Page 13 of Murder in the Winter Woods
Sean rolled to a stop on the broad roadside between the tar and the start of the vegetation, just behind where Lewis’s body had been.
Next to the short length of tape, an informal memorial shrine had been set up – a bouquet of a few wilted flowers, a small stuffed teddy bear, a photograph. They stared through the windscreen at the poignant display.
Julia reached for the door handle. ‘I just feel like I need to pay my respects. Do we have time?’
Sean nodded.
She got out of the car and walked slowly towards the little memorial. Bending down, she looked at the photograph, which showed Lewis leaning against his car and smiling. It had been printed on a home printer and slipped into a plastic sleeve, but it was already damp and the ink was fading.
Sean came up behind her and she straightened.
‘Sad, isn’t it?’ he said, taking her hand. ‘The little memorial.’
‘It is. And so awful to think that someone lost their life right here. Took his last breath.’
‘That car must have hit him hard and fast,’ said Sean. ‘At least it was quick. That’s something to be grateful for, I suppose.’
‘I just can’t picture it. Why someone would hit a person walking along the side of the lane. I wonder if the tyre had a blowout or something?’
Sean frowned. ‘There could have been something mechanical like that – except that they drove off just fine. And besides, it would have shown up in the forensics. There might have been something in the road, and they swerved to avoid it?’
‘More likely, the driver had been drinking. That’s probably why they didn’t stop. Scared of being breathalysed.’ Julia paused, and then decided to share the other piece of information she had. ‘Walter Farmer told me – confidentially, so don’t repeat it – that the driver reversed back into Lewis after he’d hit him.’
Sean winced. ‘Good lord.’
‘It seems Lewis was already down, and the driver looked in the rear-view mirror but didn’t see him. He reversed to see what he’d hit. The police reckon he got out and saw what he’d done, then drove off in a panic. It would tie in with the alcohol theory. He’d know he’d be in even more trouble if he was drink-driving.’
‘Good God. How appalling. I hope whoever did this is found and faces the full might of the law. It’s a disgrace.’ Sean looked quite pale and angry.
Julia paced slowly round the scene. If she was a religious woman, she might have said a prayer, but instead she stood still and thought about Lewis and his wife Coral, and in some vague kind of way wished them peace. It felt ineffectual, but the best she could do, under the circumstances.
‘Shall we go?’ Sean asked, after a minute or two had passed. He had already moved back to stand by the car. ‘We’re cutting it a little fine if we want to eat something.’
His voice shook Julia out of her musing. ‘Yes, I’m ready. Thanks for stopping.’
Sean got in the car and turned on the engine. It was getting dark, and he switched on the headlights to light her way. Julia was about to turn to make her way back to the car, when she noticed that the low beam had caught something glinting in the undergrowth a couple of feet beyond the little shrine. She stepped closer to look. If it was a tin can or some other piece of rubbish, she’d take it home and put it in the bin. She peered into the undergrowth, but from her position on the road she couldn’t see what it was. She had half a mind to leave it – she wasn’t exactly dressed for nature, in her nice dress and tights and shoes – but once you’ve had the thought of picking something up, it’s hard to just leave it there.
Resigning herself, she waded into the undergrowth. Now she was closer, she could see it was a chain of some sort with something hanging off it. She reached for it, trying to keep her tights away from the spikes and sticks that would rip them in an instant. To her relief, she managed to grab it and extricated herself and her tights without incident.
Julia turned the object to the light. It was a short chain with a round pendant attached. The pendant was etched with something, perhaps a figure, but it was difficult to see under the dirt it was caked in. She turned back towards the car, squinting to try and make out the details. As she stepped out of the undergrowth onto the road, she felt a pull on her tights, and a scratch on her calf.
‘Exactly why I haven’t worn tights or stockings for about three years,’ she said darkly into the undergrowth, in the direction of what she deemed to be the offending branch. ‘And this is the last time, for sure.’
The Hayfield Electric Picture House was everything Julia had hoped. It was festooned in Christmas decorations, with atowering tree in the foyer. They got there in time for a drink and snacks at the bar. Sean went in while Julia popped to the loo, removed her shredded tights and threw them in the bin. ‘Last time,’ she muttered in their direction, hoping that she wouldn’t feel too cold in the theatre.
Sean was at the polished wooden bar counter, mulling over a cocktail menu. ‘What do you fancy? I think I’ll have a martini,’ he said, and handed the menu to her.
‘How very James Bond of you.’ She took the menu from him with a smile. There was a dizzying selection of classic cocktails and more experimental combinations of alcohol and sweetness. Julia opted for the seasonal special – eggnog. The barman – a man of about Jono’s age, with slicked-back black hair – worked the cocktail shaker with wiry tattooed arms, and an understated flourish.
From a tempting menu of bar snacks, they chose roasted nuts with rosemary, tuna carpaccio with shaved fennel and red onion, and a basket of sourdough with fancy butters. The hot roasted nuts were so rich and delicious, she felt she could toss the whole bowl into her mouth in one go. But she restrained herself, picking them one at a time, sipping her drink in between.
She took the silver chain out of her pocket and laid it on the bar.
‘What do you think it is?’ Sean asked.
She picked up a paper napkin and rubbed at the disc to reveal the etched figure more clearly. ‘Oh! It’s a St Christopher.’
‘The patron saint of travellers?’
