‘Are you comfortable Ned would be recommending this?’ asked Jim. Seeing her bristle slightly he added in a hurry, ‘You’re not the only one deputising here, you know.’

  She smiled a little stiffly. ‘I take your point. And you could argue that nothing’s going to run away in twenty-four hours. Perhaps I am letting my enthusiasm run away with me a bit,’ she allowed. ‘How about I get a team organised and equipped for the morning, then we can call it off if your boss and mine don’t agree? In the meantime,’ she added, ‘we could get the radar in.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Jim with a feeling of relief just as his phone rang with the ringtone he had allocated to Margaret. ‘It’s … I need to take this,’ he said, suddenly realising that advertising the fact he’d given the Chief Super the quacking duck ringtone might not be a good idea. He moved outside to answer.

  ‘Any news?’ asked Margaret. ‘I’ve got the Press Office on my back. Apparently, it’s a slow news day!’

  He walked into Tent 3 with the phone still pressed to his ear. The team with the spades, trowels and brushes had just exposed the crown of a skull. He stepped outside again.

  ‘I can confirm the second body is of a young boy, according to Dr Paisley, and there is a third body. The top of a human skull has just been exposed. But we don’t have any official reports yet. The info about the boy is just what Dr Paisley told me.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll discuss it with the press officer and the top of the office, but it’s likely we’ll limit a statement to saying that two more bodies have been located at the property and our investigations are continuing. Keep me informed, Jim.’ And she rang off.

  ***

  How Greg got home from Wymondham in one piece he’d never know. Around the Thickthorn roundabout he felt his head starting to nod and opened all the car windows to deliver a gust of fresh air. Unfortunately, the air thus delivered was warm, and therefore not as refreshing as it might have been. He managed to keep his eyes open until the 50 mph section between Blofield and North Burlingham, when boredom and exhaustion combined to send him to sleep. He was saved by his car, as the lane keeper stopped him from swerving across the centre line and the cruise control braked when he got too close to the car in front, setting off an alarm as it did so. He woke with a jerk and seized his steering wheel in a vice-like grip as his heart thundered in his ears. With sincere gratitude to BMW for their technology, he drove the rest of the way home with exaggerated care and pulled up by his cottage with inordinate relief.

  To his disappointment, Chris’s car was missing. He dragged himself out of his car, feeling somewhere close to a hundred years old, and got his key in the door at the second attempt. Bobby and Tally got very brief greetings before he collected a bottle of spring water from the fridge and headed up the stairs. He sat on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off, took a swig from the bottle and thought a brief lie-down was merited before he got into the whole undressing and showering process. That was the last thing he knew for some hours.

  When Greg woke it was to a still house, a cat curled up beside him, and a general sensation that Tally had, somehow, taken a dump in his mouth. Sleeping in his clothes hadn’t been a good idea either. ‘Alexa, what time is it?’ he asked his latest gadget.

  ‘Good morning, Greg,’ the flashing pod in the corner responded. ‘It is 3.20am.’

  Muttering, he stripped off, stepped under a warm shower with eyes closed, and stepped out again with them still closed. Wrapped in his bath towel and back on the bed – a procedure to which Chris would definitely have objected – he went back to sleep. This time on his side, with his mouth closed.

  His second wakening was just after 6am, and this time he felt much more refreshed. Running his tongue round his teeth, he felt that a thorough tooth clean was still called for, and a second shower wouldn’t go amiss either. Finding all his clothes of yesterday strewn on the floor between the bedroom and the bathroom, he was, on the whole, glad that Chris hadn’t come home to find all the mess. When he checked his phone, he found the battery now almost flat thanks to his having gone to bed without charging it, but also found a message from Chris to say she’d pulled an all-nighter, he wasn’t to worry, kiss-kiss emojis and she’d see him soon.

  ‘Alexa, play Radio 4,’ he ordered as he was getting shaved, and nearly cut himself as the newsreader announced: Police are still investigating in the east Norfolk village where two imprisoned children were found. Local sources claim that further bodies have been discovered. Over to our crime reporter…

  He turned it off and reached for his phone.

