Page 14 of Murder in the Winter Woods (Julia Bird Mysteries #8)

It was later that day, and Julia was on her way back from the supermarket, from her monthly ‘big shop’ of items too heavy or cumbersome to carry home, when the car in front of her slowed unexpectedly.

There seemed to be something going on the side of the main road, between the school and the police station.

A small knot of people held up signs, the writing of which was illegible at this distance.

Julia drove slowly and looked at the little group, trying to see what was going on.

As she got closer, she recognised Diane, her colleague from Second Chances, among the small gathering.

A few metres closer, and she could read Diane’s sign: Citizens for Safer Roads – Action Now!

Julia pulled up alongside the pavement to get a better look at the protesters.

It was hardly a crowd. In fact, there were only three of them.

Well, five if you counted the two young kids sitting in a large double-seater pram, pushed by a young woman with a sign saying Keep Our Children Safe .

The third adult was an old man in a voluminous red puffer jacket.

He had daubed: BERRYWICK POLICE! Wake up!

in red paint on a flattened-out cardboard box.

The letters got smaller and smaller towards the right-hand edge of the sign as its maker had struggled to fit them in.

The words ‘Wake up!’ proceeded up the edge of the cardboard, with the last word running along the vertical in rather smaller letters.

Julia was jolted by a moment of instant recognition from the projects of her school days – ‘THE PYRAmids’ sprang to mind – and compassion for the man’s artistic challenges.

Berrywick police had indeed woken up, it seemed, because DI Hayley Gibson was coming through the glass door of the station and walking towards the protesters. DC Walter Farmer trotted behind her. The detectives stopped right next to Julia’s car, facing the protesters.

‘Hello, Hayley,’ Diane said, her voice clearly audible through Julia’s open window.

She removed one hand from her sign to tuck her hair awkwardly behind her ear.

In a small village, where everyone knew everyone, this sort of awkwardness was fairly common.

A police officer wasn’t only a police officer, she might also be a Padel opponent, or your next-door neighbour, or an old girlfriend of your brother’s.

Diane and Hayley were of an age – Hayley perhaps a few years older – and had likely been at the same school at the same time.

‘Hello, Diane. What’s going on?’ Hayley spoke perfectly pleasantly and casually, but Julia knew her well enough to notice the tiny pulse in her jaw that signalled stress, even from this distance.

‘Well, Hayley, we are all quite upset about the bad driving. About the two deaths.’

‘That’s understandable, Diane,’ Hayley said. ‘I am too.’

‘We all think there needs to be swift action taken to make our roads safer.’

‘Yes, Diane, I hear you, and I’m of the same view.’

Julia was paralysed with inaction. She could hardly swing the door open and emerge right into the middle of the little gathering. Nor could she drive away, with Walter Farmer positioned three inches from the car’s bumper.

‘We want action by the police,’ said the man in the red puffer. ‘It seems you people are doing nothing!’

‘Good morning, Fred,’ said Hayley. ‘Now, it’s not true that nothing is being done. We have taken the situation extremely seriously and are actively investigating both deaths.’

‘Ah, what exactly are you civil servants doing besides sitting at your comfy desks writing a few emails? ’ He spat out the word.

‘Now, Fred, you know I can’t share the details of the investigations.’

‘Meanwhile, all over the village, people are being mowed down by maniacs from London .’ Fred’s face had taken on a hue to match his jacket. He looked like a furious strawberry. ‘Monsters who don’t even bother to stop their car…’

‘Fred…’

‘I have grandchildren !’ He spoke with such anguish that Julia realised that his fury was really an expression of fear, as was so often the case.

‘And I have children,’ said the woman with the double pram. ‘All the mums are in a state. People are too scared to walk around the village. Something must be done.’

‘I hear your concerns, really I do,’ Hayley said gently.

‘And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to find the people who killed Lewis and Matthew.’ She looked down, and for the first time saw Julia seated in her car.

