Page 28 of Murder in the Winter Woods
Diane didn’t finish her question – which Julia was thankful for – because more reinforcements had arrived in the person of a middle-aged couple, one of them wearing aNo to nuclear!button badge which he’d presumably had in a drawer for thirty years. His partner had a homemade sign sayingSafe streets!on one side, andMind children, crossing!on the other, which was a little confusing thanks to the comma placement. It did remind Julia that she had promised the road safety committee that she would have her slogans to them this evening, so that the signs could be printed.
‘Right,’ said Fred, looking at his watch. ‘It’s twelve. Everyone ready?’
As they took up position along the pavement, hoisting their signs to their shoulders, Julia crossed the road to the station.
‘Thanks for coming in,’ said DC Walter Farmer.
‘No problem, Walter, anything I can do to help. How are you?’
The question was more than just a formality. Walter was looking particularly harassed this morning. His eyes dartedabout in his pale face, and a small rash of pimples stood out on his chin. ‘Ah, well, I’m all right,’ Walter said, not very convincingly. ‘There’s a lot going on with the two motor vehicle accidents…or, well, I should say, deaths.’
This was interesting. Had the police formally opened this as a murder investigation? Before Julia could formulate the question, Walter had moved on. ‘And Amaryllis isn’t sleeping, on account of the pregnancy. Her back hurts. And she’s up and down like a jack-in-the-box, which means I am too. If I got four hours last night, it was a miracle.’
The sound of what seemed to be singing floated in an open window. Someone must be driving by with their car windows open and the music on full.
‘Ah, that’s hard when you’ve got a busy day at work.’
‘Busy it is, Julia. Busy it is. Speaking of, I should get going on the job, shouldn’t I? DI Gibson is busy with the car and the forensics. She wants me to take your statement. Everything you know about the car at the panel beaters. And what you saw or heard.’
Julia recounted what she’d seen on the car. Walter scribbled furiously in his notebook. She then handed over her handkerchief, dropping it straight into the evidence bag Walter held open.
‘It certainly looks like blood,’ he said, peering at it through the clear plastic.
‘That’s what I thought.’
He placed the bag carefully on his desk, picked up his pen and notebook, and said, ‘Please, go on.’
When Julia started on the conversation she overheard from the bathroom, Walter squinted at her, his lips twitching with a smile for the first time since she had sat down. ‘Overheard, hey? That was a lucky coincidence.’ Like Hayley, Walter knew Julia well.
‘Yes. Right place at the right time, I suppose,’ said Julia.
The singing was still going on, and it seemed louder now. It couldn’t be coming from a car.
‘Well, thanks for coming in, Julia. I’ll give this to the boss, see if she needs anything else.’
‘Walter,’ Julia said, hesitantly. ‘You don’t think these two deaths were an accident, do you?’
There must have been half a minute’s silence, before he said, ‘It seems like too much of a coincidence. The same manner of death, in the space of a couple of weeks, within five miles of each other.’
‘And the forensics?’
‘Nothing substantial: just that very indistinct, quite small footprint.’
Julia tried to remember Poppy’s feet, but couldn’t. She wasn’t a big person, that much Julia knew. ‘Do you think it was the same print at both scenes?’
Walter’s phone rang. He held up his hand. ‘Julia, I have to get going. This is DI Gibson on the phone. She’ll be needing me, I’m sure. If you think of anything else, phone me.’
He took the call.
Julia left his office deep in thought. As she drew closer to the front door, the indistinct singing got louder. Through the glass in the door to the police station, she saw Poppy and Ollie pause outside, as if putting off their moment of entry. They stepped to the side, close together, their heads down.
Julia opened the door, keeping her head turned away from them. She didn’t have anything to hide, exactly, but they might think it an odd coincidence, the same strange woman popping up at the panel beater and the police station. She needn’t have worried, though: they were completely engrossed in their ownworld. She walked slowly, trying to listen in. It wasn’t easy. Lorraine was leading the motley crew of protesters in a tuneless version of ‘We Shall Overcome’. They seemed a little unclear on the lyrics, and there was quite a lot of mumbling.
Ollie kissed Poppy tenderly, and said, ‘Now you go in. Just remember, tell them it was a fox. Just because they have called you in doesn’t mean that they know everything.’
‘I wish you could come in with me.’ Julia could hear the tears in her voice.
‘You’ll be fine. I’ll go and get rid of the evidence. This whole thing will be over by teatime. Now go.’