  44

  Saturday 8 August 2020

  Greg took a moment to check for any new messages from Chris – nothing – then hurled cat and parrot food at the appropriate recipients before dashing for the door.

  His hands-free was getting a workout before he made the turning into the road to Fleggburgh. He was horribly tempted to ring Jim for a handover, but in view of the early hour, opted for Control.

  ‘Geldard here,’ he said. ‘Please put me through to whoever can give me an update on the Ormesby developments.’

  ‘The incident room is staffed,’ said the politically correct disembodied voice. ‘Putting you through.’

  Greg didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that the next voice he heard was Jill’s. ‘You were quick off the mark,’ he said.

  ‘Heard the news early this morning,’ said Jill.

  ‘Ditto. I’m on my way to Ormesby. What can you tell me?’

  ‘On the bodies, not very much. Word is that the one we were expecting to find is that of a young boy, pretty much as described by Joanne Hamilton. The doc says we have samples that will probably yield DNA and dental records so an ID should be straightforward.’

  ‘And the second?’ asked Greg. ‘I suppose I should say the third, if we’re counting the one in the concrete pillar! Where was it found?’

  ‘In the garden at the side, not far from the fuel tank. It’s skeletal only, been in the ground, the doc estimates, for eight to ten years.’

  ‘Gender? Age? Anything to ID it, sorry, them, or any distinguishing features?’ asked Greg, hoping for a hip replacement with a chassis number, or similar.

  ‘Male, estimate fifty-plus, apparently some osteoarthritis, but nothing else significant. The doc’s consulted the Bradford experts…’ Greg suppressed a hollow groan. ‘Apparently they’ve offered to come over if needed, but they’re busy with some plague pit remains from Gloucestershire at the moment. Doc said to wait until we see if DNA might help first. She said she was thinking of our budget.’

  ‘And my sanity,’ muttered Greg.

  ‘Sorry, Boss, didn’t catch that,’ said Jill. ‘What was it you said?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Greg. ‘I’ll have a look round in Ormesby then head into the office. What about our friendly neighbourhood arsonist?’

  ‘Also due to see the magistrates on Monday, unless something changes. The fire service report came in last night, after they were happy Thetford Forest was out of danger. The main point for us is that the accelerant used was petrol, both in and around the farmyard.

  ‘Key points from the forensic team are…’ she paused, and Greg could visualise her checking the report on her screen.

  ‘One, the petrol can found just inside the entrance to the farmyard had Waters’s fingerprints on it.

  ‘Two, ditto the wine bottles in the tow truck, which the DVLA say is registered to his brother, and which, incidentally, appears to be uninsured and lacking an MOT.’

  ‘Any evidence Waters was driving it?’ interrupted Greg.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I meant to say, the steering wheel, dashboard, driver door, etc, etc, all have Waters’s fingerprints on them. Better still, the report from the hospital helps put you in the clear, Boss, and supports him being at the fire. Their orthopaedic specialist says the ankle break is consistent with putting a foot in a hole while running, and they’ve also treated him for second-degree burns on his shins and the front of his thighs, which suggest he was a bit too close when he set light to the petrol.’

  ‘Bit careless all round, wasn’t he?’ remarked Greg. ‘Most people have the sense to wear gloves these days!’

  ‘I guess overconfidence might account for that,’ replied Jill. ‘Maybe he assumed the fire would be such a distraction we’d never catch up with him.’

  ‘OK. We should interview him when I get in. I’d like you in with me, Jill. Can you also chase up Bill to see if he’s found anything to link that tow truck to the other arson attacks, because, so far, we should have him on toast for Thetford but we’re going to struggle to tie him to the others.’

  He arrived in Ormesby at the exact same moment that Ned’s deputy got out of her car. He strained to remember her name as he walked toward her. Something Berry, he thought, and a first name came to him in the nick of time.

  ‘Morning, Yvette,’ he said.

  ‘Yvonne,’ she corrected.

  ‘Sorry, Yvonne. I gather you were on duty yesterday as well.’