‘And we’re working with a committee of concerned Berrywick citizens to communicate safer driving practices, and to get more cameras and speed bumps on our lanes. ’

Walter followed Hayley’s gaze, and looked down at Julia, trapped there in her car. He stepped out of her way.

‘I’m sure you are doing what you can, Detective Inspector Gibson,’ Diane said. ‘But until you have someone behind bars for these awful hit-and-run crimes, you can expect to see us here.’

‘I’ll join you,’ said an elderly lady, who had been moving down the pavement towards them at a glacial place with the help of a walking aid with four rubber feet, and was now standing firmly at Diane’s side. ‘I don’t like the idea of all these madmen on the roads.’

‘You’d be very welcome, Mrs Evans,’ the young mum said. ‘I’m Barbie Lincoln, by the way. Nancy Lincoln is my nan.’

Mrs Evans pulled up a pair of spectacles dangling round her neck on a chain and peered through them into the younger woman’s face. ‘Heavens, but you look just like her! Dear Nancy, she’s a good woman. Well, pleased to meet you, young Barbie.’

‘And you, Mrs Evans.’

‘Call me Lorraine. My, isn’t this fun? I used to love a good protest, back in the day. Not much call for it these days, but I should think I still remember a few of the songs…’

Walter Farmer addressed the little gathering.

‘We’ve heard you. And speaking for myself, I will do everything possible to keep Berrywick citizens and all road users safe.

Obviously you can stay and protest as long as you like, that’s your right in terms of the law, but we’re going to be going back to work now. ’

‘Thank you, Walter,’ said Barbie, the young mum. ‘My best to Amaryllis. Feeling all right, is she?’

‘Well, you know. A bit queasy.’

‘Poor girl. The first trimester is the worst for that; it should ease up soon. Get her some ginger biscuits. They sometimes help with the nausea.’

‘Thanks, Barbie, we’ll give that a try.’ Walter smiled, and Julia could see that this whole exchange had filled him with a sense of pride that he was the father of the pregnancy under discussion. Walter and Amaryllis had clearly decided to spread the news wider than their families.

‘I should be getting the little ones home for their tea,’ said Barbie with a sigh. ‘Fancy a cuppa, Lorraine? Our house is just down the street and round the next corner.’

‘Lovely, you can tell me all about your nan, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her…’

With that, the protest broke up peacefully.

‘Same time tomorrow!’ shouted Fred as they dispersed.

‘Right you are,’ said Diane.

Julia was about to drive away when Hayley leaned down and said, through the open window, ‘Everything all right, Julia?’

‘Oh, yes, I was passing and I saw the signs. Just being nosy really…’ Julia smiled.

‘That, I can believe,’ said Hayley with a smirk. She knew that Julia was what might be politely termed ‘curious’ by nature.

It was a friendly smirk, which emboldened Julia to say: ‘On that subject. Have you got a moment? It’s about Hester and Matthew.’

Hayley opened the passenger door and got in. ‘It’s chilly out!’ she said. ‘Right then, what is it?’

Julia relayed the information about the Butter Nuts and the bees.

Hayley looked sceptical. ‘Vegans object to bees making honey?’

‘They object to people harvesting the honey. Well, some of them do, at least. They think it’s cruel to the bees.

Look, Hayley, I’m sure there’s no connection between the vegans and Matthew’s death, but Hester was pretty upset by them.

She said they hounded her and Matthew, and they were on at him at the market the night he died.

She worried they had distracted him, and that’s why he was run over. ’

Hayley didn’t respond. She wore the serious almost-frown that meant she was processing facts and factors.

When Julia could stand it no longer, she said, ‘It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d mention…’

‘It’s not necessarily nothing.’

Julia waited.

‘People with passionate political beliefs can get very carried away. Even violent. It sounds like this lot are pretty convinced of their position. And they were certainly angry.’

‘That’s true, but it’s not as if Hester thinks they killed Matthew. I mean, on purpose .’

‘Even so, I’ll have Walter look into those Butter Nutters.’

‘Butter Nuts.’

