Page 23

23

‘ The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ?’ said DC Walter Farmer, gently lifting the front cover of the weighty hardcover tome with a clean handkerchief. ‘What’s that all about?’

Bob Jones, the new forensics chap, scratched his big head with short, blunt fingers and sighed a deep, thoughtful sigh. ‘Well, it’s about life, innit? Love, death, betrayal, misunderstandings…The whole sorry mess. You name it, it’s all in that there book. There’s the thirty-seven plays just for starters – you’ve got your comedies, your tragedies, your historical plays…’

Walter Farmer stared in utter bewilderment as the man counted them out on his stubby fingers, bending each finger back as he enumerated the types of Shakespearean plays. Julia was likewise surprised at the turn the forensic investigation had taken. Bob’s predecessor at the forensic unit hadn’t been much for talking, and when he had talked, it hadn’t been about Shakespeare, that was for sure.

Bob continued, unfazed, ‘And that’s before you even get to the sonnets. My favourites, if I must be honest. They’re mostly about love, of course. But also beauty, and, like, the passing of time, y’know? And mortality…It’s all there. I mean, that’s life for you, innit?’

He looked down at Farmer, who was still squatting at Roger Grave’s feet, next to the big book, hankie in hand. Farmer, realising he was expecting an answer, nodded.

‘So to answer your question, I’d say this book is about life, really. Life in all its complexity.’

Walter stood up to frown at the man in confusion. ‘I meant, what’s it all about, in terms of the crime? Why is the book here? Who dropped it? What’s it got to do with Superintendent Grave’s death?’

‘Oh, that! Ah, well, yes, my mistake. I don’t know for sure, but it could be that the superintendent was whacked on the head with this here book. It’s a tragedy, really.’

Was that a joke ? A Shakespeare joke at the side of the dead body of a senior policeman? Surely not. Looking at Bob, Julia couldn’t say for sure. For all his literary observations, he had the lumpy, impassive face of a retired boxer. If it was a joke, Walter Farmer certainly didn’t get it. He looked as blank as, well, a blank page.

‘Looks to me like he fell and hit his head on the hall table,’ Walter said, moving on from Shakespeare to more concrete matters. They all looked at the antique wooden table next to Roger Grave’s head. It was narrow, the perfect table for the space, but solidly built. A dark smudge on the corner seemed to bear out Walter’s theory.

‘My working guess is that it happened last night. Looks to me like he was whacked with the bard’s Works before he fell and hit his head on the table,’ Bob Jones countered, standing up tall, his hands on his hips. Forensics chaps liked to show up the working coppers when they could, so there was a hint of self-satisfaction about his answer, but he kept a smile on his face to show there were no hard feelings .

Seeing as Hayley Gibson was outside with the other guy from the forensic team, Julia decided to venture a question.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well, it’s early days and I’m not a clairvoyant,’ Bob said, modestly, as if he was, in fact, such a thing, but didn’t like to boast, ‘but it seems to me that bruise on the victim’s head is the same shape as the corner of that there book. And the corner of that there book is a bit flattened, see?’

Walter and Julia peered at it. It did seem so.

‘The book’s in good nick. You can see it’s been well looked-after. Look inside – it’s full of notes. Someone treasures this book. That flattened piece is new, is my feeling. So it seems to me – and like I said, I can’t be sure, not without the lab results – it seems to me that Superintendent Grave was hit on the head with the Complete Works , either tripped or collapsed to the floor, and died from hitting his head on the table. You’d be amazed how often it happens, to be honest.’

Julia could only assume that this was a reference to the table, and not to the blow from The Complete Works of Shakespeare . She didn’t imagine that that happened often at all. She looked down at Roger’s body, his long legs splayed at an odd angle, one arm reaching over his head, and the other trapped uncomfortably beneath him. Blood had seeped from under his head – from a wound or his ear, she couldn’t tell – and pooled on the wooden floor. He was a good-looking man in a stiff, angular sort of way, and he remained so in death. His colour, though was pale and greyish, and beginning to show the mottle of the recently deceased. Julia felt suddenly queasy, and moved to the front door. Outside, she leaned over and put her hands on her knees, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself and ease her sickly feeling.

Hayley Gibson came up behind her and asked, briskly, ‘You all right?’

‘Yes. Just…shocked, I suppose.’

‘Well, it’s shocking, that’s for sure. Listen, you go home. Roger Grave is a top policeman. His death is bringing out the big guns. And the big brass. And the big…everything. They’ll be all over this crime scene like a rash before the hour is up. Walter has taken your statement; we know where to find you for follow-up information.’