  ‘Yes, and there’s something I want to ask you,’ she said. ‘In light of what was found yesterday, I want to carry out a Level 4 search, but I need your authority to do that.’

  Greg thought quickly. ‘Is the GPR survey complete?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Anything?’ asked Greg.

  ‘No more bodies,’ Yvonne was quick to reassure him, ‘but there were a few voids I’d like to check out. One under the basement and a couple in the garage floor.’

  ‘OK, go for it,’ he said. ‘I agree that the circumstances justify turning this place over.’

  Yvonne nodded and turned to walk over to the van parked behind her car. Greg headed for the blue tent in the side garden but was stopped by a familiar uniformed officer.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Constable Drake, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Good to see you again.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied. ‘Might I ask you something, sir?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said automatically, although slightly on edge to get to work.

  ‘Why do the forensic lot carry out their searches in levels?’ she asked. ‘Why don’t they just go in and do one thorough search?’

  ‘It’s a good question, Constable,’ he replied. ‘And one you’re probably best asking Ms Berry, but I believe it’s because if they barged in and grabbed everything all in one go, they’d risk destroying evidence they hadn’t had a good look at. For example, they might trample on fingerprints, footprints or even blood stains, while they were searching through drawers and cupboards. That’s probably not a very good example,’ he admitted, ‘but the principle holds good. Are you interested in their work?’

  ‘I am, yes,’ she said. ‘I have a degree in chemistry, and I’ve been thinking that forensic science might be an interesting career move.’

  ‘You should definitely talk to Ms Berry then. Or Ned. Although we’d be sorry to lose you from the force.’ He gave her a friendly wave and headed for the tent again, only to be stopped a second time by the sight of the GPR man packing away his kit.

  He introduced himself. ‘Hi! I’m DCI Geldard. I’m not sure whether to thank you or curse you for your thoroughness!’

  ‘Brad Nesbitt.’ The man introduced himself in return as he wound cable round a reel.

  ‘How confident are you that you’ve found everything?’ asked Greg.

  Brad perched himself on the garden wall and looked around him. ‘Very confident there’s nothing else within the range of the radar,’ he replied. ‘Which on a dry, sandy substrate, like the soils around here, is substantial. There are a few voids I know the forensic team plan to check out, but I think they’re unlikely to contain human remains.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s a relief,’ said Greg, and took himself off to the blue tent covering grave number three. He found Yvonne Berry satisfying herself that her team had missed nothing.

  ‘Just doing a final check in here before starting in the garage,’ she said, looking up.

  ‘OK. I knew there wouldn’t be much to see by now,’ said Greg. ‘But I wanted a clear picture of where he was found and how he was lying.’ He looked at the now empty grave and added, ‘Either he was short, or was curled up. That space doesn’t look long enough.’

  ‘He was around five foot nine according to the doc, and was lying in a foetal position on his right side,’ replied Yvonne.

  ‘And I gather there were no conveniently identifiable materials. Hip replacement? Wallet? Passport?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no,’ said Yvonne. ‘He was wrapped in what looked like a remnant of carpet, and that’s all.’

  ‘Back to some more old-fashioned detection then, missing person files and the like,’ mused Greg. ‘Fine. I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you don’t want me getting under your feet. Obviously you’ll let me know if you find anything significant? Those voids, for example?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Greg,’ he said automatically. ‘Call me Greg. Thank you for what?’

  ‘For trusting me to get on with the job,’ she said.

  He headed for his car, checking his phone for any message from Chris. Still nothing. He felt a vague concern that she was having a very long day, or night, and sent her a text to let her know where he was. Then he checked the time, to make sure it wasn’t still too early to contact someone theoretically having a rest day, and rang Jim.

  ‘Gather you had an interesting afternoon,’ he started.

  ‘Ah, yes. I wondered whether to ring you, but Margaret was keen I left you in peace,’ said Jim, cheerfully dumping all the responsibility for his decision to leave Greg in the dark for twenty-four hours on the shoulders he felt could best bear the weight.

