society maybe?
Not sure she was gaining any meaningful insight from the photographs, and conscious she was wasting precious time, she switched her attention to the final two folders on the screen, imaginatively labelled ‘New Folder’ and ‘New Folder (2)’. Both were small in size, less than a meg each, which is why she hadn’t intended to copy them in the first place, the rapid departure from Irwin’s hotel room having seen her transfer them in error. She clicked on New Folder, the largest of the pair. Inside was a single spreadsheet titled ‘Species Count’. Delilah opened it up and found herself staring at rows and rows of gobbledygook.
Numbers and letters made up the majority of the entries, no symbols to indicate what they might refer to, no column or row headings to assist in deciphering what exactly she was looking at. The only sense of a rational mind was that no column featuring digits contained letters, and vice versa, and the final column contained either a tick, a cross, or a question mark, obviously to signify success, failure or uncertainty.
According to the heading it was a record of Irwin’s surveys, some kind of environmental tally of the species he’d encountered, but after puzzling over it for a few minutes, Delilah had to concede she lacked the expertise to decode it. Deciding it was something Sarah might be able to help them with, she turned to New Folder (2).
Two word documents were contained inside: ‘KD1’ and ‘KD2’. But at least this time when Delilah opened up the first one, she knew what she was looking at.
The report on the land Kevin Dinsdale was hoping to develop. She skimmed through it, recognising it as the original of the draft Kevin had shown them the day before. Leaving it open on the screen, she clicked on KD2.
A second copy of the Dinsdale report.
Why would Irwin have kept two copies on file? She was about to close it when she spotted something on the final page. Her breath caught in her throat, that familiar pulse of excitement which came with a breakthrough on an investigation gripping her. She went back to KD1. Pulled it up so the pair of them were parallel on the screen and began going through them line by line.
From below came the sound of Samson, shouting hello. His heavy post-run steps on the stairs, accompanied by the much more energetic patter of Tolpuddle.
‘That hound of yours almost ran me into the ground,’ Samson was saying, laughing in exhaustion as he reached the landing. ‘Next time, I vote you go for the run and I stay sitting on my backside in front of a computer—’
He broke off, sensing her tension.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Come and see.’
He was by her side in a couple of long strides, leaning over her, looking at the two documents, eyes flicking from one to the other. ‘Dinsdale’s report, in duplicate. What about it?’
She scrolled down and pointed at the bottom of the screen. At the final summations. And Samson swore.
‘One is a pass and the other a fail?’ Eyebrows raised, he turned to her. ‘Irwin had two reports ready, with different verdicts?’
Delilah nodded. ‘Which seems a bit out of the ordinary, don’t you think?’
‘Just a bit. Makes you wonder whether the pass came with strings attached.’
‘You mean another hustle on the side, like his attempt to blackmail Will?’
Samson shrugged. ‘Who’s to say Irwin didn’t charge Dinsdale for the pleasure of getting the result he wanted? Trouble is, how do we prove it? It’s not the kind of thing Irwin would have left hanging around in plain sight.’
‘Unless . . .’ Delilah was back at the spreadsheet, the complicated entries of digits and letters still making no sense. Apart from the penultimate line:
1008 KD EcIA 10?
‘KD,’ Delilah muttered, looking at the second column. ‘Kevin Dinsdale.’
Samson let out a murmur of agreement. ‘And EcIA?’ he asked, pointing at the third column.
‘Ecological Impact Assessment?’
‘Sounds plausible. What about the numbers?’
Delilah let her eyes drift to the row below:
1808 WM PSL 5 X
The letters WM were directly underneath the KD. And suddenly it was like she’d broken the code.
‘This lot could be a date.’ She pointed at the first four numbers of the final row. ‘Will said Irwin approached him late last week. So this could be the eighteenth of August, that would fit the timescale. Then the letters are Will’s initials and . . . PSL . . .’ She faltered.
Samson indicated the row above. ‘Whatever kind of report Irwin was proposing? That’s what it was for Dinsdale.’
It came to her in a flash, a memory of Irwin’s other files. ‘Protected Species Licence!’ she said.
‘So Gareth could have been right,’ murmured Samson, nodding. ‘The newts were what Irwin was hitting up Will for at the wedding.’
