“On Charlie Perry’s body. No maggots. Only eggs. So he definitely wasn’t dead on Friday night.”
“Seriously, Elise! This is not your case! Who have you spoken to—as if I don’t know?”
“Not saying. Look, I did find the body.”
“So you’re a witness, not SIO. Hugh’ll go mad if he finds out you’ve been talking to the pathologist.”
“So don’t tell him. How are you getting on with him?”
“Okay. He’s a bit distracted, to be honest. But we’re on it. The forensics team is processing material from Charlie’s clothing—we should have some results tomorrow. Fingers crossed Bram O’Dowd left his mark. We’re plowing on with the witnesses and CCTV—we’ve been lucky with cameras. They’re outside the supermarket, newsagent, and Shell garage—plus the little parking area for walkers near Tall Trees—so we’re trying to trace Charlie’s journey. And anyone he might have been with.”
“What are the witnesses saying?”
“We’ve got a few sightings at the festival. He was being a nuisance in the queue, barging into people, and we’ve got a young lad who was standing next to him near the entrance. He said Charlie was pissed, very unsteady on his feet—and quite nervous. He was looking around a lot, apparently, but he doesn’t seem to have spoken to anyone else.”
“Who was he looking for in the queue?”
“Well, most of Ebbing was there! We’re taking statements—and listening to a hundred different theories. Everyone wants to help—everyone loved Charlie, apparently. He did a lot in the community, helping people out. He was ferrying old ladies to the shops regularly—his wife wasn’t happy to be sharing him, I’ve heard.”
Elise parked that for later. “What about the sighting at the workers’ village?”
“We’re up there but we’ve found no one who saw him. Nor did the media. And he’s not on the security camera footage from the building site either. I think someone is yanking our chain.”
“Trying to be part of it, do you think?” There was a glory seeker or two in every case, hanging around pretending they knew stuff so they could feel important. “Or maybe he’s distracting you from something else? You need to find him.”
“Right, if the basic detection lesson is over . . .”
“Come on, Caro—I only want to help.”
“Well, come back to work! We need you here. So what did the oncologist say?”
* * *
—
Finally home and on her own, Elise sat back in the window with Hugh’s get-well card in her hands. She got it out only when she was at her lowest ebb.
She just liked seeing his handwriting—big looping letters as familiar as her own. They used to leave notes for each other on the kitchen table when they were working different shifts. “Need milk,” “Back at 10,” “Takeaway tonight?” Never “I love you” but Elise had thought it’d gone without saying. . . .
Hugh sent the card when word reached him about her diagnosis. But the runner must have chosen it because it was nothing he’d have picked. A teddy bear with a bandage on its head. “Get Well Soon. Love, Hugh x.”
She’d put it under her pillow when it arrived. And was holding it against her scar today as she sat quietly doing her breathing exercises to drive the dread out of her lungs.
The card was back on her bedside table when her boss rang. She knocked it flying as she grappled for the phone in the dark.
“Hello, Elise,” DCI McBride said. “Sorry to ring so late. How are you doing?”
“Er, good, thanks.” She fumbled with the light. “How about you?”
“Been better. I don’t know if you’ve heard but we’re in a hole with this unexplained death. Hugh Ward has gone off sick. He’s got trouble at home—anyway, he’s been signed off for a month and I need someone to step in.”
“Right.”
“And I’m told you’ve been busy with your own lines of inquiry on Mr. Perry’s death.”
Bloody Caro has blabbed.
“Well, just having a dabble online, that sort of thing. It’s in the blood, isn’t it?”
DCI McBride laughed. “And interviewing the wife? Talking to Aoife Mortimer? Still just dabbling?”
“Well . . .”
“Look, the important thing for me is that you’re up to speed. I’ve talked to Occupational Health and I’ve swung it so you can come back. It’s only a couple of weeks earlier than planned and the Major Crime Team is working out of Southfold police station, so it’s practically on your doorstep. Caro Brennan can do all the heavy lifting while you find your feet. You’d just have to direct.”