Page 11

‘Call Superintendent Nightingale for me can you, Tilly?’ Poe said, putting his foot down to get past a caravan. The M6 at Birmingham was predictably lively and he wanted to get through it before rush hour started in earnest. It would tighten again around Manchester, but Lancashire and Cumbria would be free and painless.

He had half-heartedly tried pushing back against Linus, but Flynn wasn’t having any of it.

‘Just pretend I’m not here, Sergeant Poe,’ Linus had said from the back of the car.

‘That won’t be a problem, Snoopy,’ Poe had replied, adjusting the rear-view mirror so he couldn’t see him.

Bradshaw found Nightingale’s number and pressed call. She answered immediately. ‘Where are you?’

‘Almost through Birmingham, ma’am,’ Poe replied.

‘About three hours away?’

‘Give or take. Traffic should ease up soon and I’ll make decent headway. Where do you want us?’

‘It’s only the two of you this time, I understand. No DI Flynn?’

‘Just me and Tilly I’m afraid, ma’am.’ Linus cleared his throat. Poe ignored him. ‘There’s some pain-in-the-arse audit thing going on in the NCA and SCAS has been dragged into it. She’s had to stay in London.’

‘Do you know what’s happening here?’

‘Other than there might be a religious angle, we’ve not been told.’

‘Here’s the elevator pitch then,’ Nightingale said. ‘Two nights ago, some Druids found a body tied to the Lightning Tree. Do you know it?’

‘I know of it.’

‘The victim had been dead at least a day when they—’

‘You haven’t done the post-mortem yet?’

‘No, although we’re confident we know how he died.’

‘Oh?’

‘He was stoned to death.’

Which was a new one on Poe. He had investigated men being burned alive, poisoners, contract killers, even murderous chefs, but a stoning wasn’t something he’d come across before.

‘Have you identified the victim?’ he asked.

‘A man called Cornelius Green.’

‘How very biblical. What do you know so far?’

‘Not much. Cornelius ran some sort of religious retreat. One of those places where people study the Bible, discuss what their faith means to them. That type of thing.’

‘Is this why I have an appointment with the Bishop of Carlisle tonight?’

‘I’ll find out why you’re seeing the bishop when you tell me.’

‘Fair enough,’ Poe said. ‘What else do you know?’

‘Not a huge amount. Poor bastard was tied to the Lightning Tree and had rocks thrown at his head.’

‘It’s the murder site?’

‘The bloodstaining’s conclusive and the rocks used were left in situ.’

‘How old is the victim?’

‘Late fifties, early sixties.’

‘Healthy?’

‘Nothing to suggest otherwise.’

‘So, unless he went to the Lightning Tree willingly, you’re looking at more than one offender.’

‘That’s what we think.’

‘Witnesses?’

‘Possibly. There’s a campsite nearby and someone thought they heard shouting.’

‘Meaning you might have the time of death?’

‘Maybe. But the witness admits he was high as a kite and it’s possible all he actually heard was an argument on the campsite.’

‘When’s the PM?’

‘That depends on you,’ Nightingale said. ‘I was rather hoping you might ask Estelle. See if she wouldn’t mind doing it. The body’s at Carlisle now, but we can move it if she needs us to.’

‘I’m sure Carlisle will be fine. She’s already in Cumbria.’

‘She is? Why?’

‘Poe and Estelle are engaged to be married, Detective Superintendent Nightingale!’ Bradshaw shouted, unable to contain herself. ‘When she heard Poe was going to be working in Cumbria, she cancelled some lectures so they could spend some time together.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Nightingale said. ‘The Hermit of Shap and the Pathologist Grim are getting hitched? I’m no expert, but isn’t this one of the twelve signs of the Apocalypse?’

‘Ho ho ho,’ Poe said.

‘It’s actually one of the seven seals and the seven trumpets of God,’ Linus said without looking up from the tablet he’d been typing on since they left London. ‘In the Book of Revelation, they’re a series of catastrophic events that take place during the End of Days.’

‘Who the hell was that, Poe?’ Nightingale asked.

‘No one,’ he replied, adjusting the rear-view mirror so he could glare at Linus.

‘I thought it was just you and Tilly.’

‘Snoopy’s my intern.’

‘You’ve got an intern?’

‘I’ll explain when I get there.’

‘And he’s called Snoopy?’

‘His real name is Linus, Detective Superintendent Nightingale,’ Bradshaw said. ‘I don’t think Poe likes him very much.’

Poe didn’t contradict her.

‘Well, this is going to be fun,’ Nightingale said.

‘Where are you?’ Poe asked.

‘Still processing the murder scene; can you meet me there?’

‘Sounds good. Give me the postcode.’

‘You’ve been in London too long, Poe. It’s a tree on the side of a hill.’

He smiled, glad to be heading home. ‘Directions then,’ he said.

‘Spoken like a true Cumbrian.’