‘Seems so. But this is the interesting bit.’ Delilah put a finger on the final number and looked up at Samson, a half-smile on her lips.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Five grand?’
Samson’s eyes grew large. ‘Of course! Five grand!’ he exclaimed. ‘The amount Will said he was being pressured to pay. You’ve cracked it! Which means . . . this is a record of all the cash Irwin was pulling in on the side . . .’
They both stared at the screen. At the numbers in the full length of the column.
‘That’s a lot of money,’ murmured Delilah.
‘Kind of explains all the fancy clothes and the extravagant hotel room. Irwin was living a lifestyle fuelled by corruption. Pay him enough and he’d deliver what you wanted, with the odd bit of blackmail thrown in for good measure.’
‘Makes you wonder if that’s why Dinsdale chose him. Maybe he knew Irwin’s expertise was for sale?’
‘And was willing to pay through the nose for it.’ Samson pointed at the penultimate line of the spreadsheet once more, moving his finger to the second last column. ‘If we’re right, Irwin was asking ten thousand pounds for that report—’ He went still. His finger now resting on the question mark ending the entry for Kevin Dinsdale. ‘What do you think that means?’
Delilah ran her eyes up the table, taking in the majority of ticks, only a handful of crosses and question marks among them. ‘I’d say they indicate payment or not. And perhaps payment pending?’
‘So this means Irwin hadn’t been paid?’
‘Looks that way.’
Samson whirled away from the desk, energy pulsing from him. ‘Which could mean Kevin had a reason to want him dead after all. He knew the report had been compiled in his favour so he no longer needed an ecologist, especially not one he was having to pay over the odds for.’
‘Is this our motive?’ Delilah asked, feeling the excitement.
‘Maybe. We just need to prove Dinsdale had the opportunity—’
He broke off as the front door slammed shut, accompanied by raised voices, Tolpuddle lifting his head from his bed and barking in excited response.
‘Samson, Delilah! We think we’ve found something!’ Nina was hurtling up the stairs towards them, Nathan close behind her, laptop in his hand, with Ida following at a slower pace and Constable Danny Bradley bringing up the rear.
‘Kevin Dinsdale,’ blurted out Nathan as the teenagers charged into Delilah’s office and placed the laptop on her desk. ‘He went missing from the reception!’
‘We went over to the cafe for a break, like you told us to,’ Nina was explaining as Nathan leaned over the laptop, cuing up a video while Samson, Delilah, Danny and Ida crowded round, ‘but we thought we might as well keep looking through the footage from the reception. And look what we found!’
She gestured at the screen where, amidst the festivities of the wedding reception, in the background Kevin Dinsdale could be seen entering the rugby club, a worried frown on his face.
Samson checked the time at the bottom of the video. Nine o’clock.
‘Okay,’ he said calmly, keeping a lid on the buzz he could feel thrumming through him. The buzz of a case being broken open. ‘So we can say he came back into the reception, but have you got him leaving?’
Nathan grinned. His fingers flashed over the keys. And there it was – the farmer heading out of the club with a glance over his shoulder.
‘We’ve combed every inch of material we have from the period between these two clips and he’s not on any of it.’ Nathan’s eyes were dancing with excitement. ‘It’s proof, isn’t it? He could be the killer? That’s why we brought Danny with us – the police need to see this, don’t they?’
Danny Bradley held up a Peaks Patisserie takeaway cup. ‘I’ve got a bit of time left on my break. Said I’d take a look. And I wanted a word anyway.’
Delilah was looking at Samson, no doubt thinking about what they’d just discovered. Was this the evidence which would exonerate Will?
‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions,’ Samson said, still tempering his own burgeoning hope. ‘What you’ve found is brilliant and definitely suggests Dinsdale could have killed Irwin. But he’s back at the reception by nine. If we’re going to take this to DS Benson, we need footage of Dinsdale disappearing again to show he had the opportunity to return to Malham and move Irwin’s body.’
Danny murmured in agreement, while Nina hung her head and the air seemed to go out of Nathan. He slouched away from the desk and sank onto the couch.
