Viktor and Henrik are at the dining table, hunched over the financial documents from Heather Garbutt’s trial. Ron is sitting on the sofa, watching something on his phone, and Alan is looking out of the window, wondering when Joyce might be back. Occasionally he spots someone who might look a bit like her, and gets excited.
‘Five boys,’ says Ibrahim, pouring the tea. ‘Henrik, how is your murderous rage? Subsided?’
‘It is forgotten,’ says Henrik. ‘It was tactically naive.’
‘You fellas found anything?’ asks Ron.
‘Nothing,’ says Viktor.
‘Thought Henrik was the best money-launderer in the world?’
‘I am,’ says Henrik. ‘That is provable.’
‘Well, Bethany Waites found something in there that you’re missing,’ says Ron.
‘And it got her killed,’ says Ibrahim.
‘So at the moment you’re just a guy with a beard.’
‘Ron, Henrik is a guest,’ says Ibrahim.
‘A guest?’ says Ron, still not looking up from his phone. ‘Yesterday he wanted to kill Joyce, and now he’s a guest.’
‘And he wanted to kill me too,’ says Viktor.
‘Guys, it was an error,’ says Henrik. ‘I wanted to be tough. I cannot keep apologizing.’
‘No need to apologize if you find out who killed Bethany Waites,’ says Ron.
‘We will find out,’ says Henrik.
‘Did Bethany Waites say anything to anyone?’ asks Viktor. ‘About what she’d found?’
‘Nah,’ says Ron.
‘Nothing about “Carron Whitehead” or “Robert Brown Msc”?’
‘Nothing about anyone,’ says Ron. ‘Far as we know. Henrik, you rich enough to buy a football club?’
‘I already own one,’ says Henrik.
Ibrahim sits at the dining table. ‘Well, she did say something. To someone.’
‘What did she say?’ asks Viktor.
‘She sent a message to Mike Waghorn,’ says Ibrahim. ‘A couple of weeks before she disappeared.’
‘Do you have the message? It might be important,’ asks Viktor.
‘I don’t think there was anything in it,’ says Ibrahim. ‘But we could ask Pauline to ask Mike?’
‘They’re both coming over for lunch in a bit,’ says Ron.
‘You are taken with Pauline, Ron,’ says Viktor.
‘Well, you’re taken with Elizabeth,’ says Ron.
‘I know,’ says Viktor. ‘But I have no chance. You have every chance. What luck.’
Ron shrugs, a little embarrassed. ‘We’re friends.’
‘Love is very precious,’ says Viktor, and takes a sip of his mint tea.
‘I wonder if I could ask you to put a lace doily under your teacup,’ says Ibrahim. ‘To prevent the wood from marking.’
‘Could I use your bathroom?’ asks Henrik. ‘I forgot to moisturize this morning, and I can feel myself drying out.’
Ron looks at Ibrahim. ‘So much testosterone in one room, mate. So much testosterone.’
Alan barks at a chaffinch.
They found the gun wrapped in a pale blue cloth, buried about thirty feet or so into the woodland. Elizabeth had taken a look before it had been driven away for examination. When she’d heard the word ‘gun’, she had expected a revolver, some sort of handgun at least. But this was an assault weapon, semi-automatic. Andrew Everton looked as surprised as she did – it was a hell of a gun. There was no ammunition, but there was a metal box, which looked to contain around a hundred thousand pounds or so in cash.
So perhaps they had found the murder weapon, and, finally, some of the proceeds of the scam. Time and forensics would tell. The Forensic Officer on scene should presumably be heading back fairly soon, but is currently being monopolized by Joyce. They are sitting together on Joyce’s raincoat, which has been spread over a mossy bench. What they are talking about, heaven only knows. Elizabeth is walking out of the woods with Andrew Everton.
‘Seems like you owe us one,’ says Elizabeth.
‘I’ll owe you one when we find Bethany’s body,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘We’ll start concentrating the search in the same spot.’
‘Feels like it should be enough to arrest Jack Mason,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Ask him a few questions?’
‘Leave that with me,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘You can’t do everything.’
That was a moot point, but Elizabeth doesn’t feel the need to argue. ‘Do keep us informed though.’
Andrew Everton bows to her, a little sarcastically for Elizabeth’s liking. ‘Ma’am.’
Elizabeth veers off in the direction of Joyce and the Forensic Officer. She hears Joyce’s conversation as she approaches.
‘But say that three bodies are left in a cellar for many years,’ Joyce is saying. ‘At what stage would the smell disappear?’
Is Joyce asking her about the case in Rye?
‘Do they have wounds?’ asks the Forensic Officer.
‘They have been dismembered by a chainsaw,’ says Joyce.
That doesn’t
‘Well, they would bleed out very quickly,’ says the Forensic Officer. ‘So putrefaction would also occur fairly quickly. The smell would be awful for the first, let’s say two months, then gradually things would return to normal.’
‘Bit of Febreze every now and again,’ says Joyce.
Elizabeth reaches the bench and addresses the Forensic Officer. ‘Is my friend bothering you? She does that sometimes.’
‘Not at all,’ says the FO. ‘I’m helping her with her story.’
‘With her story?’ Elizabeth takes a look at Joyce, who won’t meet her gaze.