‘Yes, yes, I think I’ll go. But before I do, Hayley, there’s something I need to tell you…’

Hayley’s clever blue eyes were on Julia in a flash. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s about Bethany.’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you think she might have…Is she a suspect?’

‘I know you like the girl, but I’m sorry to say, she’s definitely got quite some explaining to do. If she thought her father was involved in her lover’s murder, then she would have had reason to confront him, perhaps even hit him with the book – although it looks as if it might have been the fall onto that table that killed him.’

‘That’s just it. I asked her about it. I asked if it was possible that Roger Grave might have threatened Graham, or hurt him. She was shocked, and completely denied he would ever do anything violent.’

‘Well, if she didn’t believe her father killed Graham Powell, then she wouldn’t have any reason to confront him.’

‘Unless I inadvertently convinced her that he might be involved. The thing is, Hayley, she was genuinely astonished at the idea. She honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility. I was the one who put the idea in her head. If Bethany killed her father, it’s because I prompted her to do it.’

Hayley was having none of this. ‘Unless you smacked Roger Grave on the head yourself, you’re not to blame for his death, no matter what you said to Bethany. If it was Bethany, then that’s on her. Don’t worry yourself about that, Julia. Let me and the rest of the force do our job.’

‘You’ll speak to her, then?’

‘Of course. Already in process. DC Farmer is going to go and break the news and ask her to come in. We’ll bring her in and see what she has to say. I’ll meet him at the station when I’m done here. As of now, Bethany is on the top of the list of people to interview.’

‘As a suspect?’

‘Julia, this investigation is in the very early stages. And besides, you know I can’t give you information about individuals.’

‘Okay, yes, of course, I understand. And what about Jane?’

‘I’ve already given instructions for her to be released. Grave’s death makes her involvement in her husband’s death look less likely. I find it hard to believe that the two murders are not connected, and Jane was locked up when Grave was killed. Even if she did cover up her marital troubles.’

This, at least, was good news. Julia had hated the idea of Jane being in jail overnight again.

‘Julia, don’t mention the book to anyone. It’s the kind of detail we don’t release, okay?’

‘No problem, I understand.’

‘Go on. You go home. There’s nothing for you to do here, and you still look terribly pale.’

Julia remembered that she’d driven Hayley to Roger’s house. She didn’t have a car there. ‘Will you be okay for a lift?’

‘Believe me, Julia, half the cop cars in the Cotswolds are on their way here. I’ll be fine for a lift. Now go.’

‘Okay. Bye, Hayley. Good luck.’

Julia drove home slowly, trying to absorb the latest turn of events. Nothing felt quite real, and she was relieved to let herself into her home, greet her beloved Jake, and put the kettle on. As soon as she had a cup of tea in her hand, she gave Sean a call.

‘Perfect timing, you clever thing,’ he said as he answered the phone. ‘I’m right between patients.’

‘Oh, Sean. You won’t believe what’s happened.’

‘Well, as long as no one died, that’s the main thing.’

‘Well…’ She took a gulp of her tea to find she had completely over-sweetened it. It just showed what a state she was in. There was a long silence while she swallowed the unpalatable mouthful and tried to think of a delicate way of phrasing what had happened.

Sean spoke first. ‘What? You can’t be serious. Someone died? Who?’

‘Roger Grave.’

‘The superintendent? When? How?’

‘Sometime last night. It’s not entirely clear how, but it definitely wasn’t natural causes.’

‘And were you…?’

Julia felt fragile, and not up to repeating the whole grisly story over the phone. ‘Sean, can you come over? I could use the company. I’ll tell you everything when I see you.’

‘Of course.’ He didn’t hesitate. ‘I have a couple more patients, and I’ll have to pop home to feed Leo first.’

‘There’s no rush. Why don’t you come for supper? You can bring Leo. And Jono, of course. They’re both very welcome.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘Absolutely sure.’

‘Well, let me bring the supper. I can stop at the new curry place we’ve been wanting to try, and pick up a takeaway.’

‘Oh, well, that’s a kind offer. But I can just make a bowl of pasta. I’ve got a jar of pesto in the fridge, it’s no trouble…’ It wasn’t much trouble, but she wasn’t exactly in the mood for even simple food preparation. She dropped her half-hearted pr otests, and said, ‘Actually, I don’t feel like cooking and I would love a curry. Thank you.’

‘Ah, now that wasn’t too hard, was it?’ She could hear him smiling as he spoke. ‘It sounds like you’ve had enough for today. It’s decided. I’ll see you around six thirty with something delicious and comforting. It’s my turn to look after you.’