‘Bugger it!’ he muttered. ‘I thought we’d cracked it.’
‘You’re partway there,’ said Delilah. ‘And we’ve uncovered a fair bit about Kevin Dinsdale which makes me think you’re on the right track.’
‘Like what?’ asked Danny.
Delilah hesitated, aware of where they’d found the information. Aware of how they’d come by it, and how many rules they’d broken doing it. But Danny just rolled his eyes.
‘I wasn’t born yesterday! If it’s to do with the contents you copied from Irwin’s laptop during your illicit search of his room the other day, then spit it out.’
‘How did you know we’d done that?’ Delilah’s voice had gone up an octave.
Danny simply raised an eyebrow. ‘Let’s just say that you were too concerned with explaining why you were at the Coach and Horses when I bumped into you. It made me suspicious. That and the fact Irwin’s laptop was still warm when I got to his room.’
‘Oh! Damn! Did anyone else notice?’
‘I didn’t give them a chance. I had it in an evidence bag and off to the lab before they could.’
Samson laughed and slapped him on the back. ‘You’ll go far!’ he said.
‘Aye,’ said the young constable, frowning. ‘As long as I don’t get caught.’
‘We appreciate it, Danny. We really do,’ said Samson. ‘And yes, what we’ve uncovered comes from that very laptop so we’ll have to be careful how we reveal it to Benson. But suffice to say we’ve got reasons to suspect Irwin was making money on the side by giving customers the results they wanted, for a fee.’
‘And Dinsdale partook of that service?’
‘Looks like it. There were two ecological survey reports compiled for his land, one a pass and one a fail. And what appears to be a record of the amount Irwin was demanding for the more favourable outcome. If we’re right, it was ten grand. More importantly, we don’t think the bill had been paid before Irwin was killed.’
Ida sucked air through her teeth. ‘Sounds like a motive if tha asks me. There’s plenty of folk will do dreadful deeds for less.’
‘But it means nothing if you can’t show Kevin Dinsdale had the opportunity,’ insisted Danny. ‘We need concrete evidence that he left the club a second time to go back over to Malham to move the body. Without that, we’ve got less on him than DS Benson has on Will.’
‘We’re on it,’ said Nina, taking the laptop and crossing to sit next to Nathan on the sofa. ‘We’ll keep going through the footage and see if we can find something.’
‘And maybe put a shout out to folk who weren’t even at the reception,’ said Delilah. ‘There might be video out there of something unrelated – some kids larking around on the playing fields, someone filming his dog while out walking – completely unconnected footage which just might have captured Dinsdale going past at a crucial time.’
‘Will do,’ said Nathan.
‘Meanwhile,’ Samson said, turning back to Danny, ‘you said you needed a word? Have there been developments?’
Danny hesitated. A bloom of colour stealing up over his collar. ‘Thing is, I’ve gone out on a limb for you a few times over this and, well . . . I came over to say I can’t do it any more. Benson is keeping an eye on me and . . . I just . . .’
Delilah put a hand on his arm. ‘We understand, Danny. And we’re grateful for all your help so far.’
The constable nodded. Looking uncomfortable. Then he shrugged, a grin breaking through the awkwardness. ‘But seeing as I’m here, I might as well give you one last update . . . Yes, there have been a few developments, but none of them are really earth shattering. First, the lab has sent through a preliminary post-mortem report, which I managed to sneak a look at. Irwin had three notable contusions – one on the left side of his face, one on his right, and one on the rear of his skull. While the pathologist said she’s still working on it and will send through her final analysis tomorrow, she seems to think it was the blow to the back of Irwin’s head which proved lethal.’
‘The killer struck him from behind?’ asked Samson.
‘Not necessarily. Given the blood on the scene above Malham Cove, it’s likely Irwin fell a second time after Elaine left him, struck his head on a rock, and that’s what killed him.’
‘So one of those bruises can be attributed to where he fell after his fracas with Elaine—’
‘The one on his left cheek.’
‘Another from a possible second fall. And the remaining one on his right side . . .?’
‘So far, it’s still looking like the rounders bat.’ Danny shot a look at Delilah. ‘But if it does turn out that Irwin died from the impact of hitting his head on a rock, then we could be looking at manslaughter instead of murder, depending on what led up to it. So at least . . . I mean if Will . . . you know, it wouldn’t be as bad . . .’