  ‘OK I get it,’ said Greg. ‘I’d say don’t ever do that again, but I’m sure you would. I’m heading into the office shortly to interview Waters, but first I’d like your take on body number three. What are your thoughts?’ As he spoke he was manoeuvring his car under the crime scene tape, waving to Constable Drake and then negotiating the row of cars reversing out of the village hall car park on the opposite side of the road.

  ‘Watch where you’re going, ladies,’ he muttered as a smart Volvo came hurtling backward into the road. A lady in Lycra waved cheerfully and barrelled off up the hill toward the coast road.

  ‘What?’ asked Jim.

  ‘Sorry. I seem to have hit the road just as the morning Pilates enthusiasts head off for coffee and cake,’ said Greg rather unfairly. ‘Either that, or this village has an unusual dress code. Not to say a curious predilection for enormous, luminous elastic bands. Ignore me. I’d still like your thoughts on the latest crime scene,’ he added.

  ‘I got there just as they began to uncover the skull,’ said Jim. ‘And I stayed until the whole skeleton was visible. He was curled up on his side, with most of the bones below the neck covered in the remains of an old carpet. I’d say the head had been around two feet below the surface. The body was on a bit of a slant, so the lowest part of the grave was maybe four to five feet deep.’

  ‘That’s a lot of digging,’ remarked Greg.

  ‘On the other hand, the skull wasn’t very far down in the context of a garden. Someone digging a hole for a plant, or a trench for vegetables, might’ve had a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Unless that someone was the property owner and they knew what was there. What was on the top?’ asked Greg.

  ‘Lawn.’

  ‘So, less likely to be dug over. In terms of timing and everything else, it does seem that either Ms Hamilton or her mother is our number one person of interest. I wonder where the father is now?’

  ‘Or Frankie’s dad,’ said Jim. ‘At the lower end of the doc’s age estimate, it could just be Ms Hamilton’s ex-partner. And she already has form for killing a relative then concealing the body.’

  ***

  Back at Wymondham and still no messages from Chris, Greg had to push his growing disquiet away and concentrate on what Margaret was saying.

  ‘I take it that will be your first priority?’ she finished. Greg was uneasily aware that he had no idea what she’d just said.

  ‘Waters…’ she amplified as his stare remained blank. ‘Are you sure you’ve had enough time off?’ she added, slightly irritably. Clearly her long hours were starting to tell as well.

  ‘Yes, of course, Boss,’ he said. ‘Waters. I agree. I just need to check whether Bill has finished going through the ANPR records relating to the earlier arson attacks, to see if we can tie him to those as well. Then I’ll be talking to him.’

  ‘Make sure you have at least two witnesses,’ recommended Margaret. ‘Given his tendency to fling wild accusations around.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Greg. ‘And I’ll be dealing with that as well.’

  The subject of the assault accusation was, indeed, the first subject broached as soon as the preliminary formalities were out of the way, and not by Greg.

  ‘I wish to make a formal complaint,’ said Mr Streeter. ‘It is completely inappropriate that the officer who assaulted my client and inflicted grievous bodily harm should be interviewing him. It is intimidatory, and I must insist that you leave the room, DCI Geldard. If he is to be interviewed, it must be by other officers.’

  Greg remained seated and leafed through the papers he’d just been handed by Jill, before looking up and nodding to her. She tapped a few keys on her laptop then turned it to face Mr Waters and his brief.

  ‘For the benefit of the tape, DS Hayes is about to show Mr Waters a recording,’ said Greg. Then as Mr Streeter opened his mouth again, Greg added in a hurry, ‘If you’ll just bear with me, DS Hayes is going to take you through the evidence relating to the alleged assault. If, after that, Mr Waters still wishes to pursue his complaint, I will leave the room.’

  There was a pregnant pause, then after a glance at his client, Mr Streeter said, ‘Please do show us what you have.’

  Jill took over. ‘This is the recording taken by DCI Geldard’s body-worn camera on the night of the sixth to seventh of August. It is unedited, and we will let you have a copy at the end of this interview. Because it is unedited, it is very long. I propose to fast forward through the irrelevant sections to the material of particular interest, but if you wish me to slow it down or go over anything again, please do say. Is that clear?’