and just a few hours of snatched sleep, she might be functioning on less than a quarter of her own brain. ‘Isn’t it likely that the remains are old? I mean, this area is well-known as an ancient burial site. Surely the most likely explanation is that they’ve dug up some dead Roman or Anglo-Saxon or whatever.’
Poole sighed and shifted on the edge of the couch to turn towards her. ‘As an officer of the law, I assume nothing, but like you I would have preferred to think the remains were ancient. However, unless the likes of Boudicca were serving cans of coke with their spit-roast boar, I think what we can assume is that these particular remains are very modern indeed.’
Cheryl look entirely confounded. ‘Boudicca? Coke? You’ve lost me, Sergeant.’
‘It’s Detective Sergeant. A preliminary examination of the site revealed the pull-ring of a soft-drink can and a partially degraded crisp packet in a layer of soil beneath the body. It’s fair indicator that these particular remains have not been there for any significant length of time.’
Maura’s breath caught in her throat just as Cheryl allowed a horrified “Oh” to escape her thin lips.
Gordon was not happy and utterly refused to play ball with Poole. His only concern was that his lunch was due at one o’clock, it was Friday, and that it would therefore be tinned tomato soup and white bread with the crusts cut off and served in equally divided triangles. Poole shot a despairing glance at Maura, who shrugged and said, ‘Mr Henderson, would it be all right if we talked to you about this after your lunch? It is extremely important.’
‘I shall be taking my afternoon nap and will require my pills. You’ll have to come another time,’ he said, setting his mouth in a determined line while eyeing the clock. It was five to one and he was eager for his meal.
‘I’m not sure that’s going to be possible, Gordon. Is it OK if I call you Gordon?’ Maura said in a desperate effort to get the old man to comply. She wanted Poole out of the house and with no cause to return.
‘Young lady, you may not. You are expected to know your place.’ He pointed to the clock where the hands were creeping towards one.
‘Cheryl will bring it right on time, just as she always does. Mr Henderson, do you understand the seriousness of the situation? A body has been found on land that used to belong to you,’ Maura pleaded.
He looked away and a petulant, whining ring entered his voice. ‘I don’t deal with the estate. I don’t know anything about it. Talk to Estelle.’ At that point Cheryl backed through the door carrying a tray precisely as the clock struck one. There was no distracting him from it after that. Maura had seen people fixated like this before, but they hadn’t been suffering from dementia. Once Poole and his silent partner had gone, she was determined to ring Dr Moss and have a long conversation with him.
She turned to Poole. ‘I really don’t think you’re going to be able to get much from him.’
Poole frowned. ‘We’re going to have to talk to him at some point. I’ll leave it for now and maybe send a liaison officer in. It seems he might be more used to females, so maybe he’ll be more comfortable with that. In the meantime, I’ll need to see Estelle Hall, even if she’s unable to talk to me.’
Maura nodded. At least he was indicating that he wouldn’t be back. She was not a fan of the police and their tactics, but she’d rather deal with pretty much anyone than have to spend more time than was necessary with Mike Poole. ‘I’ll show you out.’ He was going to get nowhere with a woman who’d broken her jaw and more than likely listing in and out of a morphine fog.
Gallan went out first but Poole paused on the wide stone step and turned to Maura. ‘By the way, it’s nice to see you again. For what it’s worth, I really am sorry about what happened.’
It was Maura’s turn to pause, but only for a second while her better judgement vied with her more basic instincts. Instinct won. ‘What for? The fact that Richard died in a pool of his own vomit in one of your cells? Fuck you, Poole.’ She didn’t slam the door but shut it firmly in his face. Then she leaned against it, hoping he was walking away and wondering if he’d noticed how much she’d been shaking since clapping eyes on him that day. She hoped he hadn’t. It would be one humiliation too far if he had.
Gordon was already dozing in his chair, a dribble of tomato soup drying on his whiskered chin. According to the list, shaving day was Saturday and there was nothing Maura detested more than having to shave a man because he couldn’t do it for himself. Blood would be shed, albeit unintentionally. The soup sat there glistening like a little red portent, warning her of things to come.
With a stoical sigh she picked up the tray and made her way to the kitchen. Once in the passage she could hear Cheryl’s voice, high and angry.
‘As if I haven’t got enough on my plate without that filthy mutt undoing all my good work! No, Bob, I won’t have it. I don’t want that animal putting his nose around this house.’
‘Aww come on, Cheryl love, he’ll be company for her. He’s a good guard dog and after everything that’s happened you can’t expect the poor lass to sit here on her own at night, it wouldn’t be fair.’ Bob’s tone was wheedling.
‘Don’t you “love” me, Bob Silver. It won’t wash! And there’s no way her ladyship will tolerate him in the house.’
Maura was tempted to loiter in the passage until Cheryl had calmed down; the woman seemed to have a quicksilver temperament that was terrifyingly difficult to predict. The attempt at discreet avoidance was foiled by the sound of claws tapping on lino and the arrival of a wet nose followed by a furry body and a wagging tail. A dog – Maura didn’t “do” dogs but this one seemed friendly enough. At least he didn’t jump up at her like most did, but quietly followed her into the kitchen. Cheryl was on her before she could even put the tray down.
‘He,’ Cheryl said, pointing at Bob with her arm and index finger fully extended, ‘thinks you might want some protection, so he’s brought that filthy animal here. As if that fleabag could protect anyone.’ She eyed the dog with abject disdain.
Maura had to admit that the poor animal (some Heinz variety mongrel by the look of him) didn’t appear to possess the capacity to ravage anything more menacing than a tennis ball. However, if his presence would annoy Cheryl, a woman who was displaying controlling tendencies that would shame a Waffen SS officer, as far as Maura was concerned the dog could move in and sleep on the best bed. ‘Aww Bob, that’s so kind of you! What’s his name?’
‘Buster, but he’ll answer to most things, won’t you, boy?’ Bob said fondly, pointedly ignoring Cheryl’s look of utter disgust. At the sound of his name the dog began to wag his tail in a frenzy of ecstasy, a movement that set his whole body in motion and caused a large gobbet of drool to fall from his mouth onto Cheryl’s immaculate floor.
Maura could hardly contain the snigger that threatened to unleash Cheryl’s further wrath. ‘You’ll be good company, won’t you, boy?’ she said to the dog, ignoring the puce colour that had started to creep into Cheryl’s face.
The woman’s temper dissipated as quickly as it had boiled. ‘Well, yes, I suppose he can stay – but I won’t have him on the furniture and I don’t want him upstairs. She won’t tolerate it if you let him upstairs.’
A moment later it was as if it had never happened. Buster lay on a blanket under the table while Cheryl poured her trademark weak tea and Bob speculated on the identity of the body.
‘Eh, what if it’s her? What if the old boy did her in and stashed her in the woods?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, man. Drink your tea.’ Cheryl was having none of it. She turned to Maura. ‘Don’t you go listening to any of his nonsense. There’s enough going on without any of it getting furled by gossip.’
Maura gave Cheryl a weak smile and wished she would bugger off so she could ask Bob what he meant. He seemed somewhat excited, as if something had rattled him and made him overanimated. She got her wish a few minutes later when,