Delilah gave a dry laugh. ‘You mean my brother could be falsely accused of a lesser crime as it stands? I’m not sure that gives me much hope.’
‘Sorry, I did say it wasn’t much.’ Danny was looking awkward once more, his face crimson, giving Samson a sense that perhaps, following the pathologist’s comments about the nature of Irwin’s wounds, the constable’s belief in Will’s innocence wasn’t as robust as before.
‘There is one other thing,’ Danny continued, holding out his mobile to show a photo of two black circles of what looked to be plastic, connected by a small bridge. ‘Binocular lens caps. They were found tucked up inside Irwin’s clothing. DS Benson reckons they came off Irwin’s binoculars in some kind of a tussle between him and his killer and that when the killer moved the body, the lens caps got caught up in the deceased’s clothing.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t see how it changes anything, but I guess every little helps.’
‘Thanks,’ said Samson. ‘And like Delilah said, we’re really grateful.’
‘I know. I just wish—’
Whatever Danny’s wish was, it was cut short by a loud groan from Nathan.
‘Dinsdale can’t have done it,’ he muttered dejectedly. ‘Look!’
He turned his laptop around so they could all see the frozen image caught on it: Kevin Dinsdale being helped out of the rugby club, one of his arms slung around his wife’s shoulders, the other across Sarah’s. Even in the paused footage, it was clear he was drunk. Very drunk. Definitely beyond the capability of driving.
‘What time was that?’ asked Samson.
‘About half past eleven.’
‘Perhaps he’d already moved the body?’ Delilah suggested. But Samson could tell from her resigned look that she was grasping at straws.
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But that would mean he returned from killing Irwin at nine and then, at some point before this footage, went back to Malham, got the body and drove to the kiln. And still managed to get to the club in time to get absolutely hammered.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Yes. Although it would rule out the 4x4 which almost hit me as being the killer’s vehicle. That was nearer midnight, so Dinsdale couldn’t have been the driver.’
‘Unless he was faking it?’ Nina’s comment drew all heads in her direction. ‘What proof do we have that he was actually drunk? A bit of video footage and Herriot’s testimony that he was hungover the following morning. But no blood tests or anything.’
Danny was nodding. ‘True enough.’
‘In which case, even more urgency for us to go through every inch of the video footage we have,’ said Samson. ‘We need to find evidence of Dinsdale slipping out of the reception or everything is simply speculation.’
‘Sounds like it’s time I got the kettle on,’ said Ida, heading for the kitchen. ‘And this time,’ she added with a parting glare at Samson, ‘it’ll be a proper brew. None of that lighthouse tea like tha made earlier!’
She stomped across the landing, leaving Samson to turn to Delilah. ‘Lighthouse tea?’
Delilah grinned. ‘Blinking near water.’
The others started laughing and Samson was grateful for the distraction. Because he could sense that this case was taking them down one cul-de-sac after another and, with time ticking by, they were no closer to clearing Will’s name. Or finding the real killer. The murder weapon, their best chance of distancing Delilah’s brother from the scene, was also remaining elusive. In fact, everything seemed to be stacked against them.
He glanced again at the stilled image of a drunken Kevin Dinsdale on Nathan’s laptop.
Was it possible they were being fooled by a consummate dissembler? And if so, was Dinsdale the perpetrator? Or, Samson wondered, feeling disloyal even as the thought formulated, was the hoax being carried out by someone closer to home?
A tussle that turned into a deadly fall. An unintentional killing.
That’s what Danny seemed to have been suggesting might have taken place. And Samson knew someone with a temper fiery enough to have triggered such a scenario. Could Will be leading them a merry dance?
Maybe it was time to set local allegiances aside and give Will’s testimony a second look. Because if there was one thing Samson had learned from his years as a police officer, it was that when the evidence all pointed one way, there was usually a reason for it.
And in this case, it was all pointing at Will Metcalfe.
When Ida brought through the tea minutes later, Samson drank it without complaint. Hoping it would remove the bitter taste of betrayal from his mouth.