‘Whatever. They might have harassed Matthew. They might have hit him with a car by mistake. We don’t know.’ Hayley was using her official voice, which was slightly but significantly different from her friendly voice.

‘But even so, an accident…’

‘Leaving the scene of a car accident is an offence that carries a fine and possibly even time in prison. If they knew that someone was injured or dead as a result of the accident, that’s even more serious.’

‘Yes, of course. It would be.’

‘Between you and me, Julia…’ Hayley paused. Julia leaned in attentively. ‘And I mean really , you and me…’

‘Yes.’

‘Both Lewis and Matthew were hit and then driven over again.’

Julia, of course, already knew about Lewis from Walter, but she didn’t want Hayley to be angry with him for telling her. She didn’t have to fake her horror though – it was terrible and ominous that the same thing had happened to Matthew.

‘God, how awful.’ Julia had to fight to stop herself picturing the situation.

‘Again, it was dark both times. Now I don’t like to jump to conclusions, but it does make me wonder…’

‘Do you think it might have been…deliberate?’

‘I can’t imagine why. It makes no sense…But I can’t discount the possibility. Despite what some members of the public seem to think, we are taking these two motor incidents very seriously. I intend to bring the guilty parties to book and get convictions. We must set an example to all road users.’

‘I know you’re doing everything you can, Hayley. People are just upset.’

‘Understandably. The people of Berrywick demand and deserve safe roads. It’s our job to make sure they get them.

Now, thanks for the info. I’d better get back.

There’s a ton of forensic information and paperwork coming my way today.

Some of it useful, I hope. And please will you do me a favour and message me the name of the butter company and any of the people’s names you have. I’ll get Walter onto it.’

‘Right you are.’

‘And Julia, what I said about similarities…’

‘Not a word, I promise.’

Julia had packed away the groceries, household cleaning products and pet food, and was ready to put her feet up.

It had been all go, go, go that morning, first with Hayley Gibson’s arrival, then the visit to Hester, and then the shopping and unpacking.

Not to mention swinging by the protest. She hadn’t even had time to do her word games.

She got out her phone to remedy that oversight, when she remembered her promise to send Hayley information about the Butter Nuts.

She googled them – ‘the Butter Nuts, Cotswolds’ – hoping to find contact details and save Hayley at least a little bit of research.

They were surprisingly ubiquitous on social media.

There was an Instagram account and a Facebook page.

On both, their products were colourfully displayed, and described in cheerful, wholesome prose.

It was neither controversial nor combative.

There was no evidence of it being a company of psycho bullies, or vehicular murderers.

In fact, Julia fancied trying the macadamia nut butter.

With a little digging, she found an email address and a phone number, which she shared with Hayley, and carried on clicking aimlessly through the content.

Poppy’s name popped up. Curious to see the woman behind Hester’s horror stories, Julia decided to do a bit of nosing around.

She clicked through to Poppy’s personal social media accounts, which bore out what Hester had related.

Here was the controversial and combative side!

Poppy had gotten into quite a number of beefs – if that term could be applied to vegans – largely, but not exclusively, to do with the bees.

She felt very strongly about a number of issues, and she didn’t mince her words.

The blood of the bees is on your hands! she’d told a woman who had proudly posted a picture of her homemade honey cake on Facebook. Julia wondered if bees actually had blood. But the point was clear, either way.

Poppy also posted regular pictures of what she labelled her ‘yoga practice’ and shared classes offered by the studio that she attended.

She probably needed the yoga to calm her down after all the stress of arguing on social media.

Julia knew the Hayfield studio in question – she had visited it on one of her previous amateur sleuthing missions, and remembered the lovely, lithe young lady who had run the place.

‘Long black hair. Boyfriend worked at the garden centre. What was her name again?’ she asked herself impatiently. Proper nouns were quite tardy in arriving at her conscious brain these days. ‘Milly!’ she said, relieved, when the name dawdled in.

She rolled her stiff shoulders, enjoying the clicks and the easing of stress. ‘I really should do yoga more regularly. Tomorrow is as good a time to start